Tag Archives: vampires

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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How the West Was Zombed – Chapter 46

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In his room, Blythe sat Indian-style, levitating three feet above the floor. His eyes were closed as he was in deep meditation.

A knock on the door. One eye opened.

“Boss?”

The other eye opened. “Enter.”

Hewitt and Becker walked in.

“We just overheard those shit heads downstairs,” Hewitt said. “Jack and some of his boys are gunning for Slade.”

“Interesting,” Blythe said. He revolved his body around to face his henchmen.

“You want us to break it up?” Becker asked. “They could set things off too early.”

Blythe sighed. “I had so hoped to delay the festivities until our friends arrive.”

“They’ll be here by midnight,” Hewitt said. “Last I heard.”

“Close enough,” Blythe said. “No, let Mr. Buchanan have his fun. With any luck, he’ll kill Slade for me and free me of the board’s predilections.”

Blythe put his feet down on the floor and stood up. “Gentlemen, allow me a moment to adjourn to my quarters on the Marvel, then dispatch all the Buchanans remaining here.”

“Finally,” Hewitt said. “Can’t stand those hayseeds.”

“I notice there’s no boy with you,” Blythe said.

“He’s long gone,” Becker said. “Gotta be.”

“Very well,” Blythe replied. “If Freeman makes a move, terminate him immediately.”

“With pleasure,” Hewitt said.

“Oh and gentlemen,” Blythe said. “Miss Lassiter and Miss Farquhar are to remain alive. That is imperative. I cannot overstate the importance of this order.”

“Got it,” Becker said.

“When you are done downstairs, search for them and bring them to me.”
Hewitt and Becker left. Blythe put on his suit jacket and packed his things.

“I swear, the board’s incompetence will be this plan’s undoing.”

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How the West Was Zombed – Chapter 40

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Lackies in tow, Blythe walked away from the station and headed down the main road through town.

“It’s excellent,” Blythe said. “Better than I imagined.”

“Sir,” Hewitt said. “We can’t find the boy.”

“Keep searching,” Blythe said.

“We’ve already gone as far as Iowa and Illinois,” Becker protested.

“We must satisfy the board that everything was done to locate him,” Blythe said. “If he isn’t found today, you’re free to hunt down Freeman this evening.”

“Yes sir,” Becket said.

As the trio passed by an office marked “Herbert O’Brien, Professional Photographer” their heads were turned by a very raspy, “Hold it.”

Slade was taking a smoke break while Sarah was inside, going over the details with O’Brien. The ex-marshal exhaled some cigar smoke in Blythe’s direction.

“Ah,” Blythe said. Good day Marshal…or rather, good day, Mr. Slade. I forgot how you so callously abandoned your noble position, leaving the denizens of Highwater to fend off themselves against all manner of villainy.”

“I think I’m staring at a villain right now,” Slade said.

Blythe clutched his chest as if to say, “Who, me?”

Slade nodded.

“Such hostile paranoia,” Blythe said. “It’s very unbecoming.”

“What is that monstrosity you brought to town this morning?” Slade asked.

Blythe feigned a dumbfounded expression. He looked to Hewitt, then to Becker, then back to Slade. “It’s a train, sir. You put goods you want moved onto it and then it goes ‘choo choo’ and takes them where they need to be.”

“I’ve never seen a train pack that much firepower before,” Slade said.

“It’s very simple,” Blythe said. “Our accountants took a hard look at the losses we’ve suffered over the years, shipments lost to outlaws, bandits, Indians and what have you. They did the math and determined it is cheaper to protect what is ours the first time rather than continue to paying to replace our property ad infinitum. Rest assured, Mr. Slade. If the Federal government will not part with the money necessary to tame the West, the Legion Corporation will.”

“It looks like something that should belong to the Army,” Slade said. “Not you.”

“I assure you all relevant government authorities were consulted and proper permits were obtained,” Blythe said.

“Must have cost you a pretty penny, all that bribery,” Slade said.

Blythe grinned. “Mr. Slade, I do believe we have gotten off on the wrong foot. The Legion Corporation could use a man like you. Your intellect, your talent, it’s all going to waste in your premature retirement. What say we get together and discuss the generous salary I’m prepared to offer you as a rail line security agent?”

Slade chomped on his cigar and gave his answer out of the corner of his mouth. “What say you go fuck yourself?”

Like clockwork, Hewitt and Becker took that as an invitation to move in closer. Blythe raised a hand and backed them off.

“How unfortunate,” Blythe said.

The office door opened and Sarah walked out, accompanied by Mr. O’Brien. He was a short man with a round face.

“Years from now you’ll be glad you did this, ma’am,” O’Brien said. “Memories may fade but a photograph is forever!”

“Oh Rain,” Sarah said. “You really must see some of the wonderful photographs Mr. O’Brien has taken. They’re amazing.”

Sarah noticed Blythe. “Oh. Hello.”

“Good day, ma’am,” Blythe said. “You must be the soon to be Mrs. Slade. I apologize for my boldness, but gossip does have a way of floating through the breeze in this town.”

“Yes,” Sarah said, extending her hand. “Sarah Farquhar.”

