{"product_id":"world-war-z-isbn-9780307346605","title":"World War Z","description":"\u003cb\u003e#1 \u003ci\u003eNEW YORK TIMES \u003c\/i\u003eBESTSELLER • “Prepare to be entranced by this addictively readable oral history of the great war between humans and zombies.”—\u003ci\u003eEntertainment Weekly\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWe survived the zombie apocalypse, but how many of us are still haunted by that terrible time? We have (temporarily?) defeated the living dead, but at what cost? Told in the haunting and riveting voices of the men and women who witnessed the horror firsthand, \u003ci\u003eWorld War Z\u003c\/i\u003e is the only record of the pandemic.\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003eThe Zombie War came unthinkably close to eradicating humanity. Max Brooks, driven by the urgency of preserving the acid-etched first-hand experiences of the survivors, traveled across the United States of America and throughout the world, from decimated cities that once teemed with upwards of thirty million souls to the most remote and inhospitable areas of the planet. He recorded the testimony of men, women, and sometimes children who came face-to-face with the living, or at least the undead, hell of that dreadful time. \u003ci\u003eWorld War Z\u003c\/i\u003e is the result. Never before have we had access to a document that so powerfully conveys the depth of fear and horror, and also the ineradicable spirit of resistance, that gripped human society through the plague years.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eTHE INSPIRATION FOR THE MAJOR MOTION PICTURE\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Will spook you for real.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eThe New York Times Book Review\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Possesses more creativity and zip than entire crates of other new fiction titles. Think \u003ci\u003eMad Max\u003c\/i\u003e meets \u003ci\u003eThe Hot Zone\u003c\/i\u003e. . . . It’s \u003ci\u003eApocalypse Now\u003c\/i\u003e, pandemic-style. Creepy but fascinating.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eUSA Today\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Will grab you as tightly as a dead man’s fist. A.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eEntertainment Weekly,\u003c\/i\u003e EW Pick \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Probably the most topical and literate scare since Orson Welles’s \u003ci\u003eWar of the Worlds\u003c\/i\u003e radio broadcast . . . This is action-packed social-political satire with a global view.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eDallas Morning News\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e“An ‘oral history’ of the global war the evil brain-chewers came within a hair of winning. Zombies are among us—turn on your television if you don’t believe it. But, Brooks reassures us, even today, human fighters are hunting down the leftovers, and we’re winning. [His] iron-jaw narrative is studded with practical advice on what to do when the zombies come, as they surely will. A literate, ironic, strangely tasty treat.” —\u003ci\u003eKirkus Reviews\u003c\/i\u003e (starred review)\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Max Brooks has charted the folly of a disaster response based solely on advanced technologies and brute force in this step-by-step guide to what happened in the Zombie War. He details with extraordinary insight how in the face of institutional missteps and greed, people in unexpected ways achieve unique, creative, and effective strategies to survive and fight back. Brooks’s account of the path to recovery and reconstruction after the war is fascinating, too. \u003ci\u003eWorld War Z \u003c\/i\u003eprovides us with a starting point, at least, a basic blueprint from which to build a popular understanding of how, when, and why such a disaster came to be, and how small groups and individuals survived.” —Jeb Weisman, Ph.D.,Director of Strategic Technologies, National Center for Disaster Preparedness\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Possesses more creativity and zip than entire crates of other new fiction titles. Think \u003ci\u003eMad Max\u003c\/i\u003e meets \u003ci\u003eThe Hot Zone\u003c\/i\u003e . . . It’s \u003ci\u003eApocalypse Now\u003c\/i\u003e, pandemic-style. Creepy but fascinating.”\u003cbr\u003e- \u003ci\u003eUSA TODAY\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e“Prepare to be entranced by this addictively readable oral history of the great war between humans and zombies. . . . Will grab you as tightly as a dead man’s fist. A.”\u003cbr\u003e- \u003ci\u003eEntertainment Weekly, \u003c\/i\u003eEW Pick\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Probably the most topical and literate scare since Orson Welles' \u003ci\u003eWar of the Worlds\u003c\/i\u003e radio broadcast. . . . This is action-packed social-political satire with a global view.”\u003cbr\u003e- \u003ci\u003eDallas Morning News\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Brooks [is] America’s most prominent maven on the living dead. . . . Chilling. . . . It is gripping reading and a scathing indictment of weak responses to crises real and over-hyped.”\u003cbr\u003e- \u003ci\u003eHartford Courant\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e“A sober, frequently horrifying and even moving account. . . . Brooks has delivered a full-blown horror novel, laced with sharp social and political observations and loads of macabre, gruesome imagery. . . . The real horror of \u003ci\u003eWorld War Z \u003c\/i\u003ecomes from the all-too-plausible responses of human beings and governments to the menace.”\u003cbr\u003e- \u003ci\u003eFangoria\u003c\/i\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e“A horror fan’s version of Studs Terkel’s \u003ci\u003eThe Good War\u003c\/i\u003e. . . . Like George Romero’s \u003ci\u003eDead\u003c\/i\u003e trilogy, \u003ci\u003eWorld War Z\u003c\/i\u003e is another milestone in the zombie mythology.”