Bookshelf Battle

Five Days Later

Slade stabbed his shovel into the earth, then leaned on it and wiped the sweat off his brow. He gulped water from a canteen, wiped his mouth, then let out a satisfying, “Ahh.”

“Gack…ack…”

The lawman was no longer alone. He turned around to find himself staring at a wretched zombie. Its hair was patchy. Clothes ripped apart. The few teeth it had were gnashing their way towards Slade.

Splat! A tomahawk crashed through the creature’s skull, sending its corpse into the six-foot hole Slade had dug.

Slade nodded at Standing Eagle, then offered the Chief a drink. He accepted.

“Sorry if I startled you,” Eagle said.

“Nah,” Slade replied as he looked down at the still zombie. “Saved me from having to carry him.”

Slade scooped up a pile of dirt and tossed it on the zombie’s face. Then another. And another.

Eagle surveyed the field. Rows and rows of fresh graves as far as the eye could see, each marked with a wooden cross.

“I’m not sure many men would do this,” Eagle said.

“Yeah,” Slade said as he kept shoveling. “But zombie or not, everyone deserves a proper burial don’t they?”

“They do,” Eagle said.

Miss Bonnie and Miles approached, each holding onto the edges of a large burlap sack that they dragged behind them.

“Found two more,” Miss Bonnie announced.

The bag started moving on its own. Groans came next.

“Gimmie that,” Miss Bonnie said as she yanked the shovel out of Slade’s hands. She then wailed away on the sack, striking it vigorously. “Bad zombie! I told…you…to…stay…dead!”

The bag was still. Then it moved once more. Miss Bonnie gave it one last whack. That did the trick.

“I think there’s some space left on the north side,” Slade said.

“Ok then,” Miss Bonnie said as she handed the shovel back to Slade. She and Miles moved on with their ghastly cargo.

“Interesting woman you have there,” Standing Eagle said.

“Yeah,” Slade replied as he returned to shoveling. “I’m just glad she’s on my side.”

Eagle picked up another shovel and joined in.

“What will you do now?” Eagle asked.

“Go West,” Slade replied. “Got a hatchet with my Pa I’d like to bury.”

“Ah,” Eagle said. “I suppose no matter who we are, none of us ever feel like we have lived up to our fathers’ expectations do we?”

“Nope,” Slade said.

Slade and Eagle kept shoveling scoops of dirt into the hole for awhile.

“The old man with the beard,” Eagle said. “The deputy. He was like a father to you?”

“You could say that,” Slade said.

“I am sorry,” Eagle said.

“Eh,” Slade said. “For some reason, I don’t think he’d want any of us to be.”

“Strength,” Eagle said.

Slade corrected him. “Practicality. Crying for him won’t bring him back so he’d say it is a waste of time.”

“Yes,” Eagle said. “Wandering Snake was the same way. Age brings a sense of clarity the young do not understand.”

“Live long enough and you’ve seen so much shit that you know how shit will go down before it actually does,” Slade said.

“Indeed,” Eagle said.

Slade stopped scooping. “I’m sorry,” the lawman said. “I tried to stop him.”

“I’m sure you did,” Eagle said. “But no one could have stopped him. Snake was an old man and his mind was made up.”

Slade got back to work. “What was it like?”

“What?” Eagle asked.

“You know.”

“Being dead?” Eagle asked.

“Yeah.”

“Imagine drifting through a sea of bright colors while a feeling rushes over you as if you were being caressed by the hands of a thousand beautiful women.”

“Are you serious?” Slade asked.

“I am.”

“Shit,” Slade said. “Now I feel even worse for not stopping him.”

Eagle laughed. “Oh. Fear not. It was a prelude of what’s to come and I can only assume the feeling will become even better with every good deed I perform with the time I have left.”

“You’re a hell of an optimist, Chief,” Slade said.

“You should try it sometime,” Eagle replied.

The hole was filled in. Slade tamped the earth down.

“I’ll join the warriors to search for more zombies,” Eagle said.

Slade plunged his shovel into a fresh patch of ground. “I’ll keep digging.”

Eagle started to walk off then stopped when Slade called for him.

“Thanks for dying for me,” Slade said.

“You’re welcome,” Eagle said. “Just don’t ask me to do it again.”

The men shook hands and looked at the town in the distance. Burnt out, crumbling buildings. Death and destruction everywhere.

“You know the government fucked my people over,” Slade said.

Eagle started to respond with, “Now you…”

Slade and Eagle smiled and pointed at each other as Slade finished the thought. “Now we know how you feel, yes.”

“Eh, not quite,” Eagle said. “But it’s a start.”

“Anyway,” Slade said. “They cut us off. They’re not coming around here any time soon and I don’t work for them anymore so as far as I’m concerned, Highwater is yours.”

Just as Slade finished his words, the cracked steeple of the church slipped off the roof and crashed to the ground.

“Sorry it’s such a shit hole,” Slade said.