The counselor took Sarah’s hand and kissed it, much to Slade’s very visible dismay. “Au chante, mademoiselle,” Blythe said.

O’Brien chimed in. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Blythe. I heard there was a new gentleman in town. I hope you’ll stop by and do me the honor of taking your portrait one of these days.”

“Thank you sir, but, no,” Blythe said. “I’m afraid I do not…photograph well.”

Blythe tipped his hat to Slade. “Good day.”

The trio walked off. Slade followed them into the road. He put a hand on Blythe’s shoulder. Hewitt and Becker immediately reached for their guns, prompting Slade to reach for his. Blythe intervened before weapons were drawn.

“Gentlemen, please. We mustn’t lower ourselves to savagery.”

“We aren’t done yet,” Slade said.

“Aren’t we?” Blythe asked. “Mr. Slade, have you picked up your star since you gave it away?”

“No,” Slade replied.

“And tell me, have you acquired any new credentials to back up this unseemly bravado of yours?”

“No,” Slade repeated.

“I see,” Blythe said. “Well then, to borrow from your prior and rather unceremonious vernacular, I do suggest you go and fuck yourself, Mr. Slade. Good day.”

As the trio walked away, Sarah Joined her impending husband on the street.

“Who was that?” she asked.

“Just some asshole,” Slade said.

Sarah lightly swatted Slade on the arm. “You know I don’t like that language.”

Down the road, the trio schemed.

“Should we take care of him?” Hewitt asked.

“No,” Blythe said. “Leave him to me.”

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Some Thoughts on Zombie Western

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Hello 3.5 Readers,

BQB here.  I’d like to take a minute to thank you fine readers for encouraging me to keep hanging in there with How the West Was Zombed.

The year is still new, we’ve yet to hit March, and this is the first year where I’ve stayed true to at least one resolution: write a novel.

As for my other resolutions, I’m still freebasing cookies and Coca-Cola non-stop, so those are out the window, but the “write a novel” resolution is on track.

I’ve achieved a couple of personal first:

  1.  First time I’ve broke 30,000 words on one novel without throwing in the towel.
  2. First time I’ve completed not one but four parts – i.e. logical sections of a book surrounding something that must occur for the story to progress.
  3. First time I’ve ever seen light at the end of the tunnel.  This rough draft could actually get finished.

It hasn’t been easy.  Part of my problem has been I’ll write for awhile, then come to a conclusion that changes must be made, and then I’ll rewrite rather than continuing to write.  But often when you do that, you’ll find that even after you revise the first part, you’ll need to go back and rewrite some more.

It is hard to keep going when you know changes must be made.  I feel like a marathon runner and every time I see a need for change it is like a new pebble fell in my shoe.  I want to stop, take a seat on a bench and shake out all the pebbles but I know if I do I’ll just lie down on the bench, fall asleep and not finish the race.

I must keep running, no matter how many pebbles collect in my smelly running shoes.

I’m further excited for my sequel ideas.  I’m trying not to get too far ahead of myself, but if all goes well, I foresee Calamity Jane vs. Zombies in the second novel and Wyatt Earp in the third novel.

All three will be tied in to an ongoing cowboys (and girl) vs. the evil vampires of the Legion Corporation, their lackey werewolves, and most importantly, their dumb zombies.

This is a rough draft.  I thank you all for helping me out with your feedback.  When I’m done I’d like to write a second draft and post it on here to see what you think.

Finally, I’ll probably seek the advice of some beta readers and a good editor.  And then of course, a cover designer.

I would love to get three novels out this year and just be like
“Bam, here’s my series!”  That will require life to cooperate and we all know how that works out.

LIFE:  Oh my God!  He’s enjoying his existence!  Quick!  Dump some bullshit on his head!  No!  He’s caring about the world! He’s turning himself into a productive member of society!  Hurry!  Shovel copious amounts of shit on him so he gives up and sits on the couch with a bag of Doritoes all day!!!

That’s how my life usually goes.

3.5 READERS: Oh BQB.  You’re so negative.  Think positive thoughts and positive things will happen.

Yes.  That’s me.  Positivity man.  I can control goodness through my mind.

Anyway.  Thanks.  Keep reading.  I’ll keep writing.  I feel like I’m actually accomplishing something here and may have a shot at getting a book out.

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How the West Was Zombed – Part 4 – History Repeats Itself

Henry Alan Blythe is a bloodsucking lawyer and that’s not just redundant.  He serves an evil corporation and that’s not redundant either. As a vampire/chief advisor to the Legion Corporation’s board of vampire directors, he’s concocted a plan to overtake the United States with an army of zombies that obey his will.

But his bureaucratic bosses love to tangle everything up with blood red tape, demanding that he toy with werewolf Joe Freeman and Marshal Slade rather than kill them outright and remove the threat they pose.

Meanwhile, Lady Blackwood is open for a future “restructuring” of the board if Blythe’s zombie invasion plan pays off.

As for Freeman, a dark history has repeated itself twice and he’s not about to sit back as it unfolds for a third time.

Oh, and learn about the Hierarchy of Evil – #1 Vampire (Brains=Yes, Soul=No) #2 Werewolf (Brains = Yes, Soul=Yes) #3 Zombie (Brains=Technically but not really; Soul=no).

