Get e-book Alive (The Generations Trilogy, Book 1)

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Send your questions to info emptyset. Or record your own mp3 question and send it to hear your own voice! If anyone would like to discuss clarification on where the birthday children are from, and how it is related to the GFL, let's do so! Releases on October 3, Today is the 2-year anniversary of the release of ALIVE which, oddly enough, went to the 1 best seller list almost exactly one year after release. This was the first new book in Scott Sigler's book deal with Del Rey, and was new content to all of his fans.

Looking back, how did you feel about the new book, and how did your opinion evolve over the release of the following books? Let's discuss! I'm sure people must have something they want to say! Happy Book Birthday! ALONE is available today, from all major retailers! Such a bargain! Go to Goodreads and enter the US-only contest. I posted the new Birthday Children over at my site. Time is running out!

Let's be honest, it might not be pretty.

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You might just end up a smear. But think of the endless pride you'll foist on your kith and kin!

Then get on this! Ten winners will see their name in Some with first initial and last name, just like M. Savage and R. There is a board right in front of my face. No, not a board. She has no idea who she is, where she is, or how she got there. Fighting her way free brings little relief—she discovers only a room lined with caskets and a handful of equally mystified survivors. Beyond their room lies a corridor filled with bones and dust, but no people. She knows only one thing about herself—her name, M.

Savage, which was engraved on the foot of her coffin—yet she finds herself in charge. She is not the biggest among them, or the boldest, but for some reason the others trust her. Whatever the truth is, she is determined to find it and confront it. If she has to lead, she will make sure they survive. Or maybe a reality they cannot comprehend lies just beyond the next turn. Published by arrangement with Empty Set Entertainment. All rights reserved. All Rights Reserved.

Add to Cart. A very nice surprise! At the end of the fight, the strong lid breaks like a brittle shell—I am up and out and standing.

I land hard, kicking up a thick cloud of something powdery. My heaving lungs suck it in.

The floor spins and whirls beneath me, and there is light everywhere, so bright it stings even through clenched eyes. Lying on my side, I blink, trying to see. I cough, trying to breathe. I wait for my eyes to adjust, hoping they do before whoever locked me in the coffin comes to put me back inside once again.

Two The light blinds me, makes my eyes water.

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Alive: Book One of the Generations Trilogy PDF/EPUb by Scott Sigler - 2juli19dikosmosapino3

Grainy dust on my tongue, coating my raw throat, so deep in my lungs it makes me cough again and again. I am helpless. The coughing fit eases. My body relaxes enough for me to sit up. I pull my knees to my chest, wrap my arms tight around my legs. I rub my wrists; the rough bars ripped my skin raw. My coffin was warm. Where are my mom and dad?


  • Alive Book One of the Generations Trilogy by Sigler.
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  • Alive: Book One of the Generations Trilogy (Unabridged).

Where is here, anyway? Dry odors, stale scents. This place smells. The light still stings, but not as much. I can finally see a little. The dust is gray. It blankets everything, hangs in the air, floating specks that spin with my every breath.

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My neck throbs where that thing bit me. I reach for the spot. A shirt. I slide my hand inside the collar, feel the wound. My shirt feels tight. The sleeves end halfway between my elbow and wrist. The tie is red, embroidered with a yellow and black circle of tiny images. I have no idea what that means. And these clothes. The lid split evenly down the middle, from top to bottom. The half closest to me slid neatly against the side. The far half sticks straight up. Parts of the lid gleam under the lights—bloody finger streaks, I realize, from where I grabbed it, wiping away the thin layer of dust that clings to the surface.

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The thing that bit my neck. They tremble and twitch as I rise and look inside. White fabric, torn in many places, smeared with long streaks of wet red and a few light spots of powdery crimson. Loose padding shows beneath the rips. A bloody, white pillow. Next to it, a limp, white snake. No, not a snake: a tube.


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  4. A tube that ends in a long, glistening needle. Its white skin is torn where I bit it, showing some kind of black fibers beneath. I watch the tube for a little while. I pick up a piece of the bar that held my waist. The surface is deeply pitted, crumbly with that crimson powder. Rust that ate away much of the metal, making the bar thin and brittle. Had it been solid, there is no way I could have broken free.

    I can see the rest of the room. There are eleven more coffins. Two parallel rows of six, lined up end to end. A wide aisle filled with a flat sea of untouched gray separates the rows. The thick dust coats the coffins, makes hard edges look like soft curves. I was in the last one in the left-hand row. I can see it clearly now, see all the detail. It is decorated with intricate carvings: cartoonish people with big noses and huge, wild headdresses; squat pyramids with lots of steps; simple versions of the sun; big cats with exaggerated eyes and tooth-filled snarls.

    This room is long and narrow, like it was made specifically to hold these coffins.