“Better days are ahead,” Eagle said. “And ‘yours.’ ‘Mine.’ Surely you realize by now these words are unnecessary.”

“I’m starting to,” Slade said.

“All will be welcome,” Eagle said.

“You’re a very mellow man, Chief,” Slade said. “How do you do it?”

“Practice,” Slade said. “Patience. Study. Meditation.”

Slade nodded.

“And special herbs.”

“Herbs?” Slade asked.

Eagle walked away. “You couldn’t handle that shit, Slade.”

It’s do or die time for Slade.

A train full of zombies is barreling East. If it crosses the Mississippi River, the United States is surely doomed.

Will our hero save the day?

And while he’s at it, will he save the woman he loves?

Will he even get to save the woman he likes?

Chapter 103        Chapter 104        Chapter 105 

Chapter 106      Chapter 107        Chapter 108

Chapter 109     Chapter 110         Chapter 111

Chapter 112     Chapter 113         Chapter 114

Chapter 115    Chapter 116          Chapter 117

The blood and guts in her hair didn’t phase Slade. Once Standing Eagle’s warriors were cut loose, Slade grabbed hold of Miss Bonnie and kissed her deeply. Passionately.

Slade pulled back. “I thought you were dead.”

“I thought you weren’t going to come for me,” Miss Bonnie replied.

“Looks like you didn’t need me to,” Slade said.

“I know,” Miss Bonnie said as she rested her head against Slade’s chest for a moment. “But it’s nice to know that you tried.”

The pair kissed again, madly swapping spit and tongues, lost in each other, oblivious to the world.

“Ahem.”

Miles was back to his boy form and standing next to the couple, pretending to clear his throat.

Petrified, Slade froze up.

“She’s awake?” Slade asked.

“Yup.”

Slade turned around to face his bride.

It isn’t easy to describe a facial expression. The English language has words like “unhappy” or “disappointed” or “sad” but really there isn’t a single word that can sum up the pain that the Widow Farquhar was in upon seeing her fiancé sucking the face of the Highwater’s most infamous prostitute.

The best attempt at a description would require you, the noble reader, to imagine that you’re a child again, and your beloved grandmother just gifted you an adorable puppy dog on Christmas morning. You’re sitting there, petting it, stroking it, bonding with it and then all of a sudden your grandmother produces a revolver, blows the dog’s brains out, declares that Santa Claus is non-existent, then blows her brains out. Finally, your parents walk in and upon seeing the mayhem, they too produce revolvers, inform you that you’re a loathsome disappointment, and then blow their brains out.

The look on your face as you sit there amongst the rotting carcasses of your puppy, granny, and parents would not only be a perfect blend of shame, sadness, depression, anger, confusion, agony and despair, but also it would be more or less similar to the expression that enveloped Sarah’s face that day.

Sarah’s voice wavered. She’d lived a sheltered life, cared for by men all of her days. Confrontation was something she just was not used to.

Her voice faltered.

“You…”

Slade stammered. “Sarah…I…umm…”

Sarah’s hair was a bird’s nest like mess from all the turmoil she’d been through. Her dress was wet, filled with holes, covered with so much mud and blood that it looked nothing like a wedding dress anymore but rather like the tattered rags of a common street beggar.

She drew closer. “You thought that I…was her.”

Slade’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Miss Bonnie stepped back.

“No,” Slade said.

“You were disappointed when you saw me on the train,” Sarah said.

Slade shook his head. “No, no. Not at all…I…”

Sarah looked Slade in the eye. “You called me Bonnie.”

Slade dropped his head in shame. “Yes.”

The Farquhars were good Christian folk, people who believed that the bible wasn’t just a collection of useful morality tales but rather, that all that hullaballoo actually happened. Thus, from a young age, Sarah had been taught to be a good person, to behave herself and mind her P’s and Q’s, lest she be denied entry into heaven, or be turned into a pillar of salt, or end up in hell pushing a boulder up a never-ending hill forever and ever.

But in that moment, she forgot all that and unleashed the most breathtakingly obscene tirade that had ever occurred in the history of Highwater.

“You fucking cocksucker!” Sarah shouted.

She slapped her dainty hands across Slade’s chest. He stood there and took it like a man. It wasn’t that difficult. There wasn’t much power behind those slaps.

“You dirty son of a bitch bastard, fucking two-timing, philandering, rancid piece of shit out of cow’s smelly ass!”

“Whoa,” said Miles as he stepped a few feet backward to avoid the fray.

“I hate you!” Sarah cried. And she was, literally crying. Tears streamed down her cheeks and her swears were interrupted by sobs. “ I fucking hate you, you fucking disgusting pig and I hope that you contract a fucking disease that makes you shit blood out of your asshole until you fucking die!”

“Sarah,” Slade said. “Can we…can we just talk?”

In response to that question, Sarah balled her hand into a fist and launched it at Slade’s jaw. There was power behind that blow and in terms of pain, it ranked right up there with all the socks in the jaw Slade had received from various criminals in his career as a law man.

