Feed

Feed
James Frey

A short prequel story set within the world of Endgame – the New York Times bestselling series and international multimedia phenomenon by James Frey.Humanity rests on the shoulders of the Players representing the twelve lines. But there are some people out there who aren’t keen to let their fate be decided by twelve strangers. They are Endgame conspiracy theorists, people who fear and know of the coming Event and will stop at nothing to ruin Endgame in a desperate bid for survival. They call themselves The Zero Line, and they have one goal: kill all of the living Players before Endgame even begins.

Copyright (#ulink_9a2a18d6-afc6-5c04-aa87-68621670e250)

First published in ebook in Great Britain by HarperCollins Children’s Books 2016

HarperCollins Children’s Books is a division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

1 London Bridge Street, London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)

Endgame: The Zero Line Chronicles: Feed © 2016 by Third Floor Fun, LLC

Cover design and logo by Rodrigo Corral Design

Additional logo and icon design by John Dismukes

James Frey asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780062332714

Ebook Edition © April 2016 ISBN: 9780007585298

Version: 2016-04-07

Contents

Cover (#u017c3330-2994-5a5d-9ae5-5b782b64be1d)

Title Page (#u314f6477-9302-57ac-800a-9f2a5e7efc25)

Copyright (#ulink_b420a304-c3f4-5d0d-9e23-a08b4e4d4a77)

Chapter One (#ulink_bf50bd0f-6f83-5408-be85-0033fe62386e)

Chapter Two (#ulink_61b7e57e-d64c-5f4b-8be4-0f3893543504)

Chapter Three (#ulink_543bfec1-1339-5a72-a2f4-1a6f6fce06bb)

Chapter Four (#ulink_5ddfe42c-c4c1-5e5a-a241-79839c2d5dbd)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Excerpt from Endgame: The Calling (#litres_trial_promo)

Marcus Loxias Megalos (#litres_trial_promo)

Chiyoko Takeda (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Author (#litres_trial_promo)

Books in the Endgame Series (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_7efd4105-1224-582f-b428-bdff5b281a5b)

I knelt in the rocks, sharp stones digging into my knees and shins, and placed the bomb. It was small, about the size of two bricks, and was contained inside a cardboard box. There wasn’t much to it: a chunk of C4—a plastic explosive with the consistency of soft clay—a few components of an alarm clock, and four D-size batteries. I took the two wires from the clock, twisted them onto the leads of the detonators—short metal cylinders. I pushed the detonators into the C4.

C4 was supposed to be extremely stable—you could drop it or shoot it or rip it in half, and it wouldn’t explode. It needed an electric current to detonate. And I’d just given it that electric current. It was ready to blow, and sweat dripped down my forehead onto my nose and into my eyes.

This wasn’t the first time that I’d done this: I’d prepped a dozen practice bombs, where the C4 was replaced with Play-Doh. This was the first time I’d done it for real, though: real batteries, real detonators, real explosive. My fingers trembled with every step.

I looked over at Kat. She was older than me by five years: 24. She was tall and pretty, with brown hair that shone like copper in the evening sun. Eugene was with her, the two of them unrolling a tarp that had been painted with a thick and heavy coat of thermite. The design was a spiraling series of rectangles—the logo for the Munich Olympics. At the bottom was painted “9-5-1972.”

This was how we would “invite” the Players to meet with us. John and Walter didn’t know for certain how a real Calling worked. Walter had said that the Cahokians believed that there would be a sign from heaven—possibly something violent. The only thing they knew for sure was that it would be unmistakable, and the Players would know where they were to gather. So we’d use bombs to get their attention, and use the thermite to burn the Olympic logo into the ground.

When they had the tarp unrolled, Eugene unrolled the fuse and pulled out a lighter.

I hit the timer on the clock, and it started to count down.

I stood up and walked to them. Eugene touched the unlit lighter to the fuse, and we all headed for the trees. As we walked, Bakr, the man who’d made the bombs, walked past me, heading toward the bomb to check it.

Eugene held his hand out to me, and I slapped it, reluctantly.