Hey 3.5 Readers.
BQB here reporting another milestone – I have hit 70,000 words on How the West Was Zombed.
And with some cool chapters lately (the Reverend becoming vampire chow, Doc’s impromptu escape plan) have me feeling my second wind.
Still a lot of work to go but it is happening.
Have you been reading, 3.5 readers? What do you think?
The double doors at the back of the livery were secured with a long board shoved between two handles, one on each door. A pair of werewolf claws smashed through it and the doors were swung open.
Morris and Vaughn stomped in with their pointy teeth bared. Gentry, still in human form, entered with his pistol drawn.
What he saw next astonished him.
Annabelle’s body was laid out on the floor, completely motionless. Her eyes were closed. Her face was soaked with blood and guts.
Doc was straddling her. Blood dripped from his lips as he slowly lifted his head away from Annabelle’s neck to look at Gentry.
The physician was not his usual chatty self. “Gack…ack…ack.”
“Son of a bitch!” shouted Gunther.
Gentry and his companions stepped past Doc to find Gunther on the ground, clutching his stomach with his left hand. With his right, he struggled to grab his gun. It too laid in the dirt, ever so close but just out of his reach.
“God damn you to hell, Doc!” Gunther cried. “Why did I ever trust you?”
As Doc turned his attention back to Annabelle’s body, Morris and Vaughn stood together and watched as Gentry knelt down beside Gunther and pointed his pistol at the old man.
“Where is everyone?” Gentry asked. “And don’t take me for a fool or it’ll be the last thing you do.”
“That bastard,” Gunther said. “Tricked us all into throwing down our guns. Said he’d go out and smooth talk your boss into letting us go but…”
Gunther coughed and gasped for air.
“…then the cocksucker just up and executed everybody one by one! Stuffed all the bodies in the wagon. Said he was going to bring them all out to your boss as a peace offering so he’d let him go.”
Gentry grinned. “How fiendishly clever.”
Gunther let go of his stomach to reveal the blood all over his shirt and vest. He grabbed Gentry’s arm.
“But just as he was about to leave…he…he turned into a damn zombie and ate his girlfriend!”
“Well,” Gentry said. “Now I’ve seen everything.”
Coming from behind their heads, Morris and Vaughn could hear the distinct clicking sound of two gun hammers being cocked.
Gentry was facing the old man, but his ears picked up Doc’s voice.
“I wouldn’t say that just yet, my good man.”
Two shots. Two silver bullets pierced the backs of two werewolf heads. Gentry turned just in time to see their gargantuan hairy buddies hit the ground with colossal thuds.
Very much alive, Doc and Annabelle stood there with smoking guns in their hands. Doc had used one of his spring loaded weapons while Annabelle made use of Miss Bonnie’s derringer.
Meanwhile, Gunther appeared to be feeling a whole lot better as he reached for his gun and blew a hole right through the back of Gentry’s head, which led to his carcass collapsing next to the other werewolves.
The back doors of Doc’s wagon flew open and Slade poked his head out. “Did we get ‘em?”
“Oh we got ‘em all right,” Gunther said.
The old man looked at his clothes. “Aw dang it. Rabbit blood all over the vest Mavis made for me.”
Doc took Annabelle’s hand. “Yes, and I do apologize for rubbing a bunny corpse all over your face my dear.”
Annabelle shrugged. “Eh, it’s ok. After working in Bonnie’s joint for five years, it’s actually not the most disgusting thing that’s ever been rubbed on my face.”
Doc nodded. “That’s the spirit.”
Miss Bonnie jumped out of the back of the wagon and walked over to Doc. “I stand corrected.”
“Yes,” Doc said. “’Tis quite alright, Miss Lassiter I suppose in my new life as a partial zombie I shall have to suffer all manner of aspersions on my character.”
“Just shut up and take an apology, asshole,” Miss Bonnie replied.
“So taken,” Doc said.
Miss Bonnie hugged Annabelle, doing her best to not get any blood on herself. “Take care of yourself.”
