Massacre at Lonesome Ridge: A Zombie Western (18 page)

****

When all was said and done, seventeen people were dead, including those who had been turned the night before.

"You all right?" Connor asked as Cora helped him load the body of Doc Whitman into the wagon to be taken out of town. They were going to burn the bodies and leave symbolic grave sites. No one wanted to leave one of those things around where it could return.

"Yeah," she said with a smile. "I'm fine."

"You sure?"

"Connor, my darling, I am perfectly all right. I'm just a bit shaken is all."

He raised an eyebrow at her, but didn't push the issue. When he had returned from the edge of town, he had found her curled up against the wall, shaking, with her arms around her knees. The empty gun lay between the two dead bodies. He had wanted to check her for bites, but she was insistent that none of it was her blood.

At Connor's command, the remaining residents were all moved closer to the center of town and heavy patrols were set up. Those who refused to move were given strict rules about how and when they could come into town. They had to be carrying a white flag, and no one was allowed to enter after the sun set. Everyone also had to be thoroughly checked for bites and meet the approval of the guards who were handpicked by Connor. All the undead had been mindless eating machines, as far as Connor could tell, so he figured anyone who was capable of creating and carrying a white flag would at least be still alive.

He left Jasper in charge of the patrols as he headed out of town with the wagon. Cora waved them off before she turned toward the doctor's office. She gritted her teeth tightly as she walked across the street. Once she was inside, she shut and locked the door. She started a fire in the fireplace and put the kettle on to boil, then she grabbed a bunch of bandages and antiseptic. When the water was hot, she took the antiseptic, bandages and hot water upstairs to Eva's old room.

She set the supplies on the dresser and pulled up her skirts. The bite looked almost as bad as it felt. With nerves of steel, Cora set to work cleaning out the wound.

Jeremiah approached the caravan of undead from the back. He walked up to a woman shuffling along and fell into step beside her. "Howdy," he said with a grin as he tipped his hat in her direction.

Her head cranked around slowly. She stared at him with dull, dead eyes for three full seconds before facing forward again and promptly ignoring him.

He scratched his head and shrugged. "A'right then." He moved up next to the man in front of her. "Howdy," he tried again. The man blinked at him twice, but continued shuffling forward without a word.

Jeremiah received the same response from everyone he tried talking to as he worked his way forward through the group. Finally, when he was almost up to the carriage, a young woman who was missing an arm responded in the form of a finger pointed at the carriage.

"Queen," she hissed as she dropped her hand and continued walking.

Jeremiah tipped his hat to her. "Thank ya. Mighty kind o' ya, miss."

The woman went back to ignoring him altogether.

"A'righty then," he grumbled. "Lovely group o' folks here. So nice to meet y'all." Jeremiah gave up trying to elicit conversation from those around him and trotted up to the carriage. He grabbed hold of the bar beside the door and swung himself up onto the step as it rolled along.

"Anyone in there?" he called as he knocked on the window.

The curtain pulled aside to reveal a face that took his breath away. Even though her eyes were that same dull gray of all the others and were narrowed suspiciously at him, her beauty could not be masked. Her blond hair was pulled back to reveal her long slim neck, her lips were shaped perfectly, and he wondered briefly is she had ever considered a career as a saloon girl.

"Who are you?" Her voice was hard, not at all as soft as her features. "What do you want?"

The carriage hit a bump and jostled him on his precarious perch. His foot slipped and he swung halfway off the step. "Uh, do you mind if I come in there, miss? It'll be a might bit better'n hanging around out here all day." He grinned at her, hoping he looked charming and irresistible.

The woman's eyes searched his face. For a tense moment, he feared she would turn him away, but then she said, "Very well. Come in." She leaned forward and popped the latch on the door.

Jeremiah took the handle and yanked it open. He had to dangle further off the step to allow it to swing out all the way, but he managed to pull himself inside and jerk the door shut behind him. He plopped down on the seat opposite the woman and sighed.

He took his hat off and held it across his heart. "Nice to make your acquaintance, miss. My name's Jeremiah. What might yours be?"

Her nostrils flared as she decided whether she really wanted to talk to him or not. "Charity," she finally said. "Charity Banks... No, Thomas. Charity Thomas."

He held out his hand and she took it. Her fingers felt nice cupped in his. "Pleasure to meet ya, Miss Thomas. It is miss, right?"

