I didn’t get any time today, folks, so enjoy the nothing.
Do you have anything to share with my 3.5 readers?
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How the West Was Zombed – Discussion Question
It dawns on me that Chapter 95 raises a potentially interesting discussion question for my 3.5 readers.
3.5 readers, suppose you are in the army, charged with blowing up a bridge to prevent hordes of zombies from crossing.
A crowd of people shows up. You’re under orders from your superiors to shoot anyone who tries to cross.
To send them back means they will become zombie chow.
But, due to their being little knowledge about the zombie menace, it is possible you’ll be allowing the zombie menace to spread across the bridge by letting people cross.
Do you bend the rules and let them cross or stand firm, obey your orders, and refuse to let people cross?
Discuss.
How the West Was Zombed – Chapter 95
Major Culpepper’s men stood on the Missouri side of the Sturtevant Bridge, rifles drawn and pointed at a large crowd of people who were undeterred.
The Major himself withdrew his saber and rattled it wildly in the air.
“Back, you rabble! Back, I say!”
An angry farmer wearing a straw hat let the Major have it. “You can’t send us back there! There’s nothing to go back to!”
An elderly woman with three teeth chimed in. “We’ll all be eaten alive by dead folk if you turn us away!”
“Can’t any of you filth read?” Culpepper asked as he pointed his saber at the lone piece of paper that Corporal Bartlett had tacked to a tree. “The president has declared that you are all to be presumed zombies and shot if you attempt to cross. My hands are tied. Disperse immediately.”
A weeping woman wearing a shawl held up a crying infant wrapped in a blanket.
“Please sir,” she begged. “At least take my baby so that he might have a chance.”
The major’s glare at the fussy baby was interrupted when the corporal tapped him on the shoulder.
“What is it, Corporal?” an annoyed Major asked.
“A word sir?”
The Major nodded and walked a few feet back onto the bridge with the Corporal, leaving his men to keep the crowd at bay.
“Sir,” the Corporal said. “Can’t we take the baby?”
“That is the ugliest baby I have ever seen, Bartlett,” the Major said. “For all I know it could be a tiny zombie.”
“Clearly none of these people are zombies,” Bartlett said.
“Oh, and I suppose you’re an expert on the subject now?” the Major asked. “There’s nothing clear about it, Bartlett. We know very little about zombies. Any one of these people could be carriers of the dreaded zombie contagion. What am I supposed to say to the Eastern seaboard when it gets wiped out? ‘Oh sorry, Eastern seaboard, but Bartlett tripped over his vagina when it was time to secure the Sturtevant Bridge?’”
“But sir…”
“No buts about it, Corporal,” the Major said. “Our orders are to deny passage to anyone who attempts to cross this bridge and that’s all there is to it.”
“But sir surely you could exercise some discretion,” the Corporal said.
“What are you on about?” the Major asked.
“This is a confusing situation, isn’t it?” Bartlett asked. “No one’s keeping track of the time. We let the people cross. We blow up the bridge. Who’s to say they didn’t all cross before we even got here? I’ll swear on a stack of bibles I never saw any of them if we ever get court martialed.”
The Major looked at the woman holding the baby. He surveyed the crowd. So many young frightened faces. Children clutching their parents.
“Bah,” the Major said. “Blast you, Bartlett. I suppose no one could judge me too harshly if I save the women and children but I swear I’ll lop off your balls and stick them in a mason jar on my mantle if this ever comes back to bite me in the ass.”
“That’s only fair, sir,” Bartlett replied.
“Robards!” the Major shouted.
The Major’s demolition expert was crouched over a bundle of dynamite, carefully tying it to a support beam.
A flick of ash fell on the bundle. Robards looked up to see a smoking private.
“Are you trying to make us all go kerblooey?” Robards asked as he stood up and smacked the smoke out of the private’s hands. “Get some sense, numb nuts!”
“Robards,” the Major repeated as he drew closer. “How long?”
“Depends,” Robards replied. “You want it done fast or you want it done right?”
