Wanted: Dead or Undead (Zombie West) (7 page)

"The only thing I want to do is keep all three of us
alive." Cowboy squatted down to look her square in the eye. "We're
not going to hurt you." He looked over at Wen, who nodded agreement.
"That's a promise. I'll do everything I can to protect you."

Wen pressed his hands together and bowed slightly from the
shoulders. "And I will do the same."

"Hell, Red," Cowboy continued. "You're giving
us hope. I now know those damn zombies can't win—you actually have the ability
to beat them."

She shook her head and kept her eyes locked on his, still
unsure whether or not to trust either of them. "What's the point of
beating them when the people I love can't?"

"Does it hurt?" Wen asked Red as they sat around
the campfire. "I mean, what does it feel like? I just... well, I'd like to
know what to expect when it happens to me."

"You plan on gettin' bit?" Trace asked him.

Wen looked over at Trace with a grave expression.
"There's a good chance one of those Uglies will get me. Probably you,
too."

Uglies?
He'd never heard that one before. It was almost
as good as "The Nutters," which he'd heard from one old man.

"They won't get me if I can help it. You know, when you
talk like that, you're just inviting trouble."

"I jus' wanna know." Wen ignored Trace's comment
and looked to Red. "I'm curious. So tell me, what's it like?"

Red's eyes flickered toward Trace, and a knowing look passed
between them. He sensed that she didn't want to describe the experience to Wen
any more than Trace wanted to hear it. Her little mannerisms expressed a whole
lot without her saying a word: a crinkled brow when annoyed, biting her lip
when nervous, arms crossed over her chest to signal a heap-load of trouble
headed his way.

"Talk amongst yourselves," he said, standing.
"I'd rather go water a tree."

He meandered off a little ways, so he didn't have to hear
what she said. Denial was a more forgiving place to live in than reality ever could
be. He tucked his gun in the waistband of his pants and unbuttoned his fly,
thinking back to the saloon, where Red had warned everyone to carry a gun at
all times—"while sleeping and pissing" had been her exact words. He'd
followed her advice ever since. No way in hell would he be ambushed with his
pants down.

He couldn't imagine a fate worse than being left to wander
the plains as a naked zombie.

With his business complete, he returned to warm himself by
the small fire. Wen sat with shock and disbelief on his pale face. Whatever Red
had said must have not settled well. Trace couldn't help but smile. It served
the fool right for asking.

"So, you glad to know now?" Trace squatted by the
fire and held his hands out over the flames. The nights had turned chilly, and
winter would soon be upon them.

Wen shook his head in slow-motion shock. "I don't know.
Just promise that you'll shoot me if I happen to get bit. Shoot me real quick.
I don't want to suffer like that."

Trace glanced at Red, who lifted a mug of steaming coffee to
her lips and avoided his gaze.

"If you're ever bit, I'd be proud to put a bullet in
your head." Trace mocked him.

Wen took Trace's hand and shook it, clenching the deal.
"Thank you. And I'll do the same for you."

Trace smiled at the absurdity of their conversation.
"So, we're all in agreement. I get bit, you shoot me. You get bit, I shoot
you. Except her," Trace nodded toward Red. "She gets bit, leave her
be."

Red put down her mug. "No, I want in on the
agreement."

Trace glanced at Wen, who raised his shoulders. "You
want to be the one to shoot us? That's fine. If I'm bit and you're closer, you
have my permission to shoot."

"That's not what I'm saying." She looked at him
directly. "The next time
I'm
bit, I want you to shoot me."

Trace couldn't believe what she was saying. She lived
through a zombie bite,
multiple times
, and she wanted to be shot?
"Neither of us are gonna do that."

She hauled off and threw her mug of unfinished coffee at
Trace, missing him by only inches. It disappeared into the darkness behind him
and clattered against a tree in the distance. Red had quite an arm on her. He
didn't know if she was trying to hit him or just intimidate him, but it sure
got his attention.

"You don't know what it's like for me!" She turned
away from Trace and pounced on Wen. "I told you everything, so you promise
me then. I mean it!"

Wen looked like a scared rabbit with his head in a noose. He
turned to Trace for support, but Red grabbed a hold of his arm and forced him
to look at her—the noose tightened. "I don't want to go through it again.
Please
."

"You can't possibly be serious." Trace railroaded
the conversation away from Wen. "If you reacted like the rest of us, then
hell yeah, I'd shoot you. But the fact is
you can survive a zombie bite
.
That means something."

"What does it mean? Tell me, because all I know is that
being dragged to hell and back is more than I can bear. And to what purpose? So
I can do it all over again? Or perhaps it's so I can watch everyone I love
suffer and die."

"You're a miracle, Red! I'm not shooting you."
Trace realized Red wasn't wanted because she'd committed a crime, but because
she was a treasured oddity.

