Monday, March 12, 2018

Guest Post: A letter from Penny Miller (The protagonist in the new novel Blood Desert)

To: Frank Michaels Errington

From: Sheriff Penny Miller, Flat Rock NV


Right off, let me caution you that this memo was written under difficult circumstances. In fact, it may not seem to make a lick of sense at first, mostly because I’m worn out as a goose with a bad case of the shits. I don’t even know where to start, so just gonna come right out and say whatever comes to mind, whether in or out of order.
Seems hard to believe now, but my little desert town, and the whole damn flat as a bovine frisbee county it squats in, used to be a calm and sleepy place. A big Saturday night had me putting a drunk in a cell to sleep it off, and maybe warning Ricky Bob Walker not to discharge his rifle within city limits. It was pretty nice around here, to be honest. Back then, downright pretty. Until the poop hit the fan and my life got splattered like bug guts on the windshield.
Before I go any further, I need to reveal a very weird thing. I don’t know dick about abstract physics, alternative universes, and all that SciFi stuff, but I suspect that something from way out there recently snuck up behind to nip me on the ass. What I mean by all that, Frank, is that everything just changed overnight around here.
And I do mean everything.
Stay with me: Time itself has kind of changed. And we ain’t talking about daylight savings. For a bunch of reasons I don’t understand, we have all somehow gone backwards. Like for real, by a couple of years, and that means that all six books you reviewed about that whole zombie thing, well they never happened. Not yet, anyway. In fact, back in this here world, I’ve just split up from Terrill Lee, who I caught banging some air headed bimbo while we were married. Here I’m somewhat new at being the Sheriff of Flat Rock, Nevada, but am already as good at this job as any limp noodled, numbnuts male who’s ever held the title. Way better, in fact. A fact which should come as no surprise. Because if you want something done right, always give it to a woman.
The thing is, some odd strangers have come to Flat Rock. Two new ladies who are bringing real money in, which our corrupt Mayor loves. But they are also dragging behind them, kind of like the tail of a kite tied to firecrackers, one hell of a lot of trouble. I've also spotted a pair of teen drug dealers who look to be exploiting this sudden uptick in our local economy. Now, you might think those events won't add up to a big deal, but you’d be wrong as a turd on a salad plate. It’s a slow-motion train wreck from the start and quickly gets a whole lot worse. Because Terrill Lee found some cattle with very unusual holes in them, and a then there's also that dead man out in an alley who kind of proved my point. Which is that things really do suck around here. And that ain’t just a figure of speech tonight. Things are sucking the blood out of people.
Hold on a second. I just heard something up on the roof. Might just be the wind or some raccoons. Gotta listen.
Never mind. It's gone now.
Anyway, that is just an update in case this whole case goes south. The good news is I’m not up against those ravenous, mindless zombies who can reproduce faster than a herd of bunnies chowing down on a garden of Viagra. The bad news is that this time the things that suck around here have turned out to have fangs and piss stuff you could use to scrub away rust.
These ass hats are actual vampires. Honest to God. They are batshit crazy and thirsty as a broke Shannon boyo on St. Patrick’s Day.
Yeah, I know how all this sounds. I can't believe it either.
Hold on to your package for another second. Did you hear that?
Shit fire. Something is for sure moving around up on the roof. Like it's looking for a way in. Claws on it, maybe? Not small. More like a bobcat or a cougar than a raccoon. Or maybe this is just one hell of a Plus Size bat. Not what I wanted to be dealing with, but guess it saves me a trip underground.
Looking out the jailhouse window I just saw a shadow cross the ground below, sort of like the huge thing is just pacing around up there. Is it nervous to try and take me on alone? Or maybe it is waiting for some backup?
Bullets won’t work on these assholes, but I’ve got me something rumored to get the job done. And I’m fixing to go take the bastard on.
Got to go, my people need me.
Stay well, and if folks want to find out what happens next, they will just have to buy the book Blood Desert. Frank, old friend, if I live through this one, I’m gonna be sure to check your page to see what you think of the new novel. At least that is one thing which is guaranteed not to suck.
Shhh. There it is again.
Now it’s hanging from the rain gutter. Butt ugly son of a bitch.
Gotta go. The sun is gone and it’s now full-on dark.



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