Tag Archives: amwriting

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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Mar 01 2016
5 Comments
Tomfoolery

Take the Ultimate BQB Superfan Quiz!

In honor of the two year anniversary of bookshelfbattle.com, test your knowledge vis a vis all things Bookshelf Q. Battler.

Post your answers in the comments.  Answers to come later.  Prize=absolutely nothing.  This blog has no budget.

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QUESTION 1

Uncle Hardass wants you to get a job at:

A. McDonald’s

B. The Manure Factory

C. The Salt Mines

D.  A Nissan Sentra Dealership

QUESTION 2

BQB was once a member of which late 1990’s/early 2000’s rap duo:

A.  The Sweaty Boys

B. The Funky Hunks

C.  West Street Posse

D.  The Hairy Chest Duo

QUESTION 3

BQB’s current girlfriend is:

A.  Blandie Settler

B.  Video Game Rack Fighter

C.  The Hot Ass Blonde Chick from Network News One

D.  Katie Sackhoff-bot

QUESTION 4

BQB’s employer is:

A.  Tan Stuff Unlimited

B.  Grey Wonder Shop

C.  Stucco Shack

D.  Beige Corp.

QUESTION 5

BQB once died on the toilet after eating this:

A.  Taco Bell burritos

B.  A Lighting Infused Toaster Pastry

C.  A peanut butter sandwich

D.  Cold cereal

QUESTION 6

Leo McKoy, one of BQB’s rivals for the position of “Most Famous Man in East Randomtown” gained his local cult hero status after he delivered a sandwich to which 1990’s heartthrob?

A.  James Van Der Beek

B.  Mario Lopez

C.  Mark-Paul Gosselaar

D. Jason Priestley

QUESTION 7

Which of the following companies HAS NOT sponsored the Bookshelf Battle Blog?

A. Hipster Hut

B.  Beige Corp

C.  Drying Paint Media

D.  The Burger Wagon

QUESTION 8

The Yeti’s favorite computer is:

A. Macbook

B.  Dell

C.  Vintage Apple PC

D.  Commodore 64

QUESTION 9

Dr. Hugo Von Science is the esteemed inventor of:

A.  Teflon underpants

B.  The Incredible Exploding Chinchilla

C.  The “Duck, Duck!” Cannon

D. All of the above

QUESTION 10

The Mighty Potentate often orders Alien Jones to stop at intergalactic drive-thus to pick him up which food:

A.  Pizza

B. Onion rings

C.  Chicken fingers

D. Potato skins

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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 26 2016
6 Comments
Zombie Western

I Got Nothing

Nothing for you today 3.5 readers.

The zombies are finally coming.  And I think the werewolves are about to get rowdy.

It’s getting more difficult as choices have to be made and there is what I want to happen vs. what is logistically possible to happen.

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Feb 25 2016
6 Comments
Zombie Western

Chapter 51 – How the West Was Zombed

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“Aw hell,” Gunther said. “Take a walk, boys. Slade won fair and square.”

“I don’t care,” Rufus said, pointing at Jack’s corpse. “That man was my brother. And my cousin. He was my brother-cousin.”

“Who gives a shit?” Gunther asked. “Jack certainly didn’t give one about any of you. Hell, everybody knows he sold out Artie Buchanan’s whereabouts to Wyatt Earp for fifty dollars and a jug of moonshine.”

“That’s a goddamn lie!” Rufus said.

“Yeah,” Frank added. “It was two jugs of moonshine!”

“I got this,” Slade said.

“No you do not,” Gunther said. “Three against one! That’s not fair at all.”

“Get out of here,” Slade said.

Gunther didn’t budge. Doc, on the other hand, hightailed it back to Annabelle.

“What are you doing?” Annabelle asked. “Slade needs you!”

“Oh,” Doc said. “Do you think so?”

“Yes!” Annabelle said. “You taught him everything he knows!”

“Indeed I did,” Doc said. “But you heard the man, my dear. He wishes to bravely face this challenge on his own and who am I to step between a man and his destiny?”

Annabelle shoved Doc. “Get out there!”

Doc returned to the duo. “Ahem,” he said. “Yes, it seems I should very much like to back you up, Mr. Slade.”

