Genre: YA Post-Apocalypptic
Word Count: 85,000
Zoe, a seventeen-year-old scavenger in a destroyed world, is tethered to a pirate ship by a tracking device. Somewhere onshore is the key to removing it. Find it and she can escape nineteen-year-old Sam, who implanted the device to keep her prisoner. But with the general population turned into hosts for an unstoppable virus, and monsters rising from the earth every night to hunt stragglers of the human race, her chances at success are slim . . . Until the ship is attacked and she’s left behind.
On her own, Zoe must travel though the ruined city of Los Angeles to stay within radius of the vessel. If she fails to do so, the tracker will incapacitate her—a death sentence on land. When she meets a hermit, a boy without a shadow, he offers her what she’s always wanted. Freedom. And safety. None of it lasts long as Zoe discovers the truth about Sam and their connection—a bond the boy is trying to destroy. Even if Zoe makes it back to Sam, her survival will be short-lived unless they work together to find a way to defeat the legion of hunters before the human race becomes extinct.
DARK IN NATURE is a YA Post-Apocalyptic retelling of Captain Hook and Peter Pan complete at 85,000 words.
Old bones held the scent of rotted seashells. I tried not to gag as I searched the Playa Fluff ‘n Fold. With flashlight in hand, I avoided slanted ceiling beams and spider webs. My boots sank into rubble mounds, leaving me nearly knee-deep in disintegrated building materials, and my heels grinding into the remains of people who’d once lived in this beach city. I shook out my hair, certain their dried flesh and tissue flakes had embedded themselves in my strands.
I should be indifferent to these abandoned nooks.
I headed right for a wall of dryers. I yanked the clothes out of a full one, and managed to stir up enough dust to gather in the back of my throat. There. T-shirts and bras, a perfect fit for Cinder and me. Washed two years ago, but hey, it was cleaner than what most of us wore. I shoved items that might prove useful for the crew into my backpack and followed a path of broken tiles.
Every moment I spent salvaging made me care a little less for all those who were gone. After all, they’d gotten a kick in the ass through life’s door, the one marked: Easy Way Out.
And I was still here.
I hadn’t been infected. I hadn’t come forward. I’d stayed with my family. And watched them turn.