“I want the whole damn thing blown to smithereens so I can get back to camp and take a shit,” the Major said.
Robards took off his hat and scratched his head. “Bout an hour.”
“Very well,” the Major said.
Culpepper and Bartlett walked back to the line of soldiers standing between the crowd and the bridge.
“Attention rabble,” the Major shouted. “In one hour’s time, all women and children will be allowed to cross. Men will be expected to return West to fight the zombie menace with honor. Say your goodbyes. There will be no further discussion of the subject.”
Various angry groans and complaints emanated from the crowd as the people talked amongst themselves.
Culpepper and Bartlett headed back onto the bridge.
“God help us if even one of these people is a zombie, Bartlett,” the Major said.
“Sir,” the Corporal replied. “I am absolutely positive that none of these people are zombies.”
The crowd stretched back for a quarter mile. Doc and Annabelle arrived on Hercules, unable to pass through the mob.
“Look at all these people,” Annabelle said.
“Yes,” Doc whispered. He pulled up his collar, turned down the brim of his hat, and pointed his head downward. “I do hope none of them suspect that I am a zombie.”
What movie are you looking forward to the most this summer?
Hey 3.5 readers.
Just a short post today on the Bookshelf Battle Blog. They all can’t be winners, sadly.
(Although let’s face it. Most of them are. I’m batting like 99.5% or whatever that would be in a batting average if I knew anything about baseball.)
Anyway, what movie are you most looking forward to this summer?
Capt America:Civil War has already come and gone. That was a big one for me. I’m also looking forward to Suicide Squad.
And for some strange reason, I’m keeping my fingers crossed that the next ninja turtle film will be better than the last one.
Warcraft and Tarzan look good.
I don’t know. You tell me 3.5 readers.
How the West Was Zombed – Part 9 – The Not So Great Escape
Tribal shaman Wandering Snake guilts Standing Eagle into coming to Highwater’s aid.
Slade gets his crew to the livery stable, with a plan to send Miss Bonnie, the Widow Farquhar and Miles south to seek refuge with Eagle’s allies.
Meanwhile, Doc and Annabelle plan to head East to pursue their dreams of becoming international cocaine peddling gynecologists. (Yes, it makes more sense if you read it.)
But with an army of obedient zombies under his control, Blythe interferes with these plans.
The Reverend’s attempt to find some good in Blythe backfires in a big way.
Miles will need to figure out how to be a werewolf before its too late.
Chapter 79 Chapter 80 Chapter 81
Chapter 82 Chapter 83 Chapter 84
Due to my incompetence, I skipped making a Chapter 87 and went right to 88, so:
Chapter 88 Chapter 89 Chapter 90
Game of Thrones Recap – Season 6, Episode 3
Hey 3.5 readers.
Ahem. SPOILERS! SPOILERS! SPOILERS!
Lots of stuff going on. Jon Snow’s back and to me, he basically did the ultimate shitty job walk out.
A brother of the Knight’s Watch’s watch ends when he dies, and Jon Snow did die, so…yup. It’s all legal. And why should he stay when those douches tried to kill him?
Assumedly, he’ll go take back Winterfell, having the best claimed to it as the eldest Stark child (even though as he is often reminded, he’s a bastard.)
Or is he? A flashback gave us the beginning of a glimpse as to Jon Snow’s true past.
Hopefully, that’ll be revisited next week.
What say you, 3.5 readers?
How the West Was Zombed – Chapter 94
Miss Bonnie headed south, maneuvering Doc’s wagon down a bumpy path through a forest. The trees were tall and in the moonlight, just the slightest bit spooky.
“Oh I don’t know about this Miss Lassiter,” Sarah said as she looked around. “We will be safe without any men to protect us?”
The driver felt like chewing Sarah out for making that statement but erred on the side of diplomacy. “I think we’ll manage.”
Miles stretched out in the back. Occasionally, he nodded off, only to be jostled awake when Miss Bonnie took the wagon over a rock.
