Tag Archives: wild west

Apr 03 2016
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Zombie Western

How the West Was Zombed – Chapter 67

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“Vampires have ways of getting into your mind,” Miles said. “They want to control you. Glamour you.”

“Glamour?” Miss Bonnie asked.

“Hypnotism,” Miles said. “Hocus pocus. One conversation is all it takes for a vampire to get inside your mind and make you do his bidding.”

Miss Bonnie rested her head on her hands for a moment, then sat back in her chair. “I talked to Blythe before and he didn’t do anything to my mind.”

“Are you sure?” Miles asked.

“Of course,” Miss Bonnie said. “All he did was convince me to let a bunch of drunk ignorant yahoos stay at…”

She cut herself off. “Aw shit.”

“Never talk to a vampire,” Miles said. “And never let a vampire get a drop of blood anywhere near your mouth.”

Doc took a sip of his Miracle Cure-All. “Young man, this is crazy talk. As a highly skilled doctor I can assure you that there is no danger whatsoever in allowing the blood of another being to come into contact with your person. All bodily fluids are completely natural and harmless.  That’s just basic medical science.”

Miles put chalk to slate again. He produced a stick figure with pointy teeth and a little drop of blood falling into a normal stick figure human’s mouth.

“Everyone with me so far?” Miles asked.

Heads nodded around the table.

Miles drew X’s over the human stick figure’s eyes.

“Vampire blood makes zombies,” the boy said.

“You’re going to have to dumb this down a whole helluvalot more, youngster,” Gunther said.

Miles expelled an agonized sigh.

“A human drinks vampire’s blood,” Miles said. “That blood goes to war with the human’s body, crying out for the human to do bad things on the vampire’s behalf. But the soul says no. It stops the blood from conquering body. But if the soul is lost…”

Gunther drummed his fingers across the table. “Like if a smelly shit heel gets shot dead in a duel?”

“Yeah,” Miles said. “A person dies. The soul goes to Heaven or Hell depending on how good or bad the person was…”

The Reverend interrupted Miles with a spit take as he sprayed the whiskey he was drinking through the air.

“You mean all of this Heaven and Hell nonsense was real all along?” the preacher asked.

“Yes,” Miles replied.

“Well I’ll be a son of a bitch,” the Reverend said as he took another drink.

“Shit Reverend,” Gunther said. “That surprises you of all people?”

“Of course,” the Reverend said. “I always thought religion was just an elaborate scam to bilk suckers out of money.”

Gunther pointed at the Reverend’s booze bottle.

“Where did you get that?” the old man asked.

“I’ve got them stashed all over,” the Reverend replied.

Miss Bonnie put her hands up. “Can you assholes pay attention?”

Miles continued. “Without the soul to fend off the vampire’s will, zombies just wander around aimlessly, looking for flesh to eat, waiting for the vampire whose blood they drank to command them.”

Slade, Gunther, and Miss Bonnie all traded glances.

“So Blythe has created a whole army of these varmints,” Gunther said. “To do what?”

“Take Washington, D.C, and conquer the United States,” Miles answered. “Blythe was experimenting with this idea when my father worked for him. Training werewolves to herd zombies and push them forward. Blythe even trained himself to control them as a group.”

“This is the most farfetched pile of cow plop I’ve ever heard in my entire life,” Gunther said.

“Yes,” Doc added. “Why, I dare say if I were to read this unlikely premise in a penny dreadful novel I’d have half a mind to write a stern letter of complaint to the author and demand my money back without delay.”

Gunther looked at Doc. “But I believe the kid.”

“You do?” Doc asked.

“Holy shit, Doc,” Gunther said. “You’ve got dead people walking around, people turning into dog monsters…”

“Werewolves,” Miles said.

“…werewolves,” Gunther continued. “They all aren’t here for Highwater’s spectacular sights because we sure as shit ain’t got any so it makes sense that they’re planning an invasion, doesn’t it?”

“Tell me my lad, do zombies swim?” Doc asked.

“No,” Miles replied. “Sometimes they float and the water will take them away with the current but they’re too dumb to swim.”

“They’d have to have to have some transportation to get across the Mississippi,” Gunther said. “Like a…”

Slade beat the old man to it. “…train.”

“He’s going to fill that damn train full of zombies and tear the East a new asshole from Illinois to Virginia.”

“Goodness,” Doc said. “All this time I thought I was an impeccable judge of character but you all have convinced me. I was blinded by Mr. Blythe’s professional demeanor but it would seem he is an unsavory scoundrel indeed.”

Doc coughed again and settled his throat with another slurp of elixir.

“I have one question.”

“What is it?” Miles asked.

“How in God’s name could Mr. Blythe have possibly infected so many people with his vile blood?”

Miles looked around. Everyone was waiting on his answer.

“I have no idea,” Miles replied to the group’s dismay.

“Curious,” Doc said as he swigged his Miracle Cure-All again. “A confounding question the answer to which we may never know.”

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Apr 02 2016
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Zombie Western

How the West Was Zombed – Chapter 66

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Miles was a boy again.  Covered up with a blanket, he spent an hour educating the group on everything he’d ever ever learned from his father about the forces of evil. 

His artistic skills came in handy.  The Reverend gave him a slate board and a piece of chalk that was usually used to teach children during Sunday school.

The approach made sense, because to the group, this information was all so new and confusing  that they felt like children as they grappled to understand.

“Son, I see your gums flapping but not a lick of it is making any sense,” Gunther said.

The boy slapped his forehead.  He scribbled on the slate for a minute, then held it up next to the lantern in the center of the table. 

It was a drawing of a man with pointy teeth.  Underneath, Miles had written, “BLYTHE = VAMPIRE.”