“Atta boy Doc,” Gunther said.

“Don’t need it,” Slade said. “Don’t need either of you. Get lost.”

“Nothin’ doin’,” Gunther said. “There’s never been a day that I didn’t have a marshal’s back and I aint about to start now.”

“Yes, well,” Doc said. “I don’t recall ever being officially deputized so, good day gentlemen.”

Doc looked at Annabelle’s disappointed face and stayed put.

“Woman making you feel guilty, huh?” Gunther asked.

“Yes,” Doctor said. “She’s positively vile in the boudoir. I theorize she may be my soulmate.”

The crowd backed off to give the men room. The Buchanans fanned out in a line, each one ready to draw. Slade and his allies did the same. Doc faced Frank. Slade faced Rufus. Gunther faced Buck.

Every man drew and Doc produced his revolvers by flicking his wrists. The ancillary Buchanans weren’t half the gunslinger that Jack was. Slade and Gunther’s opponents were dead on the ground before they could even squeeze off a shot.

Doc’s shot missed its mark but pierced Frank’s hand, forcing him to drop his pistol. Frank and Doc stared each other down.

“Yield, sir,” Doc said.

With blood gushing out of his right hand, Frank eyeballed his gun as it laid on the ground. Doc fired a warning shot at Frank’s feet.

“Yield, sir!”

Frank dove for it. Doc fired and missed.

“Aw fuck this Queensbury rules bullshit,” Gunther said as he pumped a round into Frank before he could get his hands on the gun.

The crowd went wild. Cheers, applause, hoots and hollers.

Annabelle threw herself at Doc. “My hero!”

“Yes indeed,” Doc said. “Well what would this world be if men of impeccable character such of myself did nothing in the face of evil?”

“I told you I didn’t need you,” Slade said.

“I know,” Gunther said. “Maybe some of us need you. Maybe some of us might miss you if you were gone. You ever think of that?”

Slade struck a match and lit his cigar. “Thanks.”

“Holy shit,” Gunther said. “Rainer Slade thanking somebody. I might keel over from the surprise.”

The church door opened a crack. Sarah poked her head out. Relieved to see her groom alive, she rushed out to hug him. Slade removed his smoke to accept a long, passionate kiss.

It was followed by a slap across his face. “Don’t ever do that to me again!” Sarah cried.

With no woman to congratulate him, Gunther approached the bodies. Four men. Motionless. Lying there in pools of their own blood.

Slade rubbed the sore spot on his cheek.

“Are you trying to worry me to death, Rain?” Sarah asked.

“No,” Slade replied.

“You’re going to hang those guns up as soon as we get home and they’re never coming down again!  Do you hear me?”

Slade grunted.

Gunther only had the one eye, but it usually worked well. He worried maybe it was starting to fail him when he saw Jack’s foot twitch.

“No!” Sarah shouted. “No grunts! I want an answer!”

Defeated, Slade hanged his head down. “Yes ma’am.”

“Good,” Sarah said. “And put that cigar out! You know I hate those things.”

Slade sighed and threw his smoke to the ground.

“Don’t you sigh at me,” Sarah said.

“Yes ma’am,” Slade said.

Gunther saw Jack’s foot move again. He was sure of it.

“Hey Doc,” Gunther said.

Doc and Annabelle were indisposed, whispering horrible, horrible things to each other.

Jack’s foot twitched again. People in the crowd began to notice.

“Hey!” Gunther shouted. “Doc!”

“Yes?” Doc joined Gunther.

“You ever see something like that?” Gunther asked.

Doc watched as Jack’s foot shook all over.

“It’s not uncommon,” Doc said. “Before rigor mortis sets in, the muscles have been known to move in a reflexive manner.”

An eerie groan came out of Jack. “Ungghhhhh…”

“That however,” Doc said, “Is most unusual.”

Slade ducked out of his lecture to see what the fuss was all about.

Sarah followed. “Don’t you walk away from me, Rain! I’m not going to be a widow twice in my life! I am not!”

Jack’s entire arm raised up into the air. Then the other one. All the yahoos who had been checking out Jack’s body backed off in terror.

Slade pulled his pistols. “What the…

“Unghhhh…gack….ack…”

Jack sat up. His eyes had gone blank. He growled and snarled. His jaw chomped up and down.

