Wayne Kyle Spitzer

The final Flashback begins ... It's all led to this.

All the characters and situations of the Flashback/Dinosaur Apocalypse come together in a final trilogy of tales that will close out and define the saga. Join Ank and Williams, the crew of Gargantua, the kids from Thunder Road, and so many others as they heed the call to adventure one last time and face the very architects of the Flashback!

From For a Devil Has Fallen from the Sky:

“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still wat—”

Do you really think that He could be so forgiving and so mild; so compassionate, so humane? The Son of the God who drowned the world and bested the Nazis by about 190 million dead? The Son of the God who created flesh knowing its very existence was contingent on suffering? No; your mistake is in assuming you were ever redeemable—even before you murdered Calvin and burned him alive on the White House lawn. Your mistake is in fearing for your soul when the only thing I’m interested in is what you can do for me, what only Calvin’s killer can, for that was an act of nihilism which pleased us, and which brought you to our attention. Yea, we thought, here is a rising star! I care not about your soul. I care that you restart the Burn and destroy them, the humans, who deserve to be destroyed. I care that you go to Montana and encircle their encampment and cut them off, so that we can kill them from the skies. Do these things for me and I shall restore your daughter’s health.

And then Leif looked down and realized he’d taken one of the parrots from the cage and had been preparing to wring its neck; to offer it up to Szambelan. Then he realized the full extent to which he had been influenced—hypnotized—and still he could not resist, could not decline, but only mumbled, “But how will I do it? I am just a youth, just a teen. I haven’t that kind of power.”

I will give you the power. Power even to control the winds, make a storm of hail … The power to do as I ask and save your daughter. Nor will you be alone, for our forces are gathering even as we speak; gathering in legions and columns and herds of beasts; gathering like a storm, the likes of which the world has never seen.

At which Leif found himself gazing west at the tempestuous clouds—even as a white, hairy arm settled on his shoulders—feeling as though he’d been reborn (yet again); feeling as though he might soar—when the baby cried from inside the Presidential Suite and Marigold called out to him, anxiously, urgently, breaking the bond between them like a vase. Severing the cord between them like a knife.

“Refuse,” he said, shaken, and exhaled. “I refuse your offer.”

And when he looked again the shadow on the tiles was that of a tree, not a monster, and the darkening sky was flickering and electric. After which he put the black and red parrot back into its confines and went in—but not before the hail started falling like stones on the tiles and on the tables, on the umbrellas and chairs, and on the metal roof of the birdcage, which rattled and chimed.

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