Dead or Alive

by William Harms

  #

  Several zombies broke away and returned to the front gate, where they started to push against the support beams that held the front part of the fort in place. The wood groaned from the pressure, and dust and dirt fell down as old boards and seams were forced away from each other.

  #

  Paul continued to fire, but it was obvious that he wasn’t going to be able to hold the zombies off on his own. The fire swept across the rear of the fort and the stream of zombies into the fort from that direction had stopped, but there were still too many on the catwalk. He fired two more times and ran for the Gatling gun.

  #

  John fired two more shots and then tossed his empty revolver over the side; he was out of ammo. He ran toward the Gatling and grabbed another rifle.

  The Gatling ran out of ammunition again and the sounds of burning wood and pouring rain filled the fort. Seth and Joseph struggled to reload the Gatling while John shot at any nearby zombies, but most of them had moved to the edges of the courtyard, into the darkness. The rear of the fort was completely engulfed by flames and the catwalks on the sides of the fort were now useless; the fire had damaged them to the point that they would not support any weight.

  There was a loud crash as the catwalk on Paul’s side collapsed and fell to the ground, taking the remaining zombies with it. Burning embers floated into the night air and the slick mud reflected the orange flames. Paul stood a few feet away from the chasm, fired down three times, and then walked over to the others.

  Seth finished reloading the Gatling and looked around. Smoke drifted off of the red-hot barrel. He saw the zombies milling around the exterior of the courtyard, but the middle had been abandoned. Ed’s body lay half buried in the blood-soaked mud. A dead woman chewed on his calf; Seth raised his rifle and shot her in the head.

  Joseph walked over and put an arm around Esperanza, leading her away from the edge.

  The front of the fort lurched and the wood shook violently for a moment.

  “What the hell?” Paul said.

  “They’re under us. They’re trying to tear out the support beams,” Seth said. He looked around and saw Thomas crying at his feet. “You were supposed to be watching the front!”

  “I-I’m sorry.” Thomas stood up and moved toward the Gatling. “I’m so sorry.”

  The front of the fort lurched again, this time more violently. Thomas was thrown off balance and he landed on the Gatling’s barrel, which burned his face and hands and arms. He screamed in pain and rolled off the gun; large chunks of his boiling flesh stuck to the metal. Blood oozed from his raw wounds and the burned skin was charred black. Thomas hit the catwalk and passed out.

  The front of the fort shook again and Esperanza stumbled toward the edge and fell. Seth grabbed at her and caught her hand. She dangled in the air as hungry hands grabbed at her feet.

  “Pull me up!” Esperanza screamed.

  “I need some help here!” Seth reached down and grabbed Esperanza with his other hand as well. He pulled with all his strength and yet he couldn’t lift the woman. Joseph dropped down and reached over the side in an effort to help Seth, but his arms were too short.

  A dead man caught hold of Esperanza’s right leg and pulled down hard. Seth slid across the wood and nearly fell over the side, but at the last minute he let go and Esperanza plunged to the floor of the fort. The dead man rolled her over and punched her in the face, blood splattering across his knuckles. Another zombie shuffled over and the two of them tore into Esperanza’s neck.

  #

  John looked at the Gatling and then over at the left catwalk, where he had been standing. A large section of it still jutted out and it might be far enough out that he could fire at the zombies gathered at the front of the fort. “Help me move this gun,” he said as he grabbed one side of the gun’s tripod.

  Paul grabbed the other side. “Where we taking this?”

  “Over here.” John walked backwards, taking his time to ensure that he kept his footing and didn’t burn himself on the gun’s hot barrel. They reached the edge of the catwalk and set the gun down. John moved behind the Gatling and opened fire on the zombies gathered by the front gate.

  #

  Seth stood and looked over at John and Paul. John was still firing the Gatling and Paul stood next to him, his rifle shooting the zombies down in the courtyard. There were fewer zombies now, and it was clear to Seth that they had fought them off. He sat down hard, all his strength gone.

  “You okay?” Joseph asked.

  “Just need to rest a bit.”

