This wasn’t the first time Maxwell McTavish and Erin Johansson tangled with monsters. While they were bumpin’ uglies on Paradise Island (not Themyscira), giant centipedes invaded their posh French Polynesian resort (read my review of Mega Freak: Bloody Paradise here). 

Now, six months later, the lovebirds were attempting to build a normal, no-monster existence in Las Vegas. Unfortunately, that proved impossible. The violent chaos of Paradise Island had awakened something within Max. Knowing monsters roamed the Earth filled him with a sense of obligation that he couldn’t ignore. 

When his father, a high-ranking ex-Army vet, offered him a job with Sentinel Security Resolutions, Max jumped at the chance to become a professional monster killer. Initially, he hoped to keep his side hustle a secret from his girlfriend Erin. 

That didn’t last long, however. When a bunch of monsters escaped from a genetics laboratory in the Nevada desert, both Erin and Max were caught in the ensuing chaos. Max and his Sentinel Security colleagues found themselves in the drainage tunnels beneath Las Vegas battling a giant tarantula, while Erin had to wangle a 50-foot Gila monster on the Vegas Strip. 

Dressed in full showgirl regalia, Erin was on a party bus cruising Las Vegas Boulevard when she first spotted the colossal lizard. Thundering down the street and digging trenches in the pavement, the beast moved at a tremendous speed. “Abandoned cars littered the roadway, some crushed like empty beer cans, others ripped in two,” writes author Mike MacLean. “A battered SUV lay upside down on the walkway. Ruptured fuel tanks dripped gasoline. Blood and fuel mixed on the blacktop.”

I’m happy to see that MacLean decided to write a sequel to his first novel. In fact, it appears he’s got more sequels planned. In this new book, he intentionally leaves unresolved plot threads to be explored in future efforts. As a writer for movies and comic books, MacLean knows a thing or two about ongoing serial storytelling. 

In Mega Freak: Bloody Paradise, I thought Erin was a bit like Princess Merida from the 2012 movie Brave. But I was wrong. Here in Mega Freak: Savage City, I realized she was more like Poison Ivy Rorschach, the iconic flame-haired guitar player for the Cramps. 

Trapped in a casino gift shop, Erin—still dressed like a campy showgirl—shoulders an M4 Carbine rifle and rips apart the colossal lizard. “The sight of her in that skimpy, shimmery bikini blasting away with an assault rifle might’ve seemed comical if not for the rage in her eyes,” wrote MacLean. If you listen carefully, you’ll almost be able to hear the song “Bikini Girls with Machine Guns” playing in the distance. 

[ Mega Freak: Savage City / By Mike MacLean / First Printing: June 2026  / ISBN: 9781923663367 ]

Without question, my favorite novel from last year was written by Nora B. Peevy (read my review here). As I said at the time, Flesh-Eating Turtles! was an outrageous and sharply satirical critique of scientific hubris, complete with awesome giant turtle mayhem. If you haven’t read it yet, I highly recommend putting it in your Amazon cart right away. 

Now we have a follow-up anthology from the author called Cemetery Tacos and Other Delights. These stories reflect Peevy’s penchant for monsters, ghosts, witches and cows. Except for a couple of hiccups, it’s a terrific (delightful?) collection of absurd, genre-busting horror with a big pop of dark humor. 

Unfortunately, the book begins with my least favorite story. While “Knock, Knock” contains a touch of psychological realism and emotional subtlety, it mostly reminds me of bad New Yorker-style fiction from the 80s. And it certainly doesn’t capture the charm of Peevy’s writing that I enjoy so much.  

Things pick up quickly as Peevy reimagines the Queen of Hades as a flirty vigilante in a story called “A Taste of Murder.” In this case, Persephone’s got her sights set on a serial killer known as the Midwest Mangler. 

When she eventually traps her prey in a gas station restroom, Persephone lets loose with a wonderful explosion of purple prose. “I, so lush and green and fecund before him,” she tells the reader. “I tore his shirt off like we were in a cheesy porno. Really, I wanted to tear his head off with my bare hands and use his spinal cord as the newest belt in my collection, but I had discipline after all these years on the road tracking down the slime of the earth. I would relish this moment like a fine wine and a box of chocolates—every girl’s best friend.” 

Without a doubt, the craziest thing in Cemetery Tacos and Other Delights is “Carnivorous Cows from Outer Space.” The author introduces us to Mooligan, an alien cow who’s leading a covert operation from Planet Moo to conquer Earth. 

