Matthew Costello · Ebook. download from download from - arrow icon Eagerly awaited by the gaming community, RAGE is already being touted as one of. This novel delves even deeper into this world and its characters through the pen of Matt Costello - the same person who helped write the story for the game. Editorial Reviews. Review. "Expectations were high ahead of the Rage presentation. Our high Rage - site edition by Matthew Costello. Download it once.

Rage Matthew Costello Ebook

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An action-packed adventure based on the award-winning videogame from id Software, the creators of DOOM® and QUAKE®, Rage follows one man's fight to . Matthew Costello. Rage Matthew Costello. An action-packed adventure based on the award-winning videogame from id Software, the creators of. DOOM® and. Rage. Matthew Costello. Click here if your download doesn"t start automatically Rage by Matthew Costello Free PDF d0wnl0ad, audio books, books to read.

Raine looked down at his hands: clenched tight, resting on his knees. Relax, he commanded them. Ease up. Whatever the U. A massive building loomed in the distance, four, five stories tall.

It looked like something NASA might need, but prefab and put up fast. Raine leaned forward as the jeep went straight to that structure in the early Colorado morning. The building was surrounded by a fence topped with concertina wire, and at the gate post, four soldiers stood with their M16s at the ready. Probably more security inside the building itself. Something pretty important was happening there. He opened the jeep door. Following Jackson, he went to the gate. Jackson flashed something from his back pocket, one of the soldiers gave a signal, and the gate opened.

Raine came up beside him. Jackson led the way to a side door. Raine could see this building had giant hangar-sized doors as well. Something big was going on in there. Or was going to come out of there. Another solider at that door, but he already had it open, and the two men walked in. Raine noticed that Jackson walked with the quick, direct stride of someone who knew where he was going. He made a sharp right at entering and went down a long corridor with corrugated metal walls on either side.

It seemed to Raine that there was no way to go deeper into the building. But then the corridor turned left, and right again, like a maze. Jackson moved quickly, leading him down a warren of hallways before they came to an open service elevator. It was a wire mesh frame, designed to get big things up and down. After a zero, all negative numbers. He slid his card in front of a reader—too fast for Raine to see—and a light turned green.

The elevator started down. And it kept going down for what seemed a long time. When it stopped, someone was there to greet them. How are you, Lieutenant?

RAGE - Matthew Costello

Hill opened the gate. At first he was surprised to see his captain, but then Raine noticed the scene behind Hill, and it seemed the surprises might only have begun. Banks of computer screens, some showing images, other data.

People walking around quickly with a grim sense of purpose. And toward the back, a raised stairway up to a door. Two more soldiers at that door. Raine walked out of the elevator. I have an office down here. For what? An old movie scene that every officer Raine ever knew could quote verbatim.

I know that about you. Glass of water? It was piled with papers, stacks of photos, and an open laptop. Behind the desk, another computer screen. On it was a paused video, cued to run. What do you know about Apophis ? Doing a flyby of our planet. Seen the pictures. It showed a massive object moving through space.

The asteroid. Not public knowledge, but they do intersecting loops of our solar system. Give us video feeds. Mainly to watch what other countries might be doing in space. At least, that was the idea. That is mighty big. This careening hammer threatening to destroy anything in its path. The size of a city. Over three miles wide. A direct hit. Because in that instant. Now it was animation, showing the asteroid plummeting through the atmosphere, a massive shock wave racing before it, walls of ocean water rising up, screaming away from the impact well before the asteroid hit.

No sound. But there might as well have been, as the animation showed an explosion that seemed to bite off a massive chunk of the planet, sending country-sized pieces of Earth flying upward. Hill touched his laptop. The animation paused. Raine shook his head. Hill had been his captain for two major counterinsurgency efforts, a by-the-book officer who stood by his men, and definitely stood by the truth.

But it seemed unbelievable, unreal.

Like Canaveral. This is just one of many sites with a similar purpose. Here in America, and in other countries, too. The whole mad night had turned surreal.

He leaned close. Not in all the bloody streets and valleys of Afghanistan and Pakistan, as bad went to worse. Were his eyes watering up? A small smile, and Hill looked away again. Something else was going on inside his captain, Raine realized. Raine actually hesitated before responding. He was a soldier, though, and an officer was about to give him a mission. The way was illuminated by a mammoth screen that hovered above everything.

The only thing on it was some sort of timer: 2d4h37m37s. The seconds rolling back, flying away, the time left until Apophis hit. The time left until doom. The two guards at the door moved aside as Hill waved a pass and the door opened. One end came to a cone-shaped point. The base looked flat, and wider, like the bottom of a mammoth bullet. And—at that base—a door. And—surrounding the room—were the ever-present soldiers in full combat gear, holding their machine guns at ready. As if they were expecting a raid.

With it looming above him, Raine was impressed by just how tiny it made him feel. They walked around it, and he noticed little details without knowing what they were for. Finally, they completed their circuit.