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Chapter 29           Chapter 30            Chapter 31

Chapter 32           Chapter 33             Chapter 34

Chapter 35           Chapter 36  

 

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How the West Was Zombed – Chapter 36

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Joe had let himself into Burt Townsend’s shop.  Luckily, Highwater’s premiere blacksmith didn’t have much of a work ethic, preferring to while away his time on a bar stool at the Bonnie Lass instead of doing anything productive. 

The fire had been stoked and above it sat an iron pot, filled with a piping hot, shiny syrupy gloop.  What had once been two candlesticks was now liquified silver.  Joe felt bad about taking them from the church without asking, but he did leave his seven dollars in their place and though he was sure that didn’t cover their cost, he was figured the higher cause they were being used for would balance everything out.

He gripped a bullet with a pair of tongs and dipped it into the silver, making sure to coat it all over.  He then laid it on a cloth next to the others.  Every piece of ammunition he had was ready.  He loaded up his pistol and rifle, then slipped the remaining silver coated bullets into a bandolier.

Joe doused the fire, packed everything up and walked out of town, all the way to the countryside.  There he found a tree, disrobed, and wolfed out under the moonlight.

“You never left did you?”

A minute passed before Joe heard his son’s reply, “No.”

You’re a man now,” Joe said.  “I can’t make you do anything you don’t want to do.  But if you won’t take my advice, then you’re responsible for the consequences of your choices.”

“I know,” Miles said.

“No you don’t,” Joe said.  “One way or another, this ends tomorrow night.  Preferably without you here, but even if you are.  You won’t like what happens.  You won’t like what you’ll see.  You won’t like what you’ll have to do.  I can guarantee you’ll wish you’d walked away.”

Pause.

“Are you going to talk forever?”  Miles asked.  “I’m trying to sleep.”

“Stubborn little prick,” Joe replied.

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How the West Was Zombed – Chapter 34

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Inside his mind, Blythe was in Hell, the realm of the damned.

He stood in a field of blank, black space that went on forever in every direction. Abruptly, a ringed wall of fire shot up into the air. It too went on to infinity.

In the center, an alluring blonde woman, all in white appeared. Her hair was up. Her right cheek had a subtle beauty mark. She held out her hand. Blythe kissed it.

“Lady Blackwood,” Blythe said.

“Counselor.”

As vice-chairwoman of the Legion Corporation’s board of directors, Lady Blackwood was an exceptionally powerful vampire. She spoke with a Scottish brogue, reminiscent of her highland ancestors long past.

Blythe looked around. “Perhaps a change of scenery? Something more fitting for your beauty.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Lady Blackwood said. In the blink of an eye, the pair found themselves strolling across the beach of a tropical island. The water was a clean, sparkling blue. Palm trees could be seen further inland, along with the occasional parrot fluttering about.

Gentleman that he was, Blythe offer the Lady his arm. She took it.

“To what do I owe this honor?” Blythe asked.

“The Chairman is pleased with the invasion thus far,” Lady Blackwood said. “The remaining board members, however, demand assurances that the next phase will proceed as planned.”

“My lady,” Blythe said, “The New World burns from Colorado to the edge of Missouri. Our lycan friends have proved to be remarkable herdsmen, pushing the undead horde across country in a wide swath of destruction.”

“Their attacks are disorganized,” the Lady noted.

“Yet effective,” Blythe said. “When I am within range of them, our army will be unmatched.”

“And are they OUR army?” Lady Blackwood inquired.

“An offensive insinuation,” Blythe said.
“But one that has been made,” Lady Blackwood said. “Zebulon has been on a tear about how convenient it was that only your blood was disseminated en masse and therefore the only one who can control this army is you.”

“Control of the army requires one to be on the front lines of battle, my lady” Blythe said. “That was a task I don’t recall Zebulon raising his hand for.”

“Of that I am aware,” Lady Blackwood said. “And I am also aware of complications.”

“Complications?” Blythe asked.

“Joseph Freeman,” the Lady said. “And Rainier Slade. What is your counsel?”

“That each should be dispatched immediately without hesitation. What is the board’s will?”

“You won’t like it,” the Lady said.

“And yet as I’ve been so often told, that does not matter,” Blythe said.

“They wish to see Freeman suffer still,” the Lady advised. “Find his son and make it so.”

“I must protest,” Blythe said. “Had Freeman been killed outright a decade ago, he’d be of no concern now.  The board is making the same mistake twice.”

“I agree,” Lady Blackwood said. “But my vote is but one and the board is not without reason. Our alliance with the lycans has always been tenuous. They do not fear death but their weakness has always been that they wish to live amongst men, to have families of their own and to make it known we can reach them there is to ensure their continued submission.”

“And Slade?” Blythe asked.

“He is resistant to glamour,” Lady Blackwood said. “You know how rare that is.”

“Only a handful have ever been discovered,” Blythe said. “He is the first that has ever resisted me to be sure.”

“The board wishes you to rally him to our cause,” the Lady said. “If you can, he would be a tremendous asset.”

“Genghis Khan was resistant to glamour,” Blythe said. “As was Napoleon. Slade is nothing like those men.”

“But he was so cold that you found no hope within him to exploit,” the Lady said.

