The Long Walk | Page 1 of 164

Author: Richard Bachman | Submitted by: Maria Garcia | 83835 Views | Add a Review

Few books are only available in 'with images' version.

THE LONG WALK Richard Bachman

[05 feb 2001 – scanned for #bookz, proofread and released – v1]

Only death can keep you from the finish line – in the ultimate competition of the all-too-near future…

"To me the Universe was all void of Life, or Purpose, of Volition, even of Hostility; it was one huge, dead, immeasurable Steam-engine, rolling on, in its dead indifference, to grind me limb from limb. O vast, gloomy, solitary Golgotha, and Mill of Death! Why was the Living banished thither companionless, conscious? Why, if there is no Devil; nay, unless the Devil is your God?"

-Thomas Carlyle

"I would encourage every American to walk as often as possible.

It's more than healthy; it's fun."

-John F. Kennedy (1962)

"The pump don't work

'Cause the vandals took the handle."

-Bob Dylan


Chapter 1

"Say the secret word and win a hundred dollars. George, who are our first contestants?

George . . . ? Are you there, George?"

-Groucho Marx

You Bet Your Life

An old blue Ford pulled into the guarded parking lot that morning, looking like a small, tired dog after a hard tun. One of the guards, an expressionless young man in a khaki uniform and a Sam Browne belt, asked to see the blue plastic ID card. The boy in the back seat handed it to his mother. His mother handed it to the guard. The guard took it to a computer terminal that looked strange and out of place in the rural stillness. The computer terminal ate the card and flashed this on its screen:




ID NUMBER 49-801-89


The guard punched another button and all of this disappeared, leaving the ter-minal screen smooth and green and blank again. He waved them forward.

"Don't they give the card back?" Mrs. Garraty asked. "Don't they-"

"No, Mom," Garraty said patiently.

"Well, I don't like it," she said, pulling forward into an empty space. She had been saying it ever since they set out in the dark of two in the morning. She had been moaning it, actually.

"Don't worry," he said without hearing himself. He was occupied with looking and with his own confusion of anticipation and fear. He was out of the car almost before the engine's last asthmatic wheeze-a tall, well-built boy wearing a faded army fatigue jacket against the eight o'clock spring chill. His mother was also tall, but too thin. Her breasts were almost nonexistent: to-ken nubs. Her eyes were wandering and unsure, somehow shocked. Her face was an invalid's face. Her iron-colored hair had gone awry under the complication of clips that was supposed to hold it in place. Her dress hung badly on her body as if she had recently lost a lot of weight.

"Ray," she said in that whispery conspirator's voice that he had come to dread.

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user comment image
Great book, nicely written and thank you BooksVooks for uploading

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