West of Hell Omnibus Edition (West of Hell 1-3)

by Brant, Jason

  “Mother fu—” McCall’s vision went black, his consciousness shrinking away, as his head thudded back to the floor.

  Chapter 18

  Karen heard Walter’s warning and glanced behind them. Her mouth dropped open when she saw the horde.

  “Oh shit,” Jane said.

  Oh shit indeed, Karen thought as she turned back to the horses. The road in front of them didn’t have many corpses or fire on it, and she hoped they could ride through the rest of the town unmolested. They’d already lost James, and McCall wouldn’t be of any fighting use for a long time. If they were stopped again, that would be the end. She tried to push those thoughts aside and focus on the task at hand – escape.

  Jane sat beside her, holding her weapon at the ready. Her stony demeanor surprised Karen, considering the loss of her brother. This woman may have been the most stoic person she’d ever met – aside from McCall anyway. She took everything in stride and continued forward, her goal singular. If only they’d known her when everything went to hell back in Gehenna, their travels might have been a bit easier.

  A moaner fell under the hooves of horses, trampled into a pile of bloody gore. The body had been so decimated by the time the wagon reached it that the wheels barely bounced as they went over it. Others closed in from the sides of the street where they had been pounding on doors, or munching on a body. Jane slashed at any that got close enough to be a threat.

  Gunshots rang out ahead. A bullet came so close to Karen’s head that she heard it whiz by and she instinctively ducked. Who the hell was shooting at them? Did these idiots actually believe that a couple of these brainless cannibals would be riding in a wagon at breakneck speeds? Had Karen known that this town had been so inundated with fools, cowards, and followers, she would have guided McCall and Stephen in any other direction. They had a better chance of surviving alone in the desert than dealing with the dead, and now the living, in Sheol.

  Two more bullets punched through the canopy of the wagon. Karen spotted a fat man perched in a window, his rifle drawing a bead on her. He had her in range and she couldn’t do anything about it. The insane smile that spread across his face as he pulled the trigger sent a wave of revulsion through her, even as she braced herself for the oncoming pain.

  She couldn’t hear much over the galloping horses, but the way his grin slid from his face made Karen say a quick prayer of thanks to whoever was listening. The man’s gun had either jammed or run out of ammo. The wagon blew past his house as he yelled something profane at them.

  “We’ll see what that fat bastard thinks in a minute or two when he sees what’s chasing us,” Jane said. She didn’t look over at Karen as she spoke, still swiping at anything that drew near.

  “He won’t be smiling,” Karen said. With so few people still alive, she couldn’t understand what would make someone try and kill a fellow survivor.

  The road opened up ahead of them. Karen squinted, trying to see through a cloud of smoke that came from a burning building ahead. She coughed as they cut through the blackness and burst out of the other side. The edge of the town stood just before them and they ran past it as fast as the horses would take them. Only a few small patches of housing remained before the area opened to another large field to the north.

  A dozen or so moaners surrounded a few of the homes, but the area was mostly empty. Karen pulled back on the reins a bit and slowed the horses down to a trot, wanting to conserve their energy. Their breaths were ragged and quick, but they looked no worse for the wear. After they moved past the last of the visible houses, she would slow them to a walk and let them go at that pace for several hours.

  Though there didn’t seem to be a visible trail, she could see a spot where the knee-high grass had been trampled by another set of horses. Two lines ran on either side of the trail, which Karen figured to be from the wheels of a wagon. Had Gary reached his people? Was this where they had escaped from?

  She held her hands to either side of her eyes, cupping them around her face, and tried to look as far as she could to the horizon. A line of trees that connected to the forest they had gone through to reach the city stood a mile ahead, making it difficult to spot anything before them. She directed the horses toward the trampled grass and followed it, hoping that she would find Gary and his party at the end of the path.

  Walter stuck his head through the opening behind her. “I can’t believe we made it.”

