Dark City is the second of a new prequel trilogy, Repairman Jack: The Early Years by F. Paul Wilson. It's February 1992. Desert Storm is raging in Iraq but twenty-two-year-old Jack has more pressing matters at home. His favorite bar, The Spot, is about to be sold out from under Julio, Jack's friend. Jack has been something of a tag-along to this point, but now he takes the reins and demonstrates his innate talent for seeing biters get bit. With a body count even higher than in Cold City , this second novel of the Early Years Trilogy hurtles Jack into the final volume in which all scores will be settled, all debts paid. Like Cold City (2012), the first volume of the Early Years trilogy of Repairman Jack novels, this follow-up is a much-needed zap of energy for a series that had grown increasingly lethargic. Set in early 1991, the book follows young Jack as he sets in motion a plan to ensure that his friend Julio doesn’t lose his bar, the Spot. Jack’s target, Neil Zalesky, a con artist, is a solid villain, although a group of Muslim terrorists also get on the wrong side of Jack and must be addressed. Fans of the Repairman Jack series will enjoy seeing their hero as a kid in his twenties, a regular guy who’s still discovering the man he’s going to become. Writing about Jack’s early years, before the character was part of the author’s labyrinthine Secret History of the World cycle of interconnected stories, seems to have freed Wilson, allowing him to tap into a more youthful spirit and style of writing. Will Wilson ever really put an end to the Repairman Jack series? Only time will tell. --David Pitt “Repairman Jack is one of my favorite characters--I'm full of happy anticipation every time I hold a new RJ novel in my hands.” ― Charlaine Harris, author of the Sookie Stackhouse novels “Sci-Fi, horror, crime: it's hard to define Wilson's tale since it cannily incorporates all genres and, as always, the pivotal point is the inimitable Repairman Jack, one of the most original characters ever introduced to readers.” ― RT Times, ****1/2 , on The Dark At The End F. PAUL WILSON, the New York Times bestselling author of the Repairman Jack novels, lives in Wall, New Jersey. In 2008, he won the Bram Stoker Award for Lifetime Achievement. Dark City A Repairman Jack Novel By F. Paul Wilson Tom Doherty Associates Copyright © 2013 F. Paul Wilson All rights reserved. ISBN: 978-0-7653-3015-4 CHAPTER 1 The van speeding down Seventh swerved toward him as he stepped off the curb. Would have ripped off a kneecap if he hadn't spotted it out of the corner of his eye and jumped back in time. He'd come to West 23rd Street hunting lunch. Despite its grit and grime and unabashedly crass commercialism — or maybe because of it — Jack dug the big two-way cross street. Only a few blocks from his apartment, its mostly tiny storefronts offered a cross section of all the low-end merchandise available throughout the city, a mishmash of deep-discount, off-brand electronics, cheap luggage, Gucci knockoffs, the ever-present XXX peep shows, a dizzying selection of ethnic fast foods, plus an endless variety of VHS tapes, music cassettes, and CDs — all bootleg. The humanity crowding the sidewalks was always varied, but on a Saturday at midday, despite the February cold, even more so. As a white guy in jeans and a denim jacket over a flannel shirt, Jack was barely noticeable among the yellow, black, and various shades of mocha, the saried Hindus, turbaned Sikhs, straights, gays, and unsures, socialists and socialites, bankers and bohos, tourists and transvestites, holies and harlots, felons and fashion victims, viragos and virgins, commies and capitalists, artistes and Aryans. He was going to miss the bustling energy when he moved uptown, but reminded himself it would remain just a few subway stops away. Still, despite all the varied bright colors, the city had a dark feel. The recession was holding on, casting a pall that refused to lift, and everyone was feeling it. Back in the day, his father used to come into the city now and then to visit Uncle Stu in his three-story brownstone a little ways downtown and toward Eighth Avenue. Sometimes he'd drag Jack along. Dad would always come away with samples of Uncle Stu's single-malt Scotches. Long gone was the Nedick's where they'd stop and grab hot dogs with the weird rolls and delicious pickle mustard. A McDonald's filled its shoes now, but as much as he liked Big Macs, he wasn't in burger mode at the moment. He eyed the line of chromed street carts along the curb. One offered Sabrett hot dogs — pass — while another offered mystery meat on a stick — pass again. He paused near Seventh Avenue, before the redbrick and wrought-iron façade of the Chelsea Hotel. Across the street he spotted a gyro cart he'd visited in the past. The owner, Nick, had a vertical propane rotisserie that he used to cook the meat. He fresh-carved the slices and wrapped them in a pita with onions and a cucumber-yo