Massacre at Lonesome Ridge: A Zombie Western (17 page)

Jeremiah sagged in his saddle as the horses plodded along in the dark. His entire body ached and all he wanted to do was sleep, but every time he asked to stop, Jed went into a rant.

"Hell no. You told that damn sheriff we'd be far outta town and never come back, so we're gonna keep ridin' til the horses drop."

Jeremiah leaned against the saddle horn and groaned. "What good'll it do us if the horses die? Com'on, Jed. Just a few minutes. There's a stream right over there." He flopped his hand in the direction of a bubbling brook just off the road.

"That damn Jasper. Ungrateful little shit. After all I did for him..." Jed continued to grumble under his breath, but he yanked on the reins and pulled the horse off the dirt path. He stopped Saddle next to the stream and jumped off. The exhausted creature immediately sank his head into the water up to his eyeballs and took a long, loud drink.

Jeremiah steered his own horse over to the stream and dropped the reins. It dipped its nose into the cold water and slurped. Jeremiah took a deep breath and focused on breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth. His stomach roiled and screamed, threatening to spill its contents onto the horse. With clenched teeth, he leaned heavily on the saddle horn and dragged his left leg over the back of the beast until it flopped off. He dangled there for a moment before he let go. His knees gave out as he hit the ground and he collapsed into a heap.

Jed spared him a glance. His lips were pressed tight and his eyes were narrowed. "Maybe I shoulda left you behind, too."

Jeremiah didn't bother to remind him that Jed had only left because of him. Instead, he used what little energy that remained to drag himself over to a tree. He propped his back up against it and slouched down. His body still screamed at him, but at least he no longer had to make himself to stay upright.

"I'm just gonna rest for a bit," he mumbled just loud enough for Jed to hear. "I just need to rest. Then I'll be all right." He almost believed the lie. Almost.

"Yeah, yeah, all right. Fine." Jed dug through his pack and found some dried deer jerky wrapped in brown paper. Jeremiah watched him through half-closed eyes as he walked up the stream. Jed kept tossing furtive glances at him. Despite his insistence that he didn't believe a word of what the sheriff said, Jed was suspicious and concerned. He didn't trust Jeremiah anymore. There was no doubt about it. The entire ride he had kept several paces in front of his younger brother. He would barely look at him.

Jeremiah decided he didn't care anymore and leaned his head back against the tree. He pulled his hat down over his eyes and let them fall all the way shut. He listened to his own breathing as it grew soft and slow, and slower. And slower.

****

Jed wandered up the stream away from Jeremiah. He purposefully kept the younger man at his back and did his best to not keep looking around at him. The woman on the road was crazy, sure, but the sheriff's story was even crazier. The dead rising to attack the living? Hogwash. Jed stuffed another piece of jerky in his mouth and chewed it loudly.

"Freakin' Jasper," he mumbled. The distraction worked. The fear that was growing in his gut was beaten back by the anger that flooded through his veins. He'd done everything for that damn boy. Everything. Ever since Ma and Pa Gaines got sick, Jed had been the one to keep the family going. He was the one who had to bury Ma. He was the one who had to put Pa out of his misery when he was left alone without the woman he loved. He was the one who fed and clothed the other two. He was the one who risked his life going after stage coaches and trains when they were boys so that they didn't starve to death. And how did Jasper repay him?

"Damn kid," he grumbled again and kicked a stone into the water. It plunked loudly and the horses snorted behind him. He stopped walking and sat on the edge of the stream. He cupped his hand and dipped it into the water. It was cool on such a warm evening. He pulled his hand out and slurped at the refreshing liquid. Some dribbled down his chin and neck, leaving tracks in the dust on his face.

He glanced back at his brother. Jeremiah was sleeping beneath the tree. Or so he hoped. There was no movement that Jed could see, not from that distance. The oldest Gaines brother bit his lip. He was half-tempted to go wake his brother up, just to make sure he wasn't dead, but instead he pulled his boots off. He tossed them to the bank and stripped off the rest of his dirty clothes before submerging himself into the fast moving water. The horses raised their heads and glared at him for polluting their drink, but he didn't care. He squatted so that the water came up to his shoulders and let it wash the grime and irritation away.

He glanced at Jeremiah again. Still no movement. Jed dipped his head into the water and scrubbed it hard with his fingers. He couldn't remember the last time he'd given himself a real good cleaning.

