Action & Adventure
![Chuck Wendig - [object Object] author](https://res.cloudinary.com/readsomnia/image/upload/authors/a_a_chuck_wendig.jpg)
Wayward: A Novel (Wanderers)
"If King had written a sequel to The Stand, it might look something like this monumental epic of a story."-James Rollins, #1 New York Times bestselling author of Kingdom of Bones
"As great as Wanderers was, Wayward is better."-Christopher Golden, New York Times bestselling author of Road of Bones
Five years ago, ordinary Americans fell under the grip of a strange new malady that caused them to sleepwalk across the country to a destination only they knew. They were followed on their quest by the shepherds: friends and family who gave up everything to protect them.
Their secret destination: Ouray, a small town in Colorado that would become one of the last outposts of civilization. Because the sleepwalking epidemic was only the first in a chain of events that led to the end of the world-and the birth of a new one.
The survivors, sleepwalkers and shepherds alike, have a dream of rebuilding human society. Among them are Benji, the scientist struggling through grief to lead the town; Marcy, the former police officer who wants only to look after the people she loves; and Shana, the teenage girl who became the first shepherd-and an unlikely hero whose courage will be needed again.
Because the people of Ouray are not the only survivors, and the world they are building is fragile. The forces of cruelty and brutality are amassing under the leadership of self-proclaimed president Ed Creel. And in the very heart of Ouray, the most powerful survivor of all is plotting its own vision for the new world: Black Swan, the A.I. who imagined the apocalypse.
Against these threats, Benji, Marcy, Shana, and the rest have only one hope: one another. Because the only way to survive the end of the world is together.
"As great as Wanderers was, Wayward is better."-Christopher Golden, New York Times bestselling author of Road of Bones
Five years ago, ordinary Americans fell under the grip of a strange new malady that caused them to sleepwalk across the country to a destination only they knew. They were followed on their quest by the shepherds: friends and family who gave up everything to protect them.
Their secret destination: Ouray, a small town in Colorado that would become one of the last outposts of civilization. Because the sleepwalking epidemic was only the first in a chain of events that led to the end of the world-and the birth of a new one.
The survivors, sleepwalkers and shepherds alike, have a dream of rebuilding human society. Among them are Benji, the scientist struggling through grief to lead the town; Marcy, the former police officer who wants only to look after the people she loves; and Shana, the teenage girl who became the first shepherd-and an unlikely hero whose courage will be needed again.
Because the people of Ouray are not the only survivors, and the world they are building is fragile. The forces of cruelty and brutality are amassing under the leadership of self-proclaimed president Ed Creel. And in the very heart of Ouray, the most powerful survivor of all is plotting its own vision for the new world: Black Swan, the A.I. who imagined the apocalypse.
Against these threats, Benji, Marcy, Shana, and the rest have only one hope: one another. Because the only way to survive the end of the world is together.
Editorial Reviews
"Chuck Wendig's Wayward proves that there's always more story to tell. If King had written a sequel to The Stand, it might look something like this monumental epic of a story. I don't think I'll get this book out of my head for a long time-maybe never."-James Rollins, #1 New York Times bestselling author of Kingdom of Bones
"As great as Wanderers was, Wayward is better: The best post-apocalyptic fiction combines grim extrapolation, great characters, and hope. Wendig nails it!"-Christopher Golden, New York Times bestselling author of Road of Bones
"Chuck Wendig has done it again. Salient, masterful, this is an author at the top of his game."-Adam Christopher, New York Times bestselling author of Empire State
"IMAX-scale bleeding-edge techno-horror from a writer with a freshly sharpened scalpel."-Kirkus Reviews
Praise for Wanderers
"This career-defining epic deserves its inevitable comparisons to Stephen King's The Stand."-Publishers Weekly (starred review)
"A suspenseful, twisty, satisfying, surprising, thought-provoking epic."-Harlan Coben
"A true tour de force."-Erin Morgenstern
"A masterpiece with prose as sharp and heartbreaking as Station Eleven."-Peng Shepherd
"An inventive, fierce, uncompromising, stay-up-way-past-bedtime masterwork."-Paul Tremblay
"An American epic for these times."-Charles Soule
"Epic, electrifying, poignant-Wanderers is a tsun...
