Category Archives: Zombie Western

Mar 04 2016
8 Comments
Zombie Western

How the West Was Zombed – Chapter 59

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The Bonnie Lass was a blazing pile of rubble and its proprietor was nowhere to be found.

“Bonnie!”  Slade shouted his love’s name over and over with no luck.

Through the flames he saw…them.  Shadowy silhouettes stood up and walked towards him.  Undead Buchanan Boys, bar patrons and prostitutes lumbered forward with their arms stretched out, crying out demands for brains.  Some of the creatures were missing body parts or had entrails pouring out of their bodies.  Most were burnt to a crisp.  Several were still on fire themselves but that didn’t slow them down.

One of the undead was missing the top left quarter of his face, but Slade could recognize those ugly buck toothed chompers anywhere.  Alas, poor Waldo Fleming, part-time mayor, full-time barkeep, ad been reduced to a cannibalistic subhuman abomination.

Waldo reach out.  Slade responded by plunging Gunther’s knife through Waldo’s eye socket.  Then he stabbed an undead Buchanan Boy through the forehead.  A hooker’s teeth snapped too close to Slade’s arm.  He felt a little bit of himself die inside when he stabbed her through the ear.  Slade had never so much as raised a hand against a woman before.

But it was time for another first.  Slade had never run away from a fight before either, but he was outnumbered.  Thoroughly ashamed of himself, he ran and didn’t look back.

If he had, he would have seen the undead fan out, heading toward different parts of town in search of brains.  They weren’t very coordinated, or nimble, or even fast, but they were persistent.

An undead monster’s typical response to a wall is to just keep bumping into it over and over again.  Unfortunately, that spelled destruction for many structures across town, as the still burning undead spread their flames all over Highwater.

As Slade ran back to the church, he heard the screams, the terrible cries of townspeople being attacked and eaten alive.

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Mar 03 2016
3 Comments
Zombie Western

How the West Was Zombed – Chapter 58

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“Bonnie,” Slade said.

The sound of the explosion left a ringing in the Reverend’s ears. He spoke a bit louder than normal so he could hear himself.

“Well, that’s a sign all right,” Reverend Cavanaugh said. “The Lord is pissed and the end of the world is nigh.”

Slade looked to his trusty number two. “Gunther…”

“Go on,” the old man said. He handed Slade his knife. “You’ll need this.”

“Sarah,” Slade said.

“I’ll look out for her,” Gunther said. “Get a move on.”

“Doc,” Annabelle said. “You should go too.”

“Yes,” Doc said. “Where would I be without you, my dear, to serve as my moral comp…”

Doc stopped mid-sentence. The color ran out of his face. He doubled-over and vomited, emptying his guts into the dirt.

“Doc?” Annabelle asked as she clutched the physician’s arm.

“Oh dear,” Doc said. “I seem to have succumb to the stress of this harrowing ordeal. Mr. Slade, I’m afraid you’ll have to go on…”

Doc looked up. Slade was making a mad dash down the road.

“…without me.”

“I’m not about to face the end of the world sober,” the Reverend said. “I’ve got a bottle of the good stuff. Anyone who wants a belt follow me.”

“I’ll take you up on that, Reverend,” Gunther said.

The Reverend walked into the church. Gunther followed him. Doc was a bit shaky on his feet, so Annabelle helped him up the steps.

“How embarrassing,” Doc said.

“It’s ok to get scared,” Annabelle said.

“Scared?” Doc asked. “Please. Remove that scandalous thought from your mind posthaste, my dear. I meant I am embarrassed that I am unable to assist Mr. Slade. I fear he may perish without me at his side. Oh, I do hope he muddles through somehow.”

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Mar 03 2016
7 Comments
Zombie Western

How the West Was Zombed – Chapter 57

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Miles dropped his father’s rifle and bit through the leather of the bandolier, gripping it with his teeth.

He dove his front paws into the ground and ran off on all fours in a furious gallop, narrowly escaping Becker’s shots. Miss Bonnie clutched her left hand around a hunk of Miles’s fur. It was an awkward position that left her flapping in the breeze. She would have been better off had she held on to Miles with two hands, but she was not about to drop that shotgun for anything.

