Last Call America: Last Call Before Darkness Falls by Debra Tash is a dystopian novel forecasting what the dark future of America should a totalitarian dictatorship take control. Last Call is a thought-provoking story about making sacrifices and the grey area between right and wrong. Ultimately, it is the story of the unbreakable American spirit that will always fight to defend freedom, equality and the love of the country.
If you are a fan of Brave New World by Aldous Huxley or George Orwell’s 1984 you will enjoy this techno-thriller about the deadliest conflict to ravage the American landscape.
Here is an intriguing book excerpt:
I stopped when I saw one of our neighbors, Lois Bradley, seated on an old bus bench not far from where she lived. Her son—maybe four, maybe a little younger—hung close as she shook her head. Her husband had died a few months ago, taken by the most recent epidemic, leaving the pair all alone. A handsome woman, she bordered on stunning with one exception—there was always something about her demeanor, the timidity of someone completely beaten down, and she looked it even more so now.
Her long blonde hair hung in tangles, her deep brown eyes wide with fright, as she sat on that bench and sniveled.
“They didn’t leave us anything. Why?”
“Look, you don’t know my sister and me all that well. But you can come over to the diner. Maybe we can find something for you two to eat.
“Bradley shook her head once more and cleared her throat. “That’s not allowed. They said we have to come to the Distribution Center. And that’s what we’ll do. Soon I’ll be assigned a job. I’ll earn my share. But for now, they’ll take care of us. That’s what our government does. And those are the rules. We have to obey the rules or they could hurt us.”
She rose to her feet and picked up her son. “Isn’t that right, little man?” She kissed his cheek and hugged the boy close as she walked away.
I stood for a moment, struck by her foolish trust in the almighty government. With a groan and a shrug, I continued down the street. I found the Youngman’s, a couple in their late seventies, standing in front of their dry-cleaning store. It had been shuttered months ago.
“They leave you anything?” I asked, a question I’d repeated over a half dozen times before I got to them.
“No,” Mrs. Youngman answered. “They even took Fred’s medicine.
”Now, dear,” Mr. Youngman said, his voice quivering. “The men assured us there would be enough for all at the Distribution Center. Even my medicine. Their personnel will oversee our healthcare needs.
”It’s not right,” I snapped.
“It’s for equality. Social justice,” he countered as he put his arm around his wife. “Don’t worry, dear, the government will take care of us.”