"As great as Wanderers was, Wayward is better: The best post-apocalyptic fiction combines grim extrapolation, great characters, and hope. Wendig nails it!"-Christopher Golden, New York Times bestselling author of Road of Bones
"Chuck Wendig has done it again. Salient, masterful, this is an author at the top of his game."-Adam Christopher, New York Times bestselling author of Empire State
"IMAX-scale bleeding-edge techno-horror from a writer with a freshly sharpened scalpel."-Kirkus Reviews
Praise for Wanderers
"This career-defining epic deserves its inevitable comparisons to Stephen King's The Stand."-Publishers Weekly (starred review)
"A suspenseful, twisty, satisfying, surprising, thought-provoking epic."-Harlan Coben
"A true tour de force."-Erin Morgenstern
"A masterpiece with prose as sharp and heartbreaking as Station Eleven."-Peng Shepherd
"An inventive, fierce, uncompromising, stay-up-way-past-bedtime masterwork."-Paul Tremblay
"An American epic for these times."-Charles Soule
"Epic, electrifying, poignant-Wanderers is a tsun...
Short Excerpt Teaser
1
Black Swift
Civilization falls in one place but rises in another.
-Annalee Newitz, Reddit AMA
September 1, 2025
Ouray, Colorado
I'm not alone out here, Benji thought. It was in the air-a white noise vibration, the faintest disruption of the silence that had seized the world.
Over the years here in Ouray, as the Sleepwalkers slept, and eventually as they awakened, he'd seen something up here, west of town. A bird, he'd thought at the time. But it glinted a bit in the sun. And it didn't move like a bird, not at all. One time, a couple years back, he'd seen it again on a foggy day-a shape moving above the trees before dropping straight down. A year later, as evening settled in, he saw it once more, maybe a quarter mile off: a dark little mote, like a crow. It rushed forward, then went fast in the opposite direction before again disappearing.
Benji had been chasing it ever since. He came out here a couple times a week-to get in a walk, to help feed the townsfolk by hunting deer in the spring or bighorn in the winter, but also just on the off chance he'd spy it again.
He felt like a crazy person. No one else had seen it. But Benji was a man of both science and faith. He had faith he'd see it again. A hypothesis he tested often.
This morning, he'd gone off the Oak Creek trail, stalking an old deer path through the spruce, about midway up to the overlook on Hayden Mountain.
And he was sure that today was the day. He could feel it in his teeth. He knew he wasn't alone out here: a fact that both thrilled him and troubled him in equal measure. Because being alone out here wasn't good. The world was mostly gone. Civilization with it. So, if it wasn't a person out here-and if it wasn't the little UFO he'd been tracking-then that could mean a black bear.
Or worse, a mountain lion.
Such predators didn't care much for human prey, especially now that those animals were no longer forced to forage for garbage or human food-but should he come upon one with its family nearby? He'd be torn to red ribbons.
His hands tightened around the cold metal of the Winchester lever-action rifle. And then, ahead, he heard something. Not a telltale snap of twig or crunch of leaf. No, this sound was a low, mechanical whine, like a distant drill spinning.
Not a bear. Not a cougar.
And it was coming closer.
He brought the butt of the weapon to his shoulder but kept the barrel low. His heartbeat kicked up like a galloping horse.
Vmmmmm.
That sound, closing in. Ahead, he saw something shake the leaves of an aspen, and shudder the branches of a blue spruce.
There was a beat where he heard nothing, saw nothing-
But then Benji staggered back as a shape broke through the tree line onto the trail just ahead of him. The rifle went up-and down the sights, he saw what had emerged:
A drone. No bigger than a dinner plate and matte gray with four propellers-two in the back raised up, and two in the front down low, the way that a crab held its claws. The drone hovered midair and pivoted carefully toward him. Four red lights marked the corners beneath each propeller, and underneath its body, in a wire mesh cage, was what looked like a camera.
The drone was filthy and corroded. Bits of twig and vegetation dangled from it. It hovered about thirty feet in front of him.
He almost laughed. There it was. He'd found it. He hadn't lost his mind!
Vmmmmm.
"Who are you?" he asked. It felt foolish to ask it a question: The drone was a device, not a person. But it did have a camera. And someone had to be piloting it, right? Unless it was autonomous. Weren't there stories from years ago about drones flying over the Western states? Google, perhaps? Bureau of Land Management? But could such a drone still be powered up and flying about?
The drone continued to hover in place. As if it was regarding him the same way he was regarding it.
