The Lost Country Books

Welcome to the Big Empty, the world of the Flashback ... a world in which most the population has vanished and where dinosaurs roam freely. You can survive here, if you're lucky, and if you're not in the wrong place at the wrong time--which is everywhere and all the time. But what you'll never do is remain the same, for this is a world whose very purpose is to change you: for better or for worse. It is a world where a group of travelers will find themselves trapped in a service station with an unravelling President of the United States as the prehistoric horrors close in … Where a band of survivors must face roving packs of monsters and men in post-apocalyptic Seattle to retrieve a prize of incalculable worth … Where rioting teenagers must face deadly predators as well as their own demons while ransacking the nation’s capital … Where a Native-American warrior will seek to bury his past and offer an elegy for all the world in what remains of Las Vegas … Where a gambling park which races dinosaurs instead of horses will rise up against a tyrannical despot … Where a dog separated from his owners will undergo a terrifying journey and a great trophy hunter will meet his ultimate fate. In short, it is a world where anything can and does happen. So take a deep dive into these loosely connected tales of the Dinosaur Apocalypse (each of which can be read individually or as a part of the greater saga): tales of wonder and terror, death and survival, blood ... and beauty. Do it today ... before the apocalypse comes.

First came the time-storm, which erased half the population. Then came the Dinosaur Apocalypse … How did it all begin? Well, that depends on where you were and who you ask. In some places it started with the weather—which quickly became unstable and began behaving in impossible ways. In still others it started with the lights in the sky, which shifted and pulsed and could not be explained. Elsewhere it started with the disappearances: one here, a few there, but increasing in occurrence until fully three quarters of the population had vanished. Either way, there is one thing on which everyone agrees—it didn’t take long for the prehistoric flora and fauna to start showing up (often appearing right where someone was standing, in which case the two were fused, spliced, amalgamated). It didn’t take long for the great Time-displacement called the Flashback—which was brief but had aftershocks, like an earthquake—to change the face of the earth. Nor for the stories, some long and others short, some from before the maelstrom (and resulting societal collapse) and others after, to be recorded. Welcome to the Lost Country.From "The Dreaming City“:It was at once garish and sublime, hipster and gauche, a burnt-orange relic of a bygone era with a tip of the hat to Frank Lloyd Wright and a debt to Googie architecture—a thing as righteous as it was ridiculous, which sat amongst its desert like an outsider, an intruder, as out of place as the transplanted palms and piped-in water, as artificial as L.A. itself.“They weren’t kidding when they called it the Lost Aztec Temple of Mars,” I said, as Rusty fidgeted and nickered, and shook flies from his ears. “But what’s with all the high fencing and concertina wire—only to leave the entire front-perimeter open? There’s just a hedgerow. No fence at all.”Nigel sat up in his saddle and looked on, the sweat beading along his forehead. “Be damned if I know; it wasn’t like that before.” He looked around the area—skittishly, I thought. “Maybe he had it removed when they took out the road. He was like that, you know. All about the visual.” He pointed at the house itself. “Wouldn’t have been a problem, though, even if it were there—there’s a man door in the fence just beyond that breezeway.”I held out my arm as everyone started to move. “I—hold up. I—ah, I don’t like this.”I scanned the overgrown yard and the cosmetically-placed boulders (some of which were the size of moving vans); looking for traps, looking for threats. “It doesn’t feel right.”Lazaro got off his horse and approached the hedgerow—then turned to face us, splaying his arms. “What? You heard Jamaica; dude was all about the visual. Probably figured there was no need—once the road was taken out. For a front fence, I mean.” He let his arms slap to his sides. “Now are we going to go check it out, or what? Or are you all just going to sit there all day?”And there was a growling noise, a deep-throated snarl, which sounded from behind one of the rocks even as a shadow fell across the knee-high grass—at which a great cat padded out which was easily the size of a pickup, and hissed at us: its huge pallet showing pink and pale, its black lips stretching, its whiskers and curved fangs—which were like tusks—gleaming in the sun.“Lazaro, don’t!”But it was too late; he’d already drawn his pistol and squeezed off a few rounds—which went pop, pop, pop in the late afternoon sun and echoed along the hills; which reverberated across the valley like the sound of a car backfiring ...