“And you!” Sarah shouted at Miss Bonnie.

Miss Bonnie closed her eyes. She figured she deserved a good punch of her own for stealing a bride’s groom but instead felt something small bounce off her cheek.

The redhead looked down to see Slade’s mother’s ring lying in the dirt. Sarah had screwed it off her finger and thrown it at Miss Bonnie’s head.

“You can have him…whore!”

Sarah stormed out of the barn and into the road. She walked off. Slade, Miss Bonnie and Miles followed.

“Sarah!” Slade yelled.

Sarah kept walking. Slade kept following.

Down the road, Standing Eagle’s warriors could be seen marching toward the barn. They were carrying a large bundle of some kind, so big that it required men on each side to hoist it over their shoulders.

“Sarah!” Slade yelled again. “I can’t just let you leave on your own! There are zombies out there!”

Sarah did an about face, balled her hand, gritted her teeth and screamed like a raging, rabid animal.

“Shit!” Slade said as he put up his hands to protect his face from the series of blows that rained down upon him. “Ok! Ok!”

Sarah gave up and kept walking. Slade stayed in place but shouted one more time, “Sarah.”

“What?” Sarah asked without turning around.

“I’m sorry.”

Sarah kept walking. “Fuck your sorry in the ass with a syphilitic donkey cock.”

“Jesus,” Slade said to himself.

Slade didn’t move but he could feel Miss Bonnie’s presence next to him. Together, they stood silently for a moment and watched as Sarah walked past the incoming warriors.

“Did you know she had that in her?” Miss Bonnie asked.

“I did not,” Slade replied.

Slade was about to walk to the barn to collect his mother’s ring when Miss Bonnie held up her hand and twitched her fingers to show that she was wearing it.

The lawman sighed.

“What?” the redhead asked.

“The vampire,” Slade said. “Said I wasn’t able to feel hope. That I’d never be happy. No one around me will be happy.”

Miss Bonnie took Slade by the chin and kissed them. “I doubt it,” she said.

“What if he’s right?” Slade asked.

“Then we’ll be unhappy together,” Miss Bonnie said.

The couple embraced and kissed again.

“But what if…”

Miss Bonnie cut her man off. “Fuck that vampire! Now you get down on your knees and you beg me for my hand, Rainier Slade!”

Slade smiled, as did Miss Bonnie. Neither of them felt the need to say it, but for a man who was allegedly unable to feel hopeful, Slade was looking very happy.

He got down on one knee and took Miss Bonnie’s hand.

“Bonnie,” Slade said. “If you’ll have me…”

“Oh shut up,” Miss Bonnie said as the two hugged and kissed again.

The newly engaged couple walked hand in hand down the road. Their joy quickly turned to sadness when they caught up to the warriors. Miles had already joined them.

Wandering Snake directed the warriors as they laid their bundle down.

It wasn’t just any bundle. As Snake pulled the sheet away, the lifeless face of Standing Eagle was revealed.

Annabelle was lost amidst a turbulent sea of survivors, all running into the forest that lined the Illinois side of the Mississippi River. People surrounded her on all sides and she didn’t dare stop moving for fear of being trampled to death.

She craned her neck back to briefly see the Sturtevant Bridge become consumed in an inferno, then collapse. Just moments earlier it had been an architectural wonder. Now all that remained were twisted hunks of flaming scrap metal that were flying everywhere.

Annabelle kept running. Shrieks of fellow survivors pierced her ear drums. She looked up to see half off a torn up box car sail just a few feet over her head. People ran for their lives, dispersing in every direction to avoid being crushed underneath it. Trees cracked and gave way as it landed.

The blonde watched as a gnarled hand popped out of the wreckage. A head followed, that of a zombified Buchanan Boy. It snapped its teeth and growled until a bullet pierced its brain. Annabelle turned to see a squad of soldiers closing in.

They ran over to inspect the box car, shooting a dozen zombies they found inside. It was all a blur to Annabelle. She listened to the soldiers bark orders at each other, how they needed to search the area for any undead.

Annabelle stopped and looked around. The ground was littered with pieces of metal and body parts. Hands. Feet. Guts. A few headless torsos.

She leaned up against a tree to catch her breath and watched as the soldiers ran to the shoreline. Growls. Shots.

“Gaaaaaaack!!!!”

As if it were a globule of rain dropping down from the heavens, a zombie flailed its arms and legs about wildly before face planting right into the ground a few feet in front of Annabelle.

She drew her derringer and inspected the creature’s charred body. It rolled over. Its face was mangled beyond recognition. It wasn’t even clear whether it had once been a man or a woman.

Whatever it was, Annabelle shot it in the head and it stopped moving.

She looked around. It instantly dawned on her that she’d never traveled further than a ten mile radius from Highwater before and now nothing stood between her and the world.

After a deep breath, she checked her pocket to make sure the documents her love had given her were still there.

“Oh Doc,” she said. “I hope you ended up somewhere they’ll appreciate that big genius brain of yours.”