by Jason Brant
What she saw made her stomach lurch. She didn't dare turn her eyes away from the horror as she fought against rising bile.
Two men kneeled over a middle-aged woman in the dirt street, blood pooling underneath them, creating a reddish-brown mud. Three arrows jutted out of the back of the nearest man, two more from his accomplice.
They were eating the woman alive.
Chapter 2
"What the hell is going on out there?" Sherriff Stanley asked. He was trying to peer out the window without getting out of his chair. It didn't seem to be working.
"Maybe you should go take a look," McCall said from inside the jail cell.
"Shut up. Aaron, go see what the hell that noise is about," Stanley said to his deputy.
Aaron, who was admiring McCall's Colt Peacemaker, didn't seem to hear his boss. He turned and gave McCall a sheepish look.
"What are these notches on the grip? You really should take better care of her."
"Deputy," the sheriff said.
McCall looked back at him with dead eyes, ignoring Sherriff Stanley. He figured Aaron to be twenty years old, maybe less. His tight clothing suggested he wasn't done growing yet.
"One notch for every heeled hard case that wanted a fight."
"Deputy Aaron."
"You killed that many men?" Aaron asked in awe.
"More. No room left on the grip."
"Deputy Aaron!"
Aaron dropped the gun as he spun around, surprised at the anger in Stanley's voice.
"Yeah, Uncle?"
"Go see what all that yelling is about. And you'll call me Sheriff when you're on duty."
"Yes, sir," Aaron said. He bent down, his fingers fumbling around, trying to pick up the gun.
"Aaron, forget the damned gun and get out there!"
Hesitating for a second, Aaron looked back and forth from the sheriff to the prisoner, before putting on his brown derby and heading to the door. "I thought you'd be younger," he said to McCall before stepping outside.
"If that boy weren't my sister's kid... "
Stanley got out of the chair and walked over to the pistol, lifting it to inspect the handle.
"There must be fifty marks here. The flyers around town say you killed a couple of men, but nothing like this."
McCall said nothing. He'd made up the story about the marks on the handle just to scare the kid. He even changed the way he spoke to add to his outlaw aura.
"If you read the sign coming into town you would have known you can't carry in Gehenna. No one would have said nothing to you if you didn't have this big boy on your hip."
He did know of Gehenna's gun laws but didn't bother abiding by them. That could be dangerous for a man like him. Judging from the hundreds of guns strewn around the sheriff's office, most people did obey them.
Before Stanley could react, McCall sprang out of his cot and stood at the bars, barely more than an arm's length away.
"I don't follow no bullshit laws and I expect to get that pistol back." He'd acquired the Colt years ago, and viewed it as a good luck charm.
Though he was armed and out of McCall's reach, Stanley took a hesitant step back. Even seasoned lawmen like the sheriff were terrified of McCall's reputation. He tried to shield his fear by turning away from the cell.
"The rail comes through tomorrow, so let's try and stay polite until then. Once the federal marshals get here you can take that up with them." Stanley walked back to his desk and dropped the Colt on it. "Why'd you let Deputy Aaron take you anyway? They say you're real fast; you could have taken him no problem."
McCall went back to his cot and tipped his hat over his eyes. "Didn't see no point in killing a kid. I only shoot those who have it coming to them."
That wasn't to say that McCall didn't think about it when that kid came up behind him. He had a feeling that he shouldn't stop in this damned town, but his horse had started to froth at the mouth and wobble at the knees. The kid had spotted him while he was buying some food from those fools in the general store. All these railroad towns had his picture up on every corner, but he still thought he could go unnoticed for a few hours.
McCall probably would have made a play for his pistol if he hadn't seen the barrel of the kid's gun trembling as it was pointed at him. He appreciated the young deputy's bravery, even though he'd been shaking in his boots. Getting a peaceful night's sleep in jail didn't seem all that bad to him either.