Even though he’s responsible for Chick-fil-A, his mission isn’t exactly going as planned. “In trying to save Cowkind from annihilation,” he says, “we have managed to become food for lower, less intelligent life-forms.”

There’s no easy way for Mooligan and his troops to take over the planet, but he’s still optimistic. “Did you know that cows eat eight hours a day?” he says. “Why, if every cow ate one human per hour during their normal eating schedule, the world would be a better place. Don’t you think? I think so.”

And finally, “The Witch of Fox Point” is about a witch named Stella and her great-niece, Anne, who successfully stops the coming Armageddon with the Seal of Solomon. When the dust finally settles, Anne has a question for her great-aunt. “If you’re a witch and witches are real—are vampires and werewolves real too?” Stella shakes her head and sighs. “That’s a story for another time,” she says. 

[ Cemetery Tacos and Other Delights / By Nora B. Peevy / First Printing: April 2026 / ISBN: 9781685101725 ]

There are 43 stories in Of Beasts & Bones, the latest creature horror anthology from editor Robin Knabel. The volume’s introduction promises all sorts of beasts imaginable from science, nature, myth and popular entertainment. It certainly delivers on that promise. 

Writing a review for a book like this—with 43 big whopping stories—can be quite a challenge, to say the least. There’s just no way to provide incisive commentary on every story in this puny 500-word review. Some ambitious critic should probably do it at some point, but it’s not gonna be me. 

The collection contains a string of excellent stories about how loneliness compels opportunistic monsters. Two of my favorites are by Camellia Paul and Alex Goldberg. 

A man visits his wife’s family home in a story called “Hutams Lament.” There’s only enough room in the family’s hut for the wife to sleep, so the husband is asked to stay outside at night. Soon the family and his wife forget about him completely. 

“On the third night,” writes Paul, “Chamelie did not kiss Daichi on his cheek. On the fourth night, she did not say his name. By the seventh night, she had forgotten he existed.” The only witness to the husband’s sad fate is a nearby owl calling out to the wife who never answers. 

In the story “I am Not Alone,” a lonely man named Dennis spends his nights monitoring abstract signals from deep space. Eventually he makes contact with something substantial. To his delight, the static becomes an undulating voice that slowly morphs into something softer, more recognizable. Something feminine. He found it entrancing, says Goldberg. “For the first time he felt truly seen.”

Over time, Dennis and his cosmic girlfriend develop a long-distance relationship. But, of course, it’s all a cosmic ruse. The entity had professed love, but it did not understand love. It only knew conquest, a concept it combined with affection to create a new horrific paradigm for the human race. 

Other stories worth mentioning include “Courting the Cadaver” by Jessica Gleason about a woman’s “love affair” with an ancient Egyptian mummy, “On the Hunt” by Karamia Subocz about a man chasing a sasquatch while he, in turn, is secretly being hunted by a different type of cryptid, “The Warmth” by Leonardo Lamanna about a monster created by insane grief and “Local Guide” by Clint Collins about a small Kentucky town inhabited entirely by monsters. “Food Baby” by Jen Mierisch is about two tourists who experience the wrath of an ancient Polynesian goddess.  

All the contributions in Of Beasts & Bones are pretty short, and because of this, not every story is fully formed (including, I’m sorry to say, a story by the editor herself). Some aren’t even stories at all—just vignettes of monsters doing monstrous stuff. 

But overall, this is an awesome collection of “creatures, grotesqueries, aliens, cryptids, ghosts and other anomalies.” The book closes with a story called “The Ossuary Chamber” by Marc Corondo which features a chilling Ouroboros-like ending. If I’m reading this correctly, Corondo’s story might be a tease for further volumes of beasts and bones.  

[ Of Beasts & Bones / Edited by Robin Knabel / First Printing: April 2026 / ISBN: 9798254717805 ]

You could easily create a Venn diagram from the core beliefs of Christianity and vampirism. Think about it: The longevity of life, the countless followers willing to die for their worship, rising from the dead after crucifixion—all these things are shared and glorified by God and vampires. 

For vampires, all that’s missing are the proselytizers and the apostles. In the novel Vampire Missionaries by Kathleen Rhodes, a nest of vampyri in Portland start recruiting Mormon kids as disciples. After all, who’s better at missionary work than malleable LDS youth, ready to serve and spread the message of the undead? 

