Four hundred days after the Fall, the dead don't hunt anymore. They linger, gray eyed and patient, in the ruins of a country that stopped being one. Behind the wall in what used to be Manhattan, President Tom Dreymund hangs the disobedient on Sundays and sells the survivors a future he never intends to deliver. Amber O'Malley keeps her dead husband in a cage and drinks to forget why. Six hundred miles south, a gentle mountain town in the hills of Appalachia buries its first bodies in a year and learns what its shepherd is willing to do to keep them. And in a castle in the Bronx, two hundred souls paint a yellow fist on the walls and prepare for a revolution. They are all moving towards the same Sunday afternoon in Washington Square Park, and toward a truth a condemned man is about to scream from the gallows.
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