“I will,” Annabelle said.
The redhead hopped up into the driver’s seat. Slade took Sarah’s hand and helped her out of the back of the wagon.
“Rain,” the bride said. “Do you really think it wise for us to split up?”
“Things aren’t safe here,” Slade replied as he handed Miss Bonnie her shotgun.
“But you won’t be able to protect me if I leave,” Sarah said.
“Miss Bonnie’s got you covered,” Slade said.
“Oh Rain,” Sarah said as she went in for one last hug. “I know you’ll be ok, you’re so perfect and all. But should something happen to me I want you to know how much I love you.”
There Sarah stood, with her big eyes staring up at Slade, waiting for the customary reply a woman typically expects when she tells her man that she loves him.
“God damn it,” Slade said.
Miss Bonnie slapped her forehead upon hearing that response.
“What?” Sarah asked, her face giving off the expression of a wounded doe.
“Uh,” Slade said. “God damn it that we have to part ways is all…but…”
The stoic looked up at Miss Bonnie. Exasperated, she nodded her head up and down.
“I love you too,” Slade said. “And don’t worry. Everything’s going to be ok. I don’t want to hear any more talk about something bad happening to you.”
Slade helped Sarah up into the passenger’s seat next to Miss Bonnie.
“This isn’t goodbye, Rain,” Sarah said. “It’s just, ‘see you later.’
“Right,” Slade replied. “See you later.”
“Later,” Sarah said. “When all is well and we can have another wedding…bigger and better than ever.”
The groom paused. “Right.”
Slade walked around to the back of the wagon where Miles was sitting. It was a delivery wagon so there weren’t any seats in the back, but the boy made do on the floor.
Miles passed Slade the ammo bag and the two Winchesters. Slade took one then handed the other back to the kid.
“You know how to shoot?” Slade asked.
“Pa taught me,” Miles replied.
“It’s yours,” Slade said. “Every cowboy needs a Winchester.”
“Wow,” Miles said. “Thanks.”
Gunther walked over to say his goodbyes. “You’re the toughest kid I’ve ever seen, Miles.”
“I am?” Miles asked.
“Well, I don’t know any other dog monster kids so…”
Miles started to correct the old man. “Were…ah, you know what? Screw it.”
“Protect the womenfolk,” Slade said.
“You got it,” Miles said.
Slade closed the back doors and slapped the back of the wagon.
“Miss Lassiter…”
The driver turned and looked at Slade. They both caught each others’ eyes and there was no need to say anything. They knew how they felt about each other. Miss Bonnie cleared her throat. “Mr. Slade?”
“Roll out.”
Miss Bonnie snapped the reigns and Chance trotted away, pulling the wagon behind him.
A commotion broke out outside. Snarling werewolves. Growling zombies. War whups and battle cries.
Gunther and Slade rushed to the window just in time to see Blythe fall down with an arrow stuck in his chest.
“Holy shit,” the old timer said.
“He came,” Slade added.
Most improperly, Annabelle wiped the bunny blood off her face and onto her dress, then took Doc’s hand as he helped her up onto the back of a black horse.
“Meet Hercules, my dear,” Doc said as he climbed up into the saddle. “He’s been with me for quite some time, a very reliable beast.”
Annabelle patted her hand across Hercule’s coat. “Nice horsey.”
“Gentlemen,” Doc said, grabbing just enough of Slade and Gunther’s attention to get them to look away from the window. “It’s been a pleasure.”
Slade grunted, recalling in his mind a time his mother had told him the old line about how if a man can’t think of something nice to say then he shouldn’t say anything at all.
“Yeah ok then,” Gunther said. “Thanks for stopping by and starting a zombie apocalypse ya’ horse’s ass.”
Annabelle wrapped her arms around Doc’s waist.
“Hold on my dear,” Doc said. “And we shall be addressing the Queen of England on the curative properties of cocaine before you know it.”