“Young man,” Doc said.  “Your tale is ludicrous.  You’d really have us believe that the entire country is run by an evil corporation which in turn is operated by beings who hold themselves out as respectable citizens but in secret, are blood sucking fiends who find joy in spreading misery across the land?”

“Yes,” Miles said.

“Shit, that’s nothing new,” Gunther said.

Slade lit up his cigar.  The end glowed red in the dark.

“How do I kill him?” he asked.

“Stake through the heart,” Miles replied.  “Any pointy piece of wood will do.  Or cut his head off.  Or get a piece of silver into his heart somehow.  Shoot him in the heart with a silver bullet if you can.”

The Reverend had opened up another bottle of whiskey.  He took a good pull then wiped his mouth.  “Judas.”

“What?”  Miss Bonnie asked.

“Judas Iscariot,” the Reverend said.  “A close friend of Jesus who betrayed our lord and savior for thirty pieces of silver.  No doubt these evil fiends have an aversion to it as some kind of biblical vengeance.  Our Lord is not without a sense of irony.”

Slade held a bullet up against the lantern light, causing the silver tip to glisten.

“Your father made this?”  he asked.

“Yup,” the boy replied.

“Son,” Gunther said.  “I wish your Pa had told us all of this before.”

“Would you have believed him?”  Miles asked.

Gunther shook his head.  “No.  I probably would have told him he’d lost his mind.”

“He said no one who has never seen any of this could ever believe it without seeing it with their own eyes,”  Miles said.

“I’m still not sure I believe it,”  Gunther said.  “And I’ve been seeing it all night.”

Miss Bonnie sat between Gunther and Slade.  “Is there anything else we can use against Blythe?” she asked.

“A cross or holy water will slow him down,” Miles said.  “Or you could just…”

The boy hesitated.  “No.”

“What?”  Miss Bonnie asked.

“Blythe is a day walker,” Miles said.  “Most vampires are only allowed to roam at night but Blythe is one of the few vampires trusted by the chairman to be outside during the day.”

Slade blew out some smoke. “Who is the chairman?”  he asked.

“No one knows,” Miles replied.  “Whoever he is, he’s the only one the vampires are afraid of.”

“So how is Blythe able to go out during the day?” Miss Bonnie asked.

“The chairman gave him a medallion that protects him from sunlight.  Snatch it off his neck when the sun’s out and he’ll burn right up but…he’ll never let you get close enough.”

“I find this all rather preposterous,” Doc said.  “I’ve never known Mr. Blythe to be anything but a paragon of virtue.”

Slade and Gunther’s heads snapped toward the Doc so fast they almost fell off. 

“You…know Blythe?”  Gunther asked.

“Certainly,” Doc said.  “In the course of my work as a practitioner of the medical sciences.  If he has an evil side, he didn’t show it to me.”

“That’s what they do,” Miles said.  “They pretend to be good but all the while they’re doing bad behind your back.”

Doc took a gulp of his Miracle Cure-All.  “Poppycock.”

The good doctor drew a deep breath then exhaled.  He found himself needing to do that more and more.  From time to time, it felt like his lungs were quitting on him.

“Is this lad someone we can trust?”  Doc asked.  “He is after all a dog monster.”

“Werewolf,” Miles said.  He scribbled another drawing of a furry man.  Underneath the picture he wrote, “WEREWOLF.”

“He saved my life,”  Miss Bonnie said.  “He didn’t have to.”

“Not every werewolf is evil,” Miles said. 

“Yet you’d have us believe Mr. Blythe is evil,” Doc said.  “And if that is true and your father was in his employ, what did that make him?”

Annabelle patted her hand on Doc’s.  “Maybe now isn’t the time to…”

“Balderdash!” Doc said.  

Miles put his head down.  “Ashamed.”

The boy put down the slate.  “It made him ashamed.  For the first part of his life he was treated like cattle.  Traded and herded like a cow or a horse.”

Doc coughed into his hand.  It was a loud hack.  “Oh heavens it would appear I have invited a sob story…”

Annabelle slapped Doc lightly upside the back of the head then looked to Miles.  “Don’t mind him.  Go on.”

“Then he met Blythe,” Miles said.  “And he gave Pa a job.  Blythe put money in his Pa’s pocket.  Let him walk around wearing a fancy suit.  Gave him respect that no one like us ever gets.”

Miles looked at everyone’s faces peering at him through the lantern light.

“But Blythe wasn’t exactly up front about the particulars of the job,” Miles said.  “Didn’t tell Pa he’d be expected to kill innocent people.  Or find people for the vampires to feed on.  Or…”

“What?”  Slade asked.

“That he’d be expected to help Blythe herd a zombie army towards Washington,” Miles said.

Miles scribbled some more on the piece of slate.  He turned it around to reveal a stick figure with two “Xs” in its eyes.  “ZOMBIE.”

“The dead brought back to life,”  Miles explained.  “Though it isn’t much of a life at all.  They only have enough brain power to move them around slowly.  They eat…other people.”

Doc stroked his beard.  “Yes.  These cannibals are most unnatural.”

“Easy to take out a few of them,” Miles said.  “Just destroy their brains.”

“That part we got,” Gunther said.

“But you don’t know this part,” Miles said.  He drew on the slate again, then turned it around.  More little stick figure zombies with Xs for eyes surrounding a stick finger with pointy teeth.

“Blythe can control them,” Miles said.

Gunther leaned over the table.  “What’s that now?”

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Apr 02 2016
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Zombie Western

Thoughts on Zombie Western Going Forward – And How Sequels Tie In

shutterstock_320226569Hey 3.5 Cowpokes.

Way, way back in January, I decided to give Zombie Western a go.  I wanted to write something fun and mindless.  Cowboys live a cowboy life in a cowboy town.  Zombie outbreak ensues.  They fight for survival.

