A holiday idyll that turns into a nightmare. Eight people take a yachting cruise in the Bahamas and find that they are not alone.
OK, so that isn’t much to really tell, is it? I had great expectations for this book – seriously thought it would be the best one ever. I didn’t like it.
The story is told by a ridiculously horny boy who didn’t have much sense and has even less by the end of the book. He is totally worthless except to ogle the women and try to catch a fondle whenever he could. I don’t care what is happening in a person’s sex life – or not happening – one wouldn’t act that way if their yacht had been blown up and two members of their party were hideously murdered.
He puts their lives in danger more than once because he wanted to catch a peek at their breasts or lower. When he gets the chance, he brutalize the women the same as the person who had did the killings. He is a sadistic little twirp and I couldn’t like him from the very beginning. Who acts that way? NO ONE. When you have to worry about getting jumped while going to the bathroom or needing to stand watch at night so nobody dies…you don’t spend all your time fantasizing about screwing the mother of your girlfriend and her sister.
I was incredibly disappointed and would never have read another Laymon if this had been the first one. The graphic violence and rape scenes make a person cringe. I would give this book a C at best.