\u003cbr\u003e- \u003ci\u003eBooklist\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e“Brooks commits to detail in a way that makes his nightmare world creepily plausible. . . . Far more affecting than anything involving zombies really has any right to be. . . . The book . . . opens in blood and guts, turns the world into an oversized version of hell, then ends with and affirmation of humanity’s ability to survive the worst the world has to offer. It feels like the right book for the right times, and that’s the eeriest detail of all.”\u003cbr\u003e- A.V. Club, \u003ci\u003eThe Onion\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e“The best science fiction has traditionally been steeped in social commentary. \u003ci\u003eWorld War Z \u003c\/i\u003econtinues that legacy. . . . We haven’t been this excited about a book without pictures since–well, since ever.”\u003cbr\u003e- \u003ci\u003eMetro\u003c\/i\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e“Each story locks together perfectly to create a wonderful, giddy suspense. Brooks also has the political savvy to take advantage of any paranoia a modern reader might feel. . . . The perfect book for all us zombie junkies.”\u003cbr\u003e- \u003ci\u003ePaste\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“This infectious and compelling book will have nervous readers watching the streets for zombies. Recommended.”\u003cbr\u003e- \u003ci\u003eLibrary Journal\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cb\u003eMax Brooks\u003c\/b\u003e is an author, public speaker, and nonresident fellow at the Modern War Institute at West Point. His bestselling books include \u003ci\u003eMinecraft: The Island, The Zombie Survival Guide\u003c\/i\u003e. and \u003ci\u003eWorld War Z\u003c\/i\u003e, which was adapted into a 2013 movie starring Brad Pitt. His graphic novels include \u003ci\u003eThe Extinction Parade, G.I. Joe: Hearts \u0026amp; Minds, \u003c\/i\u003eand the #1 \u003ci\u003eNew York Times \u003c\/i\u003ebestseller \u003ci\u003eThe Harlem Hellfighters\u003c\/i\u003e.\u003cp\u003e\u003cb\u003eWARNINGS\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003cbr\u003eGREATER CHONGQING, THE UNITED FEDERATION OF CHINA\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e[At its prewar  height, this region boasted a population of over   thirty-five million people. Now,  there are barely fifty thousand.   Reconstruction funds have been slow to arrive  in this part of the   country, the government choosing to concentrate on the more  densely   populated coast. There is no central power grid, no running water   besides  the Yangtze River. But the streets are clear of rubble and   the local \"security  council\" has prevented any postwar outbreaks. The   chairman of that council is Kwang  Jingshu, a medical doctor who,   despite his advanced age and wartime injuries, still  manages to make   house calls to all his patients.]\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe first outbreak I saw  was in a remote village that officially had   no name. The residents called it \"New  Dachang,\" but this was more out   of nostalgia than anything else. Their former home,  \"Old Dachang,\"   had stood since the period of the Three Kingdoms, with farms and    houses and even trees said to be centuries old. When the Three Gorges   Dam was  completed, and reservoir waters began to rise, much of   Dachang had been disassembled,  brick by brick, then rebuilt on higher   ground. This New Dachang, however, was not  a town anymore, but a   \"national historic museum.\" It must have been a heartbreaking  irony   for those poor peasants, to see their town saved but then only being   able  to visit it as a tourist. Maybe that is why some of them chose   to name their newly  constructed hamlet \"New Dachang\" to preserve some   connection to their heritage,  even if it was only in name. I   personally didn't know that this other New Dachang  existed, so you   can imagine how confused I was when the call came in.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe  hospital was quiet; it had been a slow night, even for the   increasing number of  drunk-driving accidents. Motorcycles were   becoming very popular. We used to say  that your Harley-Davidsons   killed more young Chinese than all the GIs in the Korean  War. That's   why I was so grateful for a quiet shift. I was tired, my back and    feet ached. I was on my way out to smoke a cigarette and watch the   dawn when I  heard my name being paged. The receptionist that night   was new and couldn't quite  understand the dialect. There had been an   accident, or an illness. It was an emergency,  that part was obvious,   and could we please send help at once.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWhat could I  say? The younger doctors, the kids who think medicine is   just a way to pad their  bank accounts, they certainly weren't going   to go help some \"nongmin\" just for  the sake of helping. I guess I'm   still an old revolutionary at heart. \"Our duty  is to hold ourselves   responsible to the people.\" Those words still mean something  to me .   . . and I tried to remember that as my Deer bounced and banged over   dirt  roads the government had promised but never quite gotten around   to paving.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI had a devil of a time finding the place. Officially, it didn't   exist and therefore  wasn't on any map. I became lost several times   and had to ask directions from locals  who kept thinking I meant the   museum town. I was in an impatient mood by the time  I reached the   small collection of hilltop homes. I remember thinking, This had    better be damned serious. Once I saw their faces, I regretted my wish.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThere  were seven of them, all on cots, all barely conscious. The   villagers had moved  them into their new communal meeting hall. The   walls and floor were bare cement.  The air was cold and damp. Of   course they're sick, I thought. I asked the villagers  who had been   taking care of these people. They said no one, it wasn't \"safe.