"Yeah, I do remember," he muttered to himself with half a smile. "That whore house in Abilene six years ago with Bobby Blake and Jimmy Two Fingers." Jed snorted a laugh. The smile faded from his lips. Jeremiah had never been to Abilene. Jed decided that's where they would go. There were good doctors in that town, more than one. They'd sort him out and fix him up right, better than that quack Whitman ever could.

Jed pulled himself out of the water and back onto the bank. He shook like a dog before pulling his clothes back on. Then he ran his fingers through his hair to try to rid it of some of the knots that had accumulated there.

"A good barber, too," he muttered. Jed's face wrinkled. He'd been talking to himself a lot since they left Lonesome Ridge. It wasn't natural and he didn't like it. It made him feel crazy. There was enough crazy to go around without him adding to it.

He pulled his boots on and stood up. Jeremiah still hadn't moved. "Well, shit," he said as he slapped his hat against his leg. With a resigned sigh, he walked slowly over to where his brother lay.

Jed nudged Jeremiah's toe with his own. No response. He nudged a little harder. Still nothing. He hauled his foot back and kicked Jeremiah's foot so hard it made his own toe hurt.

Jeremiah grunted. The horses snorted softly as their ears perked back.

Jed kicked him again, gentler this time. "Get yer lazy ass up. We gotta get movin'."

Jeremiah groaned, but didn't move to stand. Saddle and Nelly danced, only their years of training keeping them in place.

Jed leaned over and tipped Jeremiah's hat back. The moonlight made his brother's skin look gray and his eyes look dull and mottled. He gasped and stepped back.

"Jer?" His hand found his gun belt and rested on the handle of his pistol.

Jeremiah tilted his head up so he could see Jed. The hat fell off to reveal a hungry stare.

Jed stumbled back a step. His free hand shot up in front of him, palm out. "Now, Jer, don't go doin' nothin' crazy-like. Yer not one of them things. Yer fine. Yer just sick s'all."

His brother groaned and struggled clumsily to his feet. The horses bolted, leaving their owners far behind as their terrified whinnies echoed through the still air.

Jed took another step back. "Jeremiah, now you stop this bullshit. I already lost that rat bastard Jasper. I ain't losin' you, too, ya hear? There ain't nothin' wrong with ya. Nothin'."

Even as he spoke, he pulled his gun from its holster and cocked the hammer back. He could hear the horses crashing through the trees. They were long gone and he had no other means of escape.

Jeremiah took a step toward his brother and snarled. Jed tried to backpedal again, but his heel caught on a rock and he fell over. He landed hard on his backside with a loud whoof as the air left his chest. As he went down, Jeremiah continued to move forward.

"Don't come any closer," Jed shouted as loud as he could. Jeremiah kept advancing, slow and steady, one laborious step at a time. "You filthy bastard," Jed shouted as he leveled his gun.

The bullet ripped through the air. It slammed into Jeremiah's pelvis and forced him back a couple steps. But it didn't bring him down as it should have. He righted himself and continued walking toward Jed.

Jed fired again, this time aiming for his brother's shoulder. The shot hit and Jeremiah jerked hard, but it didn't stop his forward progress. The gun barked again and again, hitting Jeremiah in the stomach, the thigh, the chest. Each bullet had less of an impact and the weapon clicked with a dreadful sense of finality just as Jeremiah reached him.

Jed threw the gun, trying to hit Jeremiah in the face, but it missed and tumbled harmlessly into the water.

Jed scrambled backward as he pleaded with his attacker. "Jeremiah, I'm your brother. You can't do this to me. I took care of you."

Jeremiah stopped in front of him. The dull, slack face lit up into a smile. "No, you didn't." Then he lunged. He grabbed Jed by the neck and smashed his head into a big rock. Blood sprayed out across the ground as his older brother collapsed beneath him. Jeremiah fell to his knees and sank his teeth into Jedidiah's throat.

He ate until he could eat no more, then he sank back onto the ground. The small battle had worn him out. His body ached, he could feel it still changing, but the food had helped. He felt renewed, more alive than he had ever felt before. He lay there for awhile next to the cooling body of his oldest brother, his biggest enemy. He rolled his head to the side to look at Jed's frozen, startled face.

"That was for Jasper," he said. "And Ma and Pa."

Then he pushed himself to his feet and walked into the stream to wash the blood off. When he decided he was clean enough, he tried to follow the horses, but every time he got anywhere near them, they would spook and run.