The it got complicated.  The Legion Corporation came into play.  Vampire Blythe became the villain.  He had werewolf henchmen.  Oh and there are good werewolves that help the hero too.

And there’s a romantic subplot where the hero can’t decide which woman he wants and the villain will eventually use this against him.

Oh but don’t worry.  There are zombies.  The villain is trying to transport a whore army of them across the Mississippi River on the way to attack the East coast and conquer the US.

He spread his zombifying blood with the help of Doc as an unwitting dupe, who was tricked into selling a Miracle Cure All that contains the blood in it.

So it has all become very confusing, hasn’t it?

SHOULD I PERFORM AN OVERHAUL?

Part of me wonders if I shouldn’t just go back to the beginning, cut out the vampires, the werewolves, and just write a simpler story about cowboys fighting for survival in the midst of a zombie apocalypse.

SHOULD I KEEP GOING AS IS?

Some of you have said you like the vampires and werewolves so I don’t know.

SEQUELS

I’d like to tell you about my sequel ideas and maybe that can help the discussion.

FIRST SEQUEL (OR ZOMBIE WESTERN 2?) – UNDEAD MAN’S HAND

Part prequel.  Part sequel.

The prequel part…

1876.  Deadwood.  Dakota Territory.  North and South Dakota have yet to become states.

Gold is discovered and a makeshift mining camp town “Deadwood” is started.  Some of the West’s most legendary characters descend in search of fortune.  They swear a lot according to the HBO show about it.  (It was good by the way I recommend it.)

Wild Bill Hickok is the best gunfighter in the West.  But in secret, he is also a formidable vampire hunter.

As history buffs might be aware, Hickok was shot in the back by Jack McCall over a gambling dispute.  It has been said that the poker hand Hickok had upon his death was “Aces over Eights” which becomes known as the “Dead Man’s Hand.”

As it turns out, Lady Blackwood (makes an appearance in How the West Was Zombed, her name needs to be changed because her name can’t be Blackwood if she visits Deadwood) glamoured McCall into shooting Hickok to bring his anti-vampire crusade to a halt.

And the Dead Man’s Hand?  It wasn’t aces over eights.  It was eight ace cards with the faces of the the Legion Corporation’s Board of Directors printed on them.

Immediately prior to his death, he was in the process of explaining his vampire hunting secrets to his best friends, Martha “Calamity Jane” Cannary and Charlie Utter.

After Bill’s death, Jane and Charlie seek to warn everyone of the Legion Corp’s evil ways but are laughed off by everyone.

To make matters worse, they visit Bill’s grave to find his body missing.  Meanwhile, rumors spread across the country of a blonde woman matching Lady Blackwood’s description committing atrocities across the country with a lumbering zombie like creature in tow (that bears a striking resemblance to Wild Bill).

Because uh…I don’t know.  She snuck a drop of her blood into Bill’s drink at some point before he died I guess.

The sequel part – Years later, after the events of How the West Was Zombed, the countryside is crawling with zombies and everyone who laughed at Jane and Charlie are now ready to help them.

Then I don’t know.  They fight Lady B-whatever her name will be and put Zombie Hickok to rest.

THOUGHTS – I had this idea for a sequel early on and it is what made me decide to go with the Legion Corporation angle in Zombed.  If you all think it is a good idea, I suppose that is a vote for keeping Legion and not going with a general zombie survival story.  Then again, there could always be a sequel featuring Jane in her own zombie survival story.

SECOND SEQUEL IDEA – (OR ZOMBIE WESTERN #3)

Have you ever seen Tombstone with Kurt Russell as Wyatt Earp?  Or have you ever, in general, read the story of Wyatt Earp?

BRIEF SYNOPSIS:  Wyatt Earp was the West’s most legendary lawman.  Eventually, he got tired of it and he and his brothers moved to Tombstone, Arizona, a boomtown set up around a silver mine.  There, the Earp family believed they’d find happiness and contentment as business men.  They’d mine for silver and operate businesses catering to other silver miners.

Then they got there and realized the whole town was at the mercy of a gang of a-holes including Curly Bill Brocious, Johnny Ringo, the Clantons, etc.

So insufferably douche-tastic was this gang that Wyatt put on a star once more and took them all on.

Wyatt is aided by Doc Holliday, lifelong tuberculosis sufferer…too smart for his own good wisecracker and loyal friend.

HOW IT WILL BE ZOMBIFIED:  After the West is Zombed in How the West Was Zombed, Wyatt and brothers did their best to keep Dodge City from becoming overrun by zombies but alas, it has been zombified.  With their wives, they head out to Tombstone, in the hopes there won’t be any damn zombies there.  They can quit the zombie hunting game altogether and settle down.

Alas, their hopes are dashed.  Curly Bill and Johnny Ringo are damn vampires loyal to the Legion Corporation.  The Clantons and the rest of the gang are werewolf henchmen.

They refuse to allow anyone to mine the discovered silver because…well, you know what silver does to vampires and werewolves.

The gang becomes so unbearable that Wyatt and brothers become zombie hunters again and they win the day.

Wyatt is assisted by loyal friend Doc Holliday, who has long told everyone that he suffers from tuberculosis but in fact, suffers from a slow acting form of zombie-ism.  His blood may be the key to a zombie antidote.

THOUGHTS – I guess this requires the Legion Corp to exist?  Then again – Wyatt could fight the gang amidst a zombie outbreak?

SEQUEL IDEA #3 (OR ZOMBIE WESTERN 4)

Prior to the West becoming Zombed, a lovable Robin Hood-esque bank/train robber traveled through the west, robbing from the rich and giving to the poor, with the help of his merry men gang.