“Oh gosh, the Queen?” Annabelle asked. “I don’t even have a dress fancy enough for that meeting.”
“You will my dear,” Doc said. “As many as you wish.”
The physician snapped the reigns on Hercules and away they went out the back of the livery.
Slade and Gunther looked out the window again just in time to see Blythe stand up.
“Shit,” Gunther said.
Slade handed Gunther the Winchester. “You’re better with it than I am.”
Gunther racked up a bullet and took one side of the front door. Slade withdrew his twin pistols and took the other.
“On three then?” the old man asked.
Slade nodded. Gunther started counting. “One..two…”
Slade interrupted the count. “In case I don’t get to say it later, its been nice knowing you, Deputy.”
The old man nodded. “Well holy shit. A compliment from Rainier Slade.”
“Don’t ruin it,” Slade replied.
“Right,” Gunther said. “And likewise, Marshal.”
The two men took a deep breath and then Gunther shouted, “Three!”
Doc’s body was riddled with bullet holes yet it didn’t seem to faze him in the slightest.
“You look like hell,” Gunther said.
“Perhaps but I feel better than ever I assure you,” Doc replied.
Annabelle counted the holes. One in Doc’s shoulder. Five more in his chest and stomach. Six all together.
“Those don’t hurt at all?” she asked.
“They sting a bit,” Doc replied. “More of a cosmetic problem than anything else. I dare say I won’t be going shirtless on the beach when we get to France my dear.”
Gunther peeked out the window. “Shit. Dog monsters coming around back.”
“Werewolves,” Miles said. He began wondering if he should just give up and stop correcting everyone.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Doc said. “I am presently conceiving a bold plan. The odds of it working are a hundred to one but it is the only option that presents itself in my mind. Time is of the essence and I need everyone to do as I say without question and follow my lead to the letter..”
“I’m not taking orders from a damn zombie,” Miss Bonnie said.
At the back of the livery, there was a set of two double doors. Gentry’s fist pounded on them.
“What do you think?” Slade asked Gunther.
Gunther stared at Doc’s blank eyes. They revealed no emotion. “I don’t why but I trust him.”
“I can’t believe this,” Miss Bonnie said to Slade. “You trust this jackass?”
“No,” Slade replied. “But I trust Gunther’s gut. It hasn’t steered us wrong yet.”
Doc went cross-eyed staring at all the gun barrels pointing at his nose. Slade. Miss Bonnie. Gunther. All had their sites trained on him.
“What, did one of you want the rabbit’s foot?” Doc asked. “I can’t say it was very lucky for the little fellow but I’ll fetch it if you wish.”
“Not funny,” Miss Bonnie said.
“Oh come now,” Doc said. “Who among you has never had rabbit stew?”
“That’s not the same thing,” Gunther said.
Miss Bonnie grabbed Annabelle by the wrist. “You’re coming with us.”
Annabelle pulled her hand back. “He’s fine.”
“Have you lost your mind?” Miss Bonnie asked as she pointed to Doc’s blood soaked beard. “Look at him.”
“He’s a genius, Bonnie,” Annabelle said. “He’ll figure out how to cure himself, won’t you Doc?”
“Indubitably, my dear,” Doc said. “There is no problem too great for science to remedy.”
“That’s not normal to want to bite into something alive like that,” Gunther said.
Doc sighed. “Did I feel a sudden urge swell up inside of me to snack on a small amount of living flesh?” the good doctor asked. “Yes. Does that mean I will carry that urge out on a human being? Of course not. I assure you that rabbit has left my hunger satiated.”
“This isn’t up for discussion,” Miss Bonnie said. “Get away from him, Annabelle.”
Annabelle stomped her foot. “You’re not my mother, Bonnie!”
The sound of hundreds of footsteps marching in unison up the road outside broke up the conversation.
Then came Blythe’s voice. “Company…halt!”
The footsteps stopped.
Gunther peeked out a dusty window and caught a glimpse of Blythe hovering over his zombie firing squad. Undead men and women all obeying the vampire’s commands with expert military precision.
