The suicide motor club : a novel

""Rising horror star"* Christopher Buehlman, author of The Lesser Dead, returns with a chilling and thrilling tale of dark evil lurking on the lonely, open road ... Bram Stoker, quoting the ballad "Lenore," said, "The dead travel fast." Those words have never rung more true ... Remember that car that passed you near midnight on Route 66, doing 105 with its lights off? You wondered where it was going so quickly on that dark, dusty stretch of road, motor roaring, the driver glancing out the window as he blew by. Did his greedy eyes shine silver like a coyote's? Did he make you feel like prey? You can't remember now. You just saw the founder of the Suicide Motor Club. Be grateful his brake lights never flashed. Be grateful his car was already full. They roam America, littering the highways with smashed cars and bled-out bodies, a gruesome reflection of the unsettled sixties. But to anyone unlucky enough to meet them in the lonely hours of the night, they're just a blurry memory. That is--to all but one ... Two years ago, they left a witness in the mangled wreck of her family car, her husband dead, her son taken. She remembers their awful faces, despite their tricks and glamours. And she's coming for them--her thirst for vengeance even more powerful than their hunger for blood. On the deserted highways of America, the hunters are about to become the hunted.."-- Provided by publisher "Rising horror star"* Christopher Buehlman, author of The Lesser Dead, returns with a chilling and thrilling tale of dark evil lurking on the lonely, open road... Bram Stoker, quoting the ballad "Lenore," said, "The dead travel fast." Those words have never rung more true... Remember that car that passed you near midnight on Route 66, doing 105 with its lights off? You wondered where it was going so quickly on that dark, dusty stretch of road, motor roaring, the driver glancing out the window as he blew by. Did his greedy eyes shine silver like a coyote's? Did he make you feel like prey? You can't remember now. You just saw the founder of the Suicide Motor Club. Be grateful his brake lights never flashed. Be grateful his car was already full. They roam America, littering the highways with smashed cars and bled-out bodies, a gruesome reflection of the unsettled sixties. But to anyone unlucky enough to meet them in the lonely hours of the night, they're just a blurry memory. That is--to all but one... Two years ago, they left a witness in the mangled wreck of her family car, her husband dead, her son taken. She remembers their awful faces, despite their tricks and glamours. And she's coming for them--her thirst for vengeance even more powerful than their hunger for blood. On the deserted highways of America, the hunters are about to become the hunted... From the Hardcover edition "Bram Stoker, quoting the poem Lenore, said 'The dead ride fast.' Those words have never rung more true ... Remember that car that passed you near midnight on route 66, doing 105 with its lights off? You wondered where it was going so quickly on that dark, dusty stretch of road, motor roaring, the driver glancing out the window as he blew by. Did his greedy eyes shine silver like a coyote's? Did he make you feel like prey? You can't remember now You just saw the founder of the Suicide Motor Club. Be grateful his brake lights never flashed. Be grateful his car was already full. They roam America, littering the highways with smashed cars and bled-out bodies, a gruesome reflection of the unsettled sixties. But to anyone unlucky enough to meet them in the lonely hours of the night, they're just a blur in their memories. That is--to all but one ... Two years ago, they left a witness in the mangled wreck of her family car, her husband dead, her son taken. She remembers their awful faces, despite their tricks and glamours. And she's coming for them--her thirst for vengeance even more powerful than their hunger for blood. On the deserted highways of America, hunter is about to become the hunted.."-- Provided by publisher The Suicide Motor Club knows no boundaries. These vicious vampires ride in a caravan of death that covers America's roads, with nothing and no one to slow them down. Only the wild allure of the open road and the hot thrum of blood calling to them; only burned-out wrecks and dried-out corpses left in their wake. Except, two years ago, they left a witness in the mangled wreck of her family car, her husband dead, her son taken. She remembers their awful faces, and she's coming for them - her thirst for vengeance even more powerful than their hunger for blood.