They took only what they needed to live then gave the rest away.  They were in it for the adventure and thrill.

In the midst of their last heist, they left one of their gang to be captured.  He was a douche that did bad things.  He has since sworn vengeance.

Also, a noble lawman got the one and only black mark on his career when the unnamed Robin Hood character heisted something under his watch.

Post zombified West, money is worthless and the gang is depressed.  There is not much adventure left to be had…except…they realize they can put their skills to work fighting zombies.

And then I assume they go after some vampire with the legion corp.

Except their old gang member is after them.

And the law man they bested will have to hold his nose and help them.

THOUGHTS: This probably could work with or without the Legion.  Arguably, it might work better without it.

FINAL QUESTION – Now that I’ve shared what I see as sequels, do you think I should keep the Legion (vamps and wolves and zombies) or just focus on the zombies?

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Mar 27 2016
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Zombie Western

How the West Was Zombed – BQB’s Mockups of Chapters 64 and 65

Hey 3.5 Readers.

BQB here.  As you all know, I’m a perfectionist.  I need everything to be one-hundred percent genuine.

If you read Chapter 64 and Chapter 65 of my Zombie Western novel, you know that Becker, a damn werewolf, charged at Miss Bonnie.

In turn, Miss Bonnie shot Becker in the head with a silver tipped bullet.

Slade opened the front door to the church, pulled Miss Bonnie out of the way in the nick of time, but alas, Blake was not so lucky.

In the last few moments of his life, Becker kept running, only to fall and crush Blake under his massive werewolf weight.

But that’s ok because Blake was a douche.

There was a lot of science involved in this scene.  Newton’s laws of gravity and such.  I needed to sketch it out to see if it all worked on paper and low and behold, it all added up.

Check it out:

ILLUSTRATION #1

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Nope I didn’t have a kid draw this.  This was all me.  OK, so here we see a stupid werewolf who is running.  Miss Bonnie has a gun (I felt the need to make a note of that because some have suggested, if you can believe it, that my artistic skills are lacking).

Everybody’s a critic.

Meanwhile, as you can see to the right, Blake and Gunther are arguing with each other, not paying attention to their surroundings.

ILLUSTRATION #2

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Here, we catch our first real life glimpse of the macho stud muffin that is Marshal Slade. As you can see above, he grabs Miss Bonnie and pushes her out of the stupid werewolf’s path just in time.

ILLUSTRATION #3

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And finally, we see the untimely demise of the group’s agitator, Martin Blake.  He was too busy getting the last word in during his argument with Gunther to pay attention to the oncoming werewolf and alas, ended up being crushed underneath the hairy remains.

You can see Blake’s head sticking out.  The rest of Blake’s body is crushed underneath the stupid werewolf.

Doc, a believer in the curative properties of cocaine (because it was 1880) offers Blake a sip of his Miracle Cure-All but it is of no use.

OBSERVATIONS

  • Clearly, this all checks out and none of it is far fetched at all.  If anything, this all seems so plausible I now live in fear that I might get crushed underneath a stupid werewolf.
  • Miss Bonnie looks way too happy during all of this.
  • Damn Slade is sexy.  No wonder he has chicks fighting over him and shit.
  • Doc is truly a dedicated medical professional.

MOST IMPORTANTLY…

Money is tight around BQB Headquarters but luckily, this exercise has made me realize that I am a gifted artist.  I can save a bundle on what I was going to shell out on a cover illustrator and just design the book cover on my own.

Thank you for reading How the West Was Zombed, 3.5 readers.  If there are any other chapters you’d like me to illustrate, let me know and I’ll put pen to paper.

Shit, I’m so good at this I might turn this entire thing into a graphic novel.

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Mar 24 2016
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Zombie Western

How the West Was Zombed – Chapter 65

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“Simmer down, Martin.”

Inside the church, Blake ignored Gunther and rested his hands on his big brass belt buckle.  “You two shit heels knew this was coming and you didn’t warn anyone.”

“No one knew anything,” Gunther said.

“Oh, I see,” Blake said.  “Go on, old man.  Keep telling me I didn’t hear what I just heard and act like I’m stupid.”

“It wouldn’t be much of an act,” Gunther replied.  He pointed out the broken window.  More and more of the undead were congregating in the road, bumping into one another, searching for flesh to devour.

“Do you really think there was any way that either of us could have predicted THAT?” Gunther asked.

“Doesn’t matter,”  Blake said.  “You two knew something bad was coming…”

“We were told by the government that it was bullshit,” Gunther interrupted.

Blake poked a finger into Gunther’s chest.  In his youth, Gunther would have laid Blake out on the floor for doing that, but the old man took it.

“You knew the government was full of shit,”  Blake said.

“What does it matter now?”  Gunther asked.  “You want to blame us?”

“Yeah I do!”  Blake shouted.

“That makes you feel like a big man?”  Gunther asked.

“Yeah it does!”  Blake replied. 

Slade heard some strange noises coming from outside.  He looked through the broken window only to be amazed by the sight of a large wolf man barreling through the undead, flinging them out of his way as if they were rag dolls.

And behind him?

“Bonnie,” Slade said.

Gunther and Blake were too busy exchanging unpleasantries to notice.

“Son, if it makes you think you got a big swinging dick to point out other people’s mistakes then go right ahead,” the old man said.

“Don’t think I won’t,” Blake said. 

“Just finish up quick because we all need you to get the fuck over yourself, man the fuck up, and stop running your mouth,” Gunther said.

“Don’t turn this around on me, Grandpa,” Blake said.  “You two idiots have killed us all.”

“We all look pretty damn alive to me,” Gunther said.  “Maybe if you shut up and stop being a jackass we’ll get out of this alive.”