It wasn't until he woke up this morning that the sheriff told him that some federal marshals were due in the next night. If it weren't for bad luck, he'd have no luck at all. They'd been after him for awhile now, and if they caught him he'd be strung up in short time. He killed one of them back in San Antonio a few months before and they'd been riled up ever since.
McCall didn't plan on being around when they got here.
"Been awhile since your boy went out there."
"It has, but I'm not dumb enough to leave Mad Dog McCall alone in here," Stanley said as he squinted through the soiled window.
A hint of a smile touched McCall's lips at the mention of his Mad Dog title. It had a certain resonation that he liked.
"I'm getting out of here, whether you release me or I shoot my way out."
The loud crack of a gunshot rang through the street. Several seconds of silence preceded two more.
Sheriff Stanley walked across the room and grabbed his beige hat, which hung from a nail by the door. McCall noticed its flat top crown, sun faded color, and rusting badge, indicating the sheriff had been a law and order man for a long time.
"For the love of God, Aaron," he mumbled under his breath. "I gotta see what that damn kid is shooting at. Don't try nothing funny," Stanley said, looking back at McCall from the doorway.
Cries and screams erupted from the street.
Chapter 3
Karen couldn't believe what she had just witnessed.
Even with arrows sticking from their backs, the men kept gnawing on the woman as if nothing was wrong. One of them peeled flesh away from her cheek, exposing too many of her teeth, as she tried to push him away with her free hand. The bigger of the two men held her other arm, chewing on a chunk of muscle and skin he'd bitten from her forearm. Her frilly taupe dress was soaked through with blood.
The haunting screams coming from her made Karen queasy. She'd never heard a sound like that.
Everyone in the saloon stood still, rooted in place from shock.
Ellis was the first to react, pushing Dave and Anthony to either side as he stalked outside.
"Get off of her!"
His bellow jolted everyone else into motion. Anthony grabbed Dave by the collar and hauled him through the doors. Three other men that Karen didn't recognize followed them into the street. The women, and most of the other men, didn't move, too horrified to do anything but watch. Karen hopped off the bar and moved out to the porch, making sure to keep the railing between her and the violence.
Ellis grabbed the closest attacker's shoulder and spun him around. A tomahawk stuck out of his chest. A long, watery groan escaped from his mouth as he staggered forward, reaching his hands toward Ellis' neck. Both of his lips were missing, revealing his red-tinged teeth.
"Lord in Heaven−" Ellis said when he saw the man's mangled face. As fast as his bulky body would allow, he shoved the man back, knocking him over the woman he was eating seconds before.
Rushing past Ellis, the three men Karen didn't know grabbed the second attacker by the arms. Their similar appearances gave the impression that one was the father of the other two men. They were all large and had varied receding hairlines. The oldest was completely bald, while the younger son still had half of his left.
As they pulled the madman away from his victim, he gnashed out with tobacco yellowed teeth and bit the hand of the father.
When he jerked his hand away, a jet of blood erupted from the wound and splattered across the shirt of the probable son to his left. The man exploded with unexpected ferocity at the sight of the blood.
His mouth opened and closed, his teeth clacking over and over as he strained against their grip.
Dave, Anthony, and Ellis moved in on the first man while he clambered to his feet. They kicked and stomped on him, trying to keep him from standing up. The skin on his head split open from someone's spur, and Karen could hear ribs cracking from the repeated kicks.
"Stay down, damn you!" Ellis yelled.
The man managed to get a hold of one of Dave's legs and bit into the tan pants covering his shin. Dave howled in pain as he tried to shake his leg free.
"He bit me, boss! He bit me!"
Anthony stomped on the man's head, forcing his maw from Dave's leg. A piece of crimson soaked cloth hung from his teeth.
"What the hell is going on?" Deputy Aaron said from behind them. He had to yell to be heard over the moans of the attackers and Dave's whimpering.
Karen pointed at the two men, who were severely wounded at this point. "They were eating that poor woman!"
The woman wasn't moving anymore. She just laid there, bleeding out in the dirt. Karen couldn't see if she was breathing or not.
"Stop kicking him! He's had enough," Aaron said as he tried to pull Ellis away.