  “Neither can I.” Karen rested her head against the fabric top of the wagon and closed her eyes for a moment. She felt physically and emotionally exhausted. They’d gone from one horror to the next, with barely any time to rest. Though they’d decided to head north, she had no idea how long they would be able to survive on the journey. No one knew what lay before them, and she almost felt too tired to try. The boy and McCall were all that pushed her forward at this point.

  “Whose trail do you suppose this is?” Jane asked after a couple of minutes. She watched the last house in the field as they moved past it, leaving the moaners behind – for now.

  “I ran across another group of survivors on my way to get the horses,” Karen said. “I told them not to wait on us and to just head north. With any luck, this is from them.”

  Walter looked relieved at the idea of not being one of five living human beings. “Do you know who they were? I guess you probably don’t, seein’ as how you don’t live here.”

  “Two of them were deputies – Mike and Gary.”

  “Oh shit,” Jane said. She shifted in her seat and faced Karen. “Is that son of a bitch Evans with them?”

  “McCall and I took care of him.”

  Both Walter and Jane looked back at McCall’s unconscious body. “Mad Dog McCall? Him? You really trust an outlaw?” Walter asked.

  “With my life,” Karen said. “He’s a good man, no matter what you’ve heard of his reputation. He just saved your life, didn’t he?”

  “That he did.” Walter bobbed his head. “He didn’t have a chance to tell us what we’re doing here. What exactly is the plan?”

  Karen glanced back at Sheol, wincing at the black smoke that rose above it. The fires weren’t as all encompassing as they had been in Gehenna, but they were devastating nonetheless. She doubted if anyone would survive the night. Was Bill still alive? He’d saved them by dragging a moaner into town. Now she felt an immense guilt for leaving him behind.

  Karen looked at Stephen before she answered Walter. He sat behind Jane, staring at the floor. She wondered if he would ever recover. The things he’d seen weren’t suitable for a hardened soldier, let alone a small child. Now he only had his aunt left. Even if they survived, she doubted that his sanity would return.

  “This is our plan.” She gestured at the flattened grass they followed. “We’re heading north, hoping the cold will freeze them. We noticed that the number of them that actually made it across the desert was a lot smaller than what had been chasing us originally. It’s a gamble, but we’re thinking the heat cooked them until they finally died from exposure.”

  “That’s it? We’re hoping the weather will save us?” Walter asked. “Not that I’m complaining. We weren’t goin’ to last long back there anyway.”

  “That’s it.”

  “Glad we brought some blankets,” Jane said. She rested her axe across her lap, finally releasing its handle.

  “There have been rumors for years that there is a tribe of some kind to the north,” Walter said. “I know Jane’s heard about this. Right?”

  “Yeah, but it always sounded like hogwash to me,” Jane said.

  “What’s the rumor?” Karen asked. She’d never heard of such a thing, but she’d spent most of her life in Gehenna. Even still, that’s something she would have expected to know about.

  “They say there’s a whole village of people past the mountains. No one has ever been able to say how they could have gotten there though – the mountain range can’t be crossed,” Jane said.

  “Every now and then someone would make a go o
f it. Assuming Evans didn’t find out about it and have ’em hanged. If they did make it outta the town, no one ever saw them again. I just assumed they died out there somewhere,” Walter said.

  “People would just wander north? Knowing they would probably die?” Karen asked. She found it hard to believe someone would head in a direction that they knew would mean certain death. Then again, she was doing the exact same thing.

  “Sometimes people had enough,” Jane said. “They got tired of living under Evans’ boot. It was usually good people that went – they couldn’t handle watching what happened in Sheol. They got fed up and took their chances. Of course – they never came back. Probably didn’t make it far.”

  People who acted on principle were the kinds that Karen could get behind. She’d become a prostitute out of her own warped ideals, so she could sympathize with the actions of those that often seemed out of the ordinary. Standing up to Evans in the climate that had enveloped Sheol would have been suicide and accomplished nothing. Leaving for a better life seemed reasonable, regardless of the possible outcomes.

