Massacre at Lonesome Ridge: A Zombie Western (2 page)

"Gray Wolf, set up a perimeter." North Wind pulled the small band of survivors to a stop at the edge of a river, just inside a circle of trees. Aside from Summer Rain and Little Bear, the only others who had escaped the massacre were part of North Wind's band of warriors.

The young woman slid from the horse and sank onto a fallen tree trunk as tears poured down her face once again. Little Bear dismounted and sat down beside her. He slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her close. She rested her head on his shoulder.

"What will we do?" Her voice was soft and barely reached his ears.

He watched as the warriors set up a small camp with practiced efficiency. "I don't know," he said, and he truly meant it.

Summer Rain sat up quickly and dropped to her knees before him. Her fingers twined through his and gripped them so tight they turned white. Her dark eyes glistened as she pleaded with him. "You can do something, Little Bear. You can call on the spirits, speak to them. They can help us."

"Boy, come." North Wind stood behind Summer Rain with his arms crossed. His long dark hair was pulled back into a severe ponytail to reveal an ugly scar that ran from his ear, down his neck, and across his chest, stopping just before his rib cage. It was a mark of pride and he refused to hide it.

Little Bear rose, jerking his hands from Summer Rain's, and followed the warrior deeper into the woods and out of earshot of Summer Rain. The older man stopped and stared at him hard for several seconds before speaking.

"Why were you not in the village when the men came?" His tone wasn't accusatory, merely questioning.

Little Bear glanced back to where Summer Rain sat on the log with her head in her hands. Her shoulders shook as she sobbed. "I was helping her gather water."

The warrior snorted, but a small smile played across his lips. "Yes, gather water. I used to help the young women of our village gather water, as well." He paused and looked around, watching his men for several seconds before he continued. "Our village is gone, Little Bear. Your grandfather and father are both dead. I saw them die trying to protect your mother and sisters. We are all that is left. One woman, a son of a shaman, and half a band of warriors. We are finished. We will roam the land without a home. You and your woman may conceive a child, but it will have no family, no place to be raised the way it should." When North Wind looked at him, the warrior's eyes glistened with unshed tears. "She is right, you know. We must give ourselves over to the spirits and ask for their help. We must avenge this wrongdoing, as best we can. Will you help us? Will you stand with us?"

Little Bear stared at the warrior with his mouth open. "I am no shaman. I don't have the proper training. I cannot do what my grandfather could."

North Wind gripped the younger man's shoulder gently and bowed his head so he could look Little Bear in the eye. "We need you. We have nothing left. This is the only way."

Little Bear sighed and walked a few paces away from North Wind. He ran a hand through his hair and looked at Summer Rain sitting by the log. She cried for her lost family, for friends she would never see again, for a life that was ripped from her without warning. "Very well. I will do what I can."

"Good. We will go back to the village once we have rested. We will track the men to their homes. We will slaughter them and their families the way they slaughtered ours."

Little Bear's hands shook with excitement and fear. "What do you need me to do?"

North Wind looked at him once more. His face was grim. "Call upon the spirits. Ask them for help. We need them."

The young shaman fought to keep his hands from shaking. "I will do it tonight. I need to gather some materials first."

"Go. I will have a fire ready when you return. And Little Bear..."

Little Bear looked back as he turned to leave.

"Thank you."

The young man paused for a moment before nodding. His heart pounded in his chest and fear coursed through his veins. He didn't have the proper training to call on the spirits without his grandfather's help. It could go terribly wrong. But what else could he do? He was not a warrior. He could shoot a bow well enough, but he was trained to hunt, not for combat. He would be useless to the group, little better than a woman. He had no choice.

Little Bear walked slowly back to where Summer Rain sat on the log. He rested a hand on her shoulder. "I am going to gather wood for a fire and food for us to eat. You stay here. The warriors will take care of you."

Summer Rain narrowed her eyes at him. Did she know what he was planning? What would she say? But she just nodded and put her head back in her hands.

He stood up and walked into the woods. His eyes scanned the ground as he stepped carefully through the forest. Every so often, he found something he was looking for and would stoop to gather moss, flowers, or some other essential ingredient for his ceremony. He needed an eagle's feather, but he did not know where to find one, so he settled on a turkey's feather instead. He hoped the spirits would not notice the lack of salt, either.

When he had all the items he could find, he found his way back to the little clearing they were calling home. North Wind was stoking a fire in the middle of a dirt patch. Summer Rain was sitting on the ground next to it, plucking apart a piece of grass. Little Bear piled the items behind a tree and joined them. Summer Rain's eyebrows twitched when he came back empty-handed, but again she said nothing. North Wind gave him a nod and stood up as two of his warriors entered the small clearing. They carried skins full of water and several small dead animals. One of the men thrust the animals toward the young woman with a grunt. She gave him a baleful look as she took them from the warrior, but she cleaned and skewered them before laying them over the fire.

While she tended to dinner, Little Bear went over and over the ceremony in his head. He was forgetting parts of it, he was sure of that. But he hoped the spirits would heed his call and forgive his missteps in favor of righting the many wrongs done to his family. His grandfather was a favorite of theirs, according to many. They would want to avenge him, to see his grandson cared for and protected. The young man was lost deep in thought when Summer Rain called to him.

"Little Bear, dinner is ready."

He glanced up. The sun had fallen far below the trees and the sky had turned a deep, dark blue. The young shaman sat down with North Wind and several of the warriors as they shared the small meal. When it was finished and the sentries were fed, Summer Rain curled up behind the log away from the rest of them.