Hewitt returned to werewolf form and he and Becker made chase. Though still enormous when compared to a human, Miles in wolf form weighed less than Hewitt or Becker, giving him a speed advantage.

Miss Bonnie was still convinced that Miles intended her some kind of harm, though as she saw the creatures behind her gaining speed, she realized the werewolf she was with was her only hope.

The chase went down the main road, past homes and other buildings.

Hewitt and Becker decided to divide and conquer. Hewitt maintained pursuit. Becker broke off and jumped onto a rooftop, planning to cut Miles off.

Miles bashed through the courthouse doors and ran up a flight of stairs with Hewitt in tow.

Miss Bonnie still had two shots in her gun, cocked and ready to fire. The stairway was cramped and she could feel Hewitt’s hot breath as he lunged forward, his sharp teeth ready to shred her apart. She gave her attacker both barrels right in the face.

It didn’t kill him but it knocked him downstairs, buying Miles time to bash through the office at the top of the stairs. The room was empty and led nowhere.

The red head let go of Miles’s fur and dropped to her feet. Miles punched his paw through a window. It wasn’t big enough for him to fit through so he doubled the window’s size with a punch through the wall.

Miss Bonnie had two shells left in her garter. She loaded up her shotgun. Miles removed the bandolier from his mouth and handed it to Miss Bonnie.

“You want me to have this?” she asked.

Miles nodded.

Miss Bonnie tossed the bandolier over her shoulder.  She petted her hand across Miles’s snout. Miles exhaled a small gust of wind out of his nostrils.

“Are you my friend?” Miss Bonnie asked.

Miles nodded again.

Heavy footsteps trudged up the stairway. Miss Bonnie grabbed a hunk of Miles’ back fur.

“All right,” she said. “Get us the hell outta here.”

Miles stepped through the open hole. Miss Bonnie screamed all the way down.

The chase continued. Miles galloped away.

Miles remembered Slade’s scent. He sniffed the air and picked it up in a few places around town. Some instances of the scent were weaker than others, depending on how long ago Slade had been in a particular area.

The young werewolf picked the closest one and headed for it.  It was weak but it would have to do.

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Mar 03 2016
5 Comments
Zombie Western

How the West Was Zombed – Chapter 56

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“LOOK OUT, LADY!”

Miles threw himself onto Miss Bonnie, knocking her to the ground just in time to miss the piano as it flew over their heads.

Mr. and Mrs. Anderson weren’t so lucky. Curious about the commotion, the old couple stepped in front of the window just in time to be eviscerated, the collision causing little pieces of blood stained glass to rain down on the redhead and her unlikely hero.

The boy stood up and backed away. Miss Bonnie watched as the henchmen rose to their feet. They spread out their arms. Their clothes were torn to shreds as their bodies grew larger, nastier, and hairier.

It was sensory overload for Miss Bonnie. She trembled as she stood up. Her derringer was empty. She had no idea what the monsters before her were or how to fight them.

Miles was petrified. He had only seen two werewolves before – his father and himself in a mirror. He had never seen a werewolf that intended him harm. The sight caused his body to freeze stiff.

The drooling wolf men trudged closer. Hewitt raised his hand in the air, ready to bring his claws down on Miss Bonnie when he roared out in pain. A silver bullet tore through the beast’s cheek.

The hole did not close.

The hench-wolves turned away to see Joe Freeman cranking the lever of his rifle. Joe steadily delivered shot after shot, ripping his opponents apart. When Joe’s rifle ran out of ammo, he drew his pistol, but dropped it when Becker’s paw connected with his jaw. Joe was launched down the road, only to land on his feet.

The fire that engulfed what remained of the Bonnie Lass raged until the rest of the structure collapsed. The flames lapped at the surrounding buildings until they too ended up in a blaze.

Joe took off his silver bullet laden bandolier and dropped it along with his weapon. He wolfed out and roared. Werewolf roar translations are never easy, but it was a safe assumption that Joe was taunting Becker and Hewitt to come at him.
Hewitt, Becker and Joe crashed into each other – clawing, growling and biting like rabid animals.

