Zombie Wild West

by Eric Baker

  If it was possible, the room got even quieter as every person in the room digested this last bit of info. Then they all turned to look at Mayor Jackson Grieger. After a few moments, one man spoke the words that all of them were wondering.

  “Mr. Mayor, how is it you knew to put the bit people in a room away from the rest of us? Did… did you already know what would happen?”

  Jackson clenched his eyes and jaw shut for a moment, then he stood to face the townsfolk. This called for concern and seriousness. And that’s what he showed them.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, I assure you that my concern for the poor people that have been injured was simply to keep them out of the way in case we were once again attacked.” Jackson’s voice got louder as he warmed to the task. “The expediency in which I acted was entirely due to the threat…”

  There was a loud crash at the front door as multiple bodies hit it at the same time. A chair on the stack slipped free and landed hard on the floor, multiplying the sounds. A few men near the door ran over to replace the chair, pushing hard against the barricade to support it. After a minute, the sounds from outside subsided.

  Jackson looked back at the townsfolk. He had been just as startled as everyone else. He composed himself, but couldn’t keep the waver from his voice, this time speaking softer.

  “As I was saying, I acted quickly in case we needed the room to fight. And to keep them safe. Can you fault me for wanting to take care of you and them?”

  Jackson could see that there were still a few people upset with the thought of locking up friends and family. But most of them seemed on board with his hastily thought up explanation.

  If he could have gotten away with it, Jackson would have smiled. Rubes, he thought. One day, he’d quit this place for good. He jumped at another bang on the front door. Maybe he should have already left. Oh, well, too late for that.

  “Mister Mayor?”

  A timid voice next to him reminded him that Tommy was still standing there. Several people nearby also turned back. Jackson wasn’t the only one that had forgotten about him.

  “Sir, I was also supposed to give you this.” Tommy’s eyes brightened with excitement as he handed the paper to Jackson. “It’s a plan from the Sheriff. He said he knows a way to get rid of all the zombies!”

  Jackson’s face clouded over, and his eyes tightened. Tommy saw the change on the Mayor’s face and took a tentative step back, still holding out the paper from the Sheriff. The nearby townsfolk took up the quiet cry to the rest of the crowd.

  “A plan!” “Sheriff sent a note!” “We’re going to be saved.”

  The whole group crowded in even tighter to find out what the plan was and how soon they could implement it. Jackson felt the immediate loss of control over the situation and nearly uttered a curse on the Sheriff.

  He fought the urge, though, as he struggled to get hold of his emotions. This was what he feared. His attempts to save everyone, to be the proverbial hero, had just been shot down in flames. Now, no matter what, the Sheriff would get the glory. Unless the plan failed.

  Once again Jackson fought his temper. He knew if he sabotaged the plan, whatever it was, even more people would die. And he knew he couldn’t do that, no matter how many deaths were already on his hands and conscience.

  Taking a reluctant deep breath, he let it out with a sigh. Reaching out, he took the note from Tommy. Holding his hand up once again for silence, he turned his attention to the note.

  Jackson read all the way through the note three times. He was more than a little shocked at the audacity of the plan. Truth be told, he knew a plan like this was probably needed, but he would never have been able to do it himself. And maybe, just maybe, he would be rid of the Sheriff and the zombies in one fell swoop. Finally, he looked up at the people waiting for him.

  “Well, everyone, I have to say, this is probably the craziest plan I’ve ever heard.”

  The crowd before him never moved or made a sound. Not even a whisper. Jackson wasn’t surprised. After everything going on, crazy was beginning to be normal.

  “But… it just might work. We will have to wait out the night. At first light, the Sheriff will expect us to be ready. I fear that some of you… of us… will get hurt.”

  Jackson paused, looking around the room. The fear of what awaited them outside was palpable in the room. Then someone spoke up.

  “What are we supposed to do?” The man that had spoken up earlier voiced the question they were all thinking.