Little Bear sat beside her and waited, listening to her breathing as it slowed. When he was sure she was fast asleep, he rose and gathered all his ingredients. He knelt near the fire and sorted through the pile. With as much care as he could manage, he arranged the collection the way his grandfather had taught him. He surveyed his handiwork and nodded with satisfaction. The spirits should be pleased well enough. He hoped.

Next, he walked down to the river and slathered mud on his face and arms, then he returned to the fire. Raising his arms above him, Little Bear took several deep breaths and closed his eyes. He rehearsed the ceremony once more in his mind, going over each detail as best he could. Fear settled into his gut. He grew up hearing stories of clan members who had tried to call on the spirits without first earning their respect. What would happen to him if they did not accept his offerings?

He opened his eyes. North Wind watched nearby from the shadows of the trees. It was time.

Little Bear stared into the fire and began softly chanting the words his grandfather had made him repeat over and over. The young man had never actually performed this ceremony before. He had only ever watched as it was done. He remembered his grandfather going into a trance, speaking to the air, to creatures that were not there. The old man would sway and call out their names, asking them to come to him.

The young shaman rocked on his heels and waved his arms over his head as the words flowed from his lips. He stumbled over several of them as his tongue tangled in his mouth. If his grandfather were still here, the ancient man would admonish him for not practicing enough, for being disrespectful. Deep in Little Bear's heart, he felt the dull ache grow. His grandfather wasn't here. He would never be here again. He was all alone.

He called to the spirits with renewed force, with renewed fury. "Oh powerful ones, I call you. Come before me and hear my request."

He danced to the side in an intricate pattern and picked up a feather from where it lay. A turkey feather, not the required eagle feather. He waved it around over his head. "I offer you this token as a sign of my obedience and faith. Come to me. Come heed my words."

He repeated the gesture again and again until all the items around the fire had been offered. Then he stood in his original spot and waited, chanting continually with his arms over his head. He could see North Wind out of the corner of his eye. The warrior waited with him, his face a mask of stone.

Then the man was gone. The area around Little Bear's periphery vision disappeared, fading into pure, impenetrable blackness. The fire in front of him sparked and sputtered, then it exploded into a roaring orange and black tornado.

The young man stumbled backward and tripped over a rock. His chanting came to a halt as landed hard on his backside. He stared into the flames with wide, disbelieving eyes.

A woman stepped toward him through the smoke. Her body was created from the swirling black mist, her hair a wall of flame that floated behind and around her. She towered over him. Her red eyes burned into him, through him.

"Who dares to call my brethren forth from the abyss?" Her voice reverberated through his bones and set his teeth chattering against his will. An ache spread throughout his body, giving him the strong urge to curl into a ball and hide until she disappeared.

Instead, he scrambled to his knees and prostrated himself before her. "I... I do. I call upon you," he mumbled into the wind and roar of the fire. "I need your help."

The woman's foot stopped a mere inch from his face and she leaned over. He could feel her heat burning the hair from the back of his neck, but he did not look up. He couldn't. He was frozen with fear.

"And what gives you the right? What gives you, a scrawny little nothing of a child, the nerve to demand my presence?"

Her words tore through him, setting his insides aflame.

He gritted his teeth and spoke. "I am the grandson of the Great Flying Eagle. I am his successor. He taught me the ways of the shaman. I was to take his place."

She snorted and small drops of fire landed on Little Bear's back. He bit down on a scream, refusing to show the smallest sign of weakness. "You are not a descendent of the Great Flying Eagle. He is a man of honor, a man who understands our ways. He would never insult us like this."

Fear surged through Little Bear and he rose to his knees despite every instinct that told him not to. "No, you don't understand," he cried. He dragged his eyes up to meet hers and immediately regretted it. His face was on fire. His insides were melting. He was sure everything would soon come pouring out of his body, leaving him to die in a puddle of his own blood.

He pressed on. He had no choice. "My grandfather is dead. The Great Flying Eagle is dead. All my people are dead. I call on the spirits, on you, for help. I need to avenge them. I need to make it right. Please, help me hunt down the men who murdered my village and make them beg for mercy before I peel the skin from their bones."

A slow smile grew on the gray woman's face. Her mouth was a pit of flame. "Avenge? I do not hear vengeance in your voice, boy. I hear 'I' in your every word. You do not call upon us for the greater good of mankind. You call on us to protect your pitiful pride."

"No!" Little Bear found himself standing. He took a step toward the woman. She was still taller than him by a full head and shoulders, but he would not back down. "I need your help. You must give it to me. You cannot deny me this request."

Her smile blossomed into a cheerful grin that made Little Bear shiver despite the overwhelming heat coming off of her. Her laughter boomed across the forest. "Very well. You want my help?"

He pressed his lips together and nodded, hoping that his luck would hold.

She reached out for him and trailed a finger across his cheek. It throbbed with a pain he had never before known and he gritted his teeth together to stifle the scream that was burbling in his throat. "You shall have my help, little one," she cooed as her eyes blazed. "I will give you everything you need to seek revenge on those who harmed your people. You will be almost unstoppable."

Little Bear's entire body was shaking uncontrollably. "Thank you," he forced out through chattering teeth.

The woman snickered. "You are most welcome, boy. Have fun." She chuckled heartily as she walked back into the flames and disappeared.

The black around Little Bear faded and the clearing became visible once again. His eyesight was blurry, but he could see North Wind was still standing on the edge of his vision. The young shaman shivered and collapsed to his knees. He took several deep breaths to steady himself before he stood up to face the warrior.

"It is done."

****

North Wind watched as Little Bear met with the spirit. The warrior could not see into Little Bear's vision, but he looked on as the weak boy convulsed on the ground and vomited up blood before collapsing into a heap. The shaman lay very still for a very long time. North Wind was certain Little Bear was dead, but when he took a step forward, the boy stirred.