Rufus moved. Then Buck. Then Frank.

Slade finished his thought. “…fuck.”

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Feb 25 2016
3 Comments
Zombie Western

Chapter 50 – How the West Was Zombed

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“Gentlemen, place your bets!”

Over a hundred people came out to watch Slade square off against Smelly Jack. They lined up along both sides of the street, looking for a good spot to watch the fight. Blake saw an opportunity to make some dough. He waved a stack of bills in the air.

“What’s the action?” Townsend asked.

“Jack’s a shoo-in,” Blake said. “But the odds of Slade living through this are a thousand to one!”

Townsend forked over a ten spot. “Put it on Jack.”

“You got it,” Blake said. “Place your bets! Place your bets!”

Blake worked his way through the crowd, accepting money from all the would be gamblers. Slade’s action didn’t get many takers, but there were a few who believed in him enough to stake their money on him.

The impromptu bookie found himself next to Gunther, who stood outside the church next to Doc and Annabelle.

“Place your bets?” Blake asked.

“You best get to steppin’ before I whup your ass,” Gunther said.

“Yes,” Doc said. “Quite right! Have you no decency, sir? Lives are at stake! Shoo! Shoo! Away with you lest I box your ears!”

Blake walked on. Doc followed him until he was out of Gunther’s earshot. The self-described genius tucked a hundred dollars into Blake’s hand.

“All of it on Mr. Buchanan,” Doc said.

“You got it,” Blake said.

“And this never happened, sir.”

Doc turned around to find a displeased Annabelle had followed him.

“I thought you and Slade were friends,” Annabelle said.

“We most assuredly are, my dear,” Doc said. “Thick as thieves you might say. But business is business and if I’m able to turn a profit that would certainly cushion the blow of losing my dear, dear friend.”

“You don’t think Slade will win?” Annabelle asked.

“Oh no,” Doc said. “Not at all. You see, basic principles of mathematics suggest the best course of action is to go with the odds and well, when it comes down to it, Mr. Buchanan has sent more people to their graves than Slade.”

“You have got to be the smartest man alive,” Annabelle said.

“Oh I don’t know about that, my dear,” Doc said. “I’m in the top five, certainly. Right next to Edison, who I consider one of my few intellectual peers.”

Smelly Jack and Slade took their positions, roughly fifty paces from one another. Both men hovered their hands over their hardware.

“ANY LAST WORDS SLADE?” Jack shouted.

“Yup,” Slade said.

Jack and his boys laughed. “Yeah?” Jack said. “What is it?”

Slade pulled the cigar out of his mouth, doused it out with his thumb then tucked it into his pocket to save for later.

“Your mother must be the only woman who ever popped thirty assholes out of her pussy.”

The crowd erupted in a collective gasp, but Jack held it together. He squinted his eyes at Slade. Slade squinted back. Beads of sweat dripped off of Jack’s forehead. Slade’s remained dry.

And then it all happened within seconds. Each man drew at the exact same time. Who shot first? No one may never know. Slade felt the wake of Jack’s bullet as it sailed just inches past his head. Jack, on the other hand, really felt Slade’s bullet as it exploded his chest. Blood spewed from the gaping wound.

The outlaw’s lifeless body hit the ground. The crowd went into an uproar. No one could believe it. Smelly Jack Buchanan, one of the worst criminals in the west, was dead.

Gunther beamed a grin typically reserved for the face of a proud father. He ran out, grabbed Slade’s hand and raised it high in the air. Even Slade flashed a rare smile.

The crowd cheered. A pissed off Blake unleashed a torrent of obscenity over all the money he’d have to pay out to the handful of people who had bet on Slade.

“Are you sore you lost your scratch?” Annabelle said.

“Oh no,” Doc said. “It’s only money, my dear. Easy come, easy go.”

The good doctor joined the duo and shook Slade’s hand. “Bravo, sir! Bravo! I believed in you whole heartedly!”

Frank and Buck Buchanan stood over their leader’s body. Rufus ran his hand over Jack’s face, closing the eyes. The trio stepped forward. A hush silence fell over the crowd.

“This isn’t over, Slade,” Rufus said.

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