“Aim high for a warning volley!”
“Aw shit,” Gunther said. He looked up at the ceiling. “I’m a-comin’ Mavis.”
The sound of hundreds of bullets being racked up into rifles filled Slade with dread. Instinctively, he dove for Miss Bonnie, knocking her to the safety of the ground.
A storm of bullets tore through the building, whizzing over everyone’s heads.
Sarah screamed hysterically.
Miss Bonnie punched Slade in the arm.
“Oh right,” the stoic said as he jumped back up and pulled Sarah down.
Miles, the Reverend and Annabelle all hit the dirt.
Slade shimmied on his belly to join Gunther, who was crouched next to the window with his pistol drawn.
Doc didn’t appear to be particularly concerned with his health as he casually strolled toward the window to join Slade and Gunther.
A bullet pierced through Doc’s shoulder. He slapped at it like it was a mild annoyance. “Oh my, that smarts.”
Unable to aim, Slade and Gunther poked their pistols out the window and shot blindly. By sheer luck, they were able to pop a couple of zombie skulls.
Doc, on the other hand, stood directly in front of the window, accepting one bullet after the other in his chest. That didn’t slow him down as he flicked his wrists, produced his pistols, and sent a barrage of fire toward the zombie army outside.
“Second volley!” Blythe commanded.
The zombies fired again, still aiming high as if to avoid hitting anyone.
“Cease fire!” Blythe commanded.
Slade and Gunther looked at one another, each man at a loss for words.
“Slade!” Blythe shouted from outside. “Now that I have your attention, I wonder if we might have a word?”
Slade reloaded his pistol as he answered. “Sure,” he replied loudly. “Go fuck yourself. There’s three.”
“Charming as usual,” Blythe replied.
Slade looked out the window to see Blythe float down to the ground. A werewolf handed the vampire a full whiskey bottle. Blythe took it and stuffed a rag into the bottle’s neck.
“You’ve got two options here, Slade,” Blythe said. “First, you can unload your silver, throw down your steel and come outside so we can talk about how I can turn you into a very rich and powerful man.”
“Bullshit,” Slade said.
“I won’t lie and tell you there won’t be a catch,” Blythe said. “You’ll have to do some things that run contrary to the adorable little moral code you’ve developed for yourself. But since the second option is that everyone you love dies a slow, painful death while you watch, I’d take the first one if I were you.”
The Reverend stood up, dusted himself off, and joined the men at the window.
“If there’s one thing I’ve learned from reading this,” the preacher said as he wagged his bible at Slade, “It’s that devil’s bargains only work out for the devil.”
“We gathered, Rev,” Gunther said.
“I’m going outside,” the Reverend said.
“The hell you are,” Gunther replied.
“The Lord will protect me,” the Reverend said. “Or if not, I’ll at least be able to buy you all some time. Either way…”
The Reverend pointed a finger toward the ceiling. “…his will shall be done.”
“This is a hell of a time to get your faith back, Reverend,” Gunther said.
“Faith is never entirely present nor is it entirely gone,” the Reverend said. “Everyday we all struggle over whether to doubt or believe. I must now choose to believe for if I’m not able to put my studies of the Lord’s ways to some good use here then my life will have been for nothing.”
Slade grabbed the Reverend’s arm. “He’ll kill you for sure.”
“Then so be it,” the Reverend said. “It’ll be a glorious distraction.”
The preacher looked at Sarah and Miss Bonnie.
“And I’m sure you’ll know what to do.”
The Reverend leaned in close to Slade’s ear and whispered. “I’ve seen the way you look at the whore, son. There wouldn’t be any shame in it if you can make an honest woman of her but come clean with the Widow Farquhar. No one likes being the last to know.”
Slade nodded. The Reverend opened the door a crack and waved a white handkerchief.
“Oh what the hell is this?” Blythe asked as he saw the Reverend walk out with his hands up, one of them clutching his bible.
