Roadkill

Stretched across a bare-bones plot and energized by scenes of bloody mayhem, this horror tale from the author of The Calling lumbers about as gracelessly as the prehistoric birds of prey that rampage through it. These predators have been liberated from their ancient burial place by a pair of clumsy survivalists in the vanguard of the intruders developing and desecrating sacred Native American tribal grounds in the woods outside Portland, Ore. What these creatures signify and why they have emerged now are critical elements of a background that Sanford develops inadequately. Rather, he spends the bulk of the novel unfolding the lives of a handful of characters whose stories, for the most part, contribute little to the tale's progress before the characters are turned into bird feed. When three of the principals finally are brought together--a stubborn trucker, an adolescent girl and a nameless teen male protagonist--it seems for the sole purpose of staging a flashy yet nearly meaningless standoff against the birds. The narrative isn't helped by Sanford's prose, which is punchy but riddled with awkward phrases such as, ``Maniacs. They caused him to smolder within,'' and, ``He tried that perception on for awhile.'' Through no apparent design of its own, this novel proves that there's more to a good horror story than just an ugly monster. (Sept.)