  Jackson smiled his politician smile. He knew someone would ask. He was counting on it. They needed to know this was the Sheriff’s plan. And later, when things fell apart, they would turn to him.

  “It’s fairly audacious what he’s asking us to do. Basically, he’ll make some noise to draw the people… zombies… down the road. Then comes the hard part.” Jackson paused a moment, taking a deep breath and letting out a dramatic sigh. “He wants us to all go outside and take them down.”

  Everyone in the room forgot in that moment they were being quiet for a reason. The uproar was so loud that Jackson worried the sounds would provoke the zombies to hit the front door and windows in a mass attack.

  Looking at the door, the men frantically pushed on the barricade to hold it in place. The door pushed open, and a hand slipped through up to the elbow, grasping and clawing. Jackson hollered as loud as he dared.

  “Stop! Be quiet, you fools! Look!”

  Jackson waved for attention and pointed to the door. The front row of people stopped and looked in fear. The noise died down as those in the back realized what was going on.

  A few more men ran over to the barricade to help as a loud crash sounded from a window. The growling and moaning from the mob outside became louder and all the more frightening to the people inside. The barricade threatened to topple. Men and women rushed to the stack of furniture and reached it in time to keep it upright. More tables and furniture were brought over to make it more stable.

  They all struggled against the stack, pushing at the barricade with all their might. The arm in the door was preventing it from closing, but it wasn't opening any further. A few more men ran to help at the door, adding their momentum and weight to the barricade. A loud ‘snap’ of something breaking had them all thinking the door had failed. But the door slammed shut.

  The arm that had been holding the door open was hanging in the doorway, sticking straight out. After only a moment it fell as the sleeve gave way to the weight of the arm and ripped free. Hitting the leg of a chair on the barricade, the arm bounced forward toward the men.

  The men simply turned to the side, allowing it to pass, never releasing their hold on the barricade. It hit the floor, black and red liquid oozing from the cut. It rolled up to a woman in a dress standing nearby. She looked at the arm in horror, unable to move, hands clutched to her mouth. The hand spasmed, almost in a grasping motion. Eyes rolling up, the woman fainted to the floor.

  A few women standing nearby to the woman rushed to her side. A man close by picked up the arm by the sleeve, careful to keep his hand from the bloody ooze at the cut. Everyone watched as he grimaced, then walked to a nearby waste can. He dropped the arm in, cut side first. The hand lay on the rim, fingers just over the edge, for all the world looking like it was trying to get out. The man turned back to the crowd to see them all staring. He shrugged, then walked back over to join them.

  Jackson had been watching everything with a critical eye, but he was also thinking about the Sheriff’s plan. He hadn’t told them about the signal the Sheriff had requested. If they were going to help, the hotel was to hang a bed sheet out the front window upstairs. There had to be a way to use that to his advantage, he couldn’t help thinking. Well, he had a few more hours to contemplate. Right now, he needed to reassure his people.

  “Alright, everyone, let’s not do that again. Remember, noise is our biggest concern.”

  Jackson looked from face to face, radiating empathy.

  “Look, I know we’re all
scared. The Sheriff is safe in the saloon. He has Doc there to take care of any problems, yet we’re the ones taking all the risk.”

  There were grumbles in agreement, but most of the people seemed to be withholding judgment. Jackson let out a sigh and rubbed his tired eyes.

  “Now, I think we all just need to take a break and get a little rest. We have a few hours left until sunset. Once the sun comes up, we’ll have a better understanding of what we’re dealing with. We can decide then.”

  The crowd of people looked around and almost as one realized how tired they were. The night, the terror, everything they had been through was a crushing weight, mentally and physically. They broke up into small groups to find rest where they could. Jackson was gratified to see a group of men gather at the barricades to set up a schedule for security.

  Jackson walked over to a nearby chair and fell into it. He was as worn out as the others, but he needed to decide what he would do come sunup.