The novel begins when Gabe Fitzpatrick looks into the bathroom mirror one morning and doesn’t see his reflection. It takes seven pages for Gabe and his partner, Luke, to figure out their predicament. The two Mormon missionaries are now vampires. What a drag. “All the praying, crouching, tithing, caffeine abstinence. No alcohol. No sex! All for nothing!” they howled. 

In short order, the two teenagers became ensnarled in the evil machinations of a guy named Bishop, Portland’s number one hellspawn. As his name suggests, Bishop actively promotes a vampire religious cult, and he needs compliant missionaries to spread his message.

As vampires, Gabe and Luke are conflicted about their new disposition. They’re both undead fiends hungry for blood, but they’ve somehow retained their souls. They are 100 percent aware that every step they take takes them further from Heaven.

Bishop is resolute, however. There is no difference between his flock and the divine, he said. “We are here to increase our congregation. Isn’t that what you want too?”  

“How can you explain our existence?” he continued. “We live between life and death. I’ll never leave this earth to meet God, and neither will you. We have all the powers of Jesus, and we prove it every day that we open our eyes.”

The bulk of Vampire Missionaries follows Gabe and Luke as they try to reconcile their LDS upbringing with their new monstrous reality. At the same time, the boys find themselves in a swirl of sexual guilt shaped by good religion and bad religion. It must be horrible to be a horny LDS vampire. A good subtitle for this novel would be A Portrait of the Vampire as a Young Man. 

There’s also a lot of vampire-on-vampire violence throughout the book. But unfortunately, author Kathleen Rhodes isn’t very good at sequential storytelling. At times it’s hard to follow her narrative from moment to moment. She could learn a thing or two by studying storyboards, comic books and other narraglyphic picto-assemblages. 

One final comment: Rhodes ends her novel with a newspaper article recapping the recent vampire activity in Portland. It’s an easy way to give readers a satisfying denouement, but I have one question: “What’s a newspaper??”

[ Vampire Missionaries / By Kathleen Rhodes / First Printing: April 2026 / ISBN: 9781639512300 ]

In our solar system, Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus and Neptune are considered dead planets. They’re all geographically inactive and unable to support life as we know it. Not counting Earth, only Europa and Enceladus—two moons circling Jupiter and Saturn—are considered potentially “living” astronomical objects. 

But the Milky Way is a vast, rotating collection of stars, rocks, gas and dark matter. Who knows what’s out there? Potentially, there could be billions of dead exoplanets yet to be explored. With this in mind, editor Eric Fomley has assembled a handful of stories emphasizing the alien desolation of dead planets and the hostile environments they create. 

The collection kicks off on Christmas Day with a story called “Of Faith and Fallow.” Gray and white figures are scattered across the landscape like heaps of garbage. They weren’t people any longer, writes author William R.D. Wood; they were now husks resembling wispy, smoldering layers of burnt paper. 

Overnight, Earth had become a barren space rock. The only thing that remained was a shadow darker than any starless night hanging over California’s San Joaquin Valley. Black tendrils writhed around an undulating mass, like ink spilled in the water of a cloudless blue sky. Globs the size of mountains pulsed against the convulsing emptiness. Despite the surprising (not surprising) ending, the motivation of the Lovecraftian beast is too unfathomable to grasp in the span of a short 14-page story.

The next story, “City of Gold” by Elana Gomel, is about humanity’s failed galactic expansion to a planet with an Earth-incompatible biosphere. The scouting party discovers that Veles is a resource-poor planet that forces locals to survive by committing acts of auto-genocide. The inevitable conflict between the astronauts and the indigenous community is messy, to say the least.

In his story “Ice in the Dark,” Joachim Heijndermans uses an epistolary format to describe a failed rescue mission to an icy and uninhabitable world. How efficiently the planet’s bitter cold atmosphere defeats the rescue team serves as a harbinger for the rest of the universe. It’s a harrowing story and probably my favorite piece in the volume.

“Betrayal Comes at a Pryce” by Henry Herz is a straightforward SFnal retelling of William Shakespeare’s play “The Tempest.” Like the source material, Herz uses the phrase “He that dies pays all debts” as the great equalizer. 

