In this terrifying thriller, a supernatural force set in motion a century ago threatens to devastate New York City.
Early in the 20th century, a small town in upstate New York was submerged by a reservoir built to supply fresh water to the rapidly growing metropolis. Local families, some living there since America’s founding, were displaced, but some didn’t move far, and others didn’t move at all…
Now, a century later, a revenge planned since that event, is ready to be enacted, with terrifying consequences…
‘This is one terrific horror/suspense/disaster novel. Characters you root for and a story that grips from the first page’ STEPHEN KING; ‘The Chill is an eerie dive into the murky depths of the supernatural. A story that has you looking back over your shoulder on every page’ MICHAEL CONNELLY; ‘The Chill features a clever and chilling premise, and Scott Carson delivers on the promise of it with swift clear prose, well-defined characters, and terrific suspense. This is a must read for fans of eerie, gripping storytelling’ — Dean Koontz, number one bestselling author of The Night Window; ‘The year’s best spine-tingler is already here. The Chill is a good old-fashioned ghost story, meticulously researched and brilliantly executed. If you’ve ever wished for a cross between Chinatown and The Fog, Scott Carson has answered your dark prayers’ — John Connolly, internationally bestselling author of The Book of Bones.
In upstate New York a drowned village lies beneath the dark, still waters of the Chilewaukee reservoir. Sacrificed a century ago to bring water to the millions living downstate, the town’s destruction was for the greater good . . . at least that’s what the politicians said.
Years later an inspector overseeing the dangerously neglected dam witnesses something inexplicable.
It seems more than the village was left behind in the waters of the Chill; some never left at all. Now a dark prophecy comes to fruition. Those who remember must ask themselves: who will be next? For sacrifices must be made.
As the dark water begins inexorably to rise, the demand for a fresh sacrifice emerges from the deep . . .