  Could it be possible that an unknown civilization lived past the mountains? How could they have survived up there without anyone having ever seen one of them? This rumor sounded as unfounded as one could be. If no one had been there, how could anyone know it existed? To Karen, the idea seemed like it came straight from the imagination of someone in a dire situation, such as those in Sheol.

  “We have enough supplies to make it for quite awhile. We can hunt for our food in the forest ahead. I’m assuming one of you is a proficient hunter?” Karen asked.

  Jane confirmed that she was. They rode in silence for awhile. Karen contemplated their fate. Everyone had looked to her for answers, but she was just as confused as everyone else. Her lost memories, the dead rising, the infection of the living, and the absolute destruction of everything, left Karen with no sense of what had become of the world. Calling these events biblical felt like an apt description.

  After trading places with Walter, Karen stepped into the back to check McCall’s wounds. His shoulder had an angry, red appearance to it. His leg looked even worse. The walking he’d done on it, though brief, hadn’t allowed the bleeding to stop. She readjusted the bandage on his thigh, tightening it a bit more, and sat down beside him. His chest rose and fell in shallow, but steady, movements. She had no idea if he would live or die.

  Stephen had fallen asleep on the bench. His mouth slowly worked on the thumb that he’d planted in it. Karen took one of the blankets that had been balled on the floor and placed it over him, tucking it under his legs and shoulders. The temperature had dropped since they’d left the city and she didn’t want him getting sick. Caring for McCall would be hard enough without having an ill child to attend to.

  After putting another blanket over McCall, she bent down and kissed his forehead. His cool skin worried her. She shuddered at the thought of him succumbing to his wounds, knowing she would have to put him down before he came back. The thought of him losing his humanity and becoming a mindless, uncompromising beast made her sick to her stomach. She would never allow that to happen.

  She crawled back to the front bench and sat between Jane and Walter. The sun had begun to set as they approached the edge of the tree line, making the path they followed difficult to see. The tall grass ended fifty yards before the first trees, leading to the moss covered ground between them. They slowed the horses a bit as they approached the forest and spotted where the first wagon had gone through.

  “I think we should spend the night in the forest,” Walter said. “One of us can stay up while the others sleep. We’ll be able to hear those clumsy bastards coming from a mile away.”

  Karen thought that sounded reasonable enough. They wouldn’t be able to see anything in the dark, but they could certainly hear snapping branches and crunching leaves. And if she didn’t get some sleep soon, her body would stop functioning.

  “That sounds like a good idea. Let’s go into it for a little while so our fire can’t be seen from the field.”

  They rode in silence then, their senses on full alert as they listened to the sounds of the forest. Crickets chirped and branches broke under the wheels of the wagon as they moved along, but nothing else seemed out of the ordinary. The lack of sounds felt eerie to Karen after the constant gunshots, explosions, and moans she’d experienced recently.

  Jane noticed it first. Flames flickered ahead of them. As the sun went down, the fire stood out more as they closed in on it.

  “Stop right there!” The voice boomed throughout the forest, echoing off the trees, making it difficult to pinpoint its origin.

  “Mike?” Karen asked. His deep voice was unique, instantly recognizable. She looked around, trying to see where he was.

  “Who’s that?”

  “It’s Karen, your favorite person ever.”

  Gary stepped out from behind a tree with a rifle held against his shoulder, aiming in their direction. He lowered the weapon as he stepped forward, the front of his body hidden in shadow from the fire behind him. A few others revealed themselves then, slowly creeping out from behind bushes and trees, wearily eyeing the new arrivals.

  “You made it!” Gary said, trotting toward them. “We’d given up hope.”

  “We almost didn’t,” Karen said.

  Jane lifted her axe from her lap and hopped to the ground. Karen followed her down and placed a hand on Jane’s forearm, silently telling her they were safe. Jane lowered the weapon, but kept it at the ready by her side.

