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352 pages, Paperback
First published July 3, 2012
"They passed a pileup in the left lane. Mangled cars. People on the ground, some bleeding. Some contorting. Some spasming. Some were already upright. Revivified and shambling. Zombies."
"The cloud we walk underneath is the same. It's hideous and by turns. The mushroom rises behind us in the east. Before us, the setting sun smears the sky with color. The interstate is a long thread through burning pine-woods. We're higher up than the rest of the land, a little. A delta. Without the world being set afire, it'd be muggy and we'd be swarmed with Mosquitos. Chalk up one point in favor of nuclear annihilation. No more skeeters."
"The world loves the tomato because it is red. The apple is red too. But the tomatoes flesh is the flesh of mankind.
Do the dead love the flesh of man because it is like a tomato?
We will never know. But I have my suspicions."
"There are times and things you can never forget.
Your first kiss from someone you love.
The first time you have sex.
Your first broken heart.
An there's the first time you ride a steam locomotive through a horde of zombies.
I'd rank it up there with first kiss. Maybe even sex."
Believe it or not, it's finally here: a zombie novel for the thinking crowd. Well, more than a zombie novel, John Hornor Jacobs' This Dark Earth is an epic tale of survival that studies the evolution of society from the moment all hell breaks loose until just a few survivors are left facing an uncertain future a few years after the apocalypse.
Some say thronging cavalry, some say foot soldiers,
others call a fleet the most beautiful of
sights the dark earth offers, but I say it's what-
ever you love best.
And it's easy to make this understood by
everyone, for she who surpassed all human
kind in beauty, Helen, abandoning her
husband—that best of
men—went sailing off to the shores of Troy and
never spent a thought on her child or loving
parents: when the goddess seduced her wits and
left her to wander,
she forgot them all, she could not remember
anything but longing, and lightly straying
aside, lost her way. But that reminds me
now: Anactória,
she's not here, and I'd rather see her lovely
step, her sparkling glance and her face than gaze on
all the troops in Lydia in their chariots and
glittering armor.