Wanted: Dead or Undead (Zombie West)

by Angela Scott

  Red hoped she hadn't caused him any permanent damage, and that somehow he'd find a way to forgive her.

  "Red?" The little voice that spoke her name with such concern tugged at her heart.

  Red turned her head toward the door. "Rivers?"

  The girl peered in at her through the window and pressed her hand against the glass. "Are you a'right?"

  Red got up, ignored the pain, and made her way over to the window using the wall for aid. "I will be."

  Rivers smiled before looking up at Red with gravity in her young, brown eyes. "You scared me something awful. You made Fisher cry, too."

  Red squeezed her eyes closed as the girl's words punctured her core. She'd been too absorbed in her own pain to think of anyone but herself and her own misery. Selfish and stupid.

  "I was scared you had turned," Rivers said. "Because if you turned, that would mean someday I could turn too, and I don't want to be a zombie. I don't want any of us to be zombies!"

  Red placed her hand on the glass, mirroring Rivers in an attempt to comfort her. "I'm so sorry I scared you. I really am. I was wrong to do that."

  "You shouldn't have bit Cowboy, either. He loves you, you know?"

  Red didn't say anything. What did a ten-year-old know about these things?

  "I love you, too." Rivers smiled her honey grin, and Red had to swallow her rising emotions. "You saved me and Fisher, and so I'll love you forever."

  Red wrinkled her brow. "No, Rivers, I didn't save you. I tried to keep them from biting you, but I couldn't stop it from happening. I wish I'd tried harder."

  Though she'd saved Fisher from certain death, she'd failed Rivers. The girl had begged her not to let the zombies bite her, but Red's strength and will had given way.

  The little girl pressed both hands to the glass, her eyes intent. "You did save me. I only got bit when I tried to save you."

  The words caught Red off guard.

  Before she could question the girl, Rivers turned away and removed her hands from the window. "I've got to go," she said, and disappeared across the courtyard.

  Red continued to press her hands against the cool glass long after the girl had left.

  ***

  No one dared to approach Red's room for the remainder of the day, except for Trace. When he checked on her, she simply sat on the floor in the corner with her head on her knees, staring at the wall.

  By the following morning, Trace couldn't stand it any longer. He looked through the window and found her balanced on the edge of her bed with her hands folded neatly in her lap. She lifted her sad eyes to meet his.

  "Is it safe to come in?"

  She gave a slight nod, but said nothing.

  He unlocked the door and slowly pushed it open, but didn't step over the threshold. "You're not in a biting kind of mood, are ya?"

  "I don't think so." Her face was as solemn as ever. "But I make no promises."

  "Fair enough." He took a couple of tentative steps into the room and left the door open—just in case. "You hungry or anything?"

  "No, I'm okay."

  "How're ya feelin'?"

  "Like a fool." She swallowed hard and pointed to his hand. "I'm sorry about that."

  "Caroline told me about the incident with the mirror."

  Red turned her head away and pulled the shawl draped over her shoulders a little tighter. The shards of mirrored glass had been carefully arranged in a pile near the door. She must have spent the night on her hands and knees cleaning up the mess she created. Even the now empty wooden frame sat righted.

  "I knew it was going to be bad, but I didn't... I wasn't...." She closed her eyes and composed herself. "It just shocked me, is all." Her eyes were glossed over but she did not cry. "It was worse than I imagined."

  "Can I sit?" He motioned to the space on the bed beside her.

  "If you dare." She slid over and made room, which he took as a good sign.

  The bed dipped under his weight, and her hip slid down to rest against his. He placed his injured hand on her knee in an attempt to bridge the uncomfortable gap between them. Red gently slid her hand beneath his and lifted it for inspection, turning it palm up and then back down. Aside from the blood that dotted the white bandage, there wasn't much to see, but she spent a great deal of time looking at it anyway.

  "I'm really sorry." She set his hand back down on her thigh and covered it lightly with her own hand. "Does it hurt?"