  For the first time in a long while he remembered his two men, Burt and Bill. If they were here, this would all be a lot easier. He wondered briefly what had come of them at the mine and then dismissed the thought. They could take care of themselves. Knowing them, they were holed up at the mine, heading back to town in the morning.

  Jackson closed his tired eyes, rubbing the grit from them. Somehow, he had to get rid of the zombies, the thorn in his side Sheriff, and in the process, be the hero. Oh, and get Daisy. He smiled a little as he thought of her, his hand falling to his chest as he fell into a troubled sleep.

  ____

  Mildred wiped her face with her handkerchief for the thousandth time and tried not to vomit. It was hard enough without hearing the retching from the weaklings that kept running to the small bathroom. Even worse was when one of them didn’t make it and had to use a pot. Or worse, the floor. Just thinking about it made her stomach turn. At least there was only the two of them.

  The small sitting room off the main lobby of the hotel wasn’t big enough for all the people that occupied it. Most were attempting to sleep, with the pain of various injuries making sleep fitful at best, even if they didn’t have to listen to the pair that took their turns dry heaving.

  Looking around the room, she took stock of all the others in an attempt to keep her mind occupied. Even though she had been through it a dozen or more times, she forced herself to go through it again.

  From what she could tell, of the ten other people in the room, none of them appeared to have been bitten. Just her. And of the ten, only three were men.

  As she looked closer, she saw that one of the men was sweating more than the others and holding his arm. She thought she recognized him as the man that had helped her and Peggy get the door shut in the kitchen.

  She had also been watching two women she originally thought were coming down with a stomach bug. After a good bit of time of watching and listening, she realized they were both probably pregnant. The stress of the situation had triggered the onset of an upset stomach.

  The others were a ragged bunch. Most were either old and infirm or just plain sickly. Only one woman had a real injury, with what could be a broken arm, getting it as she was running from the kitchen. Ninnies.

  Mildred took it all in and shook her head. She would rather be out there, in the thick of things with everyone else, getting ready for whatever was to come. She hated being relegated to the side room with the sick and infirm as if she were a weakling.

  Grimacing at her thoughts, she once again took off the cloth on her arm and looked at the bite. The black infection was worming its way up her arm, making the veins stand out even in the dim light. The nausea was bad enough, but a pounding headache couldn’t be a good sign. She knew they all just needed to hang on until morning. Doc would bring medicine, and all would be fine.

  She wrapped the cloth around her arm, tightening it as much as she dared. She knew if she could keep the infection localized then she might just make it through the night.

  Mildred’s thoughts then turned to her husband and son, out front with the rest. As hard as she seemed to people in town, deep down she loved her family. Most of the bluster was because she felt she was the only one that could keep her family happy. She could only pray now for their safety and hope they were doing their share to help.

  Closing her eyes, she decided to do just that - pray. She prayed for healing, for safety, for her family, for the town, for anything and everything. As was so often the case when she prayed at night, she fell asleep before the final ‘amen.’

  Her sleep was fitful, full of dark and strange dreams, and unsatisfying. After some time, Mildred came wide awake. Her stomach was on fire, feeling as though she were about to explode. Her head felt the same way, pounding and burning from the inside.

  She lurched to her feet and swayed for a moment, almost losing her balance. She turned to the bathroom, hoping she would make it before letting loose of the fire in her belly. Halfway there, she realized that the bathroom was occupied, most likely by one of the pregnant women, since the other one was leaning against the wall next to the door. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway, she thought, as she fell to her knees. She would never have made it.

  Mildred knew she was at the end, or at least she felt it had to be the end. The pain, the burning, the sickness coming from the bite on her arm could not be held back anymore. She prayed one last time, for her family, for her town. Eyes clenched shut, tears falling from her eyes, she doubled over in pain with her arms across her stomach as if to hold the contents in. Then she vomited.