“There’s a lack of exploitability and then there’s sheer incorruptibility, my lady,” Blythe said. “The difference is subtle but it is there.”

“All we do is to bring about the end of days,” Lady Blackwood said. “To make the living conditions of the world so unbearable…”

“…that one leader emerges, convinces the humans that he is their only hope for survival and then once all power is trusted within him, he betrays humanity and becomes its undoing, making way for the Chairman to step into the world of men. Trust me, my lady, Slade is not that man.”

“How can you be so sure?” the Lady asked.

“He loves,” Blythe answered. “Two women, in fact.”

“The antichrist has lived and died many times before,” Lady Blackwood said. “Never being placed within the right set of circumstances to pursue his true calling.”

“The board proposes an Antichrist can be made?” Blythe asked.

“Perhaps you can use his loves against him,” the Lady said.

“My lady,” Blythe said. “Any other time I’d recognize that as a delightfully wicked notion but let us focus first on our conquest of America.  We’ll then spread our reign to the rest of the world and once humanity is under subjugation, we can spend all of eternity on a search for…he who the Chairman waits for.”

“A sentiment I already expressed,” Lady Blackwood said. “It was rebuffed.”

Blythe released Lady Blackwood’s arm and faced her. “We are teetering on the edge of victory and these imbeciles would have me play the role of a cat, batting Freeman and Slade about like playthings instead of crushing them immediately.”

“Bite your tongue, counselor,” Lady Blackwood said.

“I will not,” Blythe said. “I grow weary of bureaucratic machinations thrust upon me by fools who haven’t lifted a finger to help the cause in centuries!”

Lady Blackwood’s eyes turned yellow, her otherwise pleasant voice grew darker, colder. “Bite…your…tongue.”

Blythe knew she meant business. He took a seat on the sand. Lady Blackwood followed, her demeanor returning to normal. The duo sat on the beach for a moment, staring off at the ocean. Under normal circumstances, a man and a woman in their Sunday best lounging on the ground would have appeared odd, but then again, the sand wasn’t real.

“That comment wasn’t directed at you, Colleen,” Blythe said.

“I know,” the Lady replied.

“Of all the board members I’ve always felt you and I see things as they are,” Blythe said.

“Whereas the others see things as they’d like them to be, casting threats aside to the wind and letting others pick up the pieces,” the Lady said. “But you must know your place, Henry, and insulting the board is a surefire way to forfeit your existence.”

“Indeed,” Blythe said.

“You give me pause for concern when you speak so treacherously,” Lady Blackwood said. “Our last associate who did so sold us out to the greatest vampire hunter of them all.”

Blythe took the Lady’s hand and held it. “A situation you remedied with your cunning as I recall. Hickok has become quite an asset, has he not?”

“He has,” Lady Blackwood said. “But his former colleagues Ms. Canary and Mr. Utter nip at my heels at every turn. You whine about Slade and Freeman as if you’re the only one with problems, Henry.”

“My apologies,” Blythe said.

“The silver mining boom in Tombstone is troubling,” the Lady said.

“I have full confidence in associates Ringo and Brocious,” Blythe said.

“I don’t share it,” Lady Blackwood said. “Nor do I believe rumors that Wyatt Earp has retired.”

“Certainly the board doesn’t expect me to toy with him?” Blythe said.

“No,” Lady Blackwood said. “Get a bullet in his head the sooner the better.”

“Hickok’s meddlesome companions,” Blythe said. “Slade and Freeman finding their way to Highwater. The discovery of vast silver deposits…”

“I know where you’re going with this,” the Lady said. “But the board will not hear conspiracy theories. God has given up on humanity long ago as far as they’re concerned.”

“Humans have long sat around waiting for the man upstairs to send them some kind of protector,” Blythe said. “They’re mind numbingly oblivious to the fact that their Creator put them on Earth to serve that very role.”

“He manipulates situations to put the best humans where they need to be,” Lady Blackwood said. “The wise ones stand and fight. The rest wait for some miracle that’s never coming to fix the world for them.”
“But the board scoffs at that,” Blythe said.

“They do,” the Lady said.

Blythe rubbed his thumb over the back of Lady Blackwood’s hand. “I don’t believe it’s treacherous to note that a request for the Chairman to review the board’s competence is always in order.”

“And a good way to stop existing if the Chairman sides with the board,” Lady Blackwood noted.

“But one would simply…”

Lady Blackwood patted Blythe’s hand. “Enough scheming, Henry. You’ve already curried plenty of favor with the Chairman when you convinced us to incorporate our assets so many years ago.”

“Ahh, yes,” Blythe said. “Truly, the most vile of all human inventions is the corporation.”

“An entity capable of committing all manner of atrocities and when a culprit is searched for all the humans find is a tangled web of paperwork, dead ends, and a never ending blame game,” Lady Blackwood said. “Your success is the only reason why the Chairman allowed you to proceed with your current gamble.”

“Gamble?” Blythe asked.