She laughed. "Miracle? I'm no miracle. If anything, I'm
cursed."

"You're not thinking straight—"

Red shot to her feet. "I've never been more
clear-headed than I am right now, you horse's ass!"

"Horse's ass? You're a freakin' lunatic!" The
words exploded from his mouth before he thought to stop them.

Wen jumped up and positioned himself between them, catching
Red's hand before she struck Trace's face. "I'll shoot you," Wen
said. "If that's what you really want, I'll do it—I promise."

Trace couldn't believe it. "You're willing to shoot the
one person,
the one person
, who could survive the plague and help the
rest of us figure out how we can, too? Are you out of your mind?"

Wen glanced back and forth between them. "If it's what
she wants, then who are we to deny her? You don't know what it's like to be
bit. She does."

Trace shook his head. "You're both nuts. I almost want
to shoot the pair of ya right now."

Wen just smiled at him. "Trace, I promised I'd shoot
her
if
she gets bit. But I'm gonna make damn sure she never does. That
there's my promise to you."

"You can't promise—" Red started, but Wen cut her
off before she could finish.

"I'm not gonna let you get bit. That way, I'll never
have to fulfill my promise to shoot you."

Both Red and Trace stared at him, unsure of what to say,
stunned.

"And just so you know," Wen continued. "I
always keep my promises."

***

A rustle of branches came from the darkened trees, and Trace
turned his gun in that direction. Red had drawn her guns a split second before
him. Wen also had his rifle cocked and ready. Trace didn't think a zombie had
managed to climb the ridge, given their slow gait and dangling limbs, but
anything was possible. If a human intruder had seen the low fire burning, their
eyesight would have to be incredible. As far as camps went, this one was all
but invisible.

A bush swayed, a twig snapped, and the creature stepped into
the clearing. Its ears flattened against its head, and its dark eyes shimmered
with a reddish glow from the firelight. It stared at each of them in turn,
raised its head slightly, and sniffed the air. Its hair lay matted against its
bony skull, and its dark tongue hung over the side of its panting mouth. Mud
covered all four scrawny limbs, and a line of crusted dirt ran from the top of
its head to its blackened nose. It had to be the ugliest mutt Trace had ever
seen.

All three of them stood there and watched, but did nothing.

"You seeing what I'm seeing?" Trace asked no one
in particular.

"Yeah," Wen said. "I think he's hungry."

Red put her guns away and knelt on the dirt. "It's
okay." She held her hand out toward the strange creature. "No one's
gonna hurt you."

"For crying out loud," Trace said. "Don't
invite it over here! We don't know what it's capable of."

Red glared up at Trace and continued to reassure the dog. He
was just watching out for her. It could attack, or be full of disease. Why
didn't she think of that?

"Look at him. He's scared to death. And it's amazing he
found us way out here. Means he's smart." She continued to hold out her hand.
"Come here, boy. Come on now, don't be afraid."

Just what they needed—a smelly, dirty, crotch-sniffing dog.

Wen knelt down next to Red and together they tried to urge
the mangy animal forward. The dog took a couple of steps, but wouldn't come any
further.

"You're doing it wrong." Trace reached into his
bag and produced a piece of dried meat. "Okay, you ugly thing. Here ya
go." He tossed the meat a few yards from the animal. The cautious dog just
eyed it and stared up at him. "Go on, mutt. Eat it."

The dog didn't make a move for the meat, even in its
apparent hunger.

"It's there if you want it. I'm going to bed."
Trace turned away and climbed into his bedroll.

"You certainly have a way with animals, Cowboy."
Thick sarcasm coated Red's words. "I'm impressed."

"I can smell that dog from here. It stinks."

"You stink and we keep you around."

Trace didn't know what to make of her anymore. "You
know, ever since you got sick you've been nothing but a pain in the—"

"Enough!" Wen interrupted. "Knock it off, you
two. The world is full of walking dead people and all you can do is bicker like
children. Kiss and make up already." Wen directed his command toward
Trace. "I'm gonna get the dog a bowl of water."

Red stood, crossed her arms over her chest, and stared at
Trace. "Yeah, apologize. But don't even think about kissing me."

"I promise you, it didn't even cross my mind."
Trace shook his head. "What exactly am I supposed to apologize for? I've
done nothing wrong here."

Red's arms fell to her sides and a pained expression washed
over her face. "You think calling me a lunatic isn't worth an
apology?"

She turned away from him and focused her attention on the
dog, who took a few more steps toward her with its tail tucked between its
legs.

Trace let out his breath. She was right. He should have
apologized right away, but he allowed his ego to keep him from doing so. Taking
his lead from the dog, he walked up and stood beside her, his invisible tail
hanging low. "I'm sorry. I never should've said that. I didn't mean it."