Miss Bonnie grabbed Miles’ arm. He didn’t move. He wasn’t able to.

“Come on!”

Nothing.

Carefully, Miss Bonnie stepped over the Andersons’ mangled remains and located the store’s robust firearms display. She seized a double barrel shotgun off the wall then ran behind the counter, tossing every item she could get her hands on until she found a box of shells. She loaded up, then tucked a few more shells in her garter for safekeeping.

“Kid, you need to get out of here,” Miss Bonnie said to Miles as she cocked the shotgun and walked out of the store.

“No,” Miles said, unable to look away from the three-way werewolf brawl. “You need to.”

Joe slashed away at Becker, pushing his head into the dirt. Hewitt’s teeth tore a chunk out of Joe’s arm.  It grew back.
Miss Bonnie never intended to aim for any particular werewolf. To her, they all looked the same so one monster was as good a target as the other. She pointed her shotgun at Joe, only to have the barrel smacked away by Miles at the last minute, sending the blast into the air.

Undeterred, Miss Bonnie pointed her gun at Joe again. Miles’ eyes turned yellow. Hair sprouted out of his face. His voice grew deeper.

“NO!”

Before Miss Bonnie’s eyes, Miles morphed into a towering werewolf. He wrapped his paw around the shotgun barrel, but not before Miss Bonnie panicked and pulled the trigger.

Like a puppy, Miles whimpered. He clutched his stomach then ducked into the store.

Miss Bonnie reloaded.

In his mind, Miles could hear his father’s voice.

“You’re all right,” Joe said.

Miles looked at his stomach. It was fine. Even the blood in his fur was evaporating.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” Miles said to Joe. “You were right.  I should have left.”

“I know,” Joe said. “Now get back out here.”

“I can’t!” Miles said.

“‘Can’t’ stopped being an option when you stayed.” Joe said. “You’re in this now. Pick up the woman.”

“Huh?”

“PICK UP THE WOMAN!”

Miles poked his furry body out through the broken window just in time to see Miss Bonnie. Yet again, she was taking aim at Joe.

Miles picked up Miss Bonnie like she was a rag doll and threw her over his shoulder.

“Let me go!” Miss Bonnie smacked and kicked Miles repeatedly but to her, it seemed to be of no use. To Miles, it was annoying.

Becker had Joe locked in a hold. Joe struggled to break free, but Hewitt threw slash after slash across Joe’s snout.

“Get the bullets,” Joe said to Miles. “And the guns. Get them… to Slade.”

“Pa?”

Miss Bonnie used her shotgun like a club, whacking Miles repeatedly with it. She might as well have been a pesky mosquito.

“Tell him everything he needs to know,” Joe said.

“Pa!”

“GO!”

Miles grabbed the bandolier and his father’s rifle and bolted, Miss Bonnie kicking and screaming all the while.

Then he heard a gunshot and a pained roar. He stopped.

Miles watched as Becker threw his father’s limp, lifeless body down on the ground. There was a gaping hole in Joe’s head. It was put there with a silver bullet delivered by the pistol held by a naked Hewitt, now in human form.

Joe’s pistol. Miles’s heart pounded as he realized that amidst the chaos, he had forgotten to pick it up.

And now Hewitt was pointing the weapon at Miles as Becker, still in werewolf form, looked on.

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Mar 02 2016
4 Comments
Zombie Western

How the West Was Zombed – Chapter 55

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Miss Bonnie wasn’t exactly in a rush to get back to the dive she called home. She’d walked to the Bonnie Lass so many times before, but there was something about this walk that felt different. The business she’d been so proud of was about to become her tomb, a place where she’d be stuck forever, surrounded by drunks, gamblers and perverts while another woman would be married to the man she loved.

So the redhead took her time. She stopped outside Anderson’s front window, gawked at the gee gaws on display and remembered the muffins she bought for Slade. She was pretty sure Sarah was an uppity bitch that baked her own muffins, but who cares? Miss Bonnie was a business woman, after all. An entrepreneur. An earner.

Miss Bonnie spotted Miles standing outside the store, eating his candy. She’d seen the boy around town before but had never met him.