“You’re rolling the dice,” Lady Blackwood said. “Henry, up until now, the greatest trick the Chairman ever pulled was to convince the world that he does not exist, that beings like us are boogeymen, the stuff of tall tales told to convince naughty children to behave lest monsters get them. We thrived in the shadows, closing deals to put the most despicable humans in positions of power and ruining other humans who would shine a light on corruption. The process is slow but eventually, it would have led to the end of days. If you fail now that you’ve put our cards on the table…”

“I’ll forfeit my medallion,” Blythe said.

“That will be the least of your worries,” Lady Blackwood said.

Lady Blackwood pecked Blythe on the cheek. “I must away. I have my own matters to attend to. Please the chairman and we’ll talk about a restructuring of the board.”

Poof. Lady Blackwood was gone. Blythe laid back on the sand, allowing the warm sun to tan his face. He closed his eyes and enjoyed it.

“It’s the most of my worries,” the vampire muttered to himself.
Blythe opened his eyes to find his two henchmen in werewolf form, staring at him. Startled, the vampire jolted to his feet.

“How many times have I told you two not to leer at me while I’m out like that?!”

Hewett and Becker morphed to their usual, naked human selves.

“Sorry sir,” Hewett said.

“Didn’t seem right to leave you alone,” Becker added.

“I’m fine,” Blythe said. “Find Freeman’s son and bring him to me.”

“Don’t you think it would be better to find Freeman and…” Hewett finished his thought by dragging a finger across his neck as if it were a knife.

“Don’t tell me what I think just do as I say,” Blythe said, shooing his lackeys away like bothersome pests. “Go!”

Hewett and Becker stepped out onto a veranda that overlooked the town. It was just after dusk. The moon bathed the town in pale light.

They returned to werewolf form, jumped across the street to the roof of the bank and were off.

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How the West Was Zombed – A Note on Chapter 34

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Hello.  I’m noted awesome person Bookshelf Q. Battler and for the 3.5 readers paying attention to How the West Was Zombed, here are a few notes:

  • First, you’ll probably say, “Oh boy, here are some new threads.”  Well, yes and no.  The mentions of “Ms. Canary and Mr. Utter,” Wild Bill Hickok, Wyatt Earp, “Associates Ringo and Brocious”  and so on…they’re basically hints at the future, should enough of you like this enough that I continue with a series.  Attorney Donnelly has advised me to keep quiet about the possibility of sequels tentatively titled “Calamity Jane vs. Zombies” and “Wyatt Earp vs. Zombies.”  They are partially written in my head and they are pretty awesome.  If only I could just hook my brain up to the computer and have it all dump out into a novel that way.  But basically, that’s why they’re mentioned, so hopefully How the West Was Zombed will be a success so that Calamity Jane and Wyatt can have their turn at the zombie mayhem.
  • I realize in an earlier chapter I had Blythe telling his werewolf henchmen to find Miles.  Disregard that part.  He now does that for the first time in this chapter.  You see, the problem I’ve faced is I didn’t want Blythe to be the typical dumb villain, toying with the heroes only to be hoisted on his own petard.  Instead, Blythe wants to kill Slade and Freeman immediately…
  • …but he has a bureaucratic board of vampires to answer to.  “I don’t really want to do this but my boss is making me…”  I feel like that’s a sentiment most people can get behind and start to understand why Blythe isn’t just whipping out a gat and blowing Slade’s head off while he’s taking a nap, which he very much wants to do.
  • This will probably be the one and only time you’ll see Lady Blackwood in this novel.  If this book leads to a steady source of cash money bling, Lady Blackwood will most likely be Calamity Jane’s nemesis in the sequel so…give me some notes as to what you think about the lady.

As always, thanks for reading.  I know.  This all still kinda stinks but I’m working on it.  I’m trying.  I’m continuing to press forward and have yet to give up, which I have a tendency to do but am pushing myself not to this time.

Let me know what you think, both good and bad.

Thanks,

BQB

 

 

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How the West Was Zombed – Chapter 33

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The Bonnie Lass was a madhouse. More so than usual. The Buchanan Boys were out of control – laughing, singing, drinking, shouting, shooting, fighting, helping themselves to the hooch, breaking and/or stealing everything that wasn’t nailed down and chasing Miss Bonnie’s girls around with nary an interest in their right to refuse service.

Miss Bonnie walked over to the back corner where Blythe sat, holding his aching forehead in the palm of his hand, oblivious to all of it.

“Mr. Blythe,” Miss Bonnie said.

Blythe didn’t respond.

“Mr. Blythe!”

He looked up. “What is it?”

“Mr. Blythe,” Miss Bonnie said. “I’ve had all I can stand of this. These men need to go before I start using their asses as target practice.”

That ticked Blythe’s funny bone, but the laughter made his head throb harder. “I apologize, Madame. I’m a bit under the weather.”

“Well, I don’t give a good golly what you…”

Blythe looked at the businesswoman, ready to hit her with his red eyes again, but a migraine split his skull. He grabbed his forehead once more then after a moment, stood up and buttoned his jacket.

“Pardon me.”

Blythe stepped out onto the main floor.

“Who’s going to pay for all this?!” Miss Bonnie shouted.

“Keep a running tab, my dear,” Blythe said. “The Legion Corporation shall reimburse all damages promptly.”

“Corporate reimbursement?” Miss Bonnie mumbled to herself. “Hell, I’m gonna invent some shit these asshole broke then. HEY!”

