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The Dead Town (Dean Koontz's Frankenstein, Book 5), by Dean Koontz
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The war against humanity is raging. As the small town of Rainbow Falls, Montana, comes under siege, scattered survivors come together to weather the onslaught of the creatures set loose upon the world. As they ready for battle against overwhelming odds, they will learn the full scope of Victor Frankenstein’s nihilistic plan to remake the future—and the terrifying reach of his shadowy, powerful supporters.
Now the good will make their last, best stand. In a climax that will shatter every expectation, their destinies and the fate of humanity hang in the balance.
Dean Koontz’s enthralling Frankenstein series has redefined the classic legend of infernal ambition and harrowing retribution for a new century and a new age. Now the master of suspense delivers an unforgettable novel that is at once a thrilling adventure in itself and a mesmerizing conclusion to his saga of the modern monsters among us.
- Sales Rank: #31347 in Books
- Brand: Bantam
- Published on: 2011-05-24
- Released on: 2011-05-24
- Original language: English
- Number of items: 1
- Dimensions: 7.80" h x 1.30" w x 4.40" l, .55 pounds
- Binding: Paperback
- 448 pages
- Great product!
Review
“Koontz is a master of the edge-of-your-seat, paranoid thriller and perhaps the leading American practitioner of the form.”—The Star-Ledger
“Koontz writes first-rate suspense, scary and stylish.”—Los Angeles Times
“A rarity among bestselling writers, Koontz continues to pursue new ways of telling stories, never content with repeating himself. He writes of hope and love in the midst of evil in profoundly inspiring and moving ways.”—Chicago Sun-Times
About the Author
Dean Koontz, the author of many #1 New York Times bestsellers, lives in Southern California with his wife, Gerda, their golden retriever, Anna, and the enduring spirit of their golden, Trixie.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
chapter 1
Owl-eyed and terrified, Warren Snyder occupied an armchair in his living room. He sat stiff, erect, his hands upturned in his lap. Now and then his right hand shook. His mouth hung slightly open, and his lower lip trembled almost continuously.
On his left temple, a silvery bead gleamed. As rounded and as polished as the head of a decorative upholstery tack, it looked like a misplaced earring.
The bead was in fact packed with electronics, nanocircuitry, and was rather like the head of a nail in that it was the visible portion of a needle-thin probe that had been fired into his brain by a pistol-like device. Instantaneous chemical cauterization of flesh and bone prevented bleeding.
Warren said nothing. He had been ordered to remain silent, and he had lost the power to disobey. Except for his twitching fingers and the tremors, which were both involuntary, he did not move, not even to change position in the chair, because he had been told to be still.
His gaze shifted back and forth between two points of interest: his wives.
With a silver bead on her left temple and her eyes glazed like those of an amped-out meth junkie, Judy Snyder perched on the sofa, knees together, hands folded serenely in her lap. She didn't twitch or tremble like her husband. She seemed to be without fear, perhaps because the probe had damaged her brain in ways not intended.
The other Judy stood by one of the living-room windows that faced the street, alternately studying the snowy night and regarding her two prisoners with contempt. Their kind were the spoilers of the earth. Soon these two would be led away like a couple of sheep, to be rendered and processed. And one day, when the last human beings were eradicated, the world would be as much of a paradise as it had ever been or ever could be.
This Judy was not a clone of the one on the sofa, nothing as disgusting as a mere meat machine, which was all that human beings were. She had been designed to pass for the original Judy, but the illusion would not hold up if her internal structure and the nature of her flesh were to be studied by physicians. She had been created in a couple of months, programmed and extruded-"born"-as an adult in the Hive, deep underground, with no tao other than her program, with no illusion that she possessed free will, with no obligation whatsoever to any higher power other than Victor Leben, whose true last name was Frankenstein, and with no life after this one to which she needed to aspire.
Through the parted draperies, she watched a tall man crossing the snow- mantled street, hands in his coat pockets, face turned to the sky as if delighting in the weather. He approached the house on the front walkway, playfully kicking up little clouds of snow. Judy couldn't see his face, but she assumed he must be Andrew Snyder, the nineteen-year- old son of the family. His parents expected him to return home from work about this time.
