America 1887 Times have changed. The country that was once booming, growing and thriving is now a wasteland of death and destruction. A sickness has swept through the land and the results have been devastating. The war fought twenty years ago may have caused father and son to pick up guns against one another, but this sickness has caused father to eat sons face off while daughter gnaws on mother's leg. Those that have avoided the sickness refer to those sick as 'rabid'. The 'rabid' are mad. Crazy. They are rotting, mindless, killing machines that want only one thing; to sink their teeth into those that are not 'rabid'. And in doing so cause their prey to catch the sickness and join their rabid mob. As if hiding from the 'rabid' weren't enough of a struggle, survivors must also worry about one another. Decency, honor and helping thy neighbor are a thing of the past. Now it's survival of the fittest and only the strong will make it out alive. Then an old man arrives, recruiting survivors to help him on a quest. A quest to the far west and the salvation that is said to lie there. Join Colt, Ox, Silas, Comanche, Katherine, Charlotte, Frankie and Evangeline as each of them fights their own battle for survival, somehow ending up together on a journey to peace, redemption and possibly..... a cure?

?Highest ranking: #300 in Teen Fiction? Aileen Foster, a shy, 22 year old student from LA, thinks she has landed a dream job as an interpreter for some actors making a film in Japan. She gets a surprise when she arrives in Tokyo and finds out that they are UK Crush, the hottest boyband around. She has been orphaned for most of her life, and it's a shock for her to enter their world of frank physicality. The boys come to love her, and Aileen is forced to look at her life and choices, and decide if she's ready to be brave and start living. ????? "Obviously there's been some sort of mix up," I heard one of them say. "She can't be more than sixteen; look at her." "Well, regardless of her age, something's wrong, she's fainted dead away..." That was Gethin of the lilting tones. "Miss?" I opened my eyes to see gray eyes hovering a few inches away. "Are you okay? Do you need us to call someone?" He put his hand, which I noticed with clinical detachment had to have at least an eleven-inch span-no Rachmaninoff issues for him-on my forehead. It felt warm and comforting for some reason, which was strange, as I wasn't used to receiving comfort from other people and a complete stranger at that. "She feels a bit clammy," he told the boys behind him. "Perhaps we'd better get Paul in here to take a look at her-" "No, please," I interrupted him, marshaling the last of my resources. I pulled away from his hand on my forehead. "No Paul. I need this job. I'm twenty-two. Twenty-two." It felt crucial to get this point across. "I need this job," I reiterated. "I haven't slept in, like, two days. If I could just take a little nap, maybe twenty minutes, I'll be fine, honest. Please? Please." I guessed I was going to find out in a hurry if they were nice guys or assholes.