Miss Bonnie was none too pleased to see Roscoe Crandall getting roughed up by Jasper and Kirk Buchanan. Jasper punched Roscoe in the gut while Kirk rummaged through Roscoe’s wallet. Miss Bonnie felt strongly in the fact that only she was allowed to do the latter.

“Knock it off! That’s a paying customer!”

Jasper and Kirk divied up Roscoe’s cash then split. Miss Bonnie helped Roscoe to his feet.

“You all right?” Miss Bonnie asked.

“Yeah,” Roscoe replied. “I’d be a lot better if we could get some alone time.”

Miss Bonnie slapped him across the face. “I told you I don’t do that anymore, dummy!”

By the bar, Doc peddled his elixir to a bevy of bewildered Buchanans, who were taking bottles and handing Doc money as fast as he could grab it.

“It cures rabies, scabies, and every variety of pox, chicken on down the line,” Doc said. “Genital fungus, every abnormality among us and you can even spread it on toast.”

Jeremiah Buchanan released a foghorn grade belch then tossed back another beer.

“Does it cure alcoholism?”

Doc slapped the drunk on the shoulder. “My good man, as a medical professional I can tell you that the quickest way to beat one addiction is to trade it for another and this product is filled with the most splendid drug to be hooked upon – cocaine!”

“Cocaine?” Jeremiah asked.

“Indeed sir!” Doc said. “Good for what ails you. It is an undeniable scientific fact that when you are under the effects of cocaine, it is virtually impossible to worry about any of the other things going wrong with your body, thus rendering all of your problems cured!”

Jeremiah took a bottle and gulped it.

“That’ll be two dollars sir,” Doc said.

“Two dollars?!” Jeremiah balked. “Up yours!”

Doc flipped his wrist and out popped his revolver, which he pointed straight at Jeremiah’s nose.

“I don’t control the free market, my good man,” Doc said. “It’s all about the law of supply and demand.”

Jeremiah begrudgingly slapped two bucks down on the bar for Doc to collect.  Doc flicked his wrist again and his revolver retracted back up his sleeve.

“A pleasure doing business with you sir!” Doc said. “Remember, you can’t put a price on good health!”
Out on the floor, Blythe’s attempt to walk off his headache wasn’t working. He winced in pain as he walked past the bar. Doc noticed the counselor and abandoned his customers to follow Blythe upstairs.

“Mr. Blythe!” Doc said.

Blythe rubbed his temples and ignored the fast talker.

“Mr. Blythe! So wonderful to see you again! Doctor Elias T. Faraday by way of Boston, Massachusetts…”

Blythe interrupted and concluded Doc’s patented self-introduction, having suffered through it in the past. “But no relation to those infernal Chestnut Hill Faradays who will pick my pocket and so on. Good day, Doctor.”

“Good day, Mr. Blythe!” Doc slapped the counselor on the back. That didn’t help Blythe’s condition at all.

“Mr. Blythe,” Doc said. “I surely would like to thank you. I have been able to help so many people improve their health thanks to your company’s ingenious formula.”

“So glad to hear it,” Blythe said as he continued up the steps.

“And I can’t complain about how wealthy it’s made me either,” Doc said. “But mostly for me it’s about seeing the smiling faces of my patients when they are restored to full vitality.”

“Lovely,” Blythe said. “If you’ll excuse me.”

Doc pressed on. “Mr. Blythe, if I may be so bold, shouldn’t Legion Corporation’s name be on the bottle? I do appreciate that you allowed me lend my good name to the concoction your scientists invented, but I feel a bit guilty that your fine company isn’t receiving the credit it so richly deserves.”

“Think nothing of it,” Blythe said.

“Such modesty,” Doc said. “Especially in light of how you’ve allowed me to keep a hundred percent of the profits.”

“The Legion Corporation could care less about money when it comes to this matter, Doctor,” Blythe said. “All we wanted was for a renowned medical expert to make the case for this revolutionary formula to ensure this great nation is healthy, strong, and able to take full advantage of all the products and services that Legion has to offer.”

“What a visionary bunch you must work for,” Doc said. “And to think, when you were searching for a spokesman to extol the virtues of this miracle elixir, every other doctor you met with turned you down.  How fortunate I was to have been passing through Colorado when you were interviewing candidates.”

Blythe put a hand on Doc’s shoulder. “You were the forward thinker we needed, Doctor. Only a man of your brilliance and oratory acumen can pitch the curative properties of a drink consisting of cocaine, laudanum, and spider eggs mixed in for texture. Now I must insist that we part, for I am feeling quite ill and must lay down.”

“Heavens!” Doc said. “Would you care for a sip of some Miracle Cure-All?”

Blythe turned the knob to his room. “No thank you. I had cocaine for breakfast.”

The counselor entered the room and slammed the door in Doc’s face, then locked it behind him.

“What an asshole,” Blythe said.

Blythe found a quiet place just in time, for once he was inside the room, the pain in his head knocked him down to his knees. Blythe’s eyes turned red.

“Oh how I despise board meetings,” Blythe said.

The vampire’s entire body froze like a statute, with his face staring at the ceiling and his mouth gaping wide open.