He could hear everything the women were saying.
“I wish I shared your optimism,” Sarah said. “Perhaps life is easier for someone with a…carefree spirit.”
Miss Bonnie raised an eyebrow. “Is that supposed to mean something?”
“Oh no,” Sarah said. The bride examined her wedding dress. The train had ripped off hours earlier and between the blood stains and dirt it was more of a reddish brown now than white.
“It’s just that, you lived such a glamorous lifestyle,” Sarah said.
“I did?” Miss Bonnie asked.
“I would imagine a saloon keeping prostitute has many interesting stories,” Sarah said.
“Drunk perverts parting with their pay for pussy is about it,” Miss Bonnie replied.
Sarah blushed. “Good heavens.”
Chance plodded along at a steady speed.
“Sometimes I wish I hadn’t lived such a provincial life,” Sarah said. “Between my father and my departed husband, the only thing I have ever done is cook and clean for men. Why, if it weren’t for all of the sinful debauchery guaranteeing your place in eternal hellfire I’d have half a mind to trade places with you.”
As a dedicated church lady, Sarah had a habit of speaking straightforward, oblivious to how her words could be construed as insulting. Miss Bonnie picked up on that but did her best to not take offense.
“Word to the wise, darling,” Miss Bonnie said. “If you spend your life depending on men to take care of you, you’ll be mighty disappointed when they let you down.”
“I suppose,” Sarah said. “Oh but I’ll never have to worry about that with Rain. Such a rugged and hearty man’s man. Perfect in every way. He’s brave and bold and has no problems whatsoever. And he’s so dedicated to me.”
Having no interest in carrying on that line of discussion, Miss Bonnie changed the subject. “Kinda chilly isn’t it?”
Sarah rubbed her hands over her elbows, hugging herself. “It is.”
In the back, the scent of three werewolves wafted through the air and up into Miles’ nostrils. The boy opened his eyes and sat up.
“Have you and Rain been acquaintances long?” Sarah asked.
“Huh?” Miss Bonnie replied.
“He seems to hold a high opinion of you,” Sarah said. “Trusting you to look out for me and all.”
“Oh you know that old expression,” Miss Bonnie said. “‘If you can’t trust the town whore to look out for your bride then who can you trust?’ Right?”
“Is that an expression?” Sarah asked.
“Sure is,” Miss Bonnie answered.
“I’m not sure it is,” Sarah said.
Miles opened the back doors, allowing them to sway in the breeze. In the distance, he saw three glowing yellow eyes. They grew bigger and bigger until he could see three furry faces.
King Zeke and his two flunkies were closing in.
The boy knocked on the front of wagon. Miss Bonnie could hear Miles’ muffled voice from behind the boards.
“Miss Bonnie!”
“What?” the redhead asked.
“Company!”
Miss Bonnie craned her neck backward and caught a glimpse of the three sets of yellow eyes.
“Son of a…”
The redhead snapped on the reigns, prompting Chance to run as fast as his hooves would carry him.
Sarah turned to see what was going on. “Oh Lord save us.”
Miles drew his rifle and aimed for the glowing eyes, but the wagon shook uncontrollably as Chance bolted. The boy fired and missed. Zeke’s henchwolves flanked either side of the wagon, while the King himself followed behind.
One henchwolf ran along the left side of the car. He jumped up and dug his claws into the wagon to hold on. As soon as his face popped up, Miss Bonnie filled it full of buckshot. Unfortunately, it wasn’t silver buckshot, so it didn’t kill him, but it was painful enough that he let go and tumbled to the ground.
Sarah shrieked as the other henchwolf wrapped its paws around her waist. Miss Bonnie dropped the reigns, allowing the wagon to swerve all over as she grabbed hold of Sarah’s ankle. Though she tried to keep the bride in the wagon, King Zeke’s lackey was too strong.
The last thing Miss Bonnie saw was Sarah kicking and screaming as she was flung over the henchwolf’s shoulder. The wolf turned around and ran back towards town, upright on two feet as he carried his prize.