She let the draperies fall into place and stepped out of the living room, into the foyer. When she heard Andrew's footsteps on the porch, she opened the door.
"Andy," she said, "I was so worried."
Shucking off his boots to leave them on the porch, Andrew smiled and shook his head. "You worry too much, Mom. I'm not late."
"No, you're not, but terrible things have been happening in town tonight."
"What terrible things?"
As Andrew stepped into the foyer in his stocking feet, the Judy replicant closed the door, turned to him, and began to unbutton his peacoat. In the best imitation of motherly concern that she could manage, she said, "You'll catch your death in this weather."
Pulling a scarf from around his neck, he asked again, "What terrible things?" He frowned with confusion and annoyance, as if her fussing with his coat must be out of character for her.
As she opened the buttons, she maneuvered him until the doorway to the study lay beyond even his peripheral vision.
"All the killings," she said, "it's horrible."
Intent upon her to an extent he had not been until now, Andrew said, "Killings? What killings?"
As he spoke, his replicant glided silently out of the study, directly to him, and pulled the trigger instantly upon pressing the muzzle of the brain-probe pistol to Andrew's left temple.
The young man's face wrenched with pain but for only a moment. Then his eyes widened with terror even as his face relaxed into an expression that was hardly more readable than that of someone in a coma.
"Come with me," said the replicant Andrew, and led his namesake into the living room. "Sit on the sofa."
Silvery bead shimmering like a drop of mercury on his temple, Andrew Snyder did as he was told.
If the replicant Andrew had chosen to sit opposite the real one and squeeze the trigger again, the pistol wouldn't have fired another skull-piercing dart. The second shot would have been a telemetric command initiating transmission from the embedded needle to a data- storage module in the replicant's inorganic brain. In ninety minutes or less, the essence of the young man's life experience-acquired knowledge, memories, faces, torrents of sights and sounds-would be downloaded to his impersonator.
The replicant had no need, however, to pass for Andrew Snyder in more than appearance. By this time the night after next, all the citizens of Rainbow Falls would have been killed, rendered, and processed; no one who had known the real Andrew would remain alive to be deceived by his laboratory-bred double.
Ninety minutes devoted to memory downloading would be, in this instance, a waste of time. Replicants despised waste and distraction. Focus and efficiency were important principles. The only morality was efficiency, and the only immorality was inefficiency.
The Community, as creatures born in the Hive called their new civilization, would soon possess a secret base from which to move outward relentlessly across the continent and then swiftly across the world. Communitarians were the embodiment of progress, the end of history, the end of all the repulsive messiness of human delusions and random events, the beginning of a planned future that, according to a precise timetable, would lead one day to the absolute perfection of all things.
The Communitarian Andrew Snyder, already dressed for the winter night, left the living room to join the Communitarian Warren Snyder, who waited for him in the Ford Explorer that was parked in the garage. The real Warren, paralyzed in the living-room armchair, was the general manager and the program director of KBOW, the only radio station in town.
Early in every violent revolution, those who would overthrow the current order must seize control of all means of communication in order to deny the enemy a command structure that might facilitate resistance. Everyone working the evening shift at KBOW must be controlled and then conveyed to one of the centers where the people of Rainbow Falls were being vigorously processed.
The replicant Judy remained behind with the Judy whom she had replaced and with the two males sitting docilely in the living room. Her assignment was to wait here until a transport arrived to collect the brain-pierced trio and take them to their destruction.
Even if the members of the Snyder family had been in control of their faculties, they would not have been acceptable company. Human beings were, after all, not merely base animals like any creatures of the fields and woods; they were by far the worst of all species in the world, so vain as to claim exceptional status among all living things, so utterly deranged as to believe that they were born with souls and were meant to live with meaning so as to fulfill a cosmic destiny, when in fact they were a cancer in the bosom of Nature.
In spite of their pretensions, they were meat. Just meat. Blood and bone and meat. And insane. Mad. They were mad meat and nothing more.
Communitarian Judy despised them. She loathed the way they lived, too, with no concern for the numerous imperfections of their surroundings.