First came the time-storm, which erased half the population. Then came the Dinosaur Apocalypse … How did it all begin? Well, that depends on where you were and who you ask. In some places it started with the weather—which quickly became unstable and began behaving in impossible ways. In still others it started with the lights in the sky, which shifted and pulsed and could not be explained. Elsewhere it started with the disappearances: one here, a few there, but increasing in occurrence until fully three quarters of the population had vanished. Either way, there is one thing on which everyone agrees—it didn’t take long for the prehistoric flora and fauna to start showing up (often appearing right where someone was standing, in which case the two were fused, spliced, amalgamated). It didn’t take long for the great Time-displacement called the Flashback—which was brief but had aftershocks, like an earthquake—to change the face of the earth. Nor for the stories, some long and others short, some from before the maelstrom (and resulting societal collapse) and others after, to be recorded. Welcome to the Lost Country. From "The Primeval World“: I stood abruptly and raised the back of my hand—but was restrained by Linda, who had inserted herself between us. “That’s enough! Please—Chris. Enough. She’s not going to tell us.” She backed me away from the girl. “But I have an idea … if you want to hear it.” I yanked away from her and began pacing, furious at the stranger but really angry with myself—for losing my cool in front of my crush, whom I’d liked since the moment we’d met (at the Coke machine in the Community Room, about a month before the Flashback). And for sending them—Penny and Fred—to the food mart in the first place, ostensibly to save time but really just so I could be with Linda. “I—I’m sorry. Jesus. It’s just that—” She came to me and put a finger to my lips. “Shhh. Forget it. All right?” I tried to look away but she forced me to look at her. “All right? Listen. We know which direction they went. So … why don’t we just—take Valerie here—and go looking for them?” She turned to face the young woman. “She’ll point us in the right direction—won’t you, Little Miss Sunshine?” She glared at her menacingly. “If she ever wants to see home again.” And she was right, of course; I knew it and the girl knew it. And so I reconfigured her bonds so she could travel and we doused ourselves in rex urine— including Valerie (for who knew how far we’d have to go or how long we’d be exposed to potential predators), and we headed out; walking up South Union Avenue toward the capitol even as Compies watched from the undergrowth and I thought I saw a face: simian yet strangely human, animal, and yet somehow not—peeking at us briefly from between two fronds. Staring at us, passively, almost meditatively, like a great ape behind glass; or a manatee through green, hazy water.

First came the time-storm, which erased half the population. Then came the Dinosaur Apocalypse … How did it all begin? Well, that depends on where you were and who you ask. In some places it started with the weather—which quickly became unstable and began behaving in impossible ways. In still others it started with the lights in the sky, which shifted and pulsed and could not be explained. Elsewhere it started with the disappearances: one here, a few there, but increasing in occurrence until fully three quarters of the population had vanished. Either way, there is one thing on which everyone agrees—it didn’t take long for the prehistoric flora and fauna to start showing up (often appearing right where someone was standing, in which case the two were fused, spliced, amalgamated). It didn’t take long for the great Time-displacement called the Flashback—which was brief but had aftershocks, like an earthquake—to change the face of the earth. Nor for the stories, some long and others short, some from before the maelstrom (and resulting societal collapse) and others after, to be recorded. Welcome to the Lost Country.From “The Devil's Triangle”:And then they were coming, not in a gaggle but in a staggered formation, bounding forward but in turns, running and pausing, as we turned and flat-out bolted—sprinting for the ferry as the sun shone hot and merciless and without compassion; veering for the island shuttle once we realized we’d never make it, piling through its driver’s door and slamming it behind us as the raptors fell upon the vehicle like a threshing machine and began climbing and tearing at its canopy.“Wait, don’t—”My ears rung as she started firing, blindly, into the animals, at least two of the slugs hitting the beams and ricocheting—one of them close enough to nick my ear.“There’s too many of them,” I shouted, even as a dark snout stabbed between the beams and banged to a halt, gnashing its teeth. “Just stay low, they can’t get through.”After which I eased the rifle from her hands and we hunkered near the floor; the raptors screaming and tearing the roof apart even as ragged pieces of it fell and they began reaching between its beams with their human-like forelimbs—swiping at us with their curved talons, blindly; reaching and groping and searching—like zombies.Neither of us behaved bravely or kept our wits about ourselves. It was the screams that were the worst; which tore through the air like knives—like fighter jets passing so close you could see the rivets. Which split your mind so that you were too disoriented to think, to do much of anything. I’m afraid they got the better of us both as we cowered near the floor and covered our ears; as Amanda reached for me and pulled me close and I wrapped her up in my arms and squeezed her tight ...

