Fear Nothing

Chapter One

On the desk in my candlelit study, the telephone rang, and I knew that a terrible change was coming.

I am not psychic. I do not see signs and portents in the sky. To my eye, the lines in my palm reveal nothing about my future, and I don't have a Gypsy's ability to discern the patterns of fate in wet tea leaves.

My father had been dying for days, however, and after spending the previous night at his bedside, blotting the sweat from his brow and listening to his labored breathing, I knew that he couldn't hold on much longer. I dreaded losing him and being, for the first time in my twenty-eight years, alone.

I am an only son, an only child, and my mother passed away two years ago. Her death had been shock, but at least she had not been forced to endure a lingering illness.

Last night just before dawn, exhausted, I had returned home to sleep. But I had not slept much or well.

Now I leaned forward in my chair and willed the phone to fall silent, but it would not.

The dog also knew what the ringing meant. He padded out of the shadows into the candleglow, and stared sorrowfully at me.

Unlike the others of his kind, he will hold any man's or woman's gaze as long as he is interested. Animals usually stare directly at us only briefly-then look away as though unnerved by something they see in the human eyes. Perhaps Orson sees what other dogs see, and perhaps he, too, is disturbed by it, but he is not intimidated.

He is a strange dog. But he is my dog, my steadfast friend, and I love him.

On the seventh ring, I surrender to the inevitable and answer the phone.

The caller was a nurse at Mercy Hospital. I spoke to her without looking away from Orson.

My father was quickly fading. The nurse suggested I come to his bedside without delay.

As I put down the phone, Orson approached my chair and rested his burly black head in my lap. He whimpered softly and nuzzled my hand. He did not wag his tail.

For a moment I was numb, unable to think or act. The silence of the house, as deep as water in an oceanic abyss, was a crushing, immobilizing pressure. Then I phoned Sasha Goodall to ask her to drive me to the hospital.

Usually she slept from noon until eight o'clock. She spun music in the dark, from midnight until six o'clock in the morning, on KBAY, the only radio station in Moonlight Bay. At a few minutes past five on this March evening, she was most likely asleep, and I regretted the need to wake her.

Like sad-eyed Orson, however, Sasha was my friend, to whom I could always turn. And she was a far better driver than the dog.

She answered on the second ring, with no trace of sleepiness in her voice. Before I could tell her what had happened, she said, "Chris, I am so sorry," as though she had been waiting for this call and as if in the ringing of her phone she had heard the same ominous note the Orson and I had heard in mine.

I bit my lip and refused to consider what was coming. As long as Dad was alive, hope remained that his doctors were wrong. Even at the eleventh hour, the cancer might go into remission.

I believe in the possibility of miracles.

After all, in spite of my condition, I have lived more than twenty-eight years, which is a miracle of sorts - alt

Fear, compassion, evil, courage, hope, wonder, the exquisite terror of not knowing what will happen on the next page to characters you care about deeply-these are the marvels that Dean Koontz weaves intothe unique tapestry of every novel. His storytelling talents have earned him the devotion of fans around the world, making him one of the most popular authors of our time, with more than 200 million copies of his bookssold worldwide.

If you are already a fan, prepare yourself to settle into a novel Dean Koontz considers perhaps his best work to date. If you are a brand-new Dean Koontz reader, buckle up for what willbe a most breathtaking ride through the long, enthralling night of...

Christopher Snow is different from all the other residents of Moonlight Bay, different from anyone you've ever met. For ChristopherSnow has made his peace with a very rare genetic disorder shared by only one thousand other Americans, a disorder that leaves him dangerously vulnerable to light. His life is filled with the fascinating rituals of one whomust embrace the dark. He knows the night as no one else ever will, ever can-the mystery, the beauty, the many terrors, and the eerie, silken rhythms of the night--for it is only at night that he isfree.

Until the night he witnesses a series of disturbing incidents that sweep him into a violent mystery only he can solve, a mystery that will force him to rise above all fears and confront themany-layered strangeness of Moonlight Bay and its residents.

Once again drawing daringly from several genres, Dean Koontz has created a narrative that is a thriller, a mystery, a wild adventure, a novelof friendship, a rousing story of triumph over severe physical limitations, and a haunting cautionary tale.

From the Hardcover edition.

While investigating the death of his mother who was a scientist, Chris Snow discovers she was engaged in secret experiments on a nearby military base, experiments which went wrong and which produced monsters. The next he knows, the monsters come visiting and they are not friendly.

Dean Koontz the author of many #1 New York Times bestsellers, lives with his wife, Gerda, and the enduring spirit of their golden retriever, Trixie, in southern California.