The living-room carpet was only the most immediate example of their inferiority in this regard. Lint. She counted six bits of lint just in the area bordered by the two armchairs and the coffee table in front of the sofa. And not merely specks of lint. Cat hairs, as well. The cat had fled through a pet flap in the kitchen door, but its hairs were everywhere.
Order was an important principle, no less important than focus and efficiency. Indeed, efficiency was not achievable in a state of disorder. Order must be imposed before perfect efficiency could be achieved. This was a truth deeply programmed into her.
Waiting for the transport that would haul away the Snyders was not an efficient use of time. As Judy paced back and forth across the filthy carpet, stopping now and then to part the poorly hung draperies and search the street for a sign of the scheduled truck, she was acutely aware that progress waited to be made on countless fronts, that there was a world to be conquered and changed, and that she was at the moment contributing nothing to the heroic efforts of the Community.
She felt somewhat better when she got the vacuum cleaner out of the closet and swept all the exposed areas of carpet until she could see no lint, no stray thread, no single cat hair. But then, through the glass top of the coffee table, she glimpsed what might have been a peanut that had been dropped by one of the Snyders and had rolled under the furniture.
Agitated, she dragged the coffee table away from the sofa where two of her prisoners obediently waited, and she exposed the carpet under it for closer inspection. In addition to the peanut, she found a dead fly. The insect appeared to be dry, brittle, as if it had been under the table for days and would crumble to flakes and dust upon being touched.
The peanut and the fly were not the sum of it. There were cat hairs, too, and a crumb of something that she could not identify.
"Lift your feet! Lift them!" she ordered Andrew and his mother, and with no change of expression in their slack faces, they obeyed, raising their knees high and their feet off the floor.
With Communitarian fervor, Judy vacuumed the carpet in front of the sofa. When she saw that Warren, in the armchair, had raised his feet, she also swept that area.
Inevitably, she began to wonder what dust and debris might have built up on the baseboard behind the sofa and on the carpet under it. She had visions of extreme disorder.
She went to the window and parted the draperies, in which the folds had not been ironed with sufficient care to ensure that they would hang uniformly. She looked left and right along the wintry street. A patrol car cruised slowly past the house. All the police in town were already Communitarians, had been for the better part of the day, but that fact did not calm Judy in the least. Only one thing would assure her that the planned takeover of the town was proceeding in an efficient manner: the arrival of the transport and the crew that would collect the Snyder family.
Turning away from the window, she surveyed the room and judged the entire space a disaster.
chapter 2
Silent legions of snow marched softly through the night, laying siege to Rainbow Falls, Montana, conquering the black streets. Like clouds of battle smoke, the blizzard faded the red-brick buildings and the towering evergreens. Soon streetscapes and landscapes would be ghostly and bleak, apocalyptic visions of a dead future.
Oblivious of the cold, Deucalion roamed the snowswept town as only he, in all the world, could travel. The terrible lightning that shocked him to life in Victor's original laboratory, more than two hundred years previously, also brought him other gifts, including a profound understanding of the quantum structure of reality, an intuitive awareness of the weave in the foundation fabric of all things. He knew that the universe was immeasurably vast and yet a strangely intimate place, that distance was both a fact and an illusion, that in truth every point in the universe was next door to every other point. A Tibetan monastery on the opposite side of the world from Rainbow Falls was in another sense only one step away, if you knew how to take that step.
Deucalion knew how, and in an instant he transitioned from an alleyway behind Jim James Bakery to the roof of the Rainbow Theater. This town of fifteen thousand souls had an Old West feel because many of its buildings dated to the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries; they had flat roofs with parapets of the kind that bad guys and sheriffs hid behind during gunfights in old movies.
No building in town rose above four stories, and the theater ranked among the tallest structures. From this vantage point high in the falling snow, Deucalion could see east and west along Cody Street. Most businesses were closing early because of the storm, but the restaurants and bars remained brightly lighted. Only a few vehicles were parked along the curbs; and traffic had fallen to a fraction of what it had been just half an hour earlier.
