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Now in mass-market paperback from the national bestselling author of The Troop—which Stephen King raved “scared the hell out of me and I couldn’t put it down.…old-school horror at its best”—an utterly terrifying novel that pits the mysteries of The Abyss against the horrors of The Shining.
A strange plague called the ’Gets is decimating humanity on a global scale. It causes people to forget—small things at first, like where they left their keys…then the not-so-small things like how to drive, or the letters of the alphabet. Then their bodies forget how to function involuntarily…and there is no cure. But now, far below the surface of the Pacific Ocean, deep in the Mariana Trench, an heretofore unknown substance hailed as “ambrosia”’—a universal healer, from initial reports—has been discovered. It may just be the key to eradicating the ’Gets. In order to study this phenomenon, a special research lab, the Trieste, has been built eight miles under the sea’s surface. But when the station goes incommunicado, a brave few descend through the lightless fathoms in hopes of unraveling the mysteries lurking at those crushing depths…and perhaps to encounter an evil blacker than anything one could possibly imagine.
“Fans of unflinching bleakness and all-out horror will love this novel….Each new shock is freshly disturbing” (Publishers Weekly, starred review).
- Sales Rank: #47560 in eBooks
- Published on: 2015-01-13
- Released on: 2015-01-13
- Format: Kindle eBook
Review
Old-school horror at its best. Not for the faint-hearted, but for the rest of us sick puppies, it's a perfect gift -- Stephen King on The Troop Some thrillers produce shivers, others trigger goose bumps; Cutter's graphic offering will have readers jumping out of their skin Kirkus Reviews on The Troop Suspenseful ... sinister ... horrifying Library Journal on The Troop The Troop is proper horror. Packed with onomatopoeic squelchiness SFX on The Troop Lean and crisp ... Disquieting, disturbing -- Scott Smith, author of The Ruins on The Troop
About the Author
Nick Cutter is a pseudonym for an acclaimed author of novels and short stories. He lives in Toronto, Canada.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Deep 1.
THE OLD MAN’S HEAD was covered in mantises.
At first Luke thought it was a wig or some weird toupee—but he was at the southern tip of Guam, a few miles from the Pacific, and the man was wearing tattered clothes and what looked like strips of old radial tires lashed to his feet. Why bother with a toupee?
The driver saw the old man, too. He hissed between his teeth—an uneasy tssshk! He said something under his breath: a curse, maybe a prayer? Luke didn’t speak the local dialect.
“I’ll do it,” Luke told the driver. “You wait here.”
He elbowed the Jeep’s door open. Sweet Jesus, the heat. It’d hit him like a fist when he stepped onto the runway at the Agana airport. It hit him again now—the tropical air, laden with the nectar of heliotropes, caused beads of sweat to pop along his brow.
The old man stood facing the wall of a one-story workshop. The ground was strewn with hubcaps and crankcases snarled in rusted wiring. Wrist-thick vines snaked out of the greenery to twine around the industrial junk; with nobody around to hack it back, the jungle would reclaim this spot in a matter of months.
The old man was walking into the wall—his sandals made a gentle whush-whush as they brushed the yellowing adobe. The spotting was pronounced on his bare arms and his throat. The scabs were dime-sized, bigger than what Luke was used to seeing. Some of them had cracked open and were leaking grayish pus.
Luke had no clue what had drawn the mantises. Maybe they’d dropped from the creeping ivy snarled across the shop’s roof. Or maybe something on the man’s scalp, or leaching out of it, had attracted them.
They were the largest insects Luke had ever seen. Each mantis was the length of his thumb, and muscular-looking. They had swollen, cantilevered abdomens that curved above their sharp, considering faces. A baker’s dozen or so carpeted the man’s skull.
Luke got the sense of them turning to stare at him, all at once.
Luke retreated to the ditch. His feet sank into the muck. He didn’t like the way it sucked at his boots—greedy, a lipless brown mouth.
He found a stick and went back. The insects squirmed quarrelsomely on the man’s head, which was covered with wispy white hairs as downy as those on a baby’s skull. Their exoskeletons made a brittle chitter. What the hell were they doing?
Luke watched their choreographed manner. The stink of burned diesel mixed with the heliotropes to create a sticky vapor that coated his throat. Distantly, he heard the driver repeat what he’d said before—that breathless curse or prayer—and Luke was worried he’d set the Jeep in gear and take off, leaving him with the old man and the mantises, the heat and the crawling jungle.
What in God’s name were those bugs doing?
One mantis pinned another in a violent vise grip, then widened its jaws and bit down, cleaving the other’s head in half. Their abdomens were wed. What was clearly the female continued to eat the male’s head while his antenna whipped about frantically.
Using the stick, Luke brushed the mantises off the man’s skull. A decapitated male skittered wildly across Luke’s fingers; he shook it into the mud with the rest of them. The urge arose to step on them. Squash them all to paste.
Instead, Luke set his hands on the old man’s shoulders to turn him around. His expression was familiar: The Big Blank. His eyes gone milky, the edges of his eyelids pebbled with nodules of acne that gave his skin the look of an orange rind. His mouth wide open, his tongue coated in white film. He may not have drunk water in days. He’d forgotten to, probably.