  "No." Making her feel guilty wouldn't help the situation, and he knew his pain didn't compare to hers. "It's not too bad." He turned his hand upward and weaved his fingers between hers as if to assure her.

  "It was a stupid thing to do."

  Trace squeezed her hand and attempted a smile. "I can't argue with that."

  She tried to remove her hand from his, but he wouldn't let go. Not yet. Not now.

  "Red." He spoke her name quietly, his hand still entwined in hers. "Have dinner with me." The words just came out as his brain struggled to keep up with his rascal mouth.

  "What?"

  "Tonight," he explained, trying to make sense of his words. "You and me. A date."

  She yanked her hand free, and Trace cringed as stinging pain shot up his arm. He held back the explosive curse that licked at his lips, begging for release. No swearing. Be calm. He'd told her it didn't hurt and this sure wasn't the time to prove himself a liar.

  "I'm not interested in your stupid games," she said. "It's not funny."

  "I'm not trying to be funny. I'm being serious. Very serious." At least he thought he was.

  "Why are you doing this?" A thick layer of hurt coated her words.

  "Doing what?"

  Red stood and crossed the room. She folded her arms over her chest and stared at him. "This!" She swung her arm about. "This whole patronize-the-damaged-girl act. I don't need you to do that."

  Patronize. He didn't know what that meant, but assumed by her tone that it wasn't good. "That's not what I'm doing." By the look on her face, she didn't believe him.

  "Why don't you ask out Caroline instead? Go ask the pretty girl—"

  "I am asking the pretty girl." He crossed the room and stood within inches of her, then tilted her chin, forcing her to look at him. "I've seen your wounds. I know what they look like. And I'm telling ya, there's nothing ugly at all about a girl who's willing to risk everything, including her life, to protect two little kids. Actually,"—he paused—"I can't think of anything more beautiful."

  "Cowboy, please. Don't—"

  Trace took her hands in his, silencing her as he gently squeezed them. "Tonight. You and me. Dinner."

  ***

  "Let's pin it up." Caroline slipped her fingers into Red's hair and swirled it into a bun on top of her head, leaving a few loose curls to frame her face. Hair up. Hair down. Red didn't care, for the most part anyway.

  "Perfect," Caroline said with a smile. "You look so pretty."

  Red would have to take her word for it because no one would let her near a mirror. Perhaps it was better that way. She felt foolish in this gown with her hair all pulled up, and seeing her reflection in a mirror would only verify this was a ridiculous idea.

  A date inside a zombie-surrounded fort with Cowboy? Didn't they have better things to do, like make plans to survive?

  "Twirl!" Rivers pulled Red to her feet and danced around her like an energetic puppy. "Twirl around!"

  Red didn't feel like twirling, and didn't even know if her body could do such a thing, but she gave one little spin for Rivers.

  "Do it again!" Rivers clapped her hands together.

  Red put her hand up. "No, that's plenty for now."

  The little girl's face fell and her bottom lip turned down in a dejected pout. Red hated to disappoint her, but she didn't think she could handle another spin.

  "Let's remember she's still healing." Caroline placed her hand on Rivers' shoulder. "We don't want her to hurt any more than she already does. Especially not tonight. Cowboy wouldn't like that."

  C
owboy. She should've put an end to the whole thing before it had even begun. Perhaps she'd agreed to this out of a sense of guilt for having bit him. What did he expect? A relationship? Impossible. The world, in its current state, wasn't equipped for such nonsense. Maybe in the future—if there was a future. It seemed insane to begin something that couldn't possibly last.

  She did it for them—Rivers, Caroline, Cowboy—in order to bring a sense of normalcy back into an abnormal world. Everyone longed for a time before the outbreak of the plague. Even she longed for it. Courting. Boys. Dates. She might have been married by now, possibly with a baby or two.

  She shook her head. They could playact at normal all they wanted, but they'd never achieve it, no matter how much they pretended.

  Chapter 23 – Butterflies and Bats

  Cowboy stood beneath one of the barren fruit trees wearing his best bib and tucker—gray striped vest, colonel tie, frontier pants, and black frock jacket. He looked more handsome than a man had a right to. When Red emerged from her room, he removed his hat and held it over his heart out of respect.