The large panel truck with midnight-blue cab and white cargo section was one of only four vehicles moving along Cody Street. Other identical trucks operated elsewhere in the town. Earlier Deucalion had learned the nature of the task in which the hard-eyed, two-man crews were engaged: transporting subdued citizens of Rainbow Falls to facilities where they would be killed.
The victims had been replaced by lookalikes created in Victor's facility somewhere along State Route 311, which locals called the End Times Highway, a twenty-four-mile loop of wide two-lane blacktop that dated back to the Cold War. That road apparently served nothing along its remote wooded route except for an array of missile silos that had been decommissioned after the fall of the Soviet Union and had been in some cases abandoned and in other cases sold
off to corporations for use as low-humidity, high-security storage vaults for sensitive records. Many locals were convinced that the silos were but a small part of what lay hidden along the End Times Highway, that other secret subterranean facilities had been built deep to withstand multiple direct nuclear strikes. Finding Victor's lair this time would not be easy.
No doubt the first people to be replaced by replicants and murdered had been those in the police department and in elected offices. Victor would take control of the town from the top and work down to the last unsuspecting citizen. Deucalion had already seen captive employees of the telephone company being herded into one of the blue-and-white transports, whereafter they were taken to a warehouse for disposal.
When the truck down on Cody turned north on Russell Street, Deucalion stepped off the roof of the theater and directly, boldly, magically onto the corrugated-steel step that served the passenger door of the vehicle. Surprised, the man riding shotgun turned his head. Holding fast to an assist bar on the wall of the cab, Deucalion wrenched open the door, which barely cleared his great bulk, reached inside with one hand, seized the passenger by the throat, crushed his windpipe, pulled him off the seat, and threw him into the snowswept street as if he weighed no more than a hollow, plastic, department-store mannequin.
"Always wear your seat belt," he muttered.
Most helpful customer reviews
56 of 63 people found the following review helpful.
This is it?
By RStringini
To say I was disappointed with this book is putting it lightly. I've loved this series since the first book, but starting with Lost Souls and now this... I've been really let down.
That isn't to say that there aren't good parts to this book. Erika V and Jocko are still great characters, and there are a few interesting scenes, but in the end the book is a mess. Victor is a laughable antagonist, whose so arrogent that he never really feels like a threat. The Builders are interesting, but they get overused, and the book lacks the darker, violent edge that made the first two so interesting.
The biggest problem is the sheer number of plotlines. When new characters and storylines are still being introduced during the last 75 pages, it just screams of padding. Then the ending, which should be pulse pounding and exciting, is glossed over and tied up with a "and they all lived happily ever after."
Really not very good, and a disappointing way to wrap things up.
9 of 9 people found the following review helpful.
Better than the fourth, but not a good way to end the series.
By Kristen L. Matthews
Here be major spoilers.
Like most everyone else disappointed about this and the fourth book, I REALLY wanted the payoff to go well. Reading the back of this book was what got me interested in the Frankenstein series to begin with and so since this was the last one, I was hoping that it'd be an ending worth remembering.
I was wrong.
But I'm going to go ahead and say, this was LOADS better than the fourth one. That wouldn't be too hard. But even I could've forgiven the fourth book if this one had been better. The fourth book felt like it was setting everything up. So, I'm going to list why I was disappointed and then talk about what I'd have done better.
1. The trilogy was fine - The first three books were great. It had an ending that was nice. The heroes won, the villain lost, there weren't too many characters clogging up the book, I could keep up with all the plotlines and I actually cared about most of the characters. Sure, I felt the ending was a little weak but I still liked it. More on the ending later.
2. The villain wasn't easy to identify with - Villains are the most important thing to a story. These days we like villains that make us laugh or scare the crap out of us. The Joker from Batman is a great example of that. Victor Helios...was okay. He wasn't the best villain ever, but he wasn't the worst. He was creepy (I mean, he ate live baby rats because he was bored and got off on raping his wife) but he wasn't outright scary. I prefer the original Victor because of his goal. He wants to replace the world with clones and position himself as their `god'. Not the most original goal in the world, but with a story like this it works. Victor Leben, or Victor Immaculate is an entirely different story. Basically, he wants to kill everyone and everything and then die himself leaving the world empty. Okay....um....how does that benefit him? Another good way to identify with the villain is if you can identify with their goal. Now, I really don't identify with Victor Frankenstein's goal at all, but at least his goal made some sense. This....does not. How does he benefit if everything's dead? Was this explained?