Miles watched as Zeke grabbed hold of the back left wheel, causing the wagon to jerk so abruptly that it started to flip over.
The boy thought fast. He morphed into werewolf form, becoming so tall that his head crashed through the roof of the wagon. After slashing through the boards that separated him from the driver’s seat, he picked up Miss Bonnie and jumped just in time to avoid being caught amidst the flying debris as the wagon crashed into pieces on the ground.
Chance managed to twist himself free of the wreck, then ran off into the night.
Miles felt sharp claws dig into his back. He put Miss Bonnie down and turned to find himself facing the henchwolf that had been shot by Miss Bonnie. His wounds were heeled.
The boy was angry. First his father. Now his newfound friends. He scratched his claws across the henchwolf’s face, then connected an uppercut to the attacker’s chin, launching him into the air then down to the ground.
Miles jumped on top of him, drew his hand back and was ready to deliver a death blow when he saw it. A look of fear in the henchwolf’s eyes.
The kid put his paw down, stood up, then started to walk towards Miss Bonnie, who was searching around for her shotgun to no avail. She picked up a piece of wood and prepared to defend herself.
Miles sensed the henchwolf was behind him. He turned just in time to see a paw coming for his face, only to be stopped when a grey paw grabbed it.
King Zeke’s voice crawled its way into Miles’ mind.
“Now is that any way to treat a fella who did you a good turn?”
The henchwolf was confused. “He got in the way.”
“That bloodsucking lawyer aint paying us to kill our own kind,” Zeke said. Then he asked the kid, “What’s your name, boy?”
“None of your business,” Miles replied.
“Helluva way to talk to your elders,” Zeke said. “Why don’t you run along now before I put you over my knee?”
Zeke and his henchwolf gathered around Miss Bonnie. The redhead got a few good whacks in on the henchwolf’s snout before he grabbed her board, snapped it in half, and picked her up.
Miles put a paw on Zeke’s shoulder. “Tell him to let her go!”
The sound of Zeke’s laughter flowed through Miles’ mind. Zeke turned around, socked Miles in the face, causing him to soar several feet backwards until he landed on the ground.
Zeke gripped the back of Miles’ head and looked him in the eye.
“Here’s some free advice, kid. Either join a pack and do as you’re told or find a cave to hide in, because the next time you put your paw on an alpha, you best be an alpha.”
Zeke let go of Miles’ head, allowing it to fall on the ground. The boy looked up as his assailant walked away.
“And you’re no alpha.”
Happy Mother’s Day – Who is your favorite fictional mother?
Happy Mother’s Day 3.5 readers.
Who is your favorite fictional mother?
For me I’d say it’s a tie between Mrs. Gump, who took one for the team so that Forrest could go to school and Shaft, the baddest mother around.
Who are your favorite fictional mothers, 3.5 readers?
How the West Was Zombed – Chapter 93 (Rewrite)
Gunther only had the one good eye, but that was all he needed to land a shot straight through the neck of the werewolf that had Standing Eagle pinned. The werewolf roared in pain and became distracted just long enough for the Chief to spring to his feet and bash the beast backward with multiple tomahawk smashes to the face.
Once the monster was within range, Gunther put a silver tipped bullet right in the back of its hairy skull. Eagle side stepped just in time to avoid being crushed by the collapsing carcass.
In a blood and guts fueled frenzy, Slade was using his twin pistols to pop putrid zombie heads as if they were ripe watermelons.
Eagle’s warriors fought valiantly. Bobcat jammed his blade into a zombie’s forehead, then hacked off the creature’s hand, stole its gun and used it to blow out the brains of three more zombies.
Fox scalped a zombified Buchanan Boy, using his knife to peal away the undead man’s hair and skin, not to mention the top half of his skull. Once the zombie’s brain was exposed, Fox plunged his blade deep inside it, putting the zombie’s lights out forever.
