Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
A CBS-TV SERIES LAUNCHING JUNE 30, 2015!
Once in a lifetime, a writer puts it all together. This is James Patterson's best book ever.
For 36 years, James Patterson has written unputdownable, pulse-racing novels. Now, he has written a book that surpasses all of them. ZOO is the thriller he was born to write.
All over the world, brutal attacks are crippling entire cities. Jackson Oz, a young biologist, watches the escalating events with an increasing sense of dread. When he witnesses a coordinated lion ambush in Africa, the enormity of the violence to come becomes terrifyingly clear.
With the help of ecologist Chloe Tousignant, Oz races to warn world leaders before it's too late. The attacks are growing in ferocity, cunning, and planning, and soon there will be no place left for humans to hide. With wildly inventive imagination and white-knuckle suspense that rivals Stephen King at his very best, James Patterson's ZOO is an epic, non-stop thrill-ride from "One of the best of the best." (TIME)
They amble through the pride, heads held high, ears perked up, mouths closed, tails swishing from side to side. After a moment, the females begin to follow, heads held low. As the two lions approach, a vulture standing on a woman’s face shrugs its shoulders and takes flight, flapping, awkward and sloppy as a big pigeon. The one-eyed lion nudges the meat with his paw. He holds it down and takes a bite, his jaw making a popping sound as his carnassial teeth efficiently peel meat off the bone.
Jonathan Eley walked in—a popular astronomer who hosted a New Agey PBS series on the origins of the universe. They all wanted to see the lion attack footage, which by then had been set up to run continuously in a cordoned-off section of the meeting room. The Botswana zoological anomaly, as many were starting to call it, was attracting scientists like moths to a flame. This whole thing was on a new level now, I realized. The buzz on this was intense. Also, in a strange way, I’d won a kind of
respect that I’d never really had before: as the meeting gradually segued from the ballroom to the hotel bar, well-known scientists from top-shelf institutions—Harvard, MIT, Johns Hopkins—who normally wouldn’t have given me the time of day shuffled over to shake my hand or offer to buy me a beer. As the attaboys accumulated, I took five from worrying about the end of the world to allow myself a golden moment of self-congratulation. Even after people had called me crazy, I’d stuck to my guns with
cranky. Chloe was already cranky because they didn’t have the car seat for Eli that they had said they would. The afternoon sun sparkled on a sea of chrome and glass and glowered like a fat yellow bully above us, a problem that the car’s anemic AC alleviated exactly not at all. I was getting pretty cranky myself. Another worthless hearing? What was the use? Nothing ever happened at these kangaroo courts but a jamboree of choreographed histrionics. Worst of all, Senator Charlie Chargaff, my
white fungus stuff I’d seen under Bryant Park. It was horrific. I felt sorry for them. The mass of dogs didn’t so much as hesitate as it approached our motorcade. The charging herd spilled right out into the road like lemmings off a cliff, right under the lead patrol car’s front wheels. Sergeant Alvarez came close to rear-ending the police car as it hit its brakes. “The fuck are you assclowns doing?” Sergeant Alvarez yelled into his hands-free headset at the driver of the cop car. “Now’s not