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How the West Was Zombed – Chapter 30

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1870

History has an uncanny way in which it repeats itself. Eleven years had passed since Joe discovered the monster that dwelled within him. For a time, he found money. Happiness. Success. A wife. A son. A home.

Alas, when he found himself in the middle of a dank, dark dungeon, his hands and feet bound to a stone table by silver chains, he began to realize that compared to his new master, Lorante had been a teetotaler.

An iron door opened and two werewolves lumbered in, their heads just barely scraping the ceiling. Blythe stepped into the room as merry as could be, as if he were off to a stroll in a park and not a torture session.

Joe struggled but the silver burned his skin. The more he moved, the worse it got.

Blythe looked down and wagged a finger in his captive’s face. “Bad dog. Bad, bad dog.”

The counselor turned to one of his wolves. “Mr. Hewett, have at it.”

Hewett dragged his claws across Joe’s chest, forcing the prisoner to cry out in pain. Then as quickly as Joe’s wound was made, it was gone. Nothing but bare skin remained.

“Joseph, I had a soul once,” Blythe said. “I can remember what it was like to be in the terrible position of caring. ‘Waah I want love. Waah I don’t like being sad. Waah I don’t want to kill anyone.’”

Blythe nodded at Hewett. A hot blast of air shot out of Hewett’s snout as he slashed Joe’s stomach again, producing even more agony.

“I blame myself for this, Joseph,” Blythe said. “Really, I do. I trained you poorly.  Somehow, you thought the only thing your new position required of you was to just stand around and keep me safe.”

Blythe chucked. “And somehow…you got the silly idea in your head that my orders are optional. Again, Mr. Hewett.”

Another slash. Another scream.

“Would you like to tell me what you were thinking?” Blythe asked.

“They were just…people. Innocent people,” Joe said.

Another wag of the finger from Blythe. “That’s that pesky soul of yours talking. You see them as people and I see them as blood bags. And not just any blood bags. Excellent physical specimens. Good health and breeding. Procured at some expense for the board of directors’ pleasure and you just opened up their cell doors and let them walk away.”

Splat. A giant loogie hit Blythe right in the face. Hewett took that as an invitation to slash the prisoner again.

“Just kill me and get it over with,” Joe said.

Blythe wiped the spit off his face with a handkerchief. “If it were up to me I would let you off so easily but I have a board of directors to answer to and our chairman is a real bastard in particular. Mr. Becker, if you please.”

Becker ducked his furry head under the door frame and left the room.

“Have you ever read the works of Plato, Joseph?” Blythe asked.

“Is that a trick question?” Joe replied.

“Not at all,” Blythe said. “I never read them myself but that’s only because I had the chance to listen to him speak about them in person. He theorized that there were three classes of people: gold, silver, and bronze.”

Hewett, used to his boss’s tendency to prattle on, leaned up against the wall to rest.

“The gold class, they’re the thinkers. The politicians. The business tycoons. The big picture people,” Blythe said. “The silver class, they protect the world that the golds create and the bronze? They’re the lowly grunts who do the work that’s beneath the silver and gold.”

“I wish I could kill myself just so I wouldn’t have to listen to you anymore,” Joe said.

“The humans follow this system,” Blythe said. “And evil follows this system as well. At the very bottom of our food chain is the pathetic zombie. No soul. No brains. Mindless instruments of destruction who just bite and eat and destroy whatever is in their way. They’re ultimately useless until given some direction.”

Blythe pointed to the silver chains. “You’re a silver, Joseph. An unfortunate analogy seeing as what silver actually does to beings like us but an apt one just the same. Werewolves have been tasked with the noble duty of guarding the property of vampires since the dawn of time. We don’t ask you to think. We just ask you to do.”

The counselor stroked his hand through Joe’s hair just as one would a well-behaved puppy.

“Did I not take care of you, Joseph?” Blythe asked. “Provide you with a generous wage? Raise you to a higher station in life? And did I not protect you from those humans who’d protest that your shade of color disqualifies you from either? There is no one else on this planet who could have offered you the life I did and you thanked me by making me look like a fool in front of the board.”

Joe stared at the ceiling, praying for a swift resolution.

Becker returned with Lydia slung over his shoulder. He set her down. This time around, she was very, very scared.

Joe wrenched at the chains but that only made him scream. “HOW?!”

Blythe grinned. “Thought you hid her from me did you? Oh Joseph, the eyes, as they say, truly are the window to the soul and once you allowed me to look into yours I knew your achilles’ heal was your family.”

Lydia shrieked as Blythe pulled her body close to his. The counselor opened his mouth and hissed like a snake as two sharp fangs popped out. He used them to bite open a vein in his wrist.

“Henry, please,” Joe said. “This is between us. She did nothing to you. Let her go.”

“The board has already made a ruling, Joseph,” Blythe said as his blood dripped all over Lydia’s dress. “I am but a cog in a greater machine.”

The vampire wrapped his hand around Lydia’s mouth.

“Open,” Blythe said.

Lydia struggled and then relented. Drip…drip…drip went the vampire blood down her throat.

Joe lost control and yanked at the chains with all his might, the silver searing into his flesh.

“Your love and I are bonded now,” Blythe said. “A greater connection exists between us for my blood flows in her veins. It calls out to me, yearning for my guidance. My direction. My control.”

