Killer Angel Trilogy series by Myles Stafford (#1-3)
Requirements: .ePUB .MOBI Reader | 1.2 MB / 1 MB
Overview: "I enjoy writing in the First Person voice which, to me, gives my characters more depth. Although my work is post-apocalyptic survival, I prefer to keep events and characters tied to realistic and believable actions, reactions and situations. Although the names are changed, almost every one of these wonderful characters is based on a real person, to include, sometimes, their backgrounds, histories and personalities. These are family, friends, acquaintances, and business associates. In my travels and adventures, I’ve met far too many incredible people to not incorporate them into my novels."
Genre: Science Fiction, Fantasy
Hard Player (#1) “I did not choose this life!”
In the beginning, I knew fear. The kind of fear that makes you hide in a closet, unable to move, stiff and sweating; your heart beating so loudly that you think ‘they’ might hear the sound. From my hotel window, my eyes wide, my chest heaving to cry for rescue, I saw horrors that I had never before imagined.
No rescue came.
It never would come.
But I survived…
I survived and I grew strong. I overcame my fear and learned their tricks, their lairs, and their instincts.
Then, a little at a time, as I gained experience, speed and strength….
I became the rescue.
Legend (#2) Ben…I can still see his handsome, intelligent face so clearly as he became increasingly agitated, growling and whimpering while he circled and prodded my prostrate form, pleading for me to rise once again.
Distant screeching sounds; hard breathing; rushing movement. I did not care. Let them take me! I could do no more. I was forever done. No more!
Then it happened!
Faster than thought, that stinking, crushing horde of vomitous undead raged full upon me with maniacal shrieking fury. I knew well that awful sensation, I had felt it before; that hungry swarm of insane man-eaters that would destroy without mercy, their malodorous breath hot upon my neck; their broken teeth ripping into my leather; those slashing, ripping, clawing brown nails digging into my face, knocking each other down in their horrid frenzy.
I struggled against the ravenous creatures and pulled one gun from my vest, even as the screeching insanity enveloped me.
I’m so sorry Kip!
Journey (#3) She had a way of sizing up a man that was interesting and distinctive; oftentimes even amusing. Her eyes would scan up then down, calmly, taking in every detail, her hands usually resting easily on two of the pistols holstered in her vest (when impatient, her fingers would gently tap the guns). I think this mentally disarmed her potential adversary, as they would think her unprepared – so very few had any concept of her lightning speed.
You may be surprised to learn that Nicki Redstone was not cocky or arrogant, as some have suggested – not in the least. She was, in many respects, quite a humble, even self-effacing person. And humorous? One would not think that someone in such a grim line of work could be comedic, but her wit and timing often kept me cheerfully calm in situations that could easily have been completely demoralizing
It is true that Nicki suffered at night, in sleep. I would sometimes wake in apprehension at the sounds of a struggle, only to see her hands pushing at something in the air, sometimes her legs would kick out. Even in darkness, I could see her face burning with anger, and sometimes I saw fear – the only time I witnessed the expression on her beautiful face. Ben and I both worried for her. On occasion he would nudge her into relaxation, and often I would speak quiet phrases of French to ease her to softer dreams. Out of necessity, she was sensitive to sound – we all were.
Nicki Redstone was born for this world, this I believe. She was, is, and always shall be my friend – my daughter, my blood-sister, and even my mother. I stand by her always.
Download Instructions:
http://festyy.com/wLXWlu
Mirror:
http://festyy.com/wLXWls