The zombies kept attacking, as did the two remaining werewolves. The cowboys and natives closed ranks, fighting in close proximity to each other as they hacked off and shot off all manner of disgusting zombie parties.
“It seems I have saved your useless hide again, Slade,” Eagle said as he hacked the arm off one of his attackers.
“I don’t feel too safe yet,” Slade replied as he put a silver tipped bullet right through the eye of a werewolf, dropping him cold. “But thanks.”
“Are you two going to kiss or are you going to kill zombies?” Gunther asked. The old timer pulled the trigger of his rifle only to hear a click. Out of ammo, the old timer improvised and bashed an incoming’s face in with the butt of his Winchester.
“We make our ancestors proud today, Eagle!” cried Bobcat as he lopped a zombie’s head clean off and tossed it into the air. It remained alive until Slade put a bullet between its eyes before it hit the ground. It was an epic trick shot.
“Am I seeing things or are there even more of these fuckers?” Gunther asked.
“You aren’t,” Snake replied as he conked a zombie over the head with his staff. “We kill more and more and they just keep coming…ugh!”
Two zombies grabbed Snake’s arms and attempted to pull him into the sea of undead that surrounded the heroes, but Screeching Owl put an arrow in each of their heads in order to free the shaman.
High up above the brawl, Blythe hovered in the air, directing his zombies in their gruesome carnage. Slade took a few shots at the vampire, but Blythe dodged them adeptly.
From his vantage point, Blythe could see a mile in any direction, and to his delight, the entire town had become filled with zombies and werewolves.
The drive was finally complete. The werewolf herdsmen had brought their zombie cattle in, and with is mind, the vampire directed all of the undead to converge on the mayhem outside the livery.
Gunther smacked and punched away the hands that grabbed him, but they were too many. The old man was hoisted into the air and held there by several different pairs of hands. Soon, Slade was overpowered and ended up joining him, as did Fox, Owl, Bobcat, and Snake.
All heroes resisted but they were unable to break the undead grips that held them up over the zombie crowd below.
Eagle wasn’t so lucky. With a werewolf’s paw around his throat, he was lifted into the air. The werewolf squeezed…and squeezed until…CRACK! The Chief’s neck snapped and his body went limp.
Slade cried out in anger and struggled to free himself to no avail.
Down the road, a rider approached on a horse. As he drew near, the zombies parted to let him through. At least twenty hulking werewolves followed in his wake.
Ezekiel “Zeke” Kane. Alpha King of a wolf pack out of Colorado. He was older, in his early fifties at least. The hair that flowed out from under his hat was grey, as was his long beard. His leather coat was worn, looking as though it had seen a lot of action on the trail.
Blythe motioned for the zombies to clear a circle. Zeke rode into the middle of it. His spurs jangled as his boots hit the ground. Blythe landed next to him.
“Mr. Kane,” Blythe said.
“Counselor,” Zeke replied in a Southern twang.
“I trust your ride in was riveting?” Blythe asked.
“Sacked and burned everything from Colorado to Missouri,” Zeke replied. “Every pack from here to the Rockies joined in. These zombies are dumber than an inbred aardvark but they respond to the whip all right. Got quite an army on your hands now.”
“The chairman will no doubt reward you and yours ten fold,” Blythe said.
“Well, my mama always said it was impolite to talk money in front of company but I sure hope so,” the alpha said. “We didn’t drag these sons of bitches cross country for our health.”
Slade, Gunther and the natives were on their feet now, being restrained by the zombie hordes. The werewolf who bested Eagle tossed the Chief’s carcass at Blythe’s feet.
“Good boy,” Blythe said to the werewolf.
“Glory be,” Zeke said as he looked over Eagle’s muscular frame. “That’s the biggest Injun I ever seen.”
Bobcat refused to be silent. “You know not what you do, demon,” he shouted at Blythe. “You have taken the life of a warrior far, far better than you could ever be and the spirits will demand justice. They will demand…”
“Shut him up,” Blythe said. His undead stooges obeyed and clamped their hands tightly over Bobcat’s face.