“I’m the jackass?”  Blake said.

“Yeah you are,”  Gunther said.

A fist pounded on the door.  Slade heard Miss Bonnie’s muffled voice coming from outside.

“Rain!”

“You had no right to keep this shit to yourself,” Blake said.

“Oh and you’re just so perfect, aren’t you?”  Gunther asked.  “You just know everything, don’t you?”

Blake thumped a fist on his chest.  “I do!”

Slade fished through the drunken reverend’s pockets and found an iron key.  He shoved it into the lock.

Bonnie pounded on the door again.

“Rain open up the door and get the hell out of the way!”

Blake and Gunther were oblivious.

“You really think you could have done any better than we did?”  Gunther asked.

“Yeah I do!”  Blake hollered.  “I’m not some dumb son of a bitch who can’t tell when danger is headed right at him!”

Slade turned the key and opened the door.  Miss Bonnie fired her shot. 

Now noble reader, perhaps you’ve heard of Sir Isaac Newton’s First Law of Motion.  In case you haven’t, it goes like this:

An object at rest stays at rest and an object in motion stays in motion with the same speed and in the same direction unless acted upon by an unbalanced force. 

Miss Bonnie had fired true and a silver tipped bullet was lodged in Becker’s brain.  In the last few moments of his life, the beast, or rather, the object, kept running anyway.

Slade acted quickly enough to grab Miss Bonnie and pull her out of the way.  Even old, worn out Gunther looked up in time to dive out out of the aisle.

Blake, on the other hand, an unbalanced force if there ever was one, was slammed by an oncoming furry freight train, only to have each and every one of his bones crack under Becker’s gargantuan weight.

Doc, who had been resting in a pew at the front of the church, stood and walked over to survey the damage.  He wasn’t feeling very steady on his feet, so he leaned on Annabelle.

The only part of Blake that remained visible was his head.  The rest was pinned underneath the hairy corpse.

To Doc’s surprise, Blake was gasping for breath.

The physician’s nausea was getting worse.  He coughed as he leaned down and pulled a bottle of his Miracle Cure-All out of his pocket.

“Take this,” Doc said as he poured a few drops into Blake’s open mouth. 

“Will he make it?”  Annabelle asked.

“Doubtful,”  Doc replied.  “I fear even the mighty power of cocaine mixed with spider eggs for texture will not be enough to save him.”

Slade and Miss Bonnie, the Good Reverend, and Gunther all gathered around.  Even Sarah timidly walked over.

Blake’s face turned purple.  “Tell…” 

“Hush my good man,”  Doc said.  “Conserve your strength.”

“Tell Gunth…”

Gunther knelt down and brushed his wrinkled hand over Blake’s hair.

“It’s ok, son,”  Gunther said.  “No need to tell me you’re sorry.  You’re…”

The old man wasn’t big on emotion, nor was he even sure he believed what he was about to say, but under the circumstances, he felt it was appropriate.

“You’re my friend and I love you,”  Gunther said.

Blake’s eyes looked toward Doc.  “Tell Gunther…to go…fuck himself.”

And with that, the victim drew his last breath and his eyes rolled back into his head.

The group of survivors remained quiet for a few moments until Doc broke the silence.

“Deputy,” Doc said.  “This man wished for me to tell you…”

“I know!”  Gunther said as he stood up.

“Well, it was his last wish,” Doc said as Annabelle helped him up to his feet.

Speaking of feet, a pair of two very large ones entered the church and creaked across the floor boards.  Slade turned around to see another werewolf.

This one wasn’t acting very dangerous.  He was nonchalantly walking in on two feet, carrying another Winchester, and a shotgun, and a bag of ammo in his paws.

Instinctively, Slade yanked the rifle out of Miss Bonnie’s hands and took aim.

The redhead jumped in front of the werewolf and put her hands up.

“Don’t shoot!  He’s really just a nice little negro boy!”

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Mar 24 2016
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Zombie Western

How the West Was Zombed – Chapter 64

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Miles gave up the struggle to hold up the oversized pants he borrowed and ran right out of them, letting them fall to the ground behind him.

The church was up ahead. Some candles had been lit and Miss Bonnie could barely make out the outlines of Slade, Gunther and Blake through the broken window.

Miss Bonnie didn’t dare look back. She could hear Becker’s paws smashing the ground as he gained speed. Part of her wanted to make a stand but she knew she’d be slashed to pieces before she got a shot off.

“Change!” Miss Bonnie yelled to Miles.

“No!” Miles said.

Miss Bonnie grabbed the Winchesters out from under the boys arm. “You have to!”

A swarm of undead trudged around outside the church. Instantly, Miles figured out what Miss Bonnie had already surmised. He needed to either fight, or let his new friend become food for the undead, or allow her to be kidnapped by Becker.

The boy dove and morphed into wolf form before his paws hit the ground. He was still young and innocent enough to feel an innate desire to avoid hurting anyone…or anything. His stomach churned as he stampeded through the undead like a runaway buffalo, smashing a path through them, providing safe passage for Miss Bonnie as she followed.

Miles felt a chill as Becker’s voice entered his brain.

“Stop running and face me…boy.”

Miss Bonnie ran up the steps to the church’s front porch. She could hear Gunther and Blake arguing behind the front door, but didn’t have time to care what the fracas was about. She had bigger problems, but she also had the high ground. She loaded two shells into her shotgun just in time to blow the head off an undead.

Miles tried to join her but roared in pain as he felt a pair of sharp claws dig into his back right paw. He fell to the ground and flipped over on his back only to tremble as he saw the rapidly panting Becker standing over him.

“Men fight,” Becker said. “Boys run. Which is it going to be?”

