by Greg Dragon
“Yeah, yeah, all right. Fine.” Jed dug through his pack and found some dried deer jerky wrapped in brown paper. Jeremiah watched him through half-closed eyes as he walked up the stream. Jed kept tossing furtive glances at him. Despite his insistence that he didn’t believe a word of what the sheriff said, Jed was suspicious and concerned. He didn’t trust Jeremiah anymore. There was no doubt about it. The entire ride he had kept several paces in front of his younger brother. He would barely look at him.
Jeremiah decided he didn’t care anymore and leaned his head back against the tree. He pulled his hat down over his eyes and let them fall all the way shut. He listened to his own breathing as it grew soft and slow, and slower. And slower.
***
Jed wandered up the stream away from Jeremiah. He purposefully kept the younger man at his back and did his best to not keep looking around at him. The woman on the road was crazy, sure, but the sheriff’s story was even crazier. The dead rising to attack the living? Hogwash. Jed stuffed another piece of jerky in his mouth and chewed it loudly.
“Freakin’ Jasper,” he mumbled. The distraction worked. The fear that was growing in his gut was beaten back by the anger that flooded through his veins. He’d done everything for that damn boy. Everything. Ever since Ma and Pa Gaines got sick, Jed had been the one to keep the family going. He was the one who had to bury Ma. He was the one who had to put Pa out of his misery when he was left alone without the woman he loved. He was the one who fed and clothed the other two. He was the one who risked his life going after stage coaches and trains when they were boys so that they didn’t starve to death. And how did Jasper repay him?
“Damn kid,” he grumbled again and kicked a stone into the water. It plunked loudly and the horses snorted behind him. He stopped walking and sat on the edge of the stream. He cupped his hand and dipped it into the water. It was cool on such a warm evening. He pulled his hand out and slurped at the refreshing liquid. Some dribbled down his chin and neck, leaving tracks in the dust on his face.
He glanced back at his brother. Jeremiah was sleeping beneath the tree. Or so he hoped. There was no movement that Jed could see, not from that distance. The oldest Gaines brother bit his lip. He was half-tempted to go wake his brother up, just to make sure he wasn’t dead, but instead he pulled his boots off. He tossed them to the bank and stripped off the rest of his dirty clothes before submerging himself into the fast moving water. The horses raised their heads and glared at him for polluting their drink, but he didn’t care. He squatted so that the water came up to his shoulders and let it wash the grime and irritation away.
He glanced at Jeremiah again. Still no movement. Jed dipped his head into the water and scrubbed it hard with his fingers. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d given himself a real good cleaning.
“Yeah, I do remember,” he muttered to himself with half a smile. “That whore house in Abilene six years ago with Bobby Blake and Jimmy Two Fingers.” Jed snorted a laugh. The smile faded from his lips. Jeremiah had never been to Abilene. Jed decided that’s where they would go. There were good doctors in that town, more than one. They’d sort him out and fix him up right, better than that quack Whitman ever could.
Jed pulled himself out of the water and back onto the bank. He shook like a dog before pulling his clothes back on. Then he ran his fingers through his hair to try to rid it of some of the knots that had accumulated there.
“A good barber, too,” he muttered. Jed’s face wrinkled. He’d been talking to himself a lot since they left Lonesome Ridge. It wasn’t natural and he didn’t like it. It made him feel crazy. There was enough crazy to go around without him adding to it.
He pulled his boots on and stood up. Jeremiah still hadn’t moved. “Well, shit,” he said as he slapped his hat against his leg. With a resigned sigh, he walked slowly over to where his brother lay.
Jed nudged Jeremiah’s toe with his own. No response. He nudged a little harder. Still nothing. He hauled his foot back and kicked Jeremiah’s foot so hard it made his own toe hurt.
Jeremiah grunted. The horses snorted softly as their ears perked back.
Jed kicked him again, gentler this time. “Get yer lazy ass up. We gotta get movin’.”
Jeremiah groaned, but didn’t move to stand. Saddle and Nelly danced, only their years of training keeping them in place.
