Afterburn (Next, #1)

by Scott Nicholson

shimmered behind the clouds as if the black birds were swimming against a frothy tide. The hardwood trees on the surrounding Appalachian slopes were gone to gold and scarlet, and the strange light hinted at the gray winter waiting ahead. One of the crows turned, and its eyes flashed with fire. A blood-chilling caw cracked the brittle air. Rachel slid her machete from its canvas sheath, but the crow veered wildly and then rejoined the broken formation heading south toward the distant city of mutants. DeVontay Jones chuckled behind her. “What were you going to do with that blade? Make us some chicken pot pie?” She

Good

got that right. My depth perception is for the birds.”