Arena One: Slaverunners (Survival Trilogy, Book 1) by Morgan Rice

By Morgan Rice

Big apple. 2120. American has been decimated, burnt up from the second one Civil struggle. during this post-apocalyptic international, survivors are a ways and few among. And so much of these who do continue to exist are participants of the violent gangs, predators who stay within the massive towns. They patrol the nation-state searching for slaves, for clean sufferers to deliver again into town for his or her favourite demise game: enviornment One. The dying stadium the place rivals are made to struggle to the loss of life, within the so much barbaric of the way. there's just one rule to the world: nobody survives. Ever.

Deep within the wasteland, excessive up within the Catskill Mountains, 17 yr outdated Brooke Moore manages to outlive, hiding out together with her more youthful sister, Bree. they're cautious to prevent the gangs of slaverunners who patrol the nation-state. yet someday, Brooke isn't really as cautious as she will be, and Bree is captured. The slaverunners take her away, heading to town, and to what's going to be a definite loss of life.

Brooke, a Marine’s daughter, was once raised to be tricky, to by no means backpedal from a struggle. while her sister is taken, Brooke mobilizes, makes use of every thing at her disposal to chase down the slaverunners and get her sister again. alongside the best way she runs into Ben, 17, one other survivor like her, whose brother used to be taken. jointly, they crew up on their rescue challenge.

What follows is a post-apocalyptic, action-packed mystery, because the of them pursue the slaverunners at the most deadly experience in their lives, following them deep into the guts of latest York. alongside the best way, in the event that they are to outlive, they are going to need to make many of the toughest offerings and sacrifices in their lives, encountering stumbling blocks neither of them had expected—including their unforeseen emotions for every different. Will they rescue their siblings? Will they make it again? and should they, themselves, need to struggle within the area?

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Some crumbled to dust as we touched them. But others were of heavier cloth, and they felt soft and new in our fingers. We found a room with walls made of shelves, which held rows of manuscripts, from the floor to the ceiling. Never had we seen such a number of them, nor of such strange shape. They were not soft and rolled, they had hard shells of cloth and leather; and the letters on their pages were so small and so even that we wondered at the men who had such handwriting. We glanced through the pages, and we saw that they were written in our language, but we found many words which we could not understand.

What agony must have been theirs before that which they saw coming and could not stop! Perhaps they cried out in protest and in warning. But men paid no heed to their warning. And they, these few, fought a hopeless battle, and they perished with their banners smeared by their own blood. And they chose to perish, for they knew. To them, I send my salute across the centuries, and my pity. Theirs is the banner in my hand. And I wish I had the power to tell them that the despair of their hearts was not to be final, and their night was not without hope.

And now we look upon the earth and sky. This spread of naked rock and peaks and moonlight is like a world ready to be born, a world that waits. It seems to us it asks a sign from us, a spark, a first commandment. We cannot know what word we are to give, nor what great deed this earth expects to witness. We know it waits. It seems to say it has great gifts to lay before us, but it wishes a greater gift for us. We are to speak. We are to give its goal, its highest meaning to all this glowing space of rock and sky.

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