Fast-Paced Romp Through a Realistic Apocalypse
“The Sun will last another five billion years,” agreed all the world’s scientists—except two.
After a massive solar flare wipes out nearly everything more complex than jumper cables, the Sun dims, and Earth's climate begins to rival that of Mars. The U.S. government, led by a distant presidential successor, takes shelter in a bunker, grappling with life-threatening global conditions as humanity is tossed back into the Stone Age.
While the Raven Rock Mountain Complex is isolated, the rest of the world slowly devolves into a cosmic snowball. Recognized as an extinction-level event, a team of four embarks on a mission to rekindle the Sun using the world’s most powerful nuclear missile. Alex Tate, along with his quirky sidekick Mick Moore and two war-hardened federal agents, Hans Jupp and Dirk Karsten, brave a frozen wasteland, encountering friendly preppers and dangerous thugs. Quincy and Teedarius, marooned at a remote Arkansas catfish processing plant, provide comic relief during their engaging struggle for survival.
Chapter One
Read Reviews
A truly chilling apocalyptic action-adventure thriller with gutsy heroes, an impossible mission, unthinkable challenges, and edge-of-your-seat suspense!
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- Lynessa Layne, USA TODAY Bestseller & Book of the Year Silver Falchion Award Winner
Once you start reading Eight Minutes by Gregory N. Whitis, there is no putting it down. The narration is excellent, and the writing is crisp, engaging, and filled with well-crafted dialogue that brings the story to life. I loved the vivid descriptions, which helped create a mental picture of what was happening. This thought-provoking work also got me thinking about issues like climate change and the kind of damage that such events could cause to civilization. The author also used suspense to great effect, which kept me on the edge of my seat. He ensured the plot flowed seamlessly, leaving no room for confusion for the reader. This was an amazing read, and I would love to see this great work turned into a movie. I look forward to reading something else by this talented author.
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
Frank Mutuma, Readers Favorite Reviews
....Delving into author Gregory N. Whitis’ apocalyptic novel, Eight Minutes, creates gratefulness for
the bleakest of winter days. Suspenseful, action-packed and terrifying, this story is a page-turning
survival thriller.....
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
Carolyn Breckinridge, Good Reads Review
After Greg's second book, Nighthope, I proclaimed him to be the next great American author. That may have been premature but Eight Minutes locked him in. One of the best books I have ever read. Incredible attention to detail without getting out in the weeds. A gripping adventure/science fiction tale that has you brought in from the start. Will no doubt hit the big screen. But don't believe me--buy it and see for yourself. I'd rename it 2:45 AM because that's when I finished it.
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
Alexandria, Virginia
The first rays of an August dawn filtered through the massive white oak in the gated neighborhood. Bo, the household's golden retriever, nuzzled Alex Tate's bent elbow. Tate squinted at the trickle of light coming through the closed Venetian blinds.
“Bo, lie down.”
Bo jumped, planting his heavy front paws on Tate’s chest.
Tate rubbed his eyes, staring at his dog. “What’s got into you?”
His wife, Tali, stirred. “What’s going on?”
“Bo needs to go out.”
“But it’s dark outside.”
She rolled over, groping for her Garmin Forerunner on the nightstand. “Not even five yet.”
Alex flipped the sheet off and stumbled into the hallway, Bo at his heels. He opened the front door, and Bo darted out. Alex folded his arms across his chest, noticing the chill in the air. Bo didn’t sniff out his usual spot for relief but instead urinated in several places along the yard’s perimeter.
What’s all that about?
As Bo returned to the door, Tate glanced at the digital display for his amateur weather station next to the doorframe. The screen indicated falling temperatures, rising barometric pressure, and a steady east breeze. That’s strange. A combination of increasing pressure and winds out of the east. Usually, east winds were a portent of impending storms and falling pressure. And it had turned unseasonably cool. He checked the battery indicator on the bottom edge of the screen. The lithiums were five by five.
Bo waddled past him and lay by the rear patio door, peering outside, seemingly waiting for the sunrise.