In werewolf form, it was hard for an observer to conceive of Miles as a boy. He was just as big as Becker and just as physically powerful but, deep inside, he was still a kid. He panicked and covered his face with his paws.

“Pathetic,” Becker said as he grabbed Miles, lifted him over his head, then slammed him on the ground.

Miss Bonnie picked up one of the Winchesters and racked up a silver tipped bullet. Just as Becker was about to bring a slash down on Miles’ face, she fired a shot and tore a permanent hole through the beast’s arm.

Becker turned his attention to Miss Bonnie. She knocked on the door behind her.

“Rain!”

The redhead yanked on the lever of the rifle to spit out a spent casing and load up a new bullet.

She pounded on the door.  Hard.  “Rain!  Open the door and get the hell out of the way!”

Like an angry bull, Becker scrummed his back paw across the ground behind him three times, then charged.

Miss Bonnie raised up the Winchester and took aim at Becker’s head.

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Mar 23 2016
3 Comments
Zombie Western

How the West Was Zombed – Chapter 63

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Miss Bonnie peaked out the door of the marshal’s office, clutching her shotgun close.

“I don’t see the other one,” Miss Bonnie said. “We better move.”

She took a pair of Gunther’s pants off a coatrack and handed them to the naked boy.

“He won’t mind.”

Gunther’s duds were way too big for the kid but they covered him up just the same. The redhead noticed Miles was fighting back tears.

“The one that died…,”

Miles pulled the pants high up over his waist. They started to fall. He gave up and decided he’d have to keep one hand on them to hold them up.

“…who was he?”

The boy sniffed. “My father.”

“Oh,” Miss Bonnie said. “I’m sorry.”

Miss Bonnie tossed the ammo bag over her shoulder. Miles scooped up the two Winchesters with his free hand.

The pair walked out the door.

“I’m sorry I tried to shoot him,” Miss Bonnie said.

“OK,” Miles replied.

Miles started walking. Miss Bonnie followed.

“It’s just that you all look alike to me,” Miss Bonnie said.

Miles stopped and shot the redhead a quizzical look.

“When you’re all wolves I mean,” Miss Bonnie explained. “All that fur and everything. It’s hard to tell who’s who.”

“Oh,” Miles said. He kept walking. Miss Bonnie kept following.

“I didn’t know some of you are good and some are bad,” Miss Bonnie said.

“I know,” Miles said.

“I just thought you all wanted to eat me,” Miss Bonnie said.

“I don’t think they would have,” Miles said. “One of them said they want you for something.”

“He did?” Miss Bonnie asked.

“Yes.”

“For what?”

“I don’t know.”

Miss Bonnie shook her head. “I didn’t hear him say anything.”

“You couldn’t have,” Miles said. “We talk inside our heads.”

“Inside your…”

“There’s a lot of stuff you don’t know,” Miles said. “That most people don’t know. Pa wanted me to tell Slade everything.”

Miles sniffed the air.

“But I don’t know where he is,” Miles said, sniffing again. “I can smell he’s been all over town.  I don’t know where to start.”

“You can…smell him?”

“Part dog,” the boy said.

“Righhhht,” Miss Bonnie said, hesitantly. “He’s at the church…but…”

“But what?” Miles asked.

“I’m not exactly welcome there,” Miss Bonnie said.

Miles perked up. He heard something.

“Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Miss Bonnie asked.

It was a dark night and Miss Bonnie was barely able to see more than two feet in front of her. Miles on the other hand, had crisp, clear sight, better than the average human’s. He pointed down the street.

Miss Bonnie squinted. “What?”

Then she heard it. It was low. “Brainssss….”

Groans. Grunts. It was a half dozen undead…and they were all on fire.

Miles stood perfectly still. The monsters spotted Hewitt’s hairy corpse. No longer able to regenerate, the dead werewolf’s body became a snack for the undead. Some ripped off limbs and gnawed on them. Others dropped to the ground and feasted on the furry remains.

One of the creatures stopped. Flames cooked his body to a crisp but somehow, it was too resilient to turn to ash. He stretched out a hand toward Miss Bonnie and Miles.

“Brainnnnnns!”

Three more creatures stood up. The quartet shuffled towards the humans.

Miss Bonnie took off then stopped when she realized Miles was where she left him, standing perfectly still. She came back and tugged on his arm.

“Come on,” she said.

Miles was so frightened his mind could not comprehend what to do.

Miss Bonnie yanked on the boy’s arm as hard as she could. One of the creatures was a bit faster than the others and as it came close, the redhead exploded its head with a double-barrel blast. Blood and flaming brain chunks landed everywhere.

“COME ON!”

That sight jolted Miles back to reality and he joined the redhead in a full retreat.

But they weren’t the only living beings in the area. Moments later, Becker, hot on Miles’ scent, stomped on to the scene.

He was displeased to see an undead holding the large, severed wolf head of his fallen comrade.

Becker slashed the remaining undead to ribbons, then picked up Hewitt’s head. He roared. Loudly.

It was so loud that Miss Bonnie and Miles, now further down the road, heard it and picked up their pace.

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Mar 18 2016
3 Comments
Zombie Western

How the West Was Zombed – #218 in Horror Fiction on Wattpad

Hey 3.5 readers.

BQB here.

How the West Was Zombed is currently ranked #218 in Horror Fiction on Wattpad.

Check it:

Screen Shot 2016-03-18 at 7.14.05 PM

That’s the highest one of my stories has ever ranked before.

If you’re a Wattpadder, I’d appreciate it if you’d give it a read, a vote, a comment…any little bit you can do can help it climb the charts.

The more eyes, the more feedback, the more feedback motivates me to keep going.

I hate to admit it, but I have a hard time sometimes.