“I wish to talk, demon,” the Reverend replied.
Slade peeked his head around the corner of the late Townsend’s Blacksmith Shop. The only sign of life was a lone bunny rabbit hopping across the street.
Wearing Joe’s silver tipped bullet bandolier across his chest, Slade took Sarah by the hand and gave the group the all clear.
“Move,” he commanded.
Gunther and Miss Bonnie followed, weapons at the ready. Miles, wearing his blanket like a cloak, crossed the street next.
The Reverend stuck with Miles.
Doc and Annabelle brought up the rear.
“Bunny!” Annabelle cried out uncontrollably as soon as she saw the big eared hare.
Her outburst was immediately met with a shush laden rebuke from the group.
“You must keep your voice down, my dear,” Doc whispered.
“But he’s so adorable!” Annabelle whispered back.
“Then we shall get you a hundred rabbits as soon as we cross the Mississippi,” Doc whispered.
“I don’t know if I need a hundred,” Annabelle replied. “That’d be so cute though. I could take a bath in bunnies.”
“Will you two shut your gobs?” Miss Bonnie asked.
Slade reached the livery first. He kicked open the front door. Chance reared back on his hind legs and whinnied loudly until he recognized his rider.
Miss Bonnie brushed her hand along the horse’s coat to calm him down, then led him to Doc’s wagon.
She knew it instantly by the words emblazoned on the side in red paint, “Doc Farraday’s Miracle Cure-All: Embrace a Life of Good Health with Cocaine Today!”
Slade and Miss Bonnie hitched Chance up to Doc’s wagon. Then he put his hands on Sarah’s shoulders.
“Miss Lassiter is one of Highwater’s toughest citizens,” Slade said. “You’re in good hands.”
Sarah hugged Slade and held him close. “Come with me. You don’t have to save this town. The people here have clearly never appreciated you.”
“It’s not about the town anymore,” Slade said. “I need to save America, or else none of us will be safe.”
The bride pressed her lips against Slade’s. She attempted to kiss him deeply but didn’t get much in return.
“For luck,” Sarah said.
Miss Bonnie, standing just behind and to the left of Sarah, stuck a finger in her mouth and pretended to gag.
Slade ignored it. He looked to Miss Bonnie. “Just keep heading South. I’ll find you.”
He caught himself and looked at Sarah. “All of you. I’ll find all of you.”
The Reverend left his booze back at the church. A leather bound bible was the only item he carried with him.
“Well then,” the preacher said. “If we’ve all said our goodbyes, it’s onward Christian soldiers before we all become zombie chow, yes?”
Miss Bonnie hugged her ex-employee. “Annabelle, won’t you change your mind and come with us?”
“Bonnie I’ll never forget you,” Annabelle said. “You taught me everything I know about…”
The prostitute caught a glimpse of Sarah’s disapproving eyes and changed course. “About that thing…”
“Which thing?” Miss Bonnie asked. “Hell, I never once did that thing you and that pervert do in my entire life.”
“He’s the best man I’ve ever met,” Annabelle said.
“Then look harder,” Miss Bonnie replied. “I don’t trust him.”
“I do,” Annabelle said. She looked around. “Where is he anyway?”
Annabelle walked toward the door. As she got closer to it, she heard some strange sounds.
Teeth crunching on bones. Lips smacking. And an erudite doctor whispering to himself, “Oh yes…yes…so succulent…so tender…mmm…yes.”
Annabelle stepped outside and caught Doc red handed…and red faced…red everything’d. Blood had squirted all over the good doctor’s face as he chomped into the limp bunny carcass as if it were a chicken dinner.
“Doc!”
Surprised, Doc hid the tiny, mangled bunny corpse behind his back.
Annabelle frowned. “Was that the…”
“What?” Doc asked.
“What are you hiding behind your back?” Annabelle asked.
“Nothing my dear.”
Doc’s blank eyes darted up and to the right as he whistled a jaunty tune and pretended that everything was fine.
