Cold Falling White: 2 (The Nahx Invasions, 2) - Tapa blanda

Acerca del autor

G.S. Prendergast is the author of the award-winning and multi-nominated young adult novels in verse, Audacious and Capricious, and The Nahx Invasions series. Her book Zero Repeat Forever won the Sheila A. Egoff Children’s Literature Prize. She lives in British Columbia, Canada, with her family. Connect with her on Twitter @GabrielleSaraP.

De la contraportada

Two teens fight for their lives after an alien invasion in this heart-stopping follow-up to Zero Repeat Forever, which VOYA called “an edge-of-your-seat page-turner.”

Humans. Clones. Aliens. No one is safe anymore. It’s the end of the world.

Xander Liu survived the alien invasion—just barely. For more than a year, he has outsmarted, hidden from, and otherwise avoided the ruthless intruders, the Nahx, dodging the deadly darts that have claimed so many. When the murder of his friend leaves him in the protective company of August, a rebellious Nahx soldier, Xander is finally able to make his way back to human controlled territory and relative safety. But safety among the humans is not what it seems.

When Raven awakes on a wide expanse of snowy sand dunes, she has many questions. What has happened to her and the other reanimated humans gathered around her? What is the meaning of the Nahx ships that hover ominously above them? And most pressing of all, where is August, who promised to keep her safe?

In the shadow of an unforgiving Canadian winter, Xander and Raven find themselves on opposite sides of an alien war. Left with little choice about their roles in the looming battle, they search for answers and allies all while being drawn back to the place where their respective fates were determined, and to the one who determined them: August.

Fragmento. © Reproducción autorizada. Todos los derechos reservados.

Raven

RAVEN

It’s cold.

And silent.

And dark.

I am as weightless as a thought, as a shadow underwater. The only thing that gives me substance is the sense of filling up with… something. Something thick and powerful and inhuman, unearthly. I want to squirm away from it but there is nothing to squirm with. All I am is a selection of verbs: to fill, to grow, to change, to perfect. It’s as though I’m being rebuilt from scratch.

Days pass like this. Lifetimes. A lonely wisp of nothing floating in a sea of… what’s left of my mind searches for the word.

Obedience? Duty? I’m being entwined in something, as though my nerves are unraveling and tangling into some idea of… I can’t see it. I can’t hear it or smell it or taste it. It’s nothing, a void, like the space left behind when something is lost. I can feel its emptiness, feel it trying to consume me, to ensnare me. But there’s something else resisting it, something stubborn and intractable, something human.

Regret. And the idea that not every broken thing is unfixable.

In the darkness, I sense someone with me, and though this someone is no more substantial than I am, they feel heavy, like tears of grief or remorse. Tiny yet galactic.

“Hello?” I’m not sure how I say it. I don’t seem to have a mouth.

The answer comes back to me as an impression of force on matter—the particles of air vibrating from sound, the light flickering on August’s hands moving as he signed.

Memory.

Oh… August. Get me out of here. I’m afraid. August?