  The grin on Cowboy's face was infectious, and Red smiled despite herself. She didn't mean to encourage him, but his grin widened even more. No matter how much she tried to convince herself that the whole thing was silly, she couldn't stop the nervous quake in her knees or stop wringing her hands.

  The cream dress she wore didn't belong to her or Caroline—a frontier woman must have left it behind when she passed through. Unfortunately, the woman hadn't left any shoes, so Red had to wear her old, faded cowboy boots with the lacy dress. It was the best she could do under the circumstances.

  Most of Cowboy's attire likely came from old trunks and armoires as well, but everything sure fit him something nice, as though it had all been made with him in mind.

  Red's cheeks grew warm and she hoped it was only internal and didn't show crimson on the outside.

  Kerosene lanterns hung from various tree limbs across the yard. The small flames flickered in the gentle evening breeze, casting playful shadows on the stone walls. A perfect night—the warm before the winter storm—and she intended to enjoy it.

  Cowboy gave Fisher the go-ahead, and the little boy walked toward Red with great purpose. From behind his back, he produced a single yellow flower and held it up for her. It glowed in golden contrast to their gray surroundings.

  She took the flower from his small hands, and he scampered back to Cowboy's side. Cowboy put his arm around the boy's small shoulders and bent down to whisper in his ear. Fisher smiled and skipped over to take his place next to the small crowd that watched and waited—for what, Red wasn't quite sure.

  Ira sat in his designated chair with a crooked grin on his lopsided face and Lasso at his feet. Caroline pressed her hands together, and her eyes sparkled the look of a proud mama—though Caroline was a full year younger than Red. Wen stood behind her with his hands resting on Caroline's shoulders. She appeared more than comfortable with his touch. Rivers could barely contain her excitement and looked like she might burst. She held her little hands over her mouth, suppressing squeals, as she twisted from side to side.

  Red felt like a show pony as all six pairs of eyes, seven if you included the dog, fell on her. The timid butterflies in her stomach morphed into wild, wing-flapping bats.

  Cowboy took several steps toward her, locking his dark eyes on hers, and Red held her breath. "You look beautiful."

  Red wanted to correct him, and tell him that he looked beautiful. He'd combed his hair back into a slick style she wasn't accustomed to, so she reached up and tousled his brown locks. They released and fell more naturally over his forehead, just the way she liked, and he didn't appear to mind her touch one bit.

  Rivers' childish giggles rung out in the courtyard, and Red snatched her hand away.

  Before it fell to her side, Cowboy lifted it to his lips, his warm breath cascading over the back of her hand. "You hungry?"

  She looked up, dazed. "What?"

  "Dinner. I made dinner myself"—he tipped his head to the side—"well, mostly myself."

  She took a deep breath. Get it together.

  As they walked past the little group, Lasso flattened his ears against his head and rose from his seated position to stand on all fours. He narrowed his eyes and growled behind his closed jaws.

  The dog hadn't seen her in weeks, and she probably seemed like a stranger among familiar faces. "Hey, boy." She reached her hand toward him. "It's only me. It's okay."

  When he bore his teeth and growled even louder, Cowboy pushed her behind him. "No! Bad dog!"

  Lasso lowered his head, but continued to eye Red with a rumbling growl despite Cowboy's reprimands.

  Wen grabbed the dog by the scruff of the neck and held him back. "Go on, I'll take care of him. He's just not used to seeing you around, is all."

  Cowboy took her hand and led her away, but she glanced over her shoulder at Wen dragging the dog to one of the rooms and shutting him inside. Red knew Lasso was just doing his job—protecting the people he loved from someone he didn't recognize—but that didn't make it hurt any less.

  "I'm so sorry," Cowboy said. "Don't know what got into that crazy mutt."

  "It's a'right. I'll feed him some scraps of meat tomorrow and we'll be the best of friends by the end of the day." She smiled to ease his fears.