Jed leaned over and tipped Jeremiah’s hat back. The moonlight made his brother’s skin look gray and his eyes look dull and mottled. He gasped and stepped back.
“Jer?” His hand found his gun belt and rested on the handle of his pistol.
Jeremiah tilted his head up so he could see Jed. The hat fell off to reveal a hungry stare.
Jed stumbled back a step. His free hand shot up in front of him, palm out. “Now, Jer, don’t go doin’ nothin’ crazy-like. Yer not one of them things. Yer fine. Yer just sick s’all.”
His brother groaned and struggled clumsily to his feet. The horses bolted, leaving their owners far behind as their terrified whinnies echoed through the still air.
Jed took another step back. “Jeremiah, now you stop this bullshit. I already lost that rat bastard Jasper. I ain’t losin’ you, too, ya hear? There ain’t nothin’ wrong with ya. Nothin’.”
Even as he spoke, he pulled his gun from its holster and cocked the hammer back. He could hear the horses crashing through the trees. They were long gone and he had no other means of escape.
Jeremiah took a step toward his brother and snarled. Jed tried to backpedal again, but his heel caught on a rock and he fell over. He landed hard on his backside with a loud whoof as the air left his chest. As he went down, Jeremiah continued to move forward.
“Don’t come any closer,” Jed shouted as loud as he could. Jeremiah kept advancing, slow and steady, one laborious step at a time. “You filthy bastard,” Jed shouted as he leveled his gun.
The bullet ripped through the air. It slammed into Jeremiah’s pelvis and forced him back a couple steps. But it didn’t bring him down as it should have. He righted himself and continued walking toward Jed.
Jed fired again, this time aiming for his brother’s shoulder. The shot hit and Jeremiah jerked hard, but it didn’t stop his forward progress. The gun barked again and again, hitting Jeremiah in the stomach, the thigh, the chest. Each bullet had less of an impact and the weapon clicked with a dreadful sense of finality just as Jeremiah reached him.
Jed threw the gun, trying to hit Jeremiah in the face, but it missed and tumbled harmlessly into the water.
Jed scrambled backward as he pleaded with his attacker. “Jeremiah, I’m your brother. You can’t do this to me. I took care of you.”
Jeremiah stopped in front of him. The dull, slack face lit up into a smile. “No, you didn’t.” Then he lunged. He grabbed Jed by the neck and smashed his head into a big rock. Blood sprayed out across the ground as his older brother collapsed beneath him. Jeremiah fell to his knees and sank his teeth into Jedidiah’s throat.
He ate until he could eat no more, then he sank back onto the ground. The small battle had worn him out. His body ached, he could feel it still changing, but the food had helped. He felt renewed, more alive than he had ever felt before. He lay there for awhile next to the cooling body of his oldest brother, his biggest enemy. He rolled his head to the side to look at Jed’s frozen, startled face.
“That was for Jasper,” he said. “And Ma and Pa.”
Then he pushed himself to his feet and walked into the stream to wash the blood off. When he decided he was clean enough, he tried to follow the horses, but every time he got anywhere near them, they would spook and run.
Resigning himself to his fate, he walked back out to the road. He didn’t know where to go. He was a monster, he knew that. He couldn’t go back to town, he couldn’t go to any town. He would be killed on sight. He decided to head back to the home he grew up in until he could figure out what to do. He kept to the trees, just in case he ran upon any travelers.
The path he was on met t
he road to Lonesome Ridge further down. As he neared the fork in the road, he heard the muffled sound of numerous footsteps. He ducked down behind a big rock and watched the large group as it shambled along. It didn’t take long for him to realize what he was seeing. There were so many of them, all people like him. The undead. If he had any blood left in his veins, it would have frozen. They were shuffling along in the dark, over a hundred of them. All heading for Lonesome Ridge. For Jasper.
Jeremiah clenched his teeth. He had to do something. He couldn’t let them hurt his little brother. He stayed where he was and watched them pass. A carriage rolled by, pulled by a dozen men. He could see a women and a man through the window. A plan formed in his mind. Their leader had to be in there. He would talk to them, try to steer them away. There were other towns they could hit, other places they could find food. He rose from his hiding spot and strode down the hill.