\" I    noticed that the door had been locked from the outside. The villagers   were clearly  terrified. They cringed and whispered; some kept their   distance and prayed. Their  behavior made me angry, not at them, you   understand, not as individuals, but what  they represented about our   country. After centuries of foreign oppression, exploitation,  and   humiliation, we were finally reclaiming our rightful place as   humanity's  middle kingdom. We were the world's richest and most   dynamic superpower, masters  of everything from outer space to cyber   space. It was the dawn of what the world  was finally acknowledging as   \"The Chinese Century\" and yet so many of us still  lived like these   ignorant peasants, as stagnant and superstitious as the earliest    Yangshao savages.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI was still lost in my grand, cultural criticism when I  knelt to   examine the first patient. She was running a high fever, forty   degrees  centigrade, and she was shivering violently. Barely coherent,   she whimpered slightly  when I tried to move her limbs. There was a   wound in her right forearm, a bite  mark. As I examined it more   closely, I realized that it wasn't from an animal.  The bite radius   and teeth marks had to have come from a small, or possibly young,    human being. Although I hypothesized this to be the source of the   infection,  the actual injury was surprisingly clean. I asked the   villagers, again, who had  been taking care of these people. Again,   they told me no one. I knew this could  not be true. The human mouth   is packed with bacteria, even more so than the most  unhygienic dog.   If no one had cleaned this woman's wound, why wasn't it throbbing    with infection?\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI examined the six other patients. All showed similar symptoms,  all   had similar wounds on various parts of their bodies. I asked one man,   the  most lucid of the group, who or what had inflicted these   injuries. He told me it  had happened when they had tried to subdue   \"him.\"\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\"Who?\" I asked.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI found  \"Patient Zero\" behind the locked door of an abandoned house   across town. He was  twelve years old. His wrists and feet were bound   with plastic packing twine. Although  he'd rubbed off the skin around   his bonds, there was no blood. There was also no  blood on his other   wounds, not on the gouges on his legs or arms, or from the large  dry   gap where his right big toe had been. He was writhing like an animal;   a gag  muffled his growls.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAt first the villagers tried to hold me back. They warned  me not to   touch him, that he was \"cursed.\" I shrugged them off and reached for    my mask and gloves. The boy's skin was as cold and gray as the cement   on which  he lay. I could find neither his heartbeat nor his pulse.   His eyes were wild, wide  and sunken back in their sockets. They   remained locked on me like a predatory beast.  Throughout the   examination he was inexplicably hostile, reaching for me with his    bound hands and snapping at me through his gag.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHis movements were so violent  I had to call for two of the largest   villagers to help me hold him down. Initially  they wouldn't budge,   cowering in the doorway like baby rabbits. I explained that  there was   no risk of infection if they used gloves and masks. When they shook    their heads, I made it an order, even though I had no lawful   authority to do so.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThat was all it took. The two oxen knelt beside me. One held the   boy's feet  while the other grasped his hands. I tried to take a blood   sample and instead extracted  only brown, viscous matter. As I was   withdrawing the needle, the boy began another  bout of violent   struggling.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eOne of my \"orderlies,\" the one responsible for  his arms, gave up   trying to hold them and thought it might safer if he just braced  them   against the floor with his knees. But the boy jerked again and I   heard his  left arm snap. Jagged ends of both radius and ulna bones   stabbed through his gray  flesh. Although the boy didn't cry out,   didn't even seem to notice, it was enough  for both assistants to leap   back and run from the room.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI instinctively retreated  several paces myself. I am embarrassed to   admit this; I have been a doctor for  most of my adult life. I was   trained and . . . you could even say \"raised\" by the  People's   Liberation Army. I've treated more than my share of combat injuries,    faced my own death on more than one occasion, and now I was scared,   truly scared,  of this frail child.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe boy began to twist in my direction, his arm ripped  completely   free. Flesh and muscle tore from one another until there was nothing    except the stump. His now free right arm, still tied to the severed   left hand,  dragged his body across the floor.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI hurried outside, locking the door behind  me. I tried to compose   myself, control my fear and shame. My voice still cracked  as I asked   the villagers how the boy had been infected. No one answered. I began    to hear banging on the door, the boy's fist pounding weakly against   the thin  wood. It was all I could do not to jump at the sound. I   prayed they would not notice  the color draining from my face. I   shouted, as much from fear as frustration, that  I \u003ci\u003ehad\u003c\/i\u003e to know what   happened to this child.\u003c\/p\u003e","brand":"Crown","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46304075153637,"sku":"NP9780307346605","price":30.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780307346605.jpg?v=1767744565","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/es\/products\/world-war-z-isbn-9780307346605","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}