Dark Days  Caitlin Kittredge  St. Martin's Paperbacks
Everything tastes like ashes. The air above London is black no
matter the time of day, smoke billowing from the burning
districts south of the Thames. Sirens scream, echoing from
building to building. People scream as hungry things chase them
through the street, now the graveyard of cars long abandoned.
Not all people are victims. Some roam the darker, narrower parts
of the city in packs, falling on man and creature alike. Jack
Winter watches the fires as they flourish and die. He watches
the wraiths flit out over the water. He watches the zombies and
the gangs alike feast on the flesh of men. He tastes the ashes,
the only thing that remains of a world that was once daylight
and free of the knowledge that things like this existed, nearly
close enough to touch. But that wall fell, like all walls do,
victims of time or pressure or circumstance. Now there is no
division, no dark and daylight. There is just this world,
burning and broken, and in it Jack Wint