Chapter 27
“Okay, boys, listen up!” Cora Monroe stood on the porch of the saloon with the most popular whores assembled in a semicircle behind her. They were all dressed in their finest, most revealing outfits and had their hair and makeup done up. The large crowd that had gathered to hear her speak was made up of mostly men and they shushed each other into silence. The sun was rising up over the saloon, turning the sky behind her a bright, bloody pink.
Jasper stood next to Connor near the back of the group. “You think the warning about red skies in the morning apply to dead folk rising up, too?”
The sheriff gave the young man a sideways glance. “I sure hope not.”
Cora rested a hand on a cocked hip as she beamed at the crowd. “Now,” she said in her most sultry voice. “Some of you fellas may have heard some rumors circlin’ about, claimin’ that the dead coming back to life and all that.” She paused for effect and Connor smirked as the whole crowd leaned forward in anticipation. She took a big breath and placed a hand on her chest as if to steady herself. “I hate to tell you lovely folks this, but all the rumors are true.”
Murmurs rumbled through the crowd. Cora gave them a moment to rise to a swell, then she held up both hands to quiet them. “I know, I know. It sounds crazy. I’m sure some of you think I’m a total loon, but when have you ever known Sheriff McClane or Doc Whitman to lie? They are the most honest and upstanding men this town has ever seen, and I for one trust them with my life.” She clapped her hands over her heart and gave them all a doe-eyed you-can-trust-me look.
She caught Connor’s eye over their heads and tossed him a wink. The sheriff shook his head as he laughed at how the men responded to her.
“It’s scary, I know,” she continued. “I’m all a-shiver just thinking about it.” Her forehead puckered in worry and she waved a hand in front of her face to fight back fake tears. Then she reached both hands back and clasped the hands of the women behind her. They all took her cue and began swooning and fretting. Cora turned her attention back to the crowd. “But with all you strong, able men out here, I just know you’ll help protect this town from all the bad guys and keep us lovely ladies safe. Right?”
Connor laughed and nudged Doc Whitman with his elbow. “She’s good, that one.”
The doctor was grinning, too. “She is. She has them wrapped around her little finger. They’ll be scrambling to volunteer.”
Cora was still addressing the men. “We need a few strong, able-bodied men who are handy with a rifle or pistol to run patrols around the perimeter of town and check out the outlying farms. We know there’s at least one of these things out there preying on the fine folk of this town. We can’t let that happen, can we? You fellas won’t let anything hurt us, would you?”
No’s echoed out firmly from the group. Cora beamed at them and clasped her hands over her heart again. “I just knew we could count on you lovely gentlemen to protect us. Sheriff McClane has a sign-up sheet posted outside the jail. Head on over and scribble your name down. The more volunteers we have, the fewer patrols everyone will have to run.”
The crowd wavered, torn between staying with the saloon girls and running right to the jail to sign up. Cora waved her hands at them. “Go on, now, scoot. We have a town to protect.”
Connor, Jasper, and Doc Whitman had to press themselves against the hitching posts to keep from being crushed in the stampede. The line in front of the jail was so long, it went past the saloon. Cora and the other girls brought out trays full of whiskey shots and handed them out to the men standing in line to show their gratitude.
The paper was full of names by the time the last person in line signed up. It was Robert Zane, the butcher. He scrawled his name in a corner and dropped the pencil so it dangled from the string, then he leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms.
“You ain’t lyin’?” he asked as Connor strode up onto the porch with Cora on one side and Jasper on the other.
Connor shook his head. “No, Robert. It’s no lie. The Crawford boy was the first. He died on Doc’s table from a bite on the leg. Then he came back and killed Eva.”
Robert chewed on a stick. “Aye, I heard ya shot her in the head.”
“She was already dead. I was just making sure she wasn’t coming back.”
“And the Gaines boys?”
The sheriff exchanged a look with Jasper. “That’s Jasper’s story to tell, not mine.”
Jasper lowered his eyes. He didn’t want to discuss what had happened with his brothers. He didn’t even want to think about it.
