"Il avait les yeux fermés. Comme un blessé, à qui les coquelicots faisaient des blessures en fleurs. Mais celui-là vivait, il vivait de toutes ses forces. Je voyais ses côtes se soulever au rythme de sa respiration. Sa peau était dorée, d'une couleur de pain qui sort du four. Son visage était souriant et calme. Sans doute, ce n'était pas un homme."
America is at war—and five teens are caught in the crossfire.
It began with a virus. Then a series of attacks erupted across the nation. Now the true invasion has begun, and a handful of teenagers with impossible powers are America’s only defense.
Robison Wells blew readers away with his first novel, Variant, which Publishers Weekly called “a chilling and masterful debut” in a starred review. In Dead Zone, he delivers his most nail-bitingly tense read yet—and an electrifying conclusion to a two-book series that’s perfect for fans of The Maze Runner and I Am Number Four.
“How come the dog isn’t named?” He reads aloud the title on the box. “‘Peggy and dog.’”
“Because people tend to want to name animals after their beloved pets.”
“No. I have no idea. I can give you the number of Peggy’s creator if you want to ask.”
“You have the phone number of this doll’s creator?”
“No.” I punch the price into the register and push Total.
“You’re hard to read,” he says”
Dany crie à tue-tête, mais je ne comprends pas un seul mot. Sur la scène, le groupe Hasard tordu vient tout juste de faire éclater son dernier accord. Le son se réverbère encore sur les murs du gymnase.
- Quoi ? dis-je en criant à mon tour.
J'enlève la ouate de mes oreilles. J'en mets toujours quand j'assiste à la Guerre des Groupes.
I was falling. The air tasted like snow - sharp, tart particles whipped past my face, bruising me with frost. The mountain's peak was far above me, now - and from where I was plummeting I could see that needle-sharp point from which I had been pushed. I closed my eyes. I was dying, now, I knew - I had made that choice. For Kian. For Kian, whom I had loved - for Kian, on whom I rested all my hopes. It was up to him now. It was up to Kian to make peace, the peace that we had been working for for so long. I could feel tears trickle from in between my eyelids, squeezed tightly but not tightly enough to hold them back; I could feel them freeze on my face.
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