“Hello,” she said.

“Ma’am,” Miles replied.

“What do I now?” Miss Bonnie thought.

She was in the process of talking herself into believing that one day she’d get over her loss. Maybe she’d find a man that would make her say, “Slade, who?” Or maybe she’d just grow her fortune and have a good time counting all her money.

But she couldn’t help but notice how hard it was to think when there was an obnoxious hissing sound coming from directly behind her. She turned around, expecting to see a snake but instead refused to believe her eyes when she saw Hewitt holding a bundle of dynamite in his hand. The long fuse attached to it was lit and burning down.

Becker carried another bundle. He held a lit cigar against the fuse until it too sparked.

Both men were standing out in front of the Bonnie Lass. Hewitt hauled his arm back, creating an arc that led directly over the the swinging doors.

Miles had no clue what to do. Helplessly, he stood and watched.

The redhead lifted her skirt, pulled her derringer out of her garter belt and pointed it at Hewitt.

“HEY!” she yelled.

Hewitt craned his neck back.

“Douse it!” Miss Bonnie said. “Both of you!”

Hewitt faced the saloon again. He tossed his bundle in. Becker tossed his.

Miss Bonnie squeezed the trigger, opening a hole in the back of Hewitt’s head that instantly closed. He swung around, looked at Bonnie and smiled. His eyes turned yellow.

The redhead fired her second shot. It landed in Hewitt’s chest. Again, the hole disappeared.

From inside the saloon, Waldo the Barkeep screamed, “WHAT THE…”

Calmly, the henchmen ducked.

The explosion was massive. Miss Bonnie’s life’s work erupted into a giant fireball as pieces of wood, debris, and body parts sprayed everywhere.

But she wasn’t left with much time to worry about her lost business, seeing as how half of a flaming player piano was sailing directly towards her.

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Mar 02 2016
1 Comment
Zombie Western

How the West Was Zombed – Chapter 54

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A pencil, a few sheets of paper and a piece of licorice sat on the Andersons’ counter. Miles counted out his coins.

“Is this enough?” he asked.

Mrs. Anderson pushed three pennies back. Miles grabbed his purchases.

“Thanks,” the boy said.

“I think it is so wonderful that negroes are allowed to use money now,” Mrs. Anderson said as she turned to her husband. “Don’t you, dear?”

Mr. Anderson was much too engrossed with his newspaper to pay attention to his wife’s prattling. “Huh?”

“Negroes!” Mrs. Anderson said loudly to compensate for her husband’s hearing loss.

“What about ‘em?” the shopkeeper asked.

“I said I think it is wonderful they’re allowed to use money now!”

“Nah,” Mr. Anderson said. “If they have money they probably stole it.”

Embarrassed, Mrs. Anderson flicked the back of Mr. Anderson’s paper with her finger.

“What?” Mr. Anderson asked. The old coot lowered his paper and caught a glimpse of Miles. “Oh.”

Per his father’s advice, Miles was making an effort to understand that comments like that were always going to be a part of his life, and if he fought every rude person, he’d be fighting forever.

Two years earlier, Miles became aware of his alternative form when, to his great surprise, a similar comment caused him to wolf out in public. Miles and his father had been moving about the country ever since, picking up and leaving one step ahead of a torch and pitchfork brigade whenever the lad lost control.

Miles was getting older now and was determined to keep his cool. If he was ever going to stay in one place for any considerable length of time, he needed to learn to hold back the beast within.

“I don’t mean you,” Mr. Anderson said. “You look like a good one. The kind you’d trust to come into your house and clean up without stealing anything.”

Oh, how Miles felt the beast surge. He gnashed his teeth and choked his feelings back.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Come again,” Mrs. Anderson said.

Miles put his hand on the door knob.

“What a nice young man,” Mrs. Anderson said.

“For Christ’s sake, Muriel!” Mr. Anderson said. “Stop being so nice to them. They’re like strays. Pay them attention and they come back in droves.”

Miles sighed. He opened the door and stepped into the road. He bit off a piece of licorice and chewed.

