Crimson Stain (Lesser Evils Book One)

By Pierre Manchot

Red, a widower and grizzled veteran of the modern age, is tasked with protecting a small rural town in Texas from any and all threats. Joining his night watch is Rory (a clownish drunk), Bev (a hardened sharpshooter and mother of three), and Casey (a teenager and budding psychopath). Their patrol is interrupted by an odious messenger-- The Forgiveness, a political party / zealous religious cult known for their cruelty, is heading their way, looking for blood and converts.

In this bloody neo-western, Red has to prepare his town for the impending massacre. That means he needs to shake hands with shady arms and drug dealers in Dallas, make some home-made napalm, and deal with the ghosts of his past as he bargains with his God for survival.

Crimson Stain is the first entry in the Lesser Evils series, a collection of novelettes that take place in the dystopian universe established in The Least of 99 Evils. Welcome to the New States of America: Washington DC's been burned to the ground. The President is elected by a lottery machine. Political parties have turned into street gangs. The Coasts have been nuked and the flyover states have been entirely walled-in. Have a nice stay.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pierre Manchot
• Release date: May 19, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463852057

Pierre Manchot

Pierre Manchot is the nom de plume of a rascal and miscreant who lives and writes in Portland, Oregon. Manchot isn't rooted in any one genre but has currently written in post-apocalyptic, noir and dystopian-thriller. What's this bad boy about when he's not writing? Trick question. Manchot never stops writing.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Crimson Stain

CHAPTER TWO

The Lonestar Question

What makes a Texan?

I’m talking about the inalienable trait of our Lone Star Statesman, here. What makes us us.

You ask me that question twenty, thirty years ago and I would have given you some jackass answer like big belt buckles, rockin’ country tunes, big trucks, big guns, big plates of brisket. And now I’m morbidly curious. Is it our pride? Hell, not no more. We ain’t got too much to be proud of these days. Not since Clyde O’Brien. Not since the wall. And definitely not since we stooped to living like shit in shit. And it sure as hell ain’t our brisket— maybe it is in some of the bigger settlements, but by god, we can’t keep a goddamn cow alive to keep us alive. It’s chickens now. The smell of them makes me sick. There’s feathers everywhere. We tried sheep and goats, but all that did was kill a few of us after our well got contaminated with shit. I think of all the steaks I ate half drunk, unable to relish the experience. Of all the things I miss, that’s the least painful. I think about steak a lot.

Evening, Red. Casey tips his hat to me. He’s young. That scares me. He was born in this world. He never knew the United States. Just the New States. Makes you wonder what’s going on in his head. Makes you wonder if he understands. All them children, now grown up. I envy them. I fear them. I pity them.

Evening, Casey. How’s we on the rounds tonight?

Slow and quiet, Red, Casey says.

Just the way we like it, I say. Casey smirks and grips his Winchester. I get the sense he don’t like it too quiet. Casey scares me like that. I tip my hat. Casey walks along the south wall.

What’s in a Texan, the fact that we take care of our own? I couldn’t. Not then. I feel like I might be able to now. I try my best. Too little, too late, maybe. But it ain’t nothing. What else was I going to do? I jumped at the opportunity to serve something. A community in lieu of family. I was the one that suggested we build a wall around the town. Medieval like. If the New States are cloistered within a 40-foot cement casing, then so too shall we be. 20 feet in our case. Keeps the dust out. Not that I get to know the difference on nights like these. I’m outside.

We still have the guns. Can’t say I like ‘em too much, any more. I smell cordite on my hands as I go to sleep sometimes. It gives me nightmares. I keep it holstered on my belt and