Resigning himself to his fate, he walked back out to the road. He didn't know where to go. He was a monster, he knew that. He couldn't go back to town, he couldn't go to any town. He would be killed on sight. He decided to head back to the home he grew up in until he could figure out what to do. He kept to the trees, just in case he ran upon any travelers.

The path he was on met the road to Lonesome Ridge further down. As he neared the fork in the road, he heard the muffled sound of numerous footsteps. He ducked down behind a big rock and watched the large group as it shambled along. It didn't take long for him to realize what he was seeing. There were so many of them, all people like him. The undead. If he had any blood left in his veins, it would have frozen. They were shuffling along in the dark, over a hundred of them. All heading for Lonesome Ridge. For Jasper.

Jeremiah clenched his teeth. He had to do something. He couldn't let them hurt his little brother. He stayed where he was and watched them pass. A carriage rolled by, pulled by a dozen men. He could see a women and a man through the window. A plan formed in his mind. Their leader had to be in there. He would talk to them, try to steer them away. There were other towns they could hit, other places they could find food. He rose from his hiding spot and strode down the hill.

"Okay, boys, listen up!" Cora Monroe stood on the porch of the saloon with the most popular whores assembled in a semicircle behind her. They were all dressed in their finest, most revealing outfits and had their hair and makeup done up. The large crowd that had gathered to hear her speak was made up of mostly men and they shushed each other into silence. The sun was rising up over the saloon, turning the sky behind her a bright, bloody pink.

Jasper stood next to Connor near the back of the group. "You think the warning about red skies in the morning apply to dead folk rising up, too?"

The sheriff gave the young man a sideways glance. "I sure hope not."

Cora rested a hand on a cocked hip as she beamed at the crowd. "Now," she said in her most sultry voice. "Some of you fellas may have heard some rumors circlin' about, claimin' that the dead coming back to life and all that." She paused for effect and Connor smirked as the whole crowd leaned forward in anticipation. She took a big breath and placed a hand on her chest as if to steady herself. "I hate to tell you lovely folks this, but all the rumors are true."

Murmurs rumbled through the crowd. Cora gave them a moment to rise to a swell, then she held up both hands to quiet them. "I know, I know. It sounds crazy. I'm sure some of you think I'm a total loon, but when have you ever known Sheriff McClane or Doc Whitman to lie? They are the most honest and upstanding men this town has ever seen, and I for one trust them with my life." She clapped her hands over her heart and gave them all a doe-eyed you-can-trust-me look.

She caught Connor's eye over their heads and tossed him a wink. The sheriff shook his head as he laughed at how the men responded to her.

"It's scary, I know," she continued. "I'm all a-shiver just thinking about it." Her forehead puckered in worry and she waved a hand in front of her face to fight back fake tears. Then she reached both hands back and clasped the hands of the women behind her. They all took her cue and began swooning and fretting. Cora turned her attention back to the crowd. "But with all you strong, able men out here, I just know you'll help protect this town from all the bad guys and keep us lovely ladies safe. Right?"

Connor laughed and nudged Doc Whitman with his elbow. "She's good, that one."

The doctor was grinning, too. "She is. She has them wrapped around her little finger. They'll be scrambling to volunteer."

Cora was still addressing the men. "We need a few strong, able-bodied men who are handy with a rifle or pistol to run patrols around the perimeter of town and check out the outlying farms. We know there's at least one of these things out there preying on the fine folk of this town. We can't let that happen, can we? You fellas won't let anything hurt us, would you?"

No's echoed out firmly from the group. Cora beamed at them and clasped her hands over her heart again. "I just knew we could count on you lovely gentlemen to protect us. Sheriff McClane has a sign-up sheet posted outside the jail. Head on over and scribble your name down. The more volunteers we have, the fewer patrols everyone will have to run."

The crowd wavered, torn between staying with the saloon girls and running right to the jail to sign up. Cora waved her hands at them. "Go on, now, scoot. We have a town to protect."

Connor, Jasper, and Doc Whitman had to press themselves against the hitching posts to keep from being crushed in the stampede. The line in front of the jail was so long, it went past the saloon. Cora and the other girls brought out trays full of whiskey shots and handed them out to the men standing in line to show their gratitude.

The paper was full of names by the time the last person in line signed up. It was Robert Zane, the butcher. He scrawled his name in a corner and dropped the pencil so it dangled from the string, then he leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms.

