In the nightmare future his world created, a boy must become a man... and a hero
Accidentally marooned in a ravaged future, ninteen-year-old Jeremy Towers is almost literally the last man on earth. He is one of the very last sexually fertile men in a world populated by women subsistence farmers, wandering mutants and few sterile males.
A castaway from the Time of the Light—pre-holocaust America—Jeremy becomes not merely the key to survival of the species but the prinicipal pawn in a political battle to create a new—and perhaps different—world.
Can he help the Children of the Light avoid the mistakes that brought about the destruction of the old civilization? Or is he condemned to be the prophet of another technological race to catastrophe?
At the squeal of a door on its hinges
Jeremy turned, eager for company, for the exchange of banalities that would steady his over-excited imagination.
"Gwan," the man said in a husky, damaged voice.
"Hi," said Jeremy in a hearty, conversational tone. "Just canoed up here from Cottage Grove..." Jeremy's voice died in his throat. The man was testing the weight of a thick metal bar against his hand. But it was the man's face that made Jeremy gasp with horror. For the man had no face. His skull was enclosed by tissue—thin and featureless flesh. Tiny perforations of darkness marked the nasal and aural cavities. Eyelids like reptilian shutters flicked over the eyes, which were disturbingly human, pale and full of hatred.
"Just when you thought it was safe to skip the next 10 post-nuclear-holocaust novels because there was nothing new to say, along comes Susan B. Weston's Children of the Light." —The New York Times
"A compelling tale." —Detroit Free Press
"Conveys the struggle to remain human with unmistakable power." —Library Journal
"Her characters are touching in the range of their responses to their conditions... This is a fine entry in the post-holocaust genre." —Publishers Weekly
"This post-holocaust novel is strongly moving in its consideration of issues such as identity, ethical behavior and shifts in sexual mores." —Nashville Tennessean