Annabelle stood there waiting with her hands on her hips. Finally, Doc realized the jig was up and revealed the deceased bunny.
“I’m sorry, my dear,” Doc said as he hanged his head down. “It would seem that I have a problem.”
Plans. Everyone has them.
Slade’s isn’t much of one. He intends to send his bride away in the care of Miss Bonnie, the woman he loves the most. After that, he and Gunther will take Blythe head on, hopefully with Standing Eagle’s help.
Meanwhile, Lady Blackwood beseeches the Chairman to set aside the board’s plans in favor of her own.
And Doc? He’s planning to do something with two mysterious documents.
SUMMARY:
Highwater, Missouri. 1880. The Old West was a time of expansion and opportunity for some, oppression and violence for others. Dangerous desperadoes ran wild leaving lawmen struggling to maintain order.
U.S. Marshall Rainier Slade is a genuine stoic, a quiet man with a raspy voice, a permanent scowl on his face, and a disdain for humanity that leaves him using the bare minimum amount of words necessary to get his point across. His deputy, the elderly, pragmatic yet loyal Gunther Beauregard does most of the talking.
Together, they work to enforce the law in a town filled with drunkeness, debauchery, and mayhem. Meanwhile, there’s a tentative peace between the townsfolk and a nearby Native American tribe, made possible only by the good rapport between Slade and Chief Standing Eagle.
The world Slade knows crashes down around him when the dead start refusing to die, thanks to the evil endeavors of Henry Alan Blythe, Attorney-at-Law for the Legion Corporation, and his newly recruited flunkies, the Buchanan Boys.
Zombies aren’t the creatures our heroes will have to worry about. Vampires and werewolves are on the prowl too.
Will Slade save the day? Will the West be lost to the zombie hordes? And when the dust settles and the last undead brain gets a bullet through it, will our hero choose the scandalously alluring brothel owner Miss Bonnie, or the prim and proper bible thumping Widow Farquhar?
U.S. Marshall Rainier Slade and his trusty deputy Gunther Beauregard are joined by traveling snake oil salesman Doctor Elias T. “Doc” Faraday in a stand against the nefarious Buchanan Boys.
Smelly Jack and the Buchanan Boys have been captured and now our hero, US Marshal Rainier Slade, has to wait a week until the arrival of Judge Sampson.
In the meantime, a love triangle blooms. Scandalous brothel madame Miss Bonnie is the only woman Slade can be himself around but…the bible thumping Widow Farquhar is there.
Never underestimate the power a woman who is there has on a lonely man.
Plus, there are some damn werewolves.
A day of reckoning comes for the Buchanan Boys. Judge Sampson comes to town and is hankering to pass out some hangings.
But “simple country lawyer” Henry Allan Blythe and his werewolf lackeys have other plans in mind.
PART 4 – History Repeats Itself
Joe Freeman’s past haunts him again and again and his longstanding feud with Blythe is about to come to a head.
Blythe, a villainous vampire/counsel for the Legion Corporation’s board of vampire directors, has dreamed up a scheme to conquer the United States with a zombie army that responds to his will.
But the board’s bureaucratic maneuvering threatens to throw his plan off the rails. His bosses want him to toy with Slade and Freeman, rather than kill them outright.
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…
PART 6 – Miles Freeman, Amateur Werewolf
When Blythe’s evil werewolves attack the Bonnie Lass Saloon, Highwater finds itself in the grip of a terrifying zombie outbreak.
But for young Miles Freeman, there’s no time to feel sorry for himself when he loses his father.
Miss Bonnie needs his help…and Blythe’s wolves are on the hunt.
Somehow, Miles will have to figure out how to use his werewolf powers to save the day.
It won’t be easy for him. After all, he might be a werewolf…but he isn’t a very good one.
After Miles gives the survivors a crash course regarding the Legion Corporation’s evil plans, Doc must acknowledge his tarnished past in order to come to grips with a terrible mistake he’s made in the present.
Plans. Everyone has them.