Robert chewed on a toothpick as he appraised the young man. “A’right. I understand. See you fellas around.” He nodded and sauntered off.
Cora snorted. “Gotta love that man.” She grabbed the piece of paper and pulled it off the nail. “It’s so full, people were writing on the back.”
“Good. We’ll have to set up a schedule, make sure everyone understands what’s going on. We don’t want anyone else to get bit because of this.”
“all right, I’ll—“
A scream echoed down the street. As they turned in the direction of the sound, a horse came barreling toward them.
“That’s Amos’s horse!” Connor jumped off the walkway and ran to the horse. It skidded to a halt in front of him. Sweat poured off its hide and its tongue lolled out of its mouth.
Amos was draped over the horse’s neck, barely managing to stay on. Connor grabbed him and pulled him off. Jasper came over and together they carried him into the jail. Cora was right behind them. She scooted around and cleared everything off the desk as the doctor rushed in.
“Amos? Amos, can you hear me?” Doc Whitman pressed his hand to the deputy’s forehead as they laid him on the desk.
Amos moaned and his eyes fluttered open. “Shot,” he whispered.
“Shot?” Connor’s forehead puckered as his eyes narrowed. “Who shot you?”
“Oh, no.” Doc Whitman didn’t need to examine the young man to know where he’d been shot. His lower clothing was soaked with blood. The doctor lifted up the deputy’s shirt and used a cloth to clear away some of the blood. “Connor...”
Connor’s jaw clenched when he saw the wound. His eyes burned and he wanted to scream.
“Oh, God.” Cora clamped a hand over her mouth as tears poured down her face. “Oh, Amos,” she whispered. Doc Whitman stepped aside as she slipped her fingers into the deputy’s.
He gave her a faint smile. “S’all right, Ms Cora.” His voice was weak and she had to strain to hear him. She kissed his bloody fingers as he turned his head to Connor. “It was Billy,” he said. “We were attacked. He didn’t mean to.”
Connor gripped the edge of the desk to keep his hands from shaking. “Where is Billy now?” He was afraid to ask. He didn’t really want the answer.
“Dead. They all are.”
“Did they turn?”
He tried to shake his head, but it required too much effort. “No. Not yet. But they might.”
“Were you bitten?”
“No, sheriff. Just shot.”
“Amos...” Doc Whitman sto
od beside Cora with his hand on her shoulder.
Amos smiled at him. “I know, Doc. It’s all right. I’m all right.” He took a deep breath and his fingers slipped from Cora’s. The smile remained plastered on his face as he stared at the Doc, but no longer saw him.
“No. God, no. Amos?” Cora picked his hand back up and cupped his cheek. His head rolled so he was facing her. “Amos?” she cried as she shook him.
The doctor gripped her shoulders and tried to pull her back gently. “He’s gone, Cora.”
“No, he can’t be. I never... He...” Her whole body shook as she drooped against the desk to stay upright. “Oh, Amos.” She cupped his cheeks in her hands and leaned over him. “I’m so sorry, Amos.” She pressed her lips to his and let her tears stream onto his face.
Their grieving was broken by several shouts outside. “Now what?” Connor funneled his pain into anger and stormed outside. Jasper was right behind him.
More noise echoed down the street as Cora joined them. They all spun in the direction of the anguished screams at the far end of town.
Connor grabbed Cora by the arm and shoved her toward the jail. “Get inside, lock the door. Don’t let anyone in unless you know they haven’t been bitten.”
“But—“
“Just go! Come on, Jasper” They took off at a run.
Doc Whitman came up beside Cora. “What’s going on?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. It can’t be good.”
“It never is.” The doctor pressed his lips together and trotted toward his office. Cora followed close behind.
***
Down the street, Connor and Jasper came upon a gruesome scene. Little Danielle Dinfield crouched on the walkway over Emma Jones. Tendrils of veins were dangling out of her mouth. Emma moaned as blood pooled on the wood around her head. A crowd gathered quickly, forming a semicircle around the pair.
Connor snapped at the morbid spectators. “Get back to your homes. Lock your doors.” No one moved. “Get these stupid people out of here, Jasper.”