3. It destroys the message in the trilogy - The first three books pound it over our heads that it's important to have free will and hope. The lack of that is what destroys the clones faster than Victor can spit them out. The fact that he gave his wife hope was what separated her from the rest and kept her sane after his death. It doesn't seem to mention this again much in the fourth books. The builders start breaking down because...I don't know why honestly, it doesn't seem like something that was explained either. It couldn't really be lack of hope because you'd think that it'd affect the Communitarians too, but they seem to be fine. So, what was going wrong? Or did he just build the builders up to be too powerful and this was the only way he could think of to keep the heroes alive?
4. Heroes turn useless - I liked Michael and Carson in the original trilogy as the focus. They were clichés but they were likable. In the third book I kind of noticed that they didn't do much of anything. And it was a bit disappointing because Deucalion seemed to think that Carson was going to be the one that helped him kill Frankenstein. And I really liked that idea. She'd get revenge on the murder of her parents and he'd get closure since he couldn't kill Victor himself. Instead, in the third book, the clones kill him by burying him alive and as ironic as it is, it was a tad disappointing. Especially since all Carson pretty much does is tell him to "go to tell." Really? That's all this hard hitting, guns blazing, caffeinated badass has to say to the man that ruined her life? In the last two it's even worse. Thanks to the barrage of too many characters, all Carson and Michael do is kill a clone and then hang out with the church catching them up on the plot. They had nothing to do and I have to wonder why Koontz even bothered bringing them back. They had their ending, and the characters didn't want to do anything dangerous in fear of orphaning their baby.
5. Too much padding- Do we really need to hear how the builders kill every other page? Because it sounded stupid the first time he described it. Did we really need that many characters? It really bogged the story down. If anything, he should've let some of the characters that we got to know die. Most of the characters that did perish were people that we didn't even know. There were too many happy endings for a story as supposedly dark as this one. I would've kept Bryce and Travis for the hospital exposition, but I would've killed the boy's mother off. And I would've kept the radio team in the story because they were important and I would've kept Rusty the war veteran in and his kind-of girlfriend because I liked their story, but I would've introduced them a lot earlier. And that would've been it.
But would I have done differently? Well, I would've just kept it a trilogy first of all. As weak as the ending was, it was still loads better than this one, but if I felt I HAD to write another book, I would've made it a prequel. Victor and Deucalion had WAY too few scenes together and it would've been great to actually read about their history instead of just having it told to me. It would've been nice to see Deucalion make mistakes and have faults instead of being this godlike being who can teleport and heal autism (Oh, the way, way to walk into the light before you take the kids home from the monastery hero. I'm sure their parents appreciated THAT one). But all in all the payoff wasn't worth stretching it into two books.
49 of 61 people found the following review helpful.
This book reminds me of why I love Dean Koontz
By charlotte vibble
The fifth and final book in the Frankenstein series has reminded me of why I am such a fan of Dean Koontz. It is gripping from beginning to end and really hard to tear yourself away from.I had been losing faith in Koontz, as more and more of his books had left me with a "what a waste of my time" kind of feeling, and when I began reading the 4th book I was very concerned I was again going to be disappointed, but Koontz really pulled it off. My complaint with some of his recent novels has been that he has spent so much of the novel developing and building up, that I find myself 30 pages from the end with no hint of a resolution, and the conclusion feels like he was running out of time and tried to wrap everything up too quickly. Thus was my worry as I delved into book 4. It seemed like he was introducing too many characters and too many settings to be able to adequately be able to flesh each out and bring back in to a neat conclusion, but he DEFINITELY succeeded! I would have liked to hear a bit more on the resolution (on both the good and bad guys sides) but all in all I felt that most of the questions were answered, and the story was brought to a very well rounded out conclusion. I'd like to see Koontz return to writing novels this gripping as the standard, as opposed to this being a rare gem in an increasingly disappointing line up.
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