by Rhiannon Frater
Excerpt from author's site:
What are the differences in the As the World Dies books coming out from TOR? And are the books different from the originals?
There will be no differences in the overall plot or characters. In fact, the editor from Tor has helped me flesh out the storyline and encouraged me to go to a greater depth in the character development. There are a slew of new scenes in FIGHTING TO SURVIVE that I had a lot of fun writing. I would say that the Tor editions are the ultimate versions of all three novels.
1. Tiny Fingers
So very, very small.
The fingers pressed under the front door of her home were so very small. She could not stop staring at those baby fingers straining frantically to reach her as she stood shivering on the porch. The cool morning air lightly puffed out her pink nightgown as her own pale fingers clutched the thin bathrobe closed at her throat. Texas weather could change so fast, and this early March morning was crisp.
I knew we needed weather stripping, she thought vaguely.
The gap under the front door was far too large. These new modern homes looked so fancy, but were actually not very well built. If they had bought the nice Victorian she wanted, there wouldn’t be a gap under the front door. A gap large enough for that little hand to slide underneath.
The tiny fingers clawed under the edge of the door.
The banging from inside the house had become a steady staccato. It had a rhythm now, as did the grunts and groans. The sounds terrified her. But what was truly horrible were those tiny, desperate fingers.
Her voice caught in her throat when blood began to trickle out from beneath the door. Of course the blood would eventually flow out. There was so much. It had been everywhere when she stood in the doorway of Benjamin’s bedroom. The walls had been splashed red.
She covered her mouth with her hand. Another wave of chills flowed over her as her knees knocked together.
The rhythm changed to a new beat as a second set of fists banged against the door.
Through the lead glass of the door, she could see the dim outline of her husband’s body. It was distorted by the thick smears of blood on the inside of the panes. She stared long enough to make out Lloyd’s misshapen hands battering against the glass before her gaze was inexorably drawn down to those tiny fingers scrabbling so frenziedly toward her.
She really should have insisted on Lloyd putting in weather stripping.
An angry howl from the other side of the door made her jump, and her thick raven hair fell into her face. With trembling hands, she pushed back her tresses. Her gaze did not waver from those tiny fingers.
The pool of blood was slowly spreading toward her bare feet.
She should move.
READ more here.