Ellis shrugged him off and placed his boot on the man's face, pushing it against the ground.
"Stay back, boy. It don't matter what we do to him, he just keeps coming. Look at them; they got arrows sticking out of their backs!"
The other crazed man kept trying to get at the blood splashed across the shirt of the shorter son. From Karen's position on the porch, she could see into his eyes. They were overly black, like those of a wild animal. A shiver ran through her body despite the overwhelming summer heat.
"Don't call me boy. I said that's enough. Let him up!" Aaron said.
"He's biting everyone in sight. I ain't letting him up," Ellis said without moving.
Aaron pulled his revolver from its holster and held it out in front of him. "If he goes after anyone, I'll put him down. Now step away from him."
Karen knew that Aaron's toughness was an act. She could see his gun hand shaking even though she stood more than fifteen feet away. He was a good kid, but still wet behind the ears.
Ellis considered the situation for a moment before lifting his foot and hopping backward.
The man staggered to his feet while more moans escaped his mouth. A flap of skin, cut loose by a boot spur, partially covered his left eye. Dust and dirt filled part of the gash, but not enough to cover the exposed bone inside. His good eye never left Ellis as he stood and took a shuffling step toward him.
"Mister, I need you to come with me," Aaron said.
At the sound of Aaron's voice, the man's head turned, tendons creaking, and took in the deputy. His uncovered eye widened as he hissed and moved in Aaron's direction on unsteady legs.
"Stop right there."
The wounded man didn't listen.
"Stop or I'll have to put you down."
Aaron pulled the hammer back and pointed the wavering gun at the man's chest. The threat didn't faze him at all as he teetered forward.
With the flesh eater only two feet away, Aaron fired a round into his chest. Other than a slight hesitation as it pitched him backward, the shot did nothing. The bullet punctured his filthy skin and exited his back, coming within inches of Dave's torso. Bits of bone and gore splattered the street behind him.
He didn't seem to notice.
Karen looked at Ellis, who stood motionless, his jaw slacked. Looking around at everyone else, she saw similar expressions. No one could believe what they were seeing.
Deputy Aaron was the only person who kept moving, much to Karen's surprise. He put two more bullets into the man's chest, his expression growing more harried with each failed shot. The width of the street was dotted with splatters of blood.
Even with the distance between them, Karen could hear the man's teeth clattering together as he tried to bite Aaron. Their arms locked around each other's as they stumbled around, one trying to push away and the other pulling back. Aaron's feet tangled as he backed up, causing both of them to topple over with the lipless man falling on top of him, chomping at his face.
"Help me!" Aaron put both of his hands under his attacker's chin and pushed his head up and away from his own. Dribbles of saliva oozed between the man's teeth and dripped onto Aaron's face. Drops of spittle fell into his mouth as he cried out, causing him to gag. "Get him away from me!"
Ellis and Anthony sprang into action, grabbing the man by his upper arms and lifting him away.
"I told you he was crazy," Ellis said.
"Where's your gallows?" the old man asked. "We'll string these bastards up right now."
Sherriff Stanley came running up the road, kicking puffs of dust up with each heavy step.
"The hell you will," he said. "We follow the law here in Gehenna. No one is getting killed without a trial first." He glared at Deputy Aaron. "I sent you up here to see why people were yelling, not to shoot at someone."
"These men have gone mad! They're trying to eat everyone!" Aaron said. He tried to spit out the other man's saliva between sentences. "Look at his chest! I shot him three times and he kept coming at me! They don't feel pain and they won't die."
Stanley looked unbelievingly at everyone standing around, taking in the entire scene.
"He's not making any sense. What happened here?" he said to Ellis.
"We were inside, talking about my fine whiskey when we heard this woman screaming," Ellis said, cocking his head at the motionless woman. "When we came out, they were eatin' her alive. A couple of us got bit tryin' to get them away from her."
"He bit my leg!" Dave said in between whimpers.