  They reached a small table set for two and he pulled out a chair for her. Once she sat, he removed the cloth that covered her plate to reveal a heaping plate of pan-fried potatoes.

  Red couldn't help but laugh. Potatoes. She'd taken potatoes from his saddlebags to make their first breakfast together, and then he'd refused to share them with her when she made the joke about changing his name to Jackass.

  "Gravy?"

  She nodded, and he poured a light drizzle over the mound.

  "I can't possibly eat all of this." Two or three servings' worth of potatoes covered her plate. Besides, she had yet to regain her appetite after her three-week slumber. A few bites would probably fill her up.

  "You're skin and bones, Red." He placed another covered plate in front of her. "You need to eat, put back on the weight you lost."

  He was right. Her protruding rib cage and sunken features were proof. She couldn't have weighed more than a hundred pounds at this point.

  The second plate revealed a thick slice of red meat, fresh and seared on both sides. When she cut into it, a thin line of blood ran to the edge of the plate. She dipped her fingers into it and brought the salty taste to her mouth.

  "Applejack?" Cowboy presented a pitcher.

  She nodded and he poured the lightning liquid into her mug. The beverage tasted like nectar, a far piece better than the same old boring water.

  "Okay." Cowboy pulled out the chair across from her and sat down. "Ask me anything."

  She cocked her head. "Ask you what?"

  "Anything." He handed her a warm roll; no way had he made those. "What do ya wanna know about me?"

  What do I want to know? It was such an open question with endless possibilities, and yet, she couldn't think of a single thing to ask. "I think I know everything I need to know about you."

  He slumped in his chair. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

  She sawed off a small piece of meat, placed it in her mouth, and shrugged. "Depends how you look at it."

  "Well, how're you looking at it?" Cowboy leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table.

  Red mirrored his movements. A lantern hanging in the tree above them swayed in the breeze. "If I didn't know the kind of man you are, I'd be asking all sorts of questions. But I know enough to have formed an opinion."

  He considered that for a moment. "Okay, then, but what if I have questions for you?"

  She smiled through her sigh and leaned back in her chair. "Then I'd be disappointed. That would mean that, after all this time together, you don't know me at all."

  ***

  Ira picked a mean guitar. His crippled hands plucked away at the st
rings with precision and ease, transforming the rather silent night into a festive affair. The courtyard began to take on the feel of a dance hall.

  Red watched the kids flitter about. Rivers held up the edge of her dress as she twirled around, and Fisher skipped between the couples and slapped his knee in time to the rhythm.

  Wen led Caroline across the grassy surface, their feet in sync as they gracefully sashayed from one side of the compound to the other. Red would've liked to follow after them and kick up her heels, but she regulated herself to swaying side-to-side in Cowboy's gentle arms. He held onto her hips, taking care not to touch her back, and she placed her own hands on his upper arms, unable to reach up and wrap them around his neck.

  "Thank you." She moved in closer and rested her head against his chest, feeling each breath he took. "Thank you for this."

  "So have I convinced you I'm a good guy who shouldn't be bitten again?"

  She inhaled his rugged scent—delicious. "You're a good guy, a'right, one of the better fellas I've come across. But I can't promise I won't still sink my teeth into you."

  He laid his head on top of hers. "How 'bout you just slap me instead? Less damaging but still makes an effective point."

  "Okay. A slap it is."

  The music slowed in tempo and Red closed her eyes. The longer she held him, the more she gave into the tangible feeling of safety. She shouldn't desire such a thing. He could hold her for a while, but eventually he'd have to let go.

  That moment came sooner than she expected when the sound of gunfire outside the fort walls brought her head upright and caused Ira to stop playing mid-melody. As rapid shots continued to blast and the moans of the zombies increased, they all stared at one another, dumbfounded.

  Cowboy pulled away from her, gave a quick nod to Wen, and they both grabbed their rifles and scaled the ladders to the towers. Red joined Caroline and they stood together next to Ira. The children clung to them, their eyes wide with fear.

  "It's gonna be okay." Red hugged Rivers close. "Everything's gonna be just fine."