Those that the scientists who discovered the truth about Apophis thought could be trusted. They still expect the flyby. Deep cryo. You call them survivors.

This is to save people? Like Noah. Save some of humanity. The best and the brightest. Scientists, doctors, scholars. Each country with an Ark program formed a committee, also top secret. All I know is the timing. The darkness created by the hit will have also long passed. Life may not survive, but as these Arks come up, they will bring hope for some kind of future for humanity. Raine was so caught up in taking all this in, the global destruction to come, the Ark Project, this top secret place—that he forgot he had come here on orders.

What the hell could those orders be? Hill put a hand on his shoulder. That Ark down there has one empty and free cryo chamber. And you, my friend, are going in it. More than a century in the future. Was that hope? Which was worse? Dying in a flash or emerging from under the ground to what could—he imagined—be hell. Unlike the rest of the world, he now had an option. To survive, to have hope, to possibly have a future. You said.

Whole landmasses may have been blown away by the impact, bodies of water disappeared while new ones took shape. Will anything alive have survived? So yeah, we are sending down a lot of scientists. Doctors of all kinds. All the collected wisdom in the world in the Ark computers. Was that jealousy in her eyes?

Matthew Costello

The scientist turned sharply away. Things could get a little hairy. Leadership may be the skill that could make the difference between life and death. It sounded false. War, disasters, all kinds of crises. Armed, and with an understanding of their mission: to protect the Ark Survivors, and lead them if necessary. I was supposed to be going. They brought me in, told me the mission, and I agreed.

Some cancer. With enough time, treatable. Hell, I might even live. I offered to withdraw before they even came up with the idea.


What can I expect when it comes out? Lots of questions. Follow me. Toward the open door.

Raine had to duck down as he slipped into the Ark. Inside, in the pale light, the interior was quiet, a hushed temple of technology. Scientists moved around the room, some checking monitors, taking notes, others hitting keys. Suddenly, a gentle female voice filled the room. Ask it questions.

When you emerge. In a circle, sarcophaguslike chambers sat arrayed like spokes; a dozen such chambers. Almost like a bizarre funeral parlor— more like coffins than anything that might save life.

A spiral staircase curled down. He wondered: storage floors below, holding the tools, the seeds, the bulding blocks needed for a new world? He heard someone come up to Hill. One still lay open, waiting. This Ark is due to leave soon. The computer can answer any questions you might have. It will also be able to give you an update on the outside environment well before you reach the surface.

To know that the whole world will be destroyed except for you and the other Ark survivors. The scientists thought it best—safest—if the Arks came up at staggered periods. That allows for the greatest chance of survival. Some come up earlier, others much later.

Just got to get you in there. He simply went over to a side wall of the Ark and grabbed what looked like a space suit. Get into it, if you would. Hill had disappeared, and that made Raine uneasy. Finally, Hill came back. Just in time for Raine to notice that something had begun swinging over the cryo pod from the side, resembling a hypodermic with a dozen wires trailing from it.

Except this hypo was the size of a bazooka. They backed off, busying themselves at the consoles positioned around the perimeter of the Ark. The test cases show that nanotrites do some pretty amazing things. In case of severe tissue damage, organ failure—even a momentary cessation of primal functions—the nanotrites are amazing cellular engines.

They promote incredibly rapid tissue growth. They can even restart organ functions. Not in the slightest. And, they are not the miracle nanomachines we thought they were. These seem to work. Everyone who went into the Ark has had them implanted.

Consider that an order. Most of the world predicts a miss.

Then a handful of scientists predict a hit. They were professional friends, so they communicated their findings to each other, and as soon as they alerted their governments, they were ordered to keep it quiet. More scientists made the discovery.

Most astrophysicists would write it off to random erratic behavior. But for this group, even with Apophis so far away, they saw it as something else. Whatever caused the trajectory to wobble and shift. And all anyone knew was that there had to be something within the asteroid itself, something due to its unknown mineral makeup, where it came from. Another unknown, Lieutenant. Hill nodded. Raine, wearing the bulky Ark suit, raised his right hand up as sharply to his brow as he could.

The female doctor gave Raine the play-by-play. The nanotrites need to reach critical velocity within the insertion device. Once they enter, they will travel immediately to your brain stem. Late, by maybe a hundred years. No sedation. Full brain activity is required. Just a bit of pressure.

Then—something sharp. The needle going deep hurt, but it was followed by a burning sensation that made his eyes water. It was as if fire filled his throat.

He felt it migrate to the back of his neck, near the brain stem. Then up. The lights in the room took on an intense brightness. The people in the room turned into ghostly shadows. He barely felt the injection device pull away. He had read somewhere that the brain has no nerves, so no feeling there. Probably a good thing. Still, he wanted to scratch his head, covered by the Ark suit skullcap. But that thought was interrupted as the brightness began to build, turning from a simple fire into a white heat that made him feel as though he lay in the dead center of a massive incandescent bulb.

