They came like locust across the sea and plains, a madness driven by some demon through dysentery, hunger, cholera and thirst. Roads cloven by hoof and wheel – trails of oxen bones, uprooted lives. The scorched ground and makeshift hovels marked their progress. Harbors became a forest of masts, mud and men smiling tightly through bleeding gums and rotten teeth. Abandoned ships upturned and fashioned into hotels, taverns and brothels. Those first squalid cities lawless and lacking the simplest necessities. Tough sons of bitches fed on nothing but pickled pork and hard bread. Those who made it plundered the earth, yellow the prevailing color of their dreams. To what ends they chased these glittering hills. These golden promises. Men of Midas fighting for their golden apple over the trampled corpses of those who stumbled.
Repug's novel discussion group
Discussing the novel.