  “Where’s McCall?” Gary asked.

  “He’s in the wagon. He’s in bad shape.” Karen stood in front of Gary and shook his hand again, enjoying the camaraderie they’d built in such a short amount of time. “You have any room by that fire for us?”

  “Well, hell yeah we do!” Gary motioned for everyone to come over to them.

  Mike came along grudgingly and stood beside his fellow deputy, eyeing Karen with open contempt. She hoped he would lighten up around her soon, or their journey would seem much longer than it need be. There appeared to be a bit of tension between Walter and the former lawmen as well. When he stood beside Karen, they all glared at each other.

  “Did you get to pack any supplies before you got out of there?” Karen asked.

  “We’ve got some food, but not much in the way of bullets or water,” Mike said. He stood behind Gary, towering over him.

  “That actually works out,” Karen said. “We’ve got plenty of guns and ammunition.” She looked at the small group of people of that had gathered around, realizing there were less than she’d expected. And they only had one wagon, instead of two. “Where’s the rest of your group?”

  Gary looked at the ground. “They didn’t make it. One of the wheels on their wagon broke and they were overrun. That’s why we’re low on ammunition – it was loaded in with them.”

  They wanted to divvy up some of the supplies right then, but Karen didn’t have energy to do anything but curl up by the fire. After settling the sleep schedule and taking care of their horses, Karen carried Stephen by the fire and curled up next to him. Mike and Gary pulled McCall’s limp body from the wagon and placed him by some warm stones they’d set around the fire, hoping they would help keep him warm.

  Karen fell asleep before they’d finished setting up their own beds.

  Chapter 19

  McCall only remembered vague flashes of light and distant sounds over the next several days.

  A cold breeze bit at his cheeks, rousing him from a deep sleep. He tried to roll over, but the effort was quickly thwarted when his shoulder ached with a dull pain. The memory of being shot dribbled back as he lay still, trying to recall where he was. Karen’s voice came to him from somewhere nearby. She sounded tired and distraught.

  McCall forced his eyes open and squinted at a harsh brightness that temporarily blinded him. He raised his good arm to shield his face, but it didn’t help. Trying his best to be patient, he waited for his eyes to a
djust. He wondered how long they’d been closed.

  As his pupils dilated he could see the canopy of the wagon above him. He lifted his head and looked out the back. Snow covered everything. The branches of trees drooped from the weight of the frozen precipitation. The ground had at least a foot of snow on it, maybe more. Where the hell was he?

  He pushed off the floor with his hand and grunted his way to a seated position. A thick blanket slid from his chest and he noticed that his clothing had been changed. A new shirt covered his chest, and his torn and aged pants had been replaced. He still had on his boots, but his gun belt and Peacemaker were nowhere to be seen.

  A deep, rumbling voice started arguing with Karen then. McCall recognized it, but couldn’t place it. His brain felt like it had been shot full of holes. How far north had they come? It had been hot as Hades in Sheol. Now he could see his breath. He twisted his body at the waist, feeling how rigid and stiff his muscles had become.

  McCall worked his way to the edge of the wagon, holding his shot arm to his stomach. His leg felt a little better. He could bend it at the knee, though the movement caused nauseating pain. But it worked, and that pleased him.

  His feet hung over the back of the wood flooring, swinging in the air. Just getting that far had tired him out. He decided that now would be a good time to take a break and inspect his whereabouts. No one was behind the wagon. The terrain they were crossing was moderately treed and snow covered. The wheels on their carriage had cut deep grooves through the snow, leaving a trail behind them. White mountain caps surrounded him. He’d never seen anything like it.

  With the voices coming from the front of the wagon, McCall carefully lowered himself to his feet, mindful of putting most of his weight on his good leg. He sucked in a sharp breath when he took his first step, trying to ignore the stiffness in his muscles. His leg still worked, though its range of motion was limited, giving him a noticeable limp. It took him a full minute to manage his way around the wagon.