Rev's Last Race

By Holter Boyd

SMASH THE PAST! SALVAGE THE FUTURE!

 

As the world crumbles, Rebecca 'Rev' Watson, takes the wheel one last time in the pulse-pounding demolition derby— The Gutterdammerung. Swarmed by a sea of fellow cyberpunk race jockeys, she must face her own worst enemy:

 

Herself.

 

As hurricane-torn skies loom over Sale City, Georgia, Rev's go-for-broke battle begins. Triumph means enough prize money to get herself and her crippled cousin Benji to the safety of New Chicago. Failure means an impoverished death in the Deep South.

 

Her nerves must be of steel. Her will of iron. But, her mind echoes with regret over the childhood mistake that cost Benji his legs.

 

Can Rev overcome her demons, save Benji and win it all?

 

Not if Gutterdammerung icon, the Memphis Mechanic has anything to say about it.

 

'Rev's Last Race' is a tale of roaring engines and human resilience, where each lap is a step toward redemption. In a city doomed by impending destruction, Rev's race against time becomes a cathartic journey against a backdrop of technicolor devastation.

 

3… 2… 1…

 

GO!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Hotler Boyd
• Release date: Sep 5, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223847069

Holter Boyd

HOLTER BOYD was born in Brooklyn, NY. He’s lived his whole damn life on the same block except for a hazily recollected decade exploring his roots in the Deep South. He earns his living as a carpenter and house painter. Since he barely sleeps, the night often finds him writing sci-fi, fantasy and horror in his workshop. He owns a cat but doesn’t know its name because he respects its privacy.

Book preview

Back when there was a Florida, my cousin Benji owed a premium, new car lot selling top of the line, eco-friendly hover vehicles. A gesture too little too late as far as the Gods were concerned. In February of the Sunshine State’s final year, Hurricane Hilda wiped its ass with the entire lot. Its storm surge denouement left Benji crippled below the belt before it sucked every one of his luxury automobiles into the Atlantic.

When I was a little girl, before the environment’s point of no return, I’d spend summers down there, sweeping the lot, picking up bits and pieces of automotive know-how, learning whatever anyone would teach me. Me and Benji and this grease monkey, Otis would play What’s my purpose? with Oat holding out a bucket full of solar-engine parts and telling me to pick one.

I think about those times a lot. About that question. Cause when the crowd gathers for the Gutterdammerung at the Sale City speedway, when the smell of ozone and motor oil sweetens the air, when it’s time to race, I know the answer.

Yo, Rev!

I could barely hear the voice over the growls of other drivers and fine-tuned muscle cars rumbling throughout the parking lot. I looked up from under the hood of my post-eco converted Dodge Challenger. Starbaby stenciled across the doors. Four on the floor tranny. Reno’d hover pod tires. Hemi V-8, 5.7 liter equivalent solar cell engine. And oh so many buttons and hidden treasures. Before we gutted it, that beast was a beauty. Now, it was just as ugly as this sad sack hump right here yelling at me.

Ronny Del Rio. Punk ass bookie errand boy.

Why you doggin’ my ass, man? I asked, returning to a loose connection.

"Clockin’ your vibe for Larson, little