That’s how it went with the ’Gets: you forgot the little things first, then the not-so-little things, then the big ones. Next, the critical ones. In time, your heart forgot how to beat, your lungs how to breathe. You die knowing nothing at all.
As soon as Luke pointed him in a new direction, the old man started to walk. He’d go on until he fell down or stepped off a cliff or stumbled into a leopard’s den, if they had those around here. And Luke couldn’t do a damn thing about that.
He climbed back into the Jeep. The driver eased past the old man as he tottered down the road, that clingy mud sucking up past his ankles already. Luke watched as they pulled away, the old man’s body becoming indistinct through the stinging fumes.
Most helpful customer reviews
60 of 66 people found the following review helpful.
It's not about the 'Gets.
By OutlawPoet
If you decide to get this book based on the pretty cool idea of a plague that causes you to forget everything, even how to live, you might be disappointed. This isn't a book about a Pandemic or any sort of apocalyptic situations.
As one of the characters says late in the book, it's not about the 'Gets.
Instead, this is derivative horror that reminded me most of four different movies: Sphere, The Abyss, Alien, and The Thing. If you mix them all together and add a lot of gruesomeness, you'll get this book. The primary focus of the book is what happens in an undersea research station - and there are only four people and a dog in the station, so this isn't an epic scenario at all.
Now, I read spatterpunk, but at times this got to be a little too much for me. The baby dream sequence (if you've read this, you know what I'm talking about) was just awful. I don't mean awful in a gee that's horrible way. I mean awful in an almost unreadable way. The key to effective spatter is to make it hard and fast. You can be graphic, but it's punch after punch after punch.
The gore in this book lingers far too long. And because of that, it loses its punch and becomes tedious. Instead of getting shocked by it, the readers gets bored and wants to move along to some action.
In addition, the book is filled (and I mean filled!) with dream sequences, flashbacks, and journal entries. You spend more time away from the action than in it.
There's an old saying in the writing industry - Kill your Darlings! You need to be willing to pare things down and add some punch. Cutter needs to Kill his Darlings just a little bit. It gets a bit repetitive.
The book is highly atmospheric and largely enjoyable, but I have to confess that I wanted to take away large chunks of the middle of the book. Once you get over that hump, it's a race to a very satisfying finish.
21 of 24 people found the following review helpful.
I wanted to like it, and I tried...
By Jim
I was drawn to this novel because of the good things I'd heard about Nick Cutter's previous horror novel The Troop, such as Stephen King's rousing endorsement of it. And I was drawn to The Deep because the publisher calls it "a novel that fans of Stephen King and Clive Barker won't want to miss..." So I requested a an uncorrected proof to read and review, and I regret that I did, because I had to force myself to read through it. Though I'm a fan of King and Barker, I wish I had missed The Deep.
My experience of reading The Deep wasn't all bad and there were moments of psychological horror during the first half of the book that truly scared me and stayed with me when I wasn't reading. Nick Cutter (one of two pen names used by the Canadian author Craig Davidson) really churns out metaphors in sentence after sentence of The Deep and I was often impressed with his way with words. But at a certain point I began to find reading The Deep tedious. This was partly due to the fact that there are numerous digressions into memories, flashbacks, dreams and journal entries, that for me interrupted and interfered with the pace of the main narrative. The story grabbed me initially but didn't hang on, and the main characters never really came to life for me. Reading a novel for enjoyment should be enjoyable, but for me, reading The Deep increasingly felt like a chore, and I pretty much had to force myself through the last 200 or so pages. I found the ending underwhelming and in fact the best part about it was that I was finally done with the book.
Based on some other reviews here on Amazon there are obviously readers who enjoyed it. While I didn't "hate it" (1 star), I didn't like it, and thus give it 2 stars. I have a friend who like me is a King and Barker fan and who enjoys horror novels in general (I'm also a big fan of Thomas Ligotti's horror fiction), but I would not recommend The Deep to him or to anyone else I know.
15 of 18 people found the following review helpful.
Water Logged
By Antigone Walsh
Although the ingredients for gripping horror are present, this novel is a sopping compilation of every cliché out there. The plot and writing are derivative and the author makes the mistake of substituting gross outs for true suspense.
A bizarre plague is threatening humanity. Veterinarian Luke is on a quest to locate his missing brother, Clayton, a brilliant scientist, reputed to have discovered the remedy to the plague. Luke ventures to Clayton's lab eight miles under the ocean. But an evil awaits that is worse than death itself.
Overall I was disappointed in this book. The writing isn't bad just unoriginal. However, the inclusion of graphic animal abuse to me was completely unacceptable. I understand that this is fiction but that type and degree of violence is unwarranted in any setting. The plague line was given short shift and seemed function solely as a device to take the story underwater. Luke is the typical likeable but troubled hero and there are some genuine creepy and claustrophobic moments However, I kept thinking of heard that, read, that seen that before. The ending was silly and the storyline and exposition are all wet. Pass.
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