Then—suddenly—the brightness, the light. The sporadic explosions of heat from his head eased. He wanted to say something, but saying something had somehow turned impossible. Right, he remembered as the team watched, the sedative.

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Even thoughts were difficult now. One came to him: Close my eyes. Then another thought: Sleep would be nice. Then: nothing. The computer spoke in its muted voice. Designed to be soothing, it was anything but. Ark 38 is now ready for hibernation. Totally secure. No one would be able to eavesdrop, to hear the chatter and wonder what the hell the government was so secretly burying in the ground.

Did some of these people look at this and think, There goes the only way to survive the coming cataclysm? Wishing that they were inside? Watching all this happen with such torturous, mixed feelings.

Including him. He had been ready to go. But sometimes nature played tricks. You will survive eating it but there is nothing that stands out about it. If you have nothing else to do and feel you must read it,go ahead. But I would also suggest just play the game. There are plenty of books in a similar vein that are better. Or you could watch the Mad Max movies again.

The book claims to be based on the game, but it should be noted that it is loosely based. The main character, Raine, is a man selected for a state of cryogenic suspension, to be re-awakened years in the future to help ressurect mankind after it has been wiped out by the asteroid Apophis. Unfortunately, the world he rises to is nothing like Rage, a novel based on the successful video game by the same name from id Software, unfortunately fails to deliver what the game itself so masterfully has.

Unfortunately, the world he rises to is nothing like what mankind had hoped for. A man with his own personal agenda has arisen earlier than everyone else and created a government known as the Authority, hell-bent on world domination.

The premise is good, the video game great, but the novel fails to bring that world to life. There is no depth to any of the characters, and while one might expect that from a video game, a novel should flesh out these characters. It does not.

The action sequences were poorly described and there was a distinct lack of tension throughout the story. The writer has missed a good opportunity to write what could have been one of the best post-apocalyptic stories of last year. For example, one of the most adrenalin-pumping sequences in the video game is a trek through the Dead City, while being hunted by mutants: the normal kind, slime ones, and monstrous ones.

Popped her clogs! Hmm, if that was the case, he was going to have to get his own supper. He fumbled around the sofa for his walking stick, then levered himself up into a standing position and got steady.

His toes hurt, his feet hurt, his knees hurt, his hips hurt. It was like taking a roll call. Slowly he edged away from the sofa, and making sure to take small steps, headed out of the sitting room into the hall. Damned strange, this. Nobody about. No lights on anywhere. He shuffled over to the light switch on the wall, flicked it on, and looked around.

Yes, this was the hall. It was empty — just the phone table and chair and a rug on the wooden floor. The hall had smooth banisters and broad stairs that curved and went up.

Harry remembered sliding down those banisters when he was a boy. To his left there were three doors that led off the hallway — and each one was closed. He had a feeling one of them was his bedroom — though it seemed odd to have a bedroom downstairs.

He heard a noise from one of the rooms above. Was that a voice? He went to the foot of the stairs, peered up into the darkness and called again. What are you playing at? His stomach growled. There was a light switch on the wall. He flicked it on — immediately the upstairs landing lit up.

Must be imagining things. He turned and saw a door that opened into another room with no lights on — aha, yes that was the kitchen, he remembered now. He crossed the hall, clicked on the light by the doorway and went into the kitchen. He counted his teeth with his tongue. Got it! Nice piece of ham that was, all sliced and ready on a plate, sitting in the fridge. Who was doing the shopping these days? He looked around the kitchen, so bright from the big long bulbs on the ceiling.

All the worktops were bare. Everything clean and tidy, ship—shape. Except the table in front of him, all smeared with margarine. His plate … empty — so he must have finished it. He looked up at the big clock on the wall. Nine—thirty it said.

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Well, this was a pretty kettle of fish. Was somebody going to come and put him to bed? And why not? Definitely somebody there! He listened, aware of his own breath rattling through his chest.

Harry … Yes, there it was again! He picked up his stick, pulled himself up from the kitchen chair, walked towards the hall, and paused at the foot of the stairs.

What was he doing here? He concentrated hard. It was dark outside. It was late. He must be going to bed. And it seemed a bit strange to be going upstairs. But all houses had the bedrooms upstairs — obviously.

He looked around again for any sign of Peggy, then spotted a telephone on a small table. Why then they would go and look for her. Hmm, bacon and egg.

Tomatoes, fried bread … He fancied that now. There was a small chair by the telephone. He walked over to it and sat heavily, nearly tipping over as he half fell into it— Whoa! Careful soldier!! Then he picked up the phone. But who to ring?In hours, it would look like any other spot in the desert.

To survive. Blimey, he thought. Or perhaps, between two wars, the families were simply eliminated from history. From whom?