Slade’s isn’t much of one. He intends to send his bride away in the care of Miss Bonnie, the woman he loves the most. After that, he and Gunther will take Blythe head on, hopefully with Standing Eagle’s help.
Meanwhile, Lady Blackwood beseeches the Chairman to set aside the board’s plans in favor of her own.
And Doc? He’s planning to do something with two mysterious documents.
Part 9 – The Not So Great Escape
Tribal shaman Wandering Snake guilts Standing Eagle into coming to Highwater’s aid.
Slade gets his crew to the livery stable, with a plan to send Miss Bonnie, the Widow Farquhar and Miles south to seek refuge with Eagle’s allies.
Meanwhile, Doc and Annabelle plan to head East to pursue their dreams of becoming international cocaine peddling gynecologists. (Yes, it makes more sense if you read it.)
But with an army of obedient zombies under his control, Blythe interferes with these plans.
The Reverend’s attempt to find some good in Blythe backfires in a big way.
Miles will need to figure out how to be a werewolf before its too late.
Part 10 – Dying with Your Boots On
Blythe has loaded his vile army of the undead aboard a train headed East, schemes to backstab his furry friends and enlists the aid of a strange vampire colleague for some sinister doings.
The vampire lawyer makes Slade an offer he can refuse, but in turn, the counselor refuses to take no for an answer.
Blythe separates Slade’s women. Will our hero be able to save them both before it is too late?
Gunther wishes his boots were off.
It’s do or die time for Slade.
A train full of zombies is barreling East. If it crosses the Mississippi River, the United States is surely doomed.
Will our hero save the day?
And while he’s at it, will he save the woman he loves?
Will he even get to save the woman he likes?
The West has been zombed. Cut off from the rest of the country, our heroes contemplate their next moves.
A year has passed since the West has been zombed.
Miles makes a deal with a suspicious new acquaintance.
Annabelle takes up Doc’s cause.
Slade and Miss Bonnie head to Arizona and get a visit from Wyatt Earp.
And finally…a master outdoorsman is put on the path to the presidency.
The Sturtevant Bridge was an impressive architectural masterpiece, spanning over a mile across the Mississippi River, connecting Missouri to Illinois.
Robards was going to make it go boom. He and the other soldiers attached bundles of dynamite to support beams as Major Culpepper supervised.
“Speed and precision, men,” the Major advised. “We must move quickly but we don’t want to blow ourselves up either. Bartlett!”
As always, the Corporal was standing at the Major’s side. “Sir?”
“Ah, there you are,” the Major said as he handed the Corporal an official document. “Be a good man and tack this to a tree on the Western side, will you?”
The Corporal perused the document:
An Executive Order of President Rutherford B. Hayes
In recognition of the following facts:
- That dangerous creatures, identified by experts in the occult arts as “zombies” have cut a wide swath of destruction from Colorado to Missouri.
- That eyewitness reports describe the aforementioned zombies as dead men capable not only of movement, but also in possession of the ability to turn the living into moving dead men by biting them.
- That further reports claim large wolf like men are working in consort with these zombies.
- That Secretary of War George McCrary has advised that direct military action against the zombies is ill-advised at this time.
It is so ordered…
- That the United States Army shall oversee the construction of a wall along the entire length (2,320 miles) of the Eastern side of the Mississippi River, from its start in Minnesota to its end in Louisiana. The start of this wall will be connected to a wall currently being constructed by the Canadians across border with our nation.
- All bridges across the Mississippi River are to be destroyed immediately.
- All peoples West of the Mississippi River shall be considered to be carriers of the dreaded zombie contagion and will be shot on site should they attempt to cross over to the East side of the river.
- To that end, sentries shall be posted across the Eastern banks of the river and will be under orders to shoot all trespassers without reservation or delay.
- For purposes of the wall construction efforts, all citizens East of the Mississippi River shall be required to forfeit any and all property as deemed necessary.
- All able bodied men, regardless of age, shall be required to aid in the wall construction effort.
