A Vintage Contemporaries Original
Jim Shepard's "Tedford and the Megalodon"
Glen David Gold's "The Tears of Squonk, and What Happened Thereafter"
Dan Chaon's "The Bees"
Kelly Link's "Catskin"
Elmore Leonard's "How Carlos Webster Changed His Name to Carl and Became a Famous Oklahoma Lawman"
Carol Emshwiller's "The General"
Neil Gaiman's "Closing Time"
Nick Hornby's "Otherwise Pandemonium"
Stephen King's "The Tale of Gray Dick"
Michael Crichton's "Blood Doesn’t Come Out"
Laurie King's "Weaving the Dark"
Chris Offutt's "Chuck’s Bucket"
Dave Eggers's "Up the Mountain Coming Down Slowly"
Michael Moorcock's "The Case of the Nazi Canary"
Aimee Bender's "The Case of the Salt and Pepper Shakers"
Harlan Ellison's "Goodbye to All That"
Karen Joy Fowler's "Private Grave 9"
Rick Moody's "The Albertine Notes"
Michael Chabon's "The Martian Agent, a Planetary Romance"
Sherman Alexie's "Ghost Dance"
From the Trade Paperback edition.
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|Title of eBook: McSweeney's Mammoth Treasury of Thrilling Tales|
|Release Date: 12-18-2007|
|Allowed Countries (hover)|
|Publisher: Knopf Publishing Group|
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McSweeney's Mammoth Treasury of Thrilling Tales
Chapter Onefrom "Tedford and the Megalodon"
by JIM SHEPARD
He went in search of a relic of earth's past, and came face-to-face with the mortal specter of his own!
He'd brought some books with him on the way out, but had lost the lot of them on the transfer to the smaller boat. One of the lifting pallets had upset and spilled the crate down the side of the ship. His almanac had been saved, for which he was thankful.
Among the losses had been his Simpson and his Eldredge; his Osteology and Relationships of Chondrichthyans; his Boys' Book of Songs, Balfour's Development of Elasmobranch Fishes, and, thrown in from his childhood, his Beadle's Boy's Library, including Wide Awake Ned: The Boy Wizard.
Above his head, interstellar space was impossibly black. That night he wrote in his almanac, Velvet set with piercing bits of light. There seemed to be, spread above him, some kind of galactic cloud arrangement. Stars arced up over one horizon and down the other. The water nearest the ice seemed disturbingly calm. Little wavelets lapped the prow of the nearest kayak. The cold was like a wind from the stars.
Thirty-three-year-old Roy Henry Tedford and his little pile of provisions were braced on the lee side of a talus slope on a speck of an island at somewhere around degree of longitude 146 and degree of latitude 58, seven hundred miles from Ad...