The corner of Charity's lip twitched. "Yes," she said. "It's miss."

They were both quiet for a moment as the carriage rolled along. "So where're ya headed, miss?"

Charity leaned back in the seat with her hands clasped in front of her and stared at him. "Who turned you?"

Jeremiah debated whether to mention the fact that she avoided his question, but decided to let her have the upper hand for the time being. "Dunno." He shrugged a shoulder and leaned back. As he set his hat on the seat beside him, he elaborated. "Some crazy Injun woman attacked me on the road the other day as I was headed to town. I shot her a couple times, but she didn't die. Then I started to feel all sick and stuff, and now I'm like this. Like you. I sees all you people comin' and decided I'd introduce myself and figure out what's goin' on, 'cause it don't make no sense to me."

"Interesting. An Indian woman, you say?"

"Yup. Though I don't see no Injuns in your group here."

Charity smiled and crossed her hands in her lap. "So Jeremiah, where are you from?"

His eyes darted in the direction they were heading, but he nodded off to the left. "Out that'a way, miss. On a small ranch in the hills. Grew up there with my Ma and Pa and two brothers."

Charity arched an eyebrow. "Oh? Two brothers? Are they still alive?"

Jeremiah hesitated. "One is," he finally answered. "The other met an awful end at the hands of a pretty bad man."

Charity's eyes trailed down his face to his shirt. It was still stained despite his attempts to wash off the blood. "And did this happen fairly recently? When this 'bad man' attacked your brother?"

"Yes'm." Jeremiah couldn't meet her eyes. He was afraid of what he might see.

Charity leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees. She clasped her hands and placed her chin on top of her knuckles. "And how did he taste?"

Jeremiah's head jerked up. Her lips held a friendly smile. It was also a creepy smile that gave him the shivers. For the first time, he considered that joining up with this group might have not been the best idea. "Well, miss, to be honest, bits of him were delicious, but most of him was tough and, well, off. He wasn't a nice man, neither, so I guess the end was fitting."

Charity closed her eyes and she licked her lips. "I bet he tasted lovely." Her voice had a dreamy quality and Jeremiah was sure she didn't hear a word he said.

The carriage pulled to a stop as he was about to ask her about it. She sat up and looked at the door just as it opened. A man in a tattered Confederate uniform climbed in, followed by a young woman with long, matted black hair.

"You!" Jeremiah pointed at the woman even as he scooted across the bench to other side. He jerked his feet up and pressed himself into the corner of the carriage.

The man sank onto the seat next to Charity, leaving the only open place on Jeremiah's bench. The Indian woman sat down and grinned at him like a crazy person who belonged in an institution.

"Jeremiah," Charity said. "I'd like you to meet Walton and Summer Rain. You see, we do have an 'Injun' in our group. I'm going to go out on a limb and say that she was the one who attacked you."

Jeremiah's eyes darted between Summer Rain and Charity. Charity clearly found his reaction to the woman amusing and Summer Rain made no attempt to attack him again. He began to feel absolutely ridiculous cowering like a scared child. With a growl, Jeremiah shoved his feet off the bench and back to the floor. He sat up straight and clutched his hat in his hands. Then slowly, with a scowl plastered on his face, he forced his hand out and offered it to the black-haired girl.

Summer Rain took it and shook. The animal grin never left her face.

When their hands released, Jeremiah scooted a bit closer to the wall and leaned against it. "Someone wanna tell me what's goin' on here, maybe? I'm feelin' a bit lost in the dark."

Walton was the one who spoke. "My queen, we still have too far to go. We will not make it before the sun comes up and we cannot attack in the daylight."

Jeremiah's jaw twitched at the word 'attack', but he kept his mouth shut.

"Very well," Charity responded. "Find us some shelter. We will wait until the night falls. "

Walton nodded and climbed from the carriage. Summer Rain hovered on the edge of her seat for a moment and looked as if she wanted to say something to Jeremiah, but then she followed Walton out into the morning light.

Charity waited until they were gone before she spoke again. "Walton is my..." She waved a hand around in the air while she searched for the right word. "Assistant, I guess you could say. He is the least stupid of the bunch and follows my commands well. He also speaks Summer Rain's language. That's very useful, since she speaks very little English."