And finally, “Metalloid Blues” by Myna Chang is a funny—and prescient?—story that takes place 100 years after mankind abandons Earth. “It looks like all the pollution and junk we left behind is trying to get even with us,” groans a police detective who is fighting for her life against the attack of Terran biomechanical monsters.  

[ Dead Planet / Edited by Eric Fomley / First Printing: April 2026 / ISBN: 9798255501731 ]

The surf surrounding Savanua island was full of sea corpses—gathered at the water’s edge, lurking like Nile crocodiles waiting for unsuspecting antelopes to drink at their waterhole. 

If you were unlucky enough to be bitten by one of these zombie-like creatures, with their teeth full of flesh-eating bacteria, the resulting necrotizing fasciitis infection would surely finish you off. 

Initially, everybody assumed the victims were being eaten. But in reality, they were dragged to the bottom of the ocean to join the benthic army of Vaekoro, the Killer of Souls, a Polynesian god who ruled the abyss. 

At night and during heavy rainstorms, the sea corpses would come ashore and terrorize the people of Savanua. Clad in swimwear, pirate costumes, sailor uniforms, wetsuits and bikinis, they formed a funky but invincible battalion of soldiers. 

Where the Tide Leaves its Dead, the first novel by author Bray Mattheson, is a story of survival and Polynesian mythology. A novel in which humanity’s response to a monster invasion was profoundly disheartening. 

Casey Davies (sometimes referred to as Casey Jones, a real-life character from history whose life ended in heroic recklessness) is the protagonist of the story. With him are two extraordinary sidekicks named Puaka and Izzy. 

Puaka was a wild boar who faithfully protected Casey from the encroaching sea corpses. “She was a Hell-Pig, a real mean bitch,” he said at one point. “There wasn’t nothin’ sweet about her.” Even though she doesn’t make it to the end of the novel, she gets a touching sendoff in the final chapter from the author. 

Izzy is a 499-pound gentle giant who crushes every obstacle in his path. He’s a sweet guy who simply wants to get his family off the island and somewhere safe. In the process, he becomes a legend and acquires numerous catchy nicknames like “the Skull-Crusher,” “the Leopard Slayer” and “Eighteen-Wheeler Izzy.” If the author is amenable (and I hope he is), I’d love to see more books featuring this charismatic Polynesian paladin. Fingers crossed.

Like I said earlier, the island’s response to its sea corpse problem is extremely shameful. There is a tribe of cannibals who willingly feed innocent people to the “salt-crusted demons” in wild and orgiastic rituals. There is also an entire city that pits citizens and monsters against each other in daily gladiator-like battles. The whole situation is Caligula-like to say the least.

During the denouement, Casey and Izzy reunite on the beach where all the madness began. Said the author:“The war was over. The god was dead. No more monsters to put down. There was nothing left for them to hunt. And for a long moment, they just stood there, staring at the ocean, not speaking. Just two men who’d survived something unspeakable.” 

[ Where the Tide Leaves its Dead / By Bray Mattheson / First Printing: March 2026 / ISBN: 9798254255765 ]

Marine biologists, comparative psychologists, neuroscientists and cognitive experts all agree that octopuses are smart. Yet their intelligence is so alien—so fundamentally different from our own—that it resists conventional measurement. Some scientists (and science fiction writers) have even speculated that, under slightly different environmental conditions, octopods might have evolved to become the dominant species on Earth in place of humans. 

The giant octopus in Mark Hobson’s latest novel certainly knows what it’s doing. Creeping through the waters of the North Sea, the monster has a singular goal—to assert its place as the world’s undisputed ruler of sea and land. “To find people and to feed on them,” says Hobson bluntly. 

The novel begins when a couple of bodies wash ashore at Saltwick Quay, a small fishing port located at the tip of the North Sea. Dr. Samantha Steele, a forensic pathologist, quickly determines that a deadly deep-sea apex predator is responsible for the deaths. She calls it Octopus abyssalis borealis, a newly discovered species of very large and aggressive octopods. 

Chris Keeble, the port’s harbormaster, isn’t surprised. “When you spend your whole life living and working around the sea,” he says, “you’re bound to cross paths with something horrible.” Keeble, the hero of our story, is a drunken layabout with a notorious past. He was in the Royal Navy at one time, but was dishonorably discharged. 

The British Navy and the Norwegian Sjøforsvaret (along with Steele and Keeble) begin tracking the sea monster. It’s pretty easy to follow because the creature is clearly on a rampage. To complicate matters further, Russian ships are in the area, and they’re interested in the octopus too.