  #

  The flames roared all around and now the entire rear half of the fort was engulfed. The air stunk of burning flesh, gunpowder, and hot metal. John stopped turning the handle and looked through the haze from the barrel down at the courtyard. Nothing moved. He stepped out from behind the gun and looked around. The fire provided a great deal of light, and John could finally see the full extent of what had happened, the sheer number of dead that had attacked them. Bodies were strewn everywhere and the mud was packed with corpses and limbs.

  “That all of them?” Paul asked. He moved next to John.

  “I think so.”

  “I can’t believe there were that many.”

  “Looks like the whole damn town.”

  “They all dead?” Seth asked.

  “Looks that way.” John walked toward the front of the fort. “You okay?”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  John looked at Thomas. His burns glistened in the dim light and blood seeped from his wounds. John bent and put one hand on Thomas’ chest. It was still.

  “He’s dead,” John said.

  “Good riddance,” Seth said. “He damn near got us killed.”

  From the courtyard came the sound of slopping feet. “Joseph,” a voice said.

  Joseph looked down into the courtyard. “Mom?”

  A woman stood in the midst of the carnage, her dress torn and bloodied. Her skin was pale and yellow and blood seeped from the corner of her mouth. At the rear of the fort there was a series of muffled explosions as the ammo in the basement ignited.

  Joseph walked to the edge of the catwalk and looked down. “Mom, is that you?”

  “Get away from the edge, son,” Seth said. “She’s dead.”

  “Yes, it’s me,” the woman said. “Come to Mommy.”

  Joseph dropped his gun and sat down on the edge of the catwalk, his feet hanging over the edge. “That’s a good boy,” the woman said.

  “Don’t,” John said. He looked around for a weapon but couldn’t find one. There had been so many guns before and now there were none. “Someone shoot her!”

  “Don’t do it, Joseph!” Seth said. He pulled out his other revolver and fired down at the woman, but the chamber was empty. Seth rammed a hand into a front pocket, grabbed a handful of bullets, and began to reload his gun.

  Joseph dropped to the ground, landing in the mud on his rear. He stood up and looked at the woman, who slowly walked toward him, her mouth open in a grin. Bits of flesh hung from the corner of her mouth. “Your father tasted like fish, like little tiny fish. I wonder how you’ll taste.”

  Joseph stood and stared at his dead mother, tears rolling down his face.

  Paul looked toward the front of the fort. Seth was yelling at the kid and John had his back turned. It was now or never. Paul brought up his rifle and fired, striking Seth square in the head. A ribbon of blood erupted from the wound and Seth fell face-first off the side of the catwalk.

  John turned and looked at his brother. “What the hell you doing!”

  “Just taking care of some business.”

  “Save the kid!” John looked around frantically for a gun. Why couldn’t he find a damn gun? There had been so many guns before--where had they all gone?

  “He can save himself,” Paul said. He placed the rifle on his shoulder and looked at his brother. “We best get out of here before those flames reach us.”

  #

  The
dead woman reached Joseph and took his small head in her hands, his tears flowing over her bloodied and bruised claws.

  “I thought you were dead,” he said.

  “I am,” she whispered back as her mouth closed on his face.

  #

  “You could’ve saved him!”

  “Why would I do that? This way we’re free and clear, no one left to threaten us. Come on, let’s get out of here.” Paul looked over the side of the catwalk and shot Joseph’s mother in the head. Her hands released Joseph and they both fell to the ground, Joseph’s bloody and ruined face glistening in the light of the fire.

  Paul dropped to the ground and the mud sucked at his feet as he walked toward the fort’s gate.

  John looked around the catwalk. In Thomas’ right hand he saw a small revolver. After picking it up he dropped over the side of the catwalk and walked after his brother.

  Paul stood a few yards in front of the fort. A few zombies that had been cut in half by the Gatling were still struggling forward through the mud and Paul walked up to each one of them and shot it in the head. The flames in the fort continued to grow in strength and the air filled with the sound of burning wood.

  John walked up to his brother and stopped. Paul should have saved that boy; he didn’t do anything to either of them. He was just a kid. There was no reason for him to die.

  For the first time in his life, John was fully aware of what his brother was, what he was capable of. He had always made excuses for Paul before, ignored the violence he had committed against others, all because he was blood, family. But it ended here and now. Paul killed their father, let that boy die, and had made John’s life a living hell. Tears streamed down John’s face as he cocked the revolver.

