"Terry M. West lays down his own rebellious medium with a dark picture of the future if man can’t get along and continues to keep on the blinders."-Chad Lutze, The Ginger Nuts of Horror
"HE SHALL MAKE THE WORLD GREAT AGAIN!"
Hundreds of years after the great cataclysm, the Ministry of the 45th survive in a network of scientific bunkers. The last bastion of the old holy order, the 45th are bent on rebuilding the scorched earth and eliminating God's enemies. The Ministry wages a war against the mutant topsiders that occupy the dead states of the Soviet Union of America. Defending the 45th are the Red Guard, genetically engineered soldiers who are programmed to obey through their lifebrand. Dr. Morgan is a serviceman for Unit 468 of the Red Guard. His lifebrand being medicine, Dr. Morgan is the longest surviving field medic to serve. But Dr. Morgan is a deeply conflicted man with violent fantasies that contradict his pledge to preserve life. After escaping an abduction by the topsiders, Dr. Morgan's faith is cracked. During a furlough in the high Chancellor's bunker, Dr. Morgan is hailed a hero and taken off the front lines. But he soon realizes that someone has altered his lifebrand and lifted the veil that concealed the greatest deception ever perpetrated. Dr. Morgan has just become the most dangerous man in the wastelands. And when he discovers who the real enemy is, the revelation unleashes a fury strong enough to destroy what is left of the earth.
This title is relatively new but has earned a lot of critical acclaim. It is also collected in GRUESOME (a 150,000 word collection that features many of my shorts and novellas). GRUESOME has sold consistently well for over a year.
Dr. Morgan had no first name. His title was a label affixed to his tube when he was engineered. His lifebrand was medicine, though he suspected a clerical error had occurred. He felt mercenary would have been a more appropriate calling. His large body could be quick and violent.
Dr. Morgan’s temperament was wrong for his job. But his superiors forgave the rough edges, for he had outlived every field doctor in service. He was not as tolerant and compassionate as he could have been. His anger could boil. He often envisioned himself unleashing his rage upon another in a glorious and grotesque fashion. But, bloody fantasies aside, Dr. Morgan played the cards in his hand like a good and obedient soldier. The inhibitor buried at the base of his skull insured his compliance. It was an internal shock collar that he no longer tested.
Even though his hide wasn’t an always comfortable place, he knew there were worse skins in which to dress. Hell, he could have gotten a bad shake from the vortex mixer and ended up front line fodder for the Red Guard. The Screaming Short Cutters, they were called. Couldn't wait to strap on bombs and fling themselves at paradise. Mental, they were.
But deficiencies didn’t spare you, Dr. Morgan realized. Because all the flesh served and there was no wasting it in these dark times. He had watched many soldiers become corpses and long pigs, and he could see where stupidity fit in all this. Still, he envied the dim men who could kill.
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Italian
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Already translated.
Translated by Emiliano Fenzi
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Portuguese
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Already translated.
Translated by Pieter Lian
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Author review: Terrific job. |
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Spanish
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Already translated.
Translated by Gabriela Miranda
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Author review: Fantastic translation! |