"No, you meant it." She nodded softly. "But
you don't understand where I'm coming from when I say I can't go through it
anymore. It's unbearable, and the thought of suffering that kind of hell one
more time terrifies me."

He made a move to touch her arm, but held back. "You're
right. I don't know what you've been through. But I do know I could've treated
you with more respect. You didn't deserve that and I hope you can forgive
me."

Red turned to him, her eyes wet with tears that didn't fall.
"Thanks. I appreciate that."

The filthy dog took a few more steps toward them and bumped
its cold nose against Trace's hand.
Damn, the mangy beast is kind of cute
.

He rubbed the dog's dirty head and scratched it between the
ears. "You still smell."

The dog lay down and rolled over onto its back with all four
legs extended into the air. The mutt almost appeared to smile, with its big ol'
tongue hanging out over its jowls.

Trace knelt and gave the smelly mutt the belly rub it was
looking for.

They came upon it too soon for Trace's liking. He knew
they'd encounter a fully functioning town sooner or later, but he'd hoped for a
little more time. He needed to be certain. They'd passed through two ghost
towns during their travels, and a third would have been just fine at the
moment.

He stared at the small town that lay ahead, knowing he would
have to make a decision. He owed Red nothing. They hardly knew each other.
Hell, they were barely more than acquaintances—traveling buddies at best.

He took a sideways glance at Red and a ripple of doubt
buckled his resolve. She had no clue about his plan. Trace read it on her
features. Her innocent green eyes trusted he was the person he claimed to be.
She probably didn't know that a flyer with her face on it even existed. If he
were a better person, he would have told her.

With a pretty good idea why the authorities wanted her, he
now had a duty to hand her over. The world needed her ability to sidestep
death. People were dying all over the country, and there she stood—a beacon of
hope.

"What are we waiting for?" Wen eyed him.
"Let's go."

Trace didn’t think he was ready for this. Whatever decision
he made, it would have consequences.

"Maybe we should pass this one up. I'm not sure it's
safe."

Wen shook his head. "I don't think we have a choice.
We've already passed by two ghost towns, and our supplies are dwindling. Who
knows if any other towns lay ahead. We can't take that chance."

"Wen's right." Red sat on the horse behind Trace
with her arms wrapped loosely around his waist—a sensation he enjoyed. "We
need food, or we're gonna have to resort to eating the dog."

The mangy mutt stood and wagged its tail.

"I don't think he'll taste very good." Trace
hardly heard a word either of them said. His mind was elsewhere.

"You do know I was joking, right?" Red's arms fell
away from his waist.

Trace took a deep breath and focused on the town ahead.
"Yeah, of course. Sorry. I guess we should see if they'll let us in."

He secretly hoped they wouldn't.

***

The town had locked down behind a small fortress of chopped
wood, overturned wagons, crates, barrels, and barbed wire. Men on rooftops
stood guard with their rifles, ready to shoot anyone who showed symptoms, and
law enforcement officials guarded the only entrance.

It reminded Trace of the makeshift wooden fences erected
around Sundance, except this place looked a bit more organized. This town took
the added step of keeping a doctor at the ready, to shove a thermometer into
each person's mouth before letting them enter.

"You're fine," the doctor told Wen. He barely
cleaned the little glass cylinder with his cloth before forcing it in Trace's
mouth.

How many mouths has this sucker been in?

His stomach churned, and if he thought about it any longer,
he'd be sick, which more than likely would get him shot.

Just don't think about it. Just don't think about it.

After five minutes, the doctor declared him healthy and
turned to Red, who didn't seem the least bit disturbed when he placed the
thermometer in her mouth without sanitizing it. Stupid country doctors.

Trace patted his leg, and the ugly mutt sauntered up to him.
"You're lucky." Trace rubbed the dog's ears. "They're not gonna
take your temperature. No they're not."

He snapped his head up.
They wouldn't do that, would they?

After a few minutes, they received the go-ahead—the animals
unchecked—and proceeded into town.

They rode down the middle of the main street on their
horses. Everyone went about their business as usual, seemingly unaffected by
the plague. Buildings rose on both sides, and the residents conducted
themselves as they would in any normal town. It was as if they'd stepped back
in time, into a place untouched by the craziness outside its borders. Men and
women walked down the street, hand in hand. Horses were tied to hitching posts
outside the General Store, while their owners chewed tobacco and spit into the
bronze spittoon at their feet. Even music played. A honky tonk twang filtered
out of the bar and into the streets.

It almost made Trace believe this was reality.

He watched a little boy pop candy from his bag into his
greedy little mouth as if he had no cares in the world. Several old men sat on
a bench in front of the defunct bank, watching people pass by. A man wearing a
white apron swept the porch in front of the barbershop. A girl carried flowers.
Two ladies stood near the entrance to the saloon and gave Wen and Trace a wink.
He didn't know whether to relax or be on guard.