In Chapter 17 alone, the abyssal beast destroys a lighthouse, a bridge and an offshore oil rig. To top it off, the octopus even pulls itself across land to smash a church full of parishioners. ”The religious sanctuary that had sheltered generations could not withstand the attack and folded in on itself, burying all the people beneath stone and shattered wood.”

The explosive climax takes place back where it all began at Saltwick Quay. The 400-foot creature is utterly incomprehensible. The monstrous, dome-shaped, mottled mantle of the giant’s bulbous head breaches the water, resembling a surfacing submarine. A set of black eyes looks down at the onlookers with an inscrutable, cold and logical gaze. Like the Bible’s Leviathan, it is a beast of immense scale that magnified how puny we all are compared to God’s creations. 

There are a few last-second surprises (of course), but the biggest one comes on the very last page. In fact, Attack of the Killer Octopus has the greatest ending of any novel I’ve ever read. I had to read it twice (maybe three times) to make sure it actually ended the way I thought it did. 

[ Attack of the Killer Octopus / By Mark Hobson / First Printing: March 2026 / ISBN: 979825142118 ]

In the 2011 movie Rise of the Planet of the Apes, a scientist develops a drug that boosts brain function in chimpanzees. As a result, the test subject gains self-awareness and human-like intelligence. Eventually, he leads a revolt of apes against mankind. 

It’s easy to see why this sort of trope is popular in movies and literature—it’s both iconic and instantly recognizable. It also addresses all sorts of philosophical questions about evolution, artificial intelligence and genetic engineering.  

In Rokko, Christofer Nigro’s “smart chimp” novel, a genomics laboratory in Buffalo, NY, discovers a way to create a human-chimpanzee hybrid zygote. “We have finally broken the genetic barriers preventing interspecies fertilization with Homo sapiens,” says molecular biologist Dr. Brett Hubbard. 

Without question, it’s a tremendous scientific breakthrough, but nobody knows exactly what to think when they see the hybrid infant for the first time. Rokko—the fuzzy gray newborn—is a grotesque and awkward combination of humanoid and simian features. “It was ugly as hell,” stammers intern Hollie Lynn Kennedy. 

Six years later, Rokko is a brute. He’s five feet, five inches tall and looks more grotesque than he did during his infant and toddler years. He spends his time during the day reading books and watching the Playboy Channel on TV. 

Rokko is intelligent, verbal, unpredictable and clearly horny. But more than anything, he’s filled with an all-consuming hatred for humanity. One night, in a pique, he pours a jug of Drano down his caretaker’s throat. Watching the man choke and die from the highly caustic alkaline mixture fills him with ecstasy.  

Says Nigro: “Rokko felt euphoric over taking a life for the first time, as years of built-up rage and resentment toward the human species, with which he shared a genetic heritage, had finally been released in a massive cathartic explosion.”

Later, Rokko escapes from the laboratory with an insatiable urge to punish the entire human race. In addition, he’s curious about one specific thing: Sex. “He had long wondered if his half-human heritage would enable him to impregnate either a human woman or a female chimpanzee … or both,” says Nigro. “Moreover, he had longed to put that to the test for reasons partly clinical—but only partly.”

The novel ends with a string of frenzied, ultra-violent episodes. If you’re familiar with Nigro’s earlier work, you already know that he has a knack for writing compelling fight scenes. Here, his ape-versus-man clashes are especially descriptive and engaging.

The multiple rape scenes, however, are especially graphic and brutal. The most disturbing moment occurs when Rokko breaks into the suburban home of Dr. Hubbard, the scientist responsible for his creation. “Your mate is my mate now,” declares the pongid assailant. “What I do is no different than what you did to my mother. Now I do this to you. It is poetic justice. Now shut up! I am busy.” 

[ Rokko / By Christofer Nigro / First Wild Hunt Press Printing: March 2026 / ISBN: 9798993398037 ]

Author Jonathan Janz has a lot to say about Southern Gothic literature in his introduction to a new anthology entitled Screams from the Bayou. The subgenre blends dark and eerie (often grotesque) elements with realistic portrayals of Southern culture. Instead of haunted castles, it focuses on decaying plantations, small towns and deeply flawed characters. 