First came the time-storm, which erased half the population. Then came the Dinosaur Apocalypse … How did it all begin? Well, that depends on where you were and who you ask. In some places it started with the weather—which quickly became unstable and began behaving in impossible ways. In still others it started with the lights in the sky, which shifted and pulsed and could not be explained. Elsewhere it started with the disappearances: one here, a few there, but increasing in occurrence until fully three quarters of the population had vanished. Either way, there is one thing on which everyone agrees—it didn’t take long for the prehistoric flora and fauna to start showing up (often appearing right where someone was standing, in which case the two were fused, spliced, amalgamated). It didn’t take long for the great Time-displacement called the Flashback—which was brief but had aftershocks, like an earthquake—to change the face of the earth. Nor for the stories, some long and others short, some from before the maelstrom (and resulting societal collapse) and others after, to be recorded. Welcome to the Lost Country. From “Mesozoic Knights”: I unsheathed Blood Zephyr and gave her a heft—relishing the touch and feel of her (even if it was steel on steel); appreciating her weight and balance. “No, Black Duncan. It is not possible. The Quest must not be surrendered—not for you or for anyone. You know that.” “And again, I ask: Why? Why, when everything a man could possibly want exists right here, now, and in such great plentitude? Bah. This shard and purity nonsense … it’s just that—nonsense. Why pursue it?” I watched as Mortigen drew his own blade and paused to admire it, as I had done. “What would you prefer?” I snapped. “To live as prisoners? To wither away in this very cell but for the chance at some sexual gratification?” Black Duncan guffawed. “They’re not going to keep us here. Eve told me herself. It’s only until they get to know us. Regardless, I think I should tell you, that, that …” He lifted his chin and squared his shoulders, as though having made up his mind at last. “That I’m staying. That, indeed, I did lay with my progen—my progen—” “Your progenitrix,” I said, curtly. “His hooker, he means,” quipped Mortigen. Black Duncan shot him a glance—one I wouldn’t want directed at me. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that. No; she was skilled in the art of love, it’s true—but she was no prostitute. None of them are. What happened between us was genuine. It was real.” He looked at me almost pleadingly. “Don’t you see, Galaren, it was real. It wasn’t like Ambergard—or Craxis—or the way we talk—or any of this other faux bullshit we’ve immersed ourselves in. No. This was nature, this was truth— real nature, not some phantasmagoria dreamed up by—by Them,” He nodded toward the ceiling and the sky. “Like the bees we saw coming in. They are trying to build something here, Galaren; something based on reality, not fantasy. Something authentic. And I’m not simply going to walk away from that. I mean, surely you can understand—” “What I understand is that we’re getting out of here,” I said. “And that the test of virtue will be met. And what I suggest just now is that you—” “Your test of virtue, Galaren. Your test. I’m not leaving. I’ll help you escape, but I’m not going to—” “Shh,” said Mortigen. “Someone’s coming.”