And then, just like that, it spun the opposite direction and darted away from him. Benji had no time to think, so he let his body react: He levered a round into the chamber, thumbed off the safety, took aim, and-
The gun bucked against his shoulder as he pulled the trigger. His ears lost all sound as he discharged the weapon, and now Benji cursed himself, because he needed his ears out here. He didn't want the sound of a mountain lion creeping up on him to be lost underneath a crush of tinnitus. Damnit.
He set his jaw and broke into a run, bolting down the trail. He saw the glint of the drone buzzing through the trees ahead, and he had no confidence in his ability to catch it-it glided through the air effortlessly, without any friction to hinder ...
Black Swift
Civilization falls in one place but rises in another.
-Annalee Newitz, Reddit AMA
September 1, 2025
Ouray, Colorado
I'm not alone out here, Benji thought. It was in the air-a white noise vibration, the faintest disruption of the silence that had seized the world.
Over the years here in Ouray, as the Sleepwalkers slept, and eventually as they awakened, he'd seen something up here, west of town. A bird, he'd thought at the time. But it glinted a bit in the sun. And it didn't move like a bird, not at all. One time, a couple years back, he'd seen it again on a foggy day-a shape moving above the trees before dropping straight down. A year later, as evening settled in, he saw it once more, maybe a quarter mile off: a dark little mote, like a crow. It rushed forward, then went fast in the opposite direction before again disappearing.
Benji had been chasing it ever since. He came out here a couple times a week-to get in a walk, to help feed the townsfolk by hunting deer in the spring or bighorn in the winter, but also just on the off chance he'd spy it again.
He felt like a crazy person. No one else had seen it. But Benji was a man of both science and faith. He had faith he'd see it again. A hypothesis he tested often.
This morning, he'd gone off the Oak Creek trail, stalking an old deer path through the spruce, about midway up to the overlook on Hayden Mountain.
And he was sure that today was the day. He could feel it in his teeth. He knew he wasn't alone out here: a fact that both thrilled him and troubled him in equal measure. Because being alone out here wasn't good. The world was mostly gone. Civilization with it. So, if it wasn't a person out here-and if it wasn't the little UFO he'd been tracking-then that could mean a black bear.
Or worse, a mountain lion.
Such predators didn't care much for human prey, especially now that those animals were no longer forced to forage for garbage or human food-but should he come upon one with its family nearby? He'd be torn to red ribbons.
His hands tightened around the cold metal of the Winchester lever-action rifle. And then, ahead, he heard something. Not a telltale snap of twig or crunch of leaf. No, this sound was a low, mechanical whine, like a distant drill spinning.
Not a bear. Not a cougar.
And it was coming closer.
He brought the butt of the weapon to his shoulder but kept the barrel low. His heartbeat kicked up like a galloping horse.
Vmmmmm.
That sound, closing in. Ahead, he saw something shake the leaves of an aspen, and shudder the branches of a blue spruce.
There was a beat where he heard nothing, saw nothing-
But then Benji staggered back as a shape broke through the tree line onto the trail just ahead of him. The rifle went up-and down the sights, he saw what had emerged:
A drone. No bigger than a dinner plate and matte gray with four propellers-two in the back raised up, and two in the front down low, the way that a crab held its claws. The drone hovered midair and pivoted carefully toward him. Four red lights marked the corners beneath each propeller, and underneath its body, in a wire mesh cage, was what looked like a camera.
The drone was filthy and corroded. Bits of twig and vegetation dangled from it. It hovered about thirty feet in front of him.
He almost laughed. There it was. He'd found it. He hadn't lost his mind!
Vmmmmm.
"Who are you?" he asked. It felt foolish to ask it a question: The drone was a device, not a person. But it did have a camera. And someone had to be piloting it, right? Unless it was autonomous. Weren't there stories from years ago about drones flying over the Western states? Google, perhaps? Bureau of Land Management? But could such a drone still be powered up and flying about?
The drone continued to hover in place. As if it was regarding him the same way he was regarding it.
And then, just like that, it spun the opposite direction and darted away from him. Benji had no time to think, so he let his body react: He levered a round into the chamber, thumbed off the safety, took aim, and-
The gun bucked against his shoulder as he pulled the trigger. His ears lost all sound as he discharged the weapon, and now Benji cursed himself, because he needed his ears out here. He didn't want the sound of a mountain lion creeping up on him to be lost underneath a crush of tinnitus. Damnit.
He set his jaw and broke into a run, bolting down the trail. He saw the glint of the drone buzzing through the trees ahead, and he had no confidence in his ability to catch it-it glided through the air effortlessly, without any friction to hinder ...