I want to start my own self-publishing business so badly, but I feel life has it out for me.  Things constantly go wrong.  Ridiculous nonsense constantly gets in my way.  There’s always something that’s immediately pressing.

I get to write when I “steal my time back.”  I get up a little earlier.  I stay up a little later.  I stop watching TV.  I stop doing fun things.

That’s all admirable but it does take a toll.  Sometimes you do need to unwind.  Sometimes you do need to be unproductive, even if it is for twenty minutes.

Like this site’s name, it just seems like it is a constant battle.  Sometimes I get frustrated.  Whenever I think I have a nice free night of writing ahead of me and some nonsense gets in the way, I feel like banging my head against the wall.

Sometimes I think about giving up.  If the gods, or karma, or the powers that be or whatever wanted me to write, they would stop allowing so many time sucking curveballs to be sent my way.

Your comments help.  Even if your comment is “this sucks” it helps me because, hey, last year I didn’t even have half of a rough draft written for someone to tell me it sucks so…improvement!

You keep reading and commenting, I’ll keep finding ways to squeeze writing in.

Thank you, 3.5 readers.  You are by far the best 3.5 readers a magical bookshelf caretaker/alien friend/zombie fighter/town mayor could ask for

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Mar 10 2016
11 Comments
Zombie Western

How the West Was Zombed – The Plot

I have to admit – I wasn’t entirely sure of the plot in the beginning and looking back, it shows.

After thinking of various plots, the one I went with:

  • Henry Alan Blythe is lead counsel for the Legion Corporation, secretly run by a board of dastardly vampires.
  • Zombies can be created when a person a) drinks vampire blood and then b)dies.  The vampire who supplied the blood can control the zombies (Blythe, here.  Also, when he doesn’t control them, they’re just free range zombies who trudge around and bite at will)
  • Doc Farraday has unwittingly sold an elixir that contains, among other things, vampire’s blood across the West.
  • From Colorado onward, zombies have destroyed everything, and werwolves (allies to vampires) are herding them East…
  • …to get on a train so they can be transported across the Mississippi and unloaded in the East, so they can cut a line of destruction and mayhem all the way to Washington, D.C.
  • Slade, who never backs down and his deputy, Gunther, who makes a strong case for backing down, must stop this from happening…
  • …and they’ll find out about it when the Buchanan Boys, fans of Doc’s elixir, get shot in a duel and become zombies
  • And when Miss Bonnie’s saloon is blown up, creating more zombies.
  • Blythe is an adept mastermind and the board should really sit back and enjoy his work.
  • But Slade is resistant to glamour (vampire hypnosis).  Vampires can look into most humans’ eyes, find out what they want and deliver a mental promise they’ll have it if they just do whatever the vampire wants them to do.  But Slade has such little belief in “hope” that he can’t be exploited that way.
  • Thus, the board thinks Slade has darkness in him and could be turned into an ally.
  • Which is basically my way of explaining why Blythe doesn’t just shoot Gunther and Slade in the back of their heads and then take a nap 20 minutes into the story to begin with.  He does want to, but he’s a good employee.
  • A boy werewolf, who recently learned how to be a werewolf so he isn’t very good at it, will teach Slade and co all about vampires, werwolves, and zombies.
  • SPOILER ALERT – Blythe has evil shenanigans planned vis a vis Slade’s two women, something evil in an attempt to make Slade so upset and angry he turns evil.
  • SPOILER ALERT – And he has to stop the zombie train.  While riding on Miles the Amateur Werewolf’s back as his furry steed so I can put it on the book cover.
  • SPOILER ALERT  – The West ends up “zombed” or full of zombie, thus giving me the chance to write more ridiculous sequels and maybe sell enough copies to treat myself to a night out at Applebees.

QUESTION – This is pretty much the dumbest thing ever written, right?  Is any of this coming across to you as you read?

Should I just give up? 

 

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Mar 08 2016
5 Comments
Zombie Western

How the West Was Zombed – Chapter 61

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For forty plus years, Gunther had avoided being in charge, opting to retain the position of deputy rather than take many offered promotions to the rank of full fledged marshall.

As Ophelia henpecked away at him, he was reminded why he hated situations like this. Being left in charge meant he had to listen to everyone whine and complain.

“This is ridiculous,” Ophelia said. “What kind of a man leaves his bride in the middle of…of…whatever’s going on?”

The Reverend hiccuped then poured himself another drink. “The end of the world is nigh! The Almighty will cleanse the earth of all sinners!”

“I’m sure Rain will be back as soon as he can,” Gunther said. “He just had to rescue…”

Ophelia was about to open her mouth but she thought better of it when she saw Sarah sitting by herself in one of the pews, sobbing.

“…the whore,” Ophelia whispered.

“So?” Gunther asked.

“Don’t tell me you approve,” Ophelia said.

“Don’t whores deserve a rescue too?” Gunther asked.

“Disgusting,” Ophelia said. “Absolutely shameful.”

“Repent all ye sinners,” the Reverend said as he took another belt. “For we shall all soon be judged unworthy in the eyes of the Lord.”

“Reverend,” Doc said. “Can you stick a cork in it? You’re scaring the women folk.”

The Reverend lowered his voice but kept boozing and mumbling biblical verses to himself.

“I always knew Slade was yella,” Blake said. “That coward hightailed it outta here first chance he got.”

“Shut your trap, Martin,” Gunther said. “You’ll never be half the man Rainier Slade is and that’s why you’re always on a tear about him.”

“How’s that?” Blake asked.

“You’re jealous,” Gunther said.
“That’s crazy talk,” Blake said.

“You don’t got the guts strap on a gun and hunt down outlaws yourself so you badmouth a man that’s braver than you are just to make yourself feel better about it,” Gunther said.

“Them’s fighting words,” Blake said.

