Pines: Wayward Pines: 1 (The Wayward Pines Trilogy)

by Blake Crouch

Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they aren’t after you. —Joseph Heller

His experience, there was darkness everywhere human beings gathered. The way of the world. Perfection was a surface thing. The epidermis. Cut a few layers deep, you begin to see some darker shades. Cut to the bone—pitch black.

Her five years in Wayward Pines, there’d been only four fêtes.

Children’s laughter—carefree, giddy, maniacal—filled the woods. A nightmare version of some game from his youth.