  Though Mildred was still ten feet from the bathroom, she still splattered the door and the woman standing next to it. Feeling the liquid on her legs, the woman looked in shock toward the source. She first saw Mildred on the floor, then her eyes followed the long stream of liquid between the two. It took a moment to understand what she was seeing. Then she let out a muffled, gurgling scream just before she also let loose of what little remained inside her stomach.

  Mildred’s stomach held more than what you would expect. Thick black and red streaks stained the liquid that had poured out of her onto the floor. Mildred held her pose on the floor just long enough to finish, then her body tipped forward. Her forehead slapped the wet, wooden floor. Then her whole body sagged down, arms releasing and falling by her sides.

  The other people in the room had jumped at the scream. Though it was soft, they were all on edge and it didn’t take much to rouse them. They groggily looked around for a reason. Seeing Mildred on the floor, a few women moved to her side to see if she needed help. Patting her back and pulling her hair back did nothing to rouse her. When they took hold of her arms to help her stand, they found her strangely locked into position. The women looked at each other and at the others in the room, worried and unsure.

  Then Mildred growled.

  It started low, almost inaudible. The two women heard it first and thought it might be Mildred’s stomach or maybe more vomit. Then as the volume of the growl rose, so did the pitch.

  The two women stood and took a few unsure steps back. Their worry for Mildred was turning into fear. As the others in the room heard it, they stopped what they were doing and looked at the woman kneeling on the floor.

  Mildred stood, almost uncoiling from the floor. Her growl faded to silence. Arms hung by her side, head down, chin to her chest as if beyond weary. There was no movement in the room. Everyone seemed to be holding their breath. There was no reason for their fear, beyond the growl. But everyone felt it… something was just plain wrong.

  The door to the bathroom popped opened. Mildred’s head snapped up, and she locked eyes with the woman standing there. Stomach still rolling, she looked at Mildred in confusion. Why was she standing there?

  The woman next to the bathroom door had been watching Mildred with disgust ever since her legs were splattered with vomit. But now she was looking at her in horror. Mildred’s eyes were pitch black in the dimness of the room, and she could almost overlook that as a trick of the light
. Then Mildred’s lips pulled back, revealing teeth that were ever so slightly chomping. The veins in her neck were black, reaching up and across her face. Mildred’s hands came up curled into claws as she crouched, ready to spring.

  The woman in the doorway of the bathroom looked at the scene before her in confusion. Why was Mildred standing there, staring at her? Had she figured out that all the stomach sickness was due to pregnancy?

  The other woman, standing next to the bathroom, saw Mildred crouch and realized in that instant what had happened. Mildred was now one of those… things… outside. And if Mildred were to act like all the others, then she would attack.

  Looking at the confused woman in the doorway, the woman outside jumped without waiting another second. She pushed both of their bodies into the bathroom with a hard shove, grasping for the inside door handle.

  The woman inside the bathroom gave a small gasp at the hit, then fought back. Then a bloodcurdling shriek came from the room. They both turned to see Mildred running at them. Her eyes were black and wide, far wider than normal. Her lips stretched against her teeth. Hair streaming wild and damp, she reached for them like a wild banshee from a children’s campfire ghost story.

  Both women in the bathroom reached for the door handle at the same time. They only had it half-way shut when Mildred ran into the door, slamming it closed with a loud bang. Both women inside screamed, but neither let go of the door handle. One of them slid the lock into place, then let out a small cry at the unearthly, animal growl that came from the other side of the door.

  The rest of the people in the room watched as Mildred stood and pounded on the door to the bathroom for a few moments. They had come to realize that something was truly, horribly wrong with her. Every breath was being held, every hand curled in front of them in fright.

  With a terrible slowness, Mildred turned to face them. Once more, she growled.

  ____

  The first scream, guttural and otherworldly, cut through the silence in the lobby like a rifle shot. Everyone either sat up or stood up. Since most of them had either been asleep or trying to sleep, they didn’t have a clear direction to focus on. Everyone looked to the men guarding the front door. The men, though, just shrugged, and gestured that they were just as confused.