The swamps of the American South—especially places like Louisiana and the Mississippi Delta—are a big part of Southern Gothic storytelling, says Janz. The heat, isolation and slow rot of the swamp are obvious symbols for a society haunted by the past and the inability to move forward.

“The bayou,” he says in conclusion, “provides a haven for fell creatures and deeds, mortal dangers human and otherwise.” Unarguably, it is the kingdom of nightmares and unutterable evils.

Screams from the Bayou fulfills Janz’s vision of monstrous Southern Gothic literature, but readers have to be patient—things don’t really start cooking until the fifth story. “No place tried to kill a person as much or as often as the wilds of Louisiana did,” says author K.K. Monroe at the beginning of “Dead Water.” Her story of swamp monsters and the burden of family lineage is terrific. It’s probably the best thing in the anthology. 

“Homegoing” by R.J. Joseph is another story I enjoyed quite a bit. When a man rapes and mutilates women and then dumps their bodies in the swamp, he unknowingly creates the Sisters of the Swamp. Their shared trauma is their motivation for revenge, but it also gives them purpose beyond time. “I hoped there would not be another like him to bring us more sisters,” says Fern, the narrator of the story. “But if one came, we would know what to do to save others from spending eternity with us in our little swamp. We, however, would be happy there. Forever.”

Possibly the most outrageous story of the bunch is “The Neighbor” by Ashon Ruffins. A mother relocates to New Orleans for a fresh start after the premature death of her husband. Unfortunately, she and her 12-year-old son Jacob move into a house next door to a creepy old witch doctor.

The mother thinks the guy is harmless, just some old crank who believes that voodoo mumbo-jumbo is real. “My mama may not think you’re up to anything,” says Jacob when he finally comes face to face with his neighbor, “but I know you’re a monster.” The story’s shocking ending will leave readers screaming, “WTF just happened?!”

[ Screams from the Bayou / Edited by Heather Ann Larson / First Printing: March 2026 / ISBN: 9781970383027 ]

To be clear, I’ve read a handful of novels by Michael Cole and they’ve all been pretty good. If you’re looking for straightforward, fast-paced monster action (dinosaur, cryptid, alien or otherwise), Cole’s oeuvre is the place to start. 

But I have to say, despite the dueling “super-giants,” the military response, the unforgiving cryosphere and the (somewhat) quirky characters, I didn’t particularly enjoy Cole’s latest effort. It was bigly disappointing.  

Colossal is the story of two prehistoric creatures caught in the web of a wacky plan from environmental extremists. Damon Caine, the leader of the group, isn’t your typical Greenpeace activist; however, he’s more of a religious ideologue who wants to purify the world and anoint himself as its savior. 

Right away readers learn that Damon Caine is a delusional madman. With a name like that, how could he not be? He’s a Batman villain with a Glenn Danzig song playing in the background. Also, for what it’s worth, he has a raspy voice like Robert F. Kennedy Jr. 

Caine doesn’t make an appearance until late in the book, but his presence is felt on every page. He’s not much of a covert operator though—characters know who he is and they talk about him endlessly. At some point, I was simply turning pages waiting for him to show up. 

Once revealed, Caine doesn’t last long. His diabolical plan is undone in a scant nine pages. Unfortunately for the 10,000 people living in Antarctica’s Camp Boreas (representing McMurdo Station no doubt), they must deal with the consequences of his reckless actions. Because of him, there are now two giant monsters eager to smash their hometown. 

First up is a giant praying mantis. Don’t laugh. A 200-pound mantis is no joke, says Cole. Should its characteristics be anywhere near its chibi counterpart, the super mantis would be a force to be reckoned with. It possesses a strength beyond anything equal to its size. In the history of planet Earth, no creature has been as ravenous or deadly as the praying mantis—and this one was filled with a malice carried over millions of years.  

The super mantid isn’t the only monster threatening Camp Boreas with destruction. There is also a 400-foot lava-spitting Dragon Snake in the neighborhood. Its brown, translucent scales are not dissimilar to medieval shields, helmets and armor. 

The fight between the two behemoths begins with a heavy rumble that rocks the entire continent. On the sidelines, a paleontologist named Dr. Patricia Weldon gasps at the sight before her. She’s an expert on the ancient Antarctica titans and knows she is witnessing the world on the brink of extinction. Who will win the titanic battle? Honestly, I didn’t care. 

[ Colossal / By Michael Cole / First Printing: March 2026 / ISBN: 9781923663190 ]