A Novel

Robert Evans

Dedication

This book is dedicated to Cynthia.

I’d furthermore like to thank Sarah and Jeremy, who took me in when I was crazy from grief and trauma. Thank you Moira, for reading my silly book and giving it crucial feedback. Thank you Tavia, for the incredible illustrations and the support. And thank you Sophie, for telling me to stop being a coward and publish the motherfucker.

Last, I’d like to thank Magenta. Without you, and the places we went together, I would not have known the things I needed to know in order to write this at all.

Richardson, Republic of Texas, 2070.

Chapter 1

Manny.

Manny smiled at the way the British journalist’s face blanched as the old Toyota hit the pothole. Reggie wasn’t used to bad roads, cars driven by actual humans, or the way the heavy metal of the gun mount in the truck bed made the aluminum frame groan. That was all familiar to Manny. He’d grown up in ciudad de muerta, back before the Lakewood Blast. Back when people had still called it Dallas.

The truck’s driver veered around the bloated corpse of a large dog lying in the middle of the road. Reggie gripped the truck bed with white knuckles and eyed the swaying ammo-belt of the 20mm cannon like it was a coiled snake. The gunner, Manny’s cousin ­Alejandro, grinned down at the journalist, “The suspension’s a little fucked, yeah?”

The Brit nodded, and turned greener when the technical hit another pothole. Manny supposed he should offer a comforting word to the man. That would be good business. But a louder part of him looked at Reggie’s brand-new boots and thought, “He can stand a little less comfort.” The journalist would brag about this ride for months once he got home.

Escorting reporters from the safety of Austin to the sundry hot spots of the old Metroplex was not Manny’s ideal career. Two years ago he’d been working on a bachelor’s in business administration from the University of Austin. The plan had been to get a job with Aegis Bio­systems, then charm his way into a working visa and a gig in the California Republic. But the fighting had started up again and ruined all that. The culprit this time was the “Heavenly Kingdom,” a loose assortment of Christian extremist militias. They’d boiled out from the suburbs of the old Metroplex and all but broken the Republic of Texas.

The autonomous City of Austin had stabilized the situation with the help of an alliance of leftist Texan militias, the Secular Defense Forces. Beating them back had cost a lot in blood and time, and forced Manny to change every plan he’d ever made for his life.