- All foreign nations are hereby put on notice that all lands West of the Mississippi River, from the river itself to the Pacific Coast, are still considered the property of the United States. The U.S. government reserves the right to repopulate these lands in the event that the zombie menace should subside. Therefore, any attempts to invade, conquer or colonize these lands shall be considered an act of war.
- All living humans West of the Mississippi River are advised to fight the zombies in any method they deem practical.
- All living humans West of said river continue to remain citizens of the United States and are expected to obey the laws of the same. Attempts to form an alternative Federal government in the West shall be deemed treason.
- All duly appointed Federal officers in the West shall retain their positions, are expected to continue in their duties and make arrangements for their replacements should they become incapable of continuing in office. However, no compensation can be offered in exchange for these duties at this time.
- All living humans in the West who engage in activities that would normally result in the payment of Federal taxes and/or fees shall continue to pay said sums to their nearest Federal tax collector, who shall hold such sums indefinitely in the event that the zombie menace subsides.
Signed this 4th day of June, 1880.
Rutherford B. Hayes, President of the United States of America
The Corporal looked up from the document. “All due respect sir, if I were a Westerner, I’d wipe my ass with this.”
“I don’t give a shit what they do with it, Corporal,” the Major said. “Just get over there, tack that paper to a tree to put them all on notice then get your ass back here.”
Standing Eagle raced his horse across the valley, bound for Highwater. For a good part of the ride, he watched as grain silo on the edge of town catch fire, only to eventually break apart and collapse upon itself.
Suddenly, the Chief heard galloping hooves behind him. Screeching Owl and Wandering Snake flanked Eagle on the left. Charging Bobcat and Crafty Fox took their leader’s right flank.
Eagle brought his horse to a halt. His warriors did the same.
“Why do you defy my orders?” the Chief asked.
“If you are Standing Eagle, then tonight, we are all Standing Eagle,” Wandering Snake replied.
“Our people,” the Chief said.
“In safe hands with Solemn Bear,” Crafty Fox said. “He leads them south as we speak.”
“I will not have you die for white men who lie to you,” Eagle said.
Charging Bobcat had applied menacing warpaint to his face. He’d covered his face with a black base and on top of that, he’d drawn a white skull. He almost looked like a zombie himself.
“We do not do this for the white men, Eagle,” Bobcat said. “We do this for you.”
Eagle’s stern face did not betray the sense of pride that swelled within him. He nodded and together, the group made haste for Highwater.
A zombified Clem Buchanan scratched his head, bewildered by the gun barrel he was staring down.
“Ungh.”
Zombie Clem slapped the side of the weapon. Nothing happened. He shook it. Rattled it. Wrapped his teeth around the steel and ground them back and forth.
Nothing.
“Grrr?”
The zombie stared at the barrel again, pulled the trigger and…POW! His brains were splattered all over the surrounding zombies.
At Highwater Station, Blythe had assembled his own personal undead goon squad. In life, they had been Buchanan Boys, random cowpokes, assorted townsfolk, and of course, Miss Bonnie’s working girls.
Now they were about to become a zombie fighting force.
Mayhew and the other werewolf conductors armed the zombies, placing pistols and rifles into the creatures’ boney hands. Under normal circumstances, arming a zombie isn’t the smartest, or safest idea.
Pow…Pow…Pow! Two more zombies blew their own heads off. That last pow was made when one of the zombies accidentally shot one of the werewolves in the leg. Said werewolf clawed the offending zombie in half.
Hovering several feet above his decrepit soldiers, Blythe pressed his fingers against his temples, lost himself briefly in meditation and finally, took control of the motley crew.
What had once been a brood of ignorant monsters quickly became a highly functional regiment. The zombies snapped to attention, formed lines, and rested the ends of their rifles on their shoulders.
The vampire drifted through the air into town.
“Forward march,” he ordered.
They did just that, marching lockstep in perfect formation behind their master.
Bookshelf Battle 