Joe’s eyes turned yellow. The beast fought to take over his body but the silver chains held it at bay.

“Of course,” Blythe said. “She’s burdened by that pesky soul of hers that tells her not to listen to me so let’s relieve her of that, shall we?”

A shot rang out, smashing its way through Lydia’s heart. Once she fell to the ground, Blythe set a smoking revolver down on a small table.

Had any humans been in the room, Joe’s roar would have popped their eardrums.

“Oh enough of the theatrics,” Blythe said. “Her soul’s in a much better place.”

Joe couldn’t see it but he could hear Lydia grown. Then she snarled. Ever so slowly, she rose to her feet. Her eyes were blank white, the retinas completely gone. Her movements were mechanical.  She had become a gruesome automaton.

Unsure of her steps, Lydia walked like a toddler towards Joe, then sunk her teeth into her husband’s shoulder. She snapped off a piece of flesh and devoured it, blood dripping from her lips. Joe’s flesh grew back immediately.

“I can’t be damned twice,” Joe said. “You killed her for nothing! NOTHING!”

“Did I?” Joe asked. “Mr. Becker.”

The werewolf henchman exited the room. Lydia moved into Joe’s neck for another bite but Blythe stretched out his hand in a “stop” motion.

“Down girl,” Blythe commanded.

Lydia instantly complied and stood quietly, staring at the wall.

Becker returned with little Miles wrapped up in his paw. The boy was merely five years old and petrified for his life. He was set on the floor and he immediately scurried underneath the table his father was laid out on.

“Please,” Joe said, reduced to sobbing. “Just kill me.”

“If I had any emotions I’d sympathize with you Joseph,” Blythe said. “I truly would.”

Blythe stared at the bullet in his hand. It was remarkably shiny. A glint of candlelight bounced off of it. The vampire loaded it into the pistol then set it on the smaller table by the door.

“I’ll let you figure this out,” Blythe said. “The bullet’s silver in case you’d like to take personal responsibility for what you’ve done and call it quits. If not, well, you know what to do. The board has declared that either your head or hers will be sufficient to consider your debt repaid.”

Hewett and Becker got in front of their boss and formed one gigantic hairy wall of protection. Blythe reached for a lever on the wall, yanked it down, and Joe was released.

Joe lept from the table and charged at his captors.

Blythe snapped his fingers. “Feed at will, dear,” was his last order to Lydia.

Hewett backhanded Joe to the ground and the trio escaped, locking the iron door behind them.

Joe stood up to find the undead body of the woman  he loved on the floor, desperately clawing her hand underneath the table, attempting to snatch a crying Miles.

“Lydia,” Joe said.

Lydia waved her arm under the table furiously.

“Miles,” Joe said.

“Papa?”

“Stop…” Joe caught his breathe. “Stop that crying now. Mama’s just playing a game with you.”

“She is?” Miles asked.

“Yes,” Joe said.

“Silly Mama,” Miles said. The boy sniffed and the crying stopped. “What are we playing?”

Joe grabbed Lydia by the waist and pulled her away from the table but like a wild animal she kicked and growled.

“LYDIA STOP!”

It was no use. She wrestled herself out of Joe’s grip and dove to the bottom of the table again, the boy’s delicious flesh the only thing on her mind.

Joe grabbed the revolver. “Hide and seek,” Joe told Miles.

“I’m losing,” Miles said. “Mama keeps finding me.”

“I know,” Joe said as he pulled Lydia away again. She shrieked and waled, digging her nails into Joe’s sides and ripping her teeth into the arm he used to hold her with.

“You just have to try harder,” Joe said. “Close your eyes and count to ten.”

The little boy’s voice counted. “One…two…three…”

“Stick your fingers in your ears and sing a song,” Joe said.

Lydia’s teeth cut Joe’s arm all the way to the bone. He fought through it as he raised the revolver to his wife’s temple.

“Then she’ll hear me and find me!” Miles said.

“Nah,” Joe replied. “Mama’s sneaky. She’ll ask you where you are and if you can’t hear then you can’t tell her.”

“Oh,” Miles said. “Row row row your boat…”

Joe kissed his wife on the cheek. She snapped her teeth at his face.

“I love you,” Joe said. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Joe pulled the trigger. The shot tore through Lydia’s brain and her undead body went limp. Gently, Joe laid her down on the table he’d been held on. He wolfed out, punched the iron door off its hinges, then morphed back into human form.

Miles was still singing. “…merrily merrily merrily…”

Joe picked up Lydia and carried her in his arms. He walked out of the room, down a dimly lit hallway, and found another cell. He laid his wife down again, then returned to collect his son.

He reached under the table and pulled Miles out.

“Where’s Mama?” Miles asked as Joe grabbed the boy by the hand and led him down the hallway.

“Her turn to hide now,” Joe said. “She’s hiding pretty good so I think it’ll be awhile before we find her.”

“Oh,” Miles said. “Why are you naked?”

“Lost my pants,” Joe said.

“I lose mine sometimes too,” Miles said. “Mama always finds ‘em for me. She’s a good Mama.”

“Yeah,” Joe said. “Yeah she is.”

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