Earlier that afternoon, he changed his clothes and took a bathe in a creek. The stink was gone. Avoiding Becker and Hewitt had bought him some time, but he knew he’d have to face them sooner or later, since he was determined to disobey his father and stay in town.

Miles blamed himself for his father’s predicament. Had he not wolfed out in Kansas, he and Joe would have never moved on to Missouri. Inside, the boy was scared and convinced Becker and Hewitt would shred him to bits in an instant.

But he wasn’t budging. He knew he’d never forgive himself if he left his father behind.

 

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Feb 29 2016
2 Comments
Zombie Western

How the West Was Zombed – The Point of No Return

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Now comes the tough part.

I don’t want to say I’m “depressed” but maybe just a little.

I’ve written more of this novel than any other novel.  Every novel consists of 1) the beginning 2) the middle and 3) the end.

Usually, I know the beginning and end but it is the middle that is tricky.

But I have finished the beginning.  Don’t get tripped up by “54 Chapters” and “5 Parts.” In total, I’m only at about 35,000 words of what will probably end up as a 100,000 word novel.  100,000 is pretty average length.  People just number their chapters differently.  I start a new chapter with every new scene.  I like to leave a little question or tease or something at the end so you keep reading.

Decisions must be made now.  What will happen to our heroes?  How will our villain respond?

Sometimes there is so much possibility I get bogged down and can’t decide.  And I need to take out a little bit to map out the possibilities.  If one character does this, what happens when another character does that and so on.

Times like these are when I pull an Eminem and ask myself if it is time to stop living up here and start living down here.  Oh sorry.  You didn’t see my hand.  It was up high then down low to signify perhaps I should stop living with my head in the clouds.

I have to get this done now.  There’s a part of me that wants to get it done by April.  There’s 3 four month units to a year.  Four months on Zombed.  Four months this summer on a sequel.  Four months this fall on another.  Three in total by the end of the year.  Maybe that’s too ambitious.

In the meantime life calls.  There are times when it is hard to justify spending time on a zombie novel.  But then I check the stats.  3.5 of you are reading so that’s motivation to keep writing so thank you.

Thanks for listening to me complain, 3.5 readers.

Tune in tomorrow for a special guest columnist.  His presence has been sorely missed this year.

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Feb 27 2016
2 Comments
Zombie Western

How the West Was Zombed – Part 5 – Wedding Crashers

Though his heart belongs to fiery redhead Miss Bonnie, Slade just can’t bring himself to say no to his fiance, Sarah “the Widow” Farquhar.  Slade and Sarah head to Highwater to plan a wedding for the evening.  Actually, Sarah does most of the planning.  Slade acts like a depressed hostage.

Meanwhile, a heavily armed and armored train arrives in town.  Despite an argument filled with chest puffery, Slade is unable to get any information out of villainous lawyer Blythe.

Smelly Jack crashes Slade and Sarah’s wedding in a big way, though as it turns out, in a much bigger way than expected…

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Chapter 37           Chapter 38            Chapter 39

Chapter 40          Chapter 41            Chapter 42

Chapter 43          Chapter 44           Chapter 45

Chapter 46         Chapter 47            Chapter 48

Chapter 49        Chapter 50            Chapter 51

Chapter 52        Chapter 53

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Feb 27 2016
3 Comments
Zombie Western

How the West Was Zombed – Chapter 53

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Anabelle and Ophelia helped a very unsteady Sarah into the church.  Reverend Cavanaugh came out to study the bodies.

“You shot them,”  the Reverend said.

“Yup,” Gunther replied.

“And they died?”  the Reverend asked.

“Deader than a doornail,” Gunther said.

“And they just…got up and walked around again?”  the Reverend asked.

“All hungry like,” Gunther said.  “Looking at us like they were fixing to eat us for supper.”

Doc removed the handkerchief he’d been holding up against his scratch.  “Yes.  I even bare the mark of their loathsome desire for human flesh.”

“I think you’ll live,” Gunther said.

“You’re sure they died the first time?” the Reverend asked.

“What?” Gunther asked.

“Perhaps you thought you killed them but you didn’t,” the Reverend said.

