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Deathwitch [MultiFormat]
eBook by Steven Popkes
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eBook Category: Science Fiction
eBook Description: Joe Walker is trailing the murderer of his wife and daughter. The trail leads through the dying world after a nuclear catastrophe. He knows the killer well: it is his mother. His mother doesn't consider herself a murderer at all.
eBook Publisher: Fictionwise.com, Published: Night Cry #5, 1986
Fictionwise Release Date: November 2005
Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: Adobe Acrobat (PDF) [212 KB], eReader (PDB) [29 KB], Palm Doc (PDB) [16 KB], Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [15 KB], Microsoft Reader (LIT) [76 KB] - PocketPC 1.0+ Compatible, Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [86 KB], hiebook (KML) [97 KB], Sony Reader (LRF) [48 KB], iSilo (PDB) [13 KB], Mobipocket (PRC) [17 KB], Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [45 KB], OEBFF Format (IMP) [26 KB]
Words: 5006
Reading time: 14-20 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Adobe Acrobat (PDF) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED
 
Science fiction or fantasy, this snow mountain tale builds suspense well. Joe Walker, a Mojave Indian, trails a killer: his mother. An ageless woman who speaks to Coyote spirits and the Winterman. Or rather--used to speak to wind and seasons. They do not listen to her any more. Joe and his mother have one thing in common: they flee the white man's curse. Deathwitch has a gift. She saves people, cupping them to her with death. Seeing only destruction, Joe seeks to end her carnage. But, in a space between winters, the population of the valley does not understand Joe's outrage, his intent. Left half-dead, he glimpses the Deathwitch in a dark wilderness, and fails to destroy the blinding power in her gaze. A tight ending unveils a new commonality between two grappling spirits. 'Deathwitch' is a powerful initiation to Stephen Popkes. A fascinating read for lovers of good writing. -Eugen Bacon, Fictionwise Recommender
For the last day or two there had been a break from the cold mountain winds and the trail of her snowshoes had been left clear. Joe Walker rested, leaning his pack and his rifle against a snow-wet boulder. A long awaited spring showed a ragged green line drawn along the foot of the mountains. Damn, he thought as he panted, I should have caught her by now. She's old. She can't keep this up much longer. It was a lie and he knew it. She'd kept him going for weeks now.
Once his skin had been red-brown and his muscles thick and strong, proper for a Mojave Indian. His color was grayish now and his muscles were stretched tight over bone. Fatigue, starvation and sickness showed on him. It did not matter. Albuquerque was a flat crater of green glass and its ash and winds blew poison across him, making him die a slow death. That did not matter, either.
He'd find her, though, first. For Maria. For Almada.
That mattered.
But her trail led down into the valley, and he could see even from up here the faint smoke of fires. How many more dead would there be? He swore again, hoisted the pack and picked up the rifle. Maybe he'd be lucky. Maybe he'd find her on the way down.
* * * *
Listens-to-the-River did not like the idea of ascending back into the mountains, back into Winterman's country. There were reasons of course. There were always reasons. Since the dream, there had been few choices.
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