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The first in New York Times bestselling author Michael Grant's breathtaking dystopian sci-fi saga, Gone is a page-turning thriller that invokes the classic The Lord of the Flies along with the horror of Stephen King.
In the blink of an eye, everyone disappears. Gone. Except for the young. There are teens, but not one single adult. Just as suddenly, there are no phones, no internet, no television. No way to get help. And no way to figure out what's happened. Hunger threatens. Bullies rule. A sinister creature lurks. Animals are mutating. And the teens themselves are changing, developing new talents—unimaginable, dangerous, deadly powers—that grow stronger by the day. It's a terrifying new world. Sides are being chosen, a fight is shaping up. Townies against rich kids. Bullies against the weak. Powerful against powerless. And time is running out: on your birthday, you disappear just like everyone else. . . .
Michael Grant's Gone has been praised for its compelling storytelling, multidimensional characters, and multiple points of view.
whimpered, “Why’d you do that, man?” “Because I’m sick of listening to you,” Drake snapped. “I’m sick of all this powers crap. You saw what we did to freaks at Coates? Who do you think it was that took care of that? All these kids with their stupid so-called powers. Starting fires and moving stuff around and reading your mind and all? Who do you think it was grabbed them one by one in their sleep and beat them down and when they woke up their hands were setting up in a block of cement?” “It was
drinking a couple beers a day. Since Bette. That’s when the drinking had started in earnest. Howard was worried about Orc. Not that he exactly liked him, but Howard’s fate was bound up with Orc’s and he didn’t like the picture of what his world would be like if Orc dumped him. “Orc, get up, man.” No response. “Orc. Get up. We have trouble.” Howard poked him in his shoulder. Orc opened one slit eye. “Why are you bothering me?” “Sam Temple is coming back.” It took Orc a while to process
death.” Howard took a step back, tentatively lifted the bat, then let it fall. “What am I supposed to do?” he whined. “You? Nothing. Where’s Sam?” “He took off.” “What do you mean, he took off?” “I mean him and Quinn and Astrid took off.” Mary blinked, feeling stupid and slow. “Who’s in charge?” “You think just because Sam likes to play the big hero every couple years that makes him the guy in charge?” Mary had been on the bus two years ago when the driver, Mr. Colombo, had had his heart
freshly dug grave. Caine had organized ten search teams to move through the town, each covering a square block to start. The idea was to go into each house on each of the four streets that formed the block. They were to make sure the stove was off, the air-conditioning was off, the TV was off, interior lights were off, and the porch lights lit. They were to turn off automatic irrigation systems and turn off hot water heaters. If they couldn’t figure any of that out, they would add it to a list
way she could help Sam, not just now, but in the future. If they had a future. “I was avoiding it. Not thinking about it. I’d kind of convinced myself it wasn’t going to happen.” He managed a wry grin, mostly, it seemed, for her benefit. He could see his own fear reflected in her and now he was trying to tamp it down. “On the plus side, it means I don’t have to worry about how depressing it’s going to be having Thanksgiving here in the FAYZ.” “There may be a way to beat it,” Astrid said