“We turned them into Swiss cheese and they still kept coming,” Gunther said.

“They were dead,” Slade said.  “I got Jack right in the heart.  Stopped his ticker cold.”

“Well,” the Reverend said. “The good book tells us that the dead will rise from the grave on judgment day.”

“My word,”  Doc said. “So concerned was I with a scientific explanation that I never once pondered the possibility that there might be a religious connotation at play.  Do you surmise this is the beginning of the end of days, sir?”

“Could be,” the Reverend said.  “But then again, it might not.”

“Shit,” Gunther said.  “You’re about as much help as Doc.”

“Long have I warned my flock that if mankind does not mend its wicked ways, the Lord will have something to say about it,” the Reverned said.  “Look at our town.  Drinking. Gambling. Violence. Rampant fornication. Lewd and lascivious behavior.”

“Sounds like a typical day in Highwater,” Gunther said.

“Could this be the Lord reaching his righteous hand down from up above to extract vengeance from us for our sinful debauchery?”  the Reverend asked.  “I don’t know.  What I do know is that whenever the Lord wants to teach us a lesson, he does not leave us to wonder about it.  If we are truly doomed then there will be a sign that removes all of the guessing from the equation.”

The sound of a massive explosion ended the conversation.  The noise came from the south side of town.  Slade felt a panic wash over him as he instantly worried about a special someone who lived there.

“Bonnie,” he said.

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Feb 27 2016
10 Comments
Zombie Western

How the West Was Zombed – Chapter 52

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The bystanders scattered and ran. Townsend and Blake fled to the church, showing zero interest in offering assistance to anyone. Slade, Gunther and Doc opened fire but the Buchanans kept coming. Jack and his boys were riddled with bullet holes but it didn’t matter. They wanted one thing and one thing alone.

“BRR…AINS!”

Not that they were that bright before, but their vocabulary was now whittled down to one word – “brains.” They had a hunger for sweet, delicious gray matter and nothing was going to stop them from going after it.

“This is some fucked up shit,” Gunther declared as he fired his last shot into Rufus. The old man holstered his gun and drew his knife, preparing to strike whoever dared to attack him first.

“Indeed,” Doc said. “This phenomenon is in direct defiance of every scientific law known to mankind. What is dead should, without exception, continue to stay dead!”

“Any ideas on what to do about it?” Gunther asked.

“Other than keep wounding them and pray for a miraculous intervention, no.”

Sarah wailed uncontrollably. Slade’s left gun had already run out of ammo, so he clutched his bride close with his left hand. With his right hand, he aimed directly at Smelly Jack’s head and landed a shot right between the monster’s eyes. Jack’s body collapsed to the ground.

“THE HEAD!” Slade shouted. “AIM FOR THE HEAD!”

Slade popped upon Rufus’ cranium with another well-placed shot. Gunther used every muscle he had to jam his knife through Buck’s skull.

“Of course!” Doc said. “Even the most rudimentary organisms are unable to function without a brain.”

Doc pressed his pistol right up against Frank’s forehead.

“Right then,” Doc said. “Off to hell with you, my good man.”

Click. Out of ammo.

“Oh bother,” Doc said as Frank pinned him to the ground.

Doc struggled to free himself as a pair of snapping teeth drew closer and closer to his face. It was no use. The creature was stronger than any man Doc had ever encountered.
Frank’s two front teeth scratched across Doc’s right cheek, breaking the skin and drawing blood. Gunther plunged his knife into the back of Frank’s head. Slade rolled Frank’s carcass off of the good doctor and helped him up.

Annabelle, who had been hiding up on the porch, came down.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

“Yes,” Doc said as he wiped the blood off of his face with a handkerchief. “In one brief moment, I saw my entire life flash before my very eyes.”

“Was it scary?” Annabelle asked.

“On the contrary,” Doc said. “I was quite impressed.”

Sarah wept. Her once pristine white dress was now covered with dirt, grime, and even blood spatter.

“All I wanted was a nice wedding,” the bride said just before passing out. Slade caught her before she hit the ground.

“Can anyone tell me what the fuck just happened?” Gunther asked.

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