"Stop being such a damn baby," Anthony said. It looked like he wanted to give Dave another good cuff, but couldn't because of his grip on the man with no lips.
The man kept trying to bite at Ellis, but his disgusting mouth couldn't reach Ellis' hands. Some of the kicks and stomps must have damaged something in his neck because it kept leaning to one side. The bend in it was unnatural, just like everything else happening.
"He ain't lying; these men won't stay down. That one over there has a damned tomahawk stickin' out of chest," Ellis said.
Sheriff Stanley's eyes opened wide at the sight of the axe buried in the man's chest. "That's impossible."
"Apparently it ain't. That axe is all the way to the hilt, but he still got a good chunk out of my hand," the older man said. He had a gruff, whiskey aged voice. "They ain't natural and we oughta take care of it right now.
"And who are you? Do you know these men?" Stanley asked.
"They call me Zed. These are my two boys, Robert and John," he said while nodding at his sons. They tightened their grip on the crazed man, but didn't make any acknowledgements otherwise.
The sheriff looked around in disbelief. "This shit isn't funny. Discharging firearms is against the law, even for a deputy," he said to Aaron.
Karen wasn't sure if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing, or if he wouldn't.
The older man with the raspy voiced strode over to the sheriff and stuck his wounded hand in his face. "Does this look like a joke, son?"
"I understand that something happened here, but what you're describing isn't possible," Stanley said. He shook his head, unable to comprehend the situation. "Aaron, go down and open up the other cell in the jailhouse. We're going to throw these two in there until we can figure out what's going on."
Without saying anything, Aaron turned and trotted down the road to the jailhouse that stood a hundred yards away.
"Karen, go down and get Doc Randy. Tell him we need his services at the saloon right now," he said. The look in his eyes suggested that he wasn't in the mood for a smarmy remark from her.
Karen could think of a thousand things she'd rather do than go see the doctor. She considered him an asshole of the highest order. He was probably drunk anyway.
"Dave, carry this woman inside. It doesn't look like she made it, but
we'll have the doc take a look at her anyway," Stanley said.
"But my leg−"
"To hell with your leg. Carry her inside, now!" Stanley said, marching toward the jail.
"Bring those two on down here and let's see if we can sort this mess out."
Karen watched them carry the two mangled men down the street before turning on her heels and heading in the opposite direction.
Chapter 4
McCall sat on his cot, inspecting the sheriff's office. There were shotguns, revolvers, lever-action rifles, and muzzle loaders stacked and leaning everywhere. A veritable gold mine of firearms sat just outside of his reach. The entrance was directly in front of his cell, and a back door sat off to his left. Neither looked too sturdy.
Along the wall, opposite of the sheriff's desk, sat half a dozen kegs of gunpowder. Apparently the local gun ordinance pertained to explosives as well. McCall eyed the kegs for a few seconds before turning and glancing back at his gun, which sat upon the desk. No matter how he got out of this, he had to take that Peacemaker with him.
Leaning back against the cold, stone wall, he cracked a smile while thinking about the deputy he'd put the fear of God into. Every time someone asked him about the markings on his pistol he came up with a more outlandish story.
He used those tales to fuel his infamy. The more people feared him, the less he had to worry about them getting into his business. Even Mad Dog was just a stupid name he spread around to help build his legend.
Truth was, he hadn't killed that many men. He'd only shot down four, and all of those were in self-defense. Killing changed a man, and not for the better. Unfortunately, when people think of you as a fighter, they want to challenge you. When they think of you as a stone cold, rampaging beast, they tend to leave you alone.
Now he had to relax and wait for an opportunity to present itself. If he was going down, he'd be damned if it would be in a shithole town like this.
It had only been a few minutes since the sheriff had gone to check on the situation when McCall heard arguing voices coming down the street.
Deputy Aaron burst through the front door. His face had drained of all its color, except for some darkening under his eyes. He hesitated for a moment when he looked at McCall, as if he'd forgotten about the prisoner. Dropping his gaze, he hustled over to the empty cell to McCall's right, fumbling for his keys.