Jeremiah scooted himself back to the middle of the seat. "So where we headed? I'm gatherin' that it's probably Lonesome Ridge, since that's the closest town an' all."

Charity allowed herself a small smile. "Yes, we are heading to Lonesome Ridge. You see, I'm building myself an army."

"Is that why he called you a queen? You gonna make yourself a little country of your very own?"

"That's the plan." She tilted her head to the side. "You must call Lonesome Ridge your home if you live right around here."

He bobbed his head slightly. "Yes'm. My Pa built a homestead out here when the town was just small. Grew up here."

"So you know everyone in town, then."

"Yes'm."

"Is that going to be a problem for us?"

Jeremiah hesitated a moment. Jasper was there, and if he ran across his little brother, it was going to be a big problem. But then again, if Jeremiah wasn't there, someone was going to go after Jasper anyway. "Not at all, miss." He smiled a big brown smile.

Charity's upper lip curled slightly at the smile. "Very well. You may be of some use, then. It would seem that you're smarter than you look, so you might be able to help us find the town's weak points." The curled lip grew into a lovely white grin. "And if all goes to plan, who knows. A queen needs a king, doesn't she?"

It took Jeremiah a few seconds to figure out her meaning. He slapped his thigh when he finally got it. "Hell, yeah, she does." He leaned back on the seat and thought about how great it would to be king.

Becky Xavier was an eleven-year-old orphan who lived with her grandmother and grandfather in a small cluster of houses just outside of Lonesome Ridge. The little makeshift village was less than an hour's walk to get into the bigger town, but it was far enough away from the bustle and the train tracks that they had peace and privacy in their own little world. Her house was the last on the little road, closest to town.

She was sitting on the porch in the fading light, rocking in her grandfather's favorite chair, watching a hawk dance on the wind, when a cloud of dust billowed up further down the road. She stood up and leaned over the rail and stared at the dust cloud. A man stepped from the cloud near the edge of the village.

"Grandpa," she called into the house. "You may want to come out here."

She stood on the steps as more people materialized in the waning light. They moved along like a herd of cattle, slow but steady. When they reached the first of the houses, several of them broke away from the rest of the group and jumped onto the porch.

"Clear them out." A woman's harsh shout echoed off the buildings.

Screams exploded out from the house, followed by a single gunshot. The rest of the group kept moving and when they reached the next houses, the screams were louder and more frequent. Gunshots peppered the air, but they were few and far between. The inhabitants were being taken by surprise, unaware of the danger and unready to defend themselves.

Becky jumped and squealed as her grandfather grabbed her arm. "Go get Lightning," he whispered. "Quickly now. Get to town and tell the sheriff." He grabbed his rifle from its spot just inside the door and went out to meet a pale Indian woman who was walking up to their porch.

Becky hesitated, unwilling to leave her grandfather. She watched him approach the stranger, until the woman looked at her. The pure hunger in the woman's eyes sent her blood pumping and she tripped over her own feet as she scrambled into the house and out through the back door. Her grandfather shouted at the woman and fired his gun until he ran out of shells.

The young girl reached the small shed that served as a barn just as a man rounded the corner of one of the houses further down. Several fences separated them and she tried to hide behind them, but he spotted her anyway. Her horse was dancing and snorting in the pen, but he came over to her as she opened the gate. She grabbed a handful of mane and swung herself up onto Lightning's back.

The man was still climbing over the fences as she raced off toward town. The last things she saw were his pale gray skin and hungry eyes.

****

Connor stood on the walkway in front of the jailhouse. He was exhausted from little sleep and a lot of work, not to mention the death of his best friend, but he had to get the patrols set before the light disappeared completely. He would not leave his town unprotected from the new danger that lurked in the shadows. He would not let Doc Whitman's death be in vain.

"Robert, you and Neil will take first watch on the east. Jasper, Abby, you got the west. The train station will mark the end of each of your patrols. Cora and I will take over for Jasper and Abby around midnight. Wicks and Jones for Robert and Neil. I want all lanterns lit and blazing. Make it look like daylight." He laid out the patrol schedule for the next day and sent the volunteers on their way.

The butcher and the saloon owner climbed onto their horses and trotted off.

Jasper made to get on his horse, but Connor stopped him. "Jasper, hold up a second. I need to talk to you."

The young man turned around to face the sheriff. "Something wrong, Connor?"