"You ain't lyin'?" he asked as Connor strode up onto the porch with Cora on one side and Jasper on the other.

Connor shook his head. "No, Robert. It's no lie. The Crawford boy was the first. He died on Doc's table from a bite on the leg. Then he came back and killed Eva."

Robert chewed on a stick. "Aye, I heard ya shot her in the head."

"She was already dead. I was just making sure she wasn't coming back."

"And the Gaines boys?"

The sheriff exchanged a look with Jasper. "That's Jasper's story to tell, not mine."

Jasper lowered his eyes. He didn't want to discuss what had happened with his brothers. He didn't even want to think about it.

Robert chewed on a toothpick as he appraised the young man. "A'right. I understand. See you fellas around." He nodded and sauntered off.

Cora snorted. "Gotta love that man." She grabbed the piece of paper and pulled it off the nail. "It's so full, people were writing on the back."

"Good. We'll have to set up a schedule, make sure everyone understands what's going on. We don't want anyone else to get bit because of this."

"all right, I'll--"

A scream echoed down the street. As they turned in the direction of the sound, a horse came barreling toward them.

"That's Amos's horse!" Connor jumped off the walkway and ran to the horse. It skidded to a halt in front of him. Sweat poured off its hide and its tongue lolled out of its mouth.

Amos was draped over the horse's neck, barely managing to stay on. Connor grabbed him and pulled him off. Jasper came over and together they carried him into the jail. Cora was right behind them. She scooted around and cleared everything off the desk as the doctor rushed in.

"Amos? Amos, can you hear me?" Doc Whitman pressed his hand to the deputy's forehead as they laid him on the desk.

Amos moaned and his eyes fluttered open. "Shot," he whispered.

"Shot?" Connor's forehead puckered as his eyes narrowed. "Who shot you?"

"Oh, no." Doc Whitman didn't need to examine the young man to know where he'd been shot. His lower clothing was soaked with blood. The doctor lifted up the deputy's shirt and used a cloth to clear away some of the blood. "Connor..."

Connor's jaw clenched when he saw the wound. His eyes burned and he wanted to scream.

"Oh, God." Cora clamped a hand over her mouth as tears poured down her face. "Oh, Amos," she whispered. Doc Whitman stepped aside as she slipped her fingers into the deputy's.

He gave her a faint smile. "S'all right, Ms Cora." His voice was weak and she had to strain to hear him. She kissed his bloody fingers as he turned his head to Connor. "It was Billy," he said. "We were attacked. He didn't mean to."

Connor gripped the edge of the desk to keep his hands from shaking. "Where is Billy now?" He was afraid to ask. He didn't really want the answer.

"Dead. They all are."

"Did they turn?"

He tried to shake his head, but it required too much effort. "No. Not yet. But they might."

"Were you bitten?"

"No, sheriff. Just shot."

"Amos..." Doc Whitman stood beside Cora with his hand on her shoulder.

Amos smiled at him. "I know, Doc. It's all right. I'm all right." He took a deep breath and his fingers slipped from Cora's. The smile remained plastered on his face as he stared at the Doc, but no longer saw him.

"No. God, no. Amos?" Cora picked his hand back up and cupped his cheek. His head rolled so he was facing her. "Amos?" she cried as she shook him.

The doctor gripped her shoulders and tried to pull her back gently. "He's gone, Cora."

"No, he can't be. I never... He..." Her whole body shook as she drooped against the desk to stay upright. "Oh, Amos." She cupped his cheeks in her hands and leaned over him. "I'm so sorry, Amos." She pressed her lips to his and let her tears stream onto his face.

Their grieving was broken by several shouts outside. "Now what?" Connor funneled his pain into anger and stormed outside. Jasper was right behind him.

More noise echoed down the street as Cora joined them. They all spun in the direction of the anguished screams at the far end of town.

Connor grabbed Cora by the arm and shoved her toward the jail. "Get inside, lock the door. Don't let anyone in unless you know they haven't been bitten."

"But--"

"Just go! Come on, Jasper" They took off at a run.

Doc Whitman came up beside Cora. "What's going on?"

She shook her head. "I don't know. It can't be good."

"It never is." The doctor pressed his lips together and trotted toward his office. Cora followed close behind.

****

Down the street, Connor and Jasper came upon a gruesome scene. Little Danielle Dinfield crouched on the walkway over Emma Jones. Tendrils of veins were dangling out of her mouth. Emma moaned as blood pooled on the wood around her head. A crowd gathered quickly, forming a semicircle around the pair.

