Foe

by Iain Reid

Genres: Literary Fiction; Psychological Thrillers; Suspense

Synopsis

You think you know everything about your life.

Long-married couple Junior and Henrietta live a quiet, solitary life on their farm, where they work at the local feed mill and raise chickens. Their lives are simple, straightforward, uncomplicated.

Until everything you think you know collapses.

Until the day a stranger arrives at their door with alarming news: Junior has been chosen to take an extraordinary journey, a journey across both time and distance, while Hen remains at home. Junior will be gone for years. But Hen won't be left alone.

Who can you trust if you can't even trust yourself?

As the time for his departure draws nearer, Junior finds himself questioning everything about his life - even whether it's really his life at all.

 Eerily entrancing, Foe churns with unease and suspense from the first words to its shocking finale. Perfect for fans of Humans, Westworld and Black Mirror, Foe is a book you will never forget.

Release date: July 2, 2019

Publisher: Gallery/Scout Press

Print pages: 272

Sample

Foe
Two headlights. I wake to the sight of them. Odd because of the distinct green tint. Not the usual white headlights you see around here. I spot them through the window, at the end of the lane. I must have been in a kind of quasi slumber; an after-dinner daze brought on by a full stomach and the evening heat. I blink several times, attempting to focus.

There’s no warning, no explanation. I can’t hear the car from here. I just open my eyes and see the green lights. It’s like they appeared out of nowhere, shaking me from my daze. They are brighter than most headlights, glaring from between the two dead trees at the end of the lane. I don’t know the precise time, but it’s dark. It’s late. Too late for a visitor. Not that we get many of them.

We don’t get visitors. Never have. Not out here.

I stand, stretch my arms above my head. My lower back is stiff. I pick up the open bottle of beer that’s beside me, walk from my chair straight ahead several steps to the window. My shirt is unbuttoned, as it often is at this time of night. Nothing ever feels simple in this heat. Everything requires an effort. I’m waiting to see if, as I think, the car will stop, reverse back onto the road, continue on, and leave us alone, as it should.

But it doesn’t. The car stays where it is; the green lights are pointing my way. And then, after a long hesitation or reluctance or uncertainty, the car starts moving again, toward the house.

You expecting anyone? I yell to Hen.

“No,” she calls down from upstairs.

Of course she’s not. I don’t know why I asked. We’ve never had anyone show up at this time of night. Not ever. I take a swig of beer. It’s warm. I watch as the car drives all the way up to the house and pulls in beside my truck.

Well, you better come down here, I call again. Someone’s here.