Connor pulled a dented piece of metal from his pocket. He ran his thumb over the engraving on the front. He had already cleaned off the blood and it shone as brightly as it could. "Yeah. It seems I'm in need of a new deputy." He raised his eyes to Jasper. "Care to take on the job?"

Jasper's jaw worked as he stared at the man. "Really? You want me to take over for Amos?"

"Absolutely. You can handle it. You're a good man, and you deserve it."

Abby patted Jasper on the shoulder as she grinned beside him. "Do it. For Hannah."

His hand shook as he reached out and took the badge from Connor. "Okay. Thanks, sheriff." He pinned the badge to his jacket and tipped his hat to Connor.

The young man sat straight and tall as he and Abby trotted their horses out to start their patrols. Connor watched them go, then slumped down onto a bench in front of the jail and rested his head in his hands.

"You need sleep." Cora sat down beside him and put her arm around his shoulders. He leaned against her and sighed.

"I need to end this is what I need." He took a deep breath and shoved himself to his feet. He was just walking into the jail when he heard someone call to him from down the road.

"Sheriff!" A horse came racing down the middle of town at full speed and slid to a halt in front of him. "Sheriff, Robert Zane said I could find you here. My house. My grandpa. Please, you have to help." Becky Xavier panted hard and tears streamed down her cheeks.

Connor pulled his gun. "What's wrong, Becky? You been attacked?"

Her pigtails bobbed as she nodded frantically.

"People?" His stomach plummeted into his feet.

"Yes. They were... gray."

The sheriff's lips pressed tightly together and his heart hammered in his chest. He removed his hat and ran a hand through his sweaty hair. "Well, shit. How many?"

"Dozens. Hundreds!" She was shaking so hard, she could no longer hang onto the horse.

Cora helped her down. "I'm going to take her to the hotel, Connor. She'll be safe there." The sheriff nodded and Cora led the sobbing girl away.

Connor gritted his teeth and stared down the street, searching for some sign, thinking about a plan of action. Then he squared his shoulders and stomped up to the saloon. A large bell hung on the porch near the door. It had never been rung before for any reason, but it was loud and could be heard across the entire town. Connor reached up and wrapped his hand around the heavy string. He put all his strength into it and beat the clapper firmly against the bell. Its peal vibrated in his skull and he tucked one ear against his shoulder, but he kept on ringing.

People poured out of their houses in droves. Men and women alike carried weapons of all sorts, ranging from shotguns and pistols to kitchen knives and brooms. The bell meant trouble of the worst sort and they were ready to take on whatever would come. The crowd gathered up in front of the saloon and hushed each other so the sheriff could speak.

"There's an army coming," Connor said as soon as they were quiet. "An army of the dead. I want a perimeter all around this town. Make it heavy to the east. That's where they're coming from. But don't leave any area unguarded. None of those things gets through, you hear me? None of them. And no one gets bitten. Do whatever you have to to take them down, but do not get bit. Aim for the head. Body shots don't work." He paused and scanned the crowd. Men, women, and children, not fighters. "Don't get bit," he repeated before he dismissed them.

He was never one for speeches and he knew the townsfolk would do everything in their power to protect Lonesome Ridge, their home. They would protect it to the death. Cora joined him on the porch as he sent the crowd off. She had a rifle in her hands and a hard look on her face.

"We'll go out to the edge of town and set up on a roof," he told her. He would have preferred she cower in the hotel with the other non-combatants, but he knew Cora. She would never hide from a threat such as this. She would be on the front lines, and he wanted her beside him

"Where do you want us?" Jasper and Hannah walked up to Connor, hand in hand. Jasper had a pistol on each hip and Hannah carried a slew of knives she had scavenged from the doctor's kitchen, tucked into her belt.

The sheriff examined them for a moment before he said, "Protect the hotel."

Jasper gave him a small smile and a nod before leading Hannah away.

Cora and Connor grabbed extra ammunition from the jailhouse, then climbed a ladder in the back of the saloon. They walked along the connected roofs to the east end of the center of town where the main force of defenders set up. Together, they knelt down, rested their barrels on the edge, and waited in silence.

****

Charity called the group together once the houses were cleared out. "Summer, Walton, and David will lead you in. This town will be ours before the sun is up. Everyone must be killed or turned, understand? No one gets away, no one stays human."