Gunther and Slade were already subdued in a similar manner, disgusting hands over their mouths preventing them from saying anything.
“Mr. Kane,” Blythe said. “I hate to give you another job before you’ve had a moment to put your feet up, but there is an urgent matter in need of your skill.”
“Let’s hear it,” Zeke replied.
Blythe pointed to Slade. “This one has two women.”
“Two?!” Zeke balked as he walked over to Slade. “God damn, boy. Leave some for the rest of us, will ya?”
“They escaped,” Blythe said. “I need them back unharmed.”
Slade winced as Zeke sniffed him. “He reeks of both of them. I got their scent.”
The King flexed his muscles. They grew and grew until his clothing ripped off of him. He morphed into a mighty werewolf but unlike the others, his fur was mangy and grey.
He dropped down on all fours and scurried through the zombie hordes. Two wolves joined him.
“Take them inside,” Blythe commanded. His zombies obeyed and carried the prisoners into the livery.
Blythe rose into the air and flew back to the Marvel, where Mr. Mayhew and the other conductors were waiting.
“Shall we begin boarding sir?”
“Yes, Blythe replied as his feet touched down on the platform. “But your men can handle that. I need you to head off to the bridge and make sure it’s clear of any rabble.”
“Consider it done sir,” Mayhew replied.
How the West Was Zombed – Why I Rewrote Chapter 93
Hey 3.5 Readers.
BQB here.
Earlier this week, I wrote Chapter 92.
Lot of stuff jammed into that one.
- Slade, Gunther and the natives fight until they realize the town’s been overrun with zombies. Blythe’s werewolf herdsmen have finally reached Highwater after driving the zombies across the West by whipping them like cattle. Ha. Zombie cattle.
- Standing Eagle dies. Sigh. Main characters biting the dust. “Kill your darlings” as writers say. Joe Freeman died earlier. Now the Chief. It’s getting depressing.
- In the original version, we’re introduced to a character, “Molly Harper” a Werewolf Queen.
- Like the Buchanan Boys, the werewolves have become interchangeable. They all more or less look alike so they just eventually all become dopey henchmen for the heroes to fight.
- Every character has an arc in this story, something they need to overcome by the end. For Miles, it’s that he is an “amateur werewolf.” Young, hasn’t really had much practice at were wolfing, he’s got a conscience that weighs heavily on him so he doesn’t want to use his powers to kill people. So by the end of the book he needs to overcome that.
- I liked the Molly Harper she-wolf character because at least she was different. Set apart and distinguished from the other wolves. To me, she was a good character as she came to life for me in my mind, riding in on her horse, sniffing Slade to get his two females’ scent, going after them, etc.
- But call me old fashioned, if Miles needs a showdown with a wolf by the end of this thing, it just seems wrong to me to ask the reader to cheer for him killing a woman. Is that sexist? If women are allowed to rise through the ranks of evil-dom and equality demands that they be deemed just as cunning, ruthless and evil as men, then shouldn’t we cheer a hero for taking out a woman who thanks to equal rights is just as evil as a man?
- Eh I dunno. So I put the book aside a few days and thought about it. Then I thought about how werewolves would most likely choose their leaders. I have to assume they choose them just as real wolves do. They scratch and claw each other in a fight and whoever comes out on top is the “alpha.”
- Then it dawned on me it could be a humorous story line that Molly had clawed her way into becoming a rare female werewolf boss but…I don’t know. My mind just goes back to this character needing to be a foil for Miles, someone for him to beat to prove his werewolfiness and him beating a woman didn’t sit well with me.
- Deadpool had this same issue. He fights a bunch of ninja women and he’s like, “I don’t know what to do here. Your a woman and I don’t want to shoot you but is it sexist if I don’t shoot you?”
- In short, I liked Molly’s character better but Zeke will be more in keeping with what Miles has to do.
- Tell me what you think though, 3.5. If you can convince me to leave Molly be we aren’t so forgone that that can’t happen.
Bookshelf Battle 