The front door crashed open under the weight of an incoming zombie horde. Over a dozen undead townsfolk in various states of decomposition entered. Some were missing limbs, eyes, jaws, or some other part. Not a one of them was fully intact.
Slade drew his twin pistols and popped heads left and right. Gunther joined in with his sidearm, as Miss Bonnie did with her shotgun.
It was a bloodbath. Guts galore. Body parts, internal organs, pieces of bone and chunks of brain spewed all over the house of worship.
Despite being three sheets to the wind, the Reverend still retained the good sense to grab Sarah by the hand and lead her to the back of the room, where they took cover behind the pulpit.
Anabelle had never fired a gun before but figured now was as good a time as any to give it a try. She picked up one of the rifles Bonnie had delivered off of the table, racked up a bullet, and pointed it at a zombie head. She exploded the creature’s skull but being unused to the weapon’s kickback, she was knocked butt first to the ground.
She turned her attention to Doc, who was still lying face down on the floor. The prostitute yanked on the good doctor’s arm, attempting to move him to safety all by herself. He proved too heavy for her petite frame, but she kept pulling anyway.
Miles wolfed out, growing to his massive hairy form. He spied more zombies pouring in through the broken window. The werewolf clawed through a few intruders, then plugged the window with his body. He could feel teeth biting into his hide. It would have meant instant death for anyone else, but for him, it was mildly annoying. Like mosquitos that wouldn’t go away.
To the right of the pulpit, there was a door that led to a hallway which in turn led to a number of rooms and a backdoor. A terrified Slade craned his neck back as the sounds of wood being smashed came from that direction, followed by more groans.
Gunther heard the noise too. “Go!” he said to Slade.
Miss Bonnie. Sarah. Miss Bonnie. Sarah. As per usual, Slade’s mind was torn between his two ladies. But he trusted Gunther. And Miss Bonnie was racking up quite a body count of her own. Meanwhile Sarah only had the Reverend or in other words, basically had no one.
It’s been said that the Winchester rifle is the gun that won the West. It was revolutionary for its time, giving a marksman the ability to shoot as fast as he could pull a handle.
Slade picked up the rifle that Annabelle had dropped and aimed it at the door toward the back of the room. A zombie trudged in. Slade yanked that handle, racked up a bullet and bam. That zombie was headless, its corpse plopping down on the floor.
The ex-marshall kept moving forward. With expert precision, he popped another head. Then another. His spent casings clinked across the floor.
Sarah was beyond consolation, but the Reverend did his best anyway, quoting every uplifting bible verse he could think of to keep her spirits up.
Slade racked up another bullet but…bam. The zombie head he was aiming for exploded before he pulled his trigger. He looked to his right and Doc was up on his feet, giving the incoming zombies a barrage from his guns.
“Have at thee, knaves!” Doc cried as he sent more and more of the undead to their doom.
Werewolf Miles cocked his head to the right in confusion as he felt the teeth stop biting him. He looked out the window. His attackers were walking away.
Miss Bonnie and Gunther had whittled their horde down to three. Those creatures also turned and walked for the door, only to become easy sport as the old man and the red head picked them off.
Slade took out the last zombie at the back of the church then ran to his bride. Sarah flinged herself at Slade and squeezed him hard, holding on for dear life.
Doc shook his wrists and his spring loaded guns retracted up underneath his sleeves.
“Monsters with the good sense to retreat when they are outmatched?” Doc asked. “I say, just as one puzzle is solved, another presents itself.”
The good doctor helped Annabelle up. “Are you all right my dear?”
“I think so but…”
Anabelle took one look at Doc and shrieked.
Slade attempted to investigate but Sarah kept her grip. She had become a widow shaped barnacle attached to Slade’s hip.
Gunther and Miss Bonnie took a look at Doc’s eyes. They were all white. Completely blank. Devoid of any color whatsoever. Though his flesh had yet to rot, his new peepers made him look like the zombies that had just torn the place apart.
The old man and the redhead pointed their guns at Doc. Slade wiggled one hand free from his bride and got Doc in his sights with one of his pistols.
“Was it something I said?” Doc asked.
“Doc,” Annabelle said.
“Yes?” the good doctor asked.
Timidly, Anabelle handed Doc a compact mirror.
“You need to have a look.”
Doc took the compact. “Good Heavens, people. I know I don’t strike the most handsome visage but is that any reason to…”
He opened it up and took a look. “Oh bother.”
Hey 3.5 Cowpokes.
Bookshelf Battle 