She didn't know that someone had already ruined her plan. The man who had spotted the girl never mentioned her. He was turned under Little Bear's rules and he knew the consequence of letting someone get away was death.

Jeremiah walked up to Charity as the group began shuffling toward Lonesome Ridge. "Are we just gonna hang back? Let the grunts do all the work?"

She smiled at him. "Of course. Queens and kings do not do battle. They send their minions to do it for them. Let them weaken the townspeople, then we will head in and clean them out."

He returned her smile, but deep inside, his fear for Jasper was growing.

****

The sun was gone by the time the horde reached the edge of town. Torches had been lit, but Connor feared it wouldn't be enough. He pulled everyone back so that the outer houses were left empty. Anyone who couldn't fight was clustered into a few buildings in the middle of town that were heavily guarded. The best shooters were located on rooftops and in second story windows to give them the best vantage points possible.

Connor glanced at Cora. In the moonlight, her skin looked paler than usual and she had a sheen of sweat on her forehead. "You all right?" A nagging feeling began to develop in the pit of his stomach.

She gave him her most winning smile. "Of course, little brother. Why wouldn't I be? We're about to face people who were raised from the dead and want to eat our faces off. I'm doing just swell." She stuck out her tongue at him before she let a laugh tinkle out over the rooftops.

"All right, all right," he said as he held up his hands. "Point taken." He grinned back at her, but the nagging feeling continued to grow.

****

Before they reached the edge of town, Summer gathered a smaller group of the undead and led them through the dark around the perimeter. Walton and David kept shuffling right down the middle of the road, thinking only of the feast that lay before them, unaware of the trap the townsfolk had laid.

****

"Here they come," Connor shouted to those down below as the first wave of undead came into view.

He aimed his rifle at a blond haired man and waited for them to come into range. Cora did the same, picking a Confederate soldier that reminded her too much of her dead husband.

A shot fired, but none of the creatures fell.

"Wait until they're closer," Connor shouted as the undead started to run at the townsfolk. "Hold... Now!"

Shots rang out across the quiet town. The majority of the first line of undead staggered and collapsed on the ground. Those behind them stumbled over the fallen corpses of their comrades and hesitated in the middle of the street. They weren't used to such an onslaught. They weren't used to real battle.

Their confusion gave the townsfolk time to reload and they were firing again as the column began to advance. Several of the creatures were smart enough to break away from the group and head for the safety of the houses, but a large number of them just kept moving up the middle of the street like beasts going to the slaughter. All but a few of them were dispatched before they were anywhere near the center of town.

****

Hannah jogged down the street to the hotel, but she didn't stop there. A small guard line had been set up further down the street, led by the newly deputized Jasper and Abigail. Hannah slipped in beside him.

"What are you doing here?" Jasper asked as he grabbed her hand. "Get back to the jailhouse. You'll be safe there."

Hannah clenched her jaw and turned to face him. "No, Jasper. This is my home, too. I'm going to protect it."

Abby ran over and grabbed Hannah's arm. "I'm not losing you, too," she spat. She gave her sister a little shove in the direction of the hotel. "Go back. Now."

"No." Hannah's voice was quiet, but firm as she jerked away from her sister. She pulled her knives from her belt and held them at the ready. "I'm not going to hide like a scared little child."

Abby's face was red with anger as she spun on Jasper. "This is your fault. She's only here because of you. You protect her." She poked him in the chest with a finger.

He set his shoulders and looked down at his accuser. "Hannah's not a baby anymore, Abby. I'm pretty sure she can defend herself."

Abby poked him again. "If she dies, I'm coming after you. I don't care if you are the new deputy. She's everything to me and I lose her, it's your fault."

Jasper opened his mouth to respond, but his was cut off as a group of undead came swarming out from in between the buildings toward the crowd of people.

"Shoot them," Jasper yelled. "Aim for the heads. Don't let them bite you."

Abby raised her gun and aimed at the center of the swarm. She took down a man in the front of the group and was looking for a new target when a black haired Indian woman broke away and leapt at her. The shotgun barked once, but the woman didn't even slow. She threw herself at Abby with teeth and claws bared. Hannah screamed behind Jasper and he pulled his gun, but he couldn't get a clear shot without hitting Abby. Abby managed to roll over so she was on top and she wrapped her hands around the woman's neck. The Indian woman tore at her with her nails and tried to bite her, but Abby held tight.