“Maybe,” Gunther said. “But them’s also truthful words.”

Blake moved towards Gunther. Townsend put his hand on Blake’s shoulder.

“Settle down,” Townsend said. “He’s pegged you right.”

“You’re taking HIS side?” Blake asked his old friend.

“No,” Townsend replied. “But there’s no use fighting over it. Slade has obviously abandoned us and now we have to figure out what to do next.”

Gunther slapped his head at the stupidity. “Holy shit.”

Doc splayed out in a pew and rested his head on Annabelle’s lap. He felt some relief as his companion stroked her hands through his hair. His stomach was still unsettled and he’d broken out into a cold sweat. Annabelle noticed his forehead felt cold and clammy.

“I…”

Doc coughed.

“Pardon me,” Doc said. “I must protest at these assaults on Mr. Slade’s character. In the short time I’ve known him I’ve seen nothing but a man of steely reserve and remarkable fort…”

He coughed again. A loud hack.

“…itude.”

“Maybe we should leave without him,” Ophelia said. “We’re sitting ducks here.”

“No one’s going anywhere, Mrs. Hutchins,” Gunther said. “And could you step away from the window?”

“Why?” Ophelia asked.

“It’s…” Gunther closed his eyes for a second, irate that Ophelia was making him explain something so obvious. “Because it’s not safe. There might be more of those creepy crawlers out there looking at you right now.”

Sarah’s sobs grew louder. Gunther looked at Annabelle.

“What?” Annabelle asked.

The old man pointed his head at Sarah.

“Oh,” Annabelle said. “OK.”

Annabelle got up out from underneath Doc and held up his hand. She pointed Doc’s hand toward Gunther.

“Can you…”

“Huh?” Gunther asked.

“Well I can’t comfort two people at once!” Annabelle protested.

Gunther was hesitant. “You want me to…”

“Yes,” Annabelle replied.

Disgusted, Gunther rolled his eyes as he took Doc’s sweaty hand into his.

Annabelle walked over to Sarah’s pew and put her arm around the bride.

“Shhh,” she said. “It’s all going to be ok.”

Gunther made an effort to follow Annabelle’s lead.

“Umm,” he said to Doc. “There, there…”

“Oh thank you, Mr. Beauregard,” Doc said. “How I adore your kindness in this most trying time.”

“Nope!” Gunther said. He let go of Doc’s hand, letting it plop down on the patient’s chest. “Nothin’ doin.’ I’ve only held the hands of two men in my life. One was my father when I was a little boy and one was a sergeant getting his leg amputated on the battlefield. Call me when you need to get a limb hacked off.”

“Hellfire and brimstone,” the Reverend said. “The heat will be excruciating.”

Doc swiped the Reverend’s bottle. “You’re cut off.”

Blake rested his hands on his big brass belt buckle. “I’m in charge now.”

“What?” Gunther asked.

“I’m in charge and I say we all go,” Blake said. “I’m not going to die waiting for Slade when we all know that lowlife is never coming back.”

“He’s coming back,” Gunther said.

“And what if he doesn’t?” Blake asked.

“Then who’s stopping you?” Gunther asked. “There’s the door. Leave whenever you want.”

“You don’t think I won’t?” Blake asked.

“I don’t give a shit,” Gunther answered.

“Maybe Slade’s dead,” Ophelia said.

Sarah heard that and buried her head into Annabelle’s shoulder, crying away. Gunther grimaced at Ophelia and pointed at the bride.

“Oh,” Ophelia whispered. “Maybe Slade’s dead.”

“We all heard you the first time,” Gunther said. “And it’s a bit early to start thinking the worst, isn’t it?”

“Is it?” Ophelia asked. “We need to be prepared for anything, especially when the man we’re all depending on has..”

A cold and slimy undead hand punched through the window, spraying out pieces of glass. It covered Ophelia’s face, muffling her attempts to scream.

“Son of a bitch,” a dumbstruck Blake said.

Gunther came to Ophelia’s aid just in time to see a grotesque, burned up head poke its way through the window, preparing to turn the maid of honor into a meal.

The old man smashed the Reverend’s bottle against the wall to create a makeshift knife. He jammed it into the monster’s forehead, pushing it through until he hit brain. The creature let go of Ophelia and collapsed on the porch outside with a thud.

“Oh thank God,” Ophelia said as she struggled to catch her breath. “You saved my…”

Another set of hands…and another…and another…six filthy hands in total grabbed Ophelia by the face, waist and legs and yanked on her. Gunther grabbed Ophelia’s hand and pulled back with everything he had.

Doc stirred at the commotion. He stumbled on wobbly legs and grabbed Ophelia’s other hand. Annabelle ran over and found a place on Ophelia’s arm and pulled.

Sarah took one look and hid under the pew.

“Aw shit,” Blake said.

The Reverend was too drunk to care. Townsend eventually walked over to lend a hand but it was too late.

The old chubby lady’s shrieks pierced everyones’ ears as she was ripped to pieces. Gunther found himself holding one bloody limb. Doc and Annabelle held the other. Both arms were dropped and the would be heroes backed away.

One of the damned had an eyeball hanging out of its socket. It feasted on a big hunk of Ophelia’s flesh, drenching its lips with blood. Then he and the other two undead slowly turned their heads towards the smorgasbord that awaited them inside the church.

“Don’t…make…a…sound,” Doc said as he slowly backed away, using very small footsteps.

Gunther and Annabelle followed suit.

“I suspect they are like grizzly bears,” Doc whispered. “Only when they suspect you are running away will they pounce.”

The damned creatures growled. One undead had a face that was burnt up like a piece of charcoal. He put his leg over the windowsill and crawled inside.

“Well fuck that theory,” Gunther said.”

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