"You lonely, boys?" the raven-haired one called to
them, angling her stance to reveal the garter around her thigh. "We can
show you a good time."

Trace tipped his hat to them and shook his head. "No,
thank you, ma'am," he said. "But I appreciate the offer."

"I may be back!" Wen smiled and waved to them. He
cranked his head to keep the women within his sights as the three of them rode
on. "Don't go anywhere!"

They giggled, and Trace saw Red roll her eyes in disgust.

"You sure you guys want to continue west?" A
crooked grin played across Wen's lips. "I think I like this place. The
people are friendly and accommodating."

"You're just horny," Trace said.

Wen continued to smile.

Trace had to admit, a little female company would do wonders
for him, too. But a more pressing matter weighed on his mind: what to do with
Red.

"We should rest here tonight, see what supplies they
have available, and get a room at the hotel with a big ol' bed for each of us.
We'll head out tomorrow at first light after a big supper and a good night's
sleep. That sound a'right to everyone?" They each nodded.

"I'm gonna go see if they have any rooms
available." Trace slipped off his horse and tied the reins to a post.

Red climbed from the back of his horse and stood next to
him. "I'll come with you to get a room. I mean...." She stumbled over
her words as her neck and face flushed. "...get my room. You know what I
mean."

Trace smiled and gave her a wink. "Let's go see what
they have."

"Hey, is it okay with you two if I go now?" Wen
still had his eye on the women standing in front of the saloon. "Do I need
to help you get supplies or something?"

"Go on." Trace waved him off. "Do what you
gotta do. You won't be much use to us otherwise. But meet up here later,
a'right? We need to check out the General Store."
Among other things
.

"Yeah, will do." Wen had already started to walk
away. He turned and smiled. "I'll be back in a bit."

Trace caught the look of concern on Red's face as Wen left.
"He'll be back. Don't worry."

Red shook her head. "It's not that. It's just that I
can't imagine"—she shook her head again—"Never mind. I'm being
ridiculous."

She started for the hotel entrance, but Trace grabbed her
arm and stopped her. "Ridiculous? What do you mean?"

Red glanced in the direction Wen had gone and then back at
Trace. "It's nothing, really."

Trace furrowed his brow. "Something's bothering you.
Just tell me. Maybe I can help."

She lowered her eyes a fraction to avoid his. "There
are some things about men I just don't understand." She bit her lower lip.
"But I don't want them explained to me either, least of all by you. Let's
just get some rooms."

Much as he wanted to continue the conversation with her, he
had no idea what she was talking about—only that it had something to do with
Wen. The least she could do was make an effort to be intelligible.

He held the door open to The Grand Palace Hotel and waited
for her to pass through it.

The dog tried to follow them, but Trace held up his hand.
"Stay. Sorry, boy, you can't come in, but I'll scrounge up a little
something for ya." The dog wagged its tail before flopping on the porch to
wait, as if the dog understood everything he said.

At least the ugly mutt was a heck of a lot easier to
communicate with than Red.

***

"Here's your key." Trace pressed it into Red's
palm. "I'll be right next door if you need anything. Wen will be down the
hall, third door on the left. I suggest you stay in tonight, just to play it
safe."

Red narrowed her brows. "Are
you
staying
in?"

"I figured I'd check things out, see if I might get a
feel for the town."

"So you're going out and Wen's having himself a great
time exploring the fine inhabitants of this town, but I'm supposed to stay in
and do nothing because I'm a girl? Is that what you're trying to say?"

Damn, she's difficult.
If she just kept to her room
for the evening, he wouldn't have to worry about someone recognizing her before
he decided what to do.

"This place makes me nervous. I'm just trying to look
out for you, and it would be better if you didn't go out—not until I got a
better feel for things. So why not just stay in, take a bath, and read a book
or something. Doesn't that sound good?"

Red folded her arms across her chest, and Trace knew he was
losing her. "It did until you suggested it. I don't like being told what
to do."

"I'm beginning to understand that." He nodded in
an attempt to ease the situation. "This place is a little suspicious, and
since you're a girl and all, I just want to keep you safe."

The heat from her glare made him regret his words. His eyes
flicked briefly to her hands and then to her holstered guns. She didn't reach
for them, so he relaxed. "That came out wrong. I didn't mean it like
that."

She rolled her room key around in her fingers and eyed him.
"I can take care of myself. Been doing it for a long time."

"I know."

"You should be more worried about yourself. This town
seems like the kind to eat you up and spit you out."

She must be the most stubborn woman he'd ever met, and he
was in no mood for a battle of wills. Red could take this round. "You're
probably right."

Red put her key in the lock, opened the door, and turned to
him once more before stepping into her room. "I know I am."