Connor snapped at the morbid spectators. "Get back to your homes. Lock your doors." No one moved. "Get these stupid people out of here, Jasper."

He pulled his gun from his holster as his deputy tried to manage the crowd. He held a hand out to the girl as he walked up the steps. "Dani..."

The young child raised her head, but kept chewing. Emma had stopped moaning. Bile rose in Connor's throat. He would have to shoot the little girl. There was no way around it. He glanced back at the crowd. Some had heeded Jasper's warnings, but most remained where they were.

A big bellow parted the crowd. Robert Zane stomped through with two large butcher's knives in hand. "Din't ya hear him? Get back to yer homes, ya idjits, afore ya get yerselves all killed."

The people grumbled and moaned, but they scattered. Connor gave Robert a nod of thanks.

"Whoa, that's not right. Is that baby Dani?" Robert peered at the little girl who couldn't have been more than three.

"Yup." Connor cocked his gun.

"Where're 'er folks?" Robert stepped up to the open door, but he gave the little girl a wide berth.

"Dunno." Connor held the pistol out and pointed it carefully at Dani's head.

As Robert stepped inside, he fired. Startled screams echoed from down the street. The little girl flopped on top of Emma Jones's body and didn't move. Connor cocked his gun and fired again to silence Emma permanently.

"Her ma's in here. Don't think she's comin' back. No sign of her pa, though."

The big butcher was halfway out the door when Dani's father threw himself down the stairs. Robert heard the man grunt and spun out of the way enough to avoid his teeth, but they went down in a heap on the walkway. The undead man snarled and snapped, trying to latch his teeth onto any part of the butcher he could. Robert was having none of it. He sliced and diced with the proficiency only a seasoned butcher could have. Chunks of the other man's face fell away, then an arm, then his entire jaw, and soon he was just a pile of parts on the ground. Robert brought his biggest knife down heavily on the man's head and split his skull clean open. The man finally gave up and joined his daughter in true death.

As Robert wiped his knives off, shots rang out further down the street. Jasper took off at a run, followed quickly by Robert. Connor checked the rest of the house before heading after them.

****

Doc Whitman grabbed his medical bag and hurried up the street toward the sounds of the gunshots. Cora was right on his heels. He gave her a quick glance, but didn't bother telling her to go back to the jailhouse. They ran down the walkway, right toward the barber's shop.

****

The end of town was a mess of bodies and blood by the time Connor, Jasper, and Robert arrived. People were screaming and fleeing in all directions in a panic. Hannah and Abby were in the middle of the street, surrounded by the entire Smith family. Abby had a rifle, but Hannah held a knife in each hand. The mother and two of the Smith daughters were already dead, two from gunshot wounds and the other from a hole in her head. The father, other daughter, and son still crept up on them.

Jasper raised his gun, but Connor grabbed his arm. "No, you might hit one of the girls."

Robert roared and charged with his knives up. The father turned and tried to tackle him, but he took the man down as easily as he had Mr. Dinfield. With the creatures distracted, Abby took the chance to shoot the son in the head. The boy toppled to the ground in a heap. The daughter screamed and threw herself at Hannah, who was closest to her, but Hannah raised a knife, aimed, and let it fly. It sank deep into the girl's eye socket. She tripped over her own feet and slid to a stop mere inches from Hannah's boots.

"Everyone with a weapon, get in groups of three," Connor shouted. "Search the town. Kill any of those creatures. Anyone who's bit, come to the jail."

****

Doc Whitman was running full speed past the barber shop when the window shattered beside him. It startled him so much, he tripped and stumbled sideways. The barber threw himself out of the window at the doctor and latched onto the man's shoulder with his teeth. Cora screamed as the pair went down in a heap. The doctor tried to roll away, but the barber grabbed him and snapped down on the man's throat.

Cora pulled up her skirts and yanked the small pepperbox from its hiding place on her upper thigh. She cocked the hammer and fired. It missed the barber and hit the doctor in the cheek. He slumped underneath the barber. Screams tore at Cora's throat even as she cocked the gun again. The barber, realizing his prey was dead, turned toward the living flesh behind him. He hit her legs as her gun went off and she toppled to the ground. But she was a better shot than her brother and she fired, again and again, until the gun was empty and the barber stopped moving.