"Read this astonishing novel . . . The magic of his prose equals the horror of Johnston's story." -The Washington Post
The Rocky Mountains have cast their spell over the Courtlands, who are taking a family vacation before their daughter leaves for college. But when Caitlin and her younger brother, Sean, go out for an early morning run and only Sean returns, the mountains become as terrifying as they are majestic.
Written with a precision that captures every emotion, every moment of fear, as each member of the family searches for answers, Descent races like an avalanche toward its heart-pounding conclusion.
"Read this astonishing novel . . . The magic of his prose equals the horror of Johnston's story." -The Washington Post
"A compelling thriller that is both creepy and literary . . . Descent is not just a mystery. It is an emotional story of evil, fear, acceptance and irony."-The Denver Post
"What makes the novel unforgettable is its sense of character, its deliberate, unadorned prose and Johnston's unflinching exploration of human endurance, physical and psychological." -Miami Herald
"A super-charged, addictive read." -The Missourian
"An original and psychologically deep thriller." -Outside magazine
"Outstanding . . . The days when you had to choose between a great story and a great piece of writing? Gone." -Esquire
"[A] dazzling debut . . . Exquisitely crafted." -The Dallas Morning News
"Incredibly powerful, richly atmospheric." -Minneapolis Star Tribune
" [An] engulfing thriller-cum-western." -The New York Times Book Review
"Brilliant . . . As gripping as any Everest expedition." -Peter Heller, author of The Dog Stars The Rocky Mountains have cast their spell over the Courtlands, who are taking a family vacation before their daughter leaves for college. But when Caitlin disappears during an early morning run with her brother, Sean, the mountains become as terrifying as they are majestic.
Tim Johnston is the author of the novels Descent, The Current, the story collection Irish Girl, and the young adult novel Never So Green. He holds degrees from the University of Iowa and the University of Massachusetts, Amherst. He is the recipient of the 2015 Iowa Author Award and currently lives in Iowa City, Iowa. THE PHONE IN his hand was ringing. For how long? He read the screen with illogical dread.
"It's Sean," he said, and his wife said nothing.
THEY'D LEFT THE aspens and stepped into a high, intense sunlight, their shadows thrown back on the blacktop. The morning had burned away. The air was sere and smelled of weeping sap and of the brown, desiccated needles. They'd unfolded the map and tried to get their bearings. In a moment, and for the first time that day, they heard an engine, and then a gaining thump-beat of music, and above them at the curve there banked into view a truck, or a jeep, or something in between, some mountain breed they didn't know, and it was coming and Caitlin said, "Get over here," and Sean crabwalked himself and the bike into the scrub growth and wildflowers while the strange vehicle, all sunlight and bass, veered wide of them. In the window was a face, a man's jaw, yellow lenses fixing on them for a long moment before the jeep-thing passed on and, reaching the crest of the road, dropped away, body and engine and music and all.
They'd set off again then, and when they came around the bend there was another road, unpaved, intersecting the blacktop at an oblique angle like an X, and without hesitating and without consulting him, Caitlin simply took it. And although the road was unmarked, and although it appeared as though it would take them higher up rather than down, he said