  “Damn, this was one hell of a day, wasn’t it?” Paul said.

  John raised the revolver and shot his brother in the face.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  John stood in the early morning light and looked at the fort. The fire had consumed the entire structure and now it was nothing more than a smoldering heap of wood. The storm clouds had cleared before dawn and the sky was a light shade of blue.

  John bent and looked at the mound of stones that covered his brother’s body. He wanted to say something but nothing came to mind. His eyes burned from crying and his throat was raw. He wiped his eyes and started back toward town, a rifle slung over one shoulder.

  #

  Because of the thick mud, it took John two hours to reach Jackson, and by the time he made it to the town, the sun was high in the sky and the heat was already returning.

  Jackson was deathly quiet and bodies were everywhere, some of them jutting out of the drying mud like bizarre statues. Flies buzzed all around and a couple of coyotes were chewing on a body by the livery stable. John shooed the animals away and looked in the livery. Except for two dead horses, it was empty and smelled of wet hay and rotting flesh.

  He continued further into town. The stench from the dead bodies hung in the air like a thin oil and the smell made John gag. John looked at the empty buildings and their dark windows stared back at him. He kept the rifle at the ready, half expecting someone to rush out at him.

  As he neared the middle of town, John heard something walking through the mud. He stopped and moved close to the side of a building, the rifle cocked and ready. He listened closely and moved to the corner of the building, toward the sound. An alley stretched down the side of the building and the sound was coming in John’s direction, toward the street.

  “Who’s there?”

  There was no answer, just the slapping of mud.

  John turned the corner of the building, ready to shoot. A cow stood ten feet in front of him, its mouth slowly chewing its cud. John lowered the rifle and walked up to the cow. It looked at him lazily and then resumed its journey. John continued down the alley and at the far end found a small corral. Inside was a horse.

  John walked over to the horse and grabbed it by the reins and led it to the street. They walked down the street toward the livery and John felt goose bumps rise on his skin. It was so unnatural seeing all the bodies and the empty buildings. John wondered what would happen to the town, how the authorities would explain what had happened here. More than likely the town would be burnt to the ground and that would be that.

  John reached the livery and tied the horse to a post out front. He found a saddle and two canteens of water at the rear of the livery. John took the saddle up to the horse and then returned for the canteens. He took a long drink from one of them before going back outside. He was just climbing onto the horse when he heard the sound of crying. John pulled the rifle up and looked back down the street. The sound seemed to be coming from a building to his right. John turned the horse around and rode over to the building.

  It was Jackson’s telegraph office. The front door was gone and one of the building’s windows was shattered. Dried blood was splattered across the porch. The sound of the crying was louder.

  John got off the horse and walked up the front steps. The crying was coming from inside the dark building and for a moment John hesitated. He didn’t know if one of those zombie things would cry, but he didn’t want to take any unnecessary chances. The crying tapered off and then the office was quiet.

  “Someone in there?” John said.

  The office was quiet.

  After making sure the rifle was loaded, John stepped into the office. He stood there for a moment, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the gloom. From the back of the office came the crying again, but this time it sounded tired and muffled. John moved toward the sound. “Who’s there?”

  The crying stopped.

  “I’m leaving right now. If you’re there and need help, tell me now.”

  “I’m back here,” a little voice said.

  “Are you sick?”

  “No.”

  John walked through a doorway at the rear of the office and down a hallway. The hallway ended at a small office; John entered and looked around. The desk and cabinet had been ransacked, and papers and pieces of broken wood littered the floor. “Where are you?”

  “Back here.”

  John walked to the rear of the office and turned over the desk. Underneath was a little boy, seven, eight years old. His face was muddy and his clothes were covered with grime and blood and foam. John aimed the rifle at the boy.

  “You one of them?”

  “No.” Tears slid down the boy’s face. “Are you?”

  “No.”

  The boy stuck his thumb in his mouth and looked at John. The boy’s eyes were red from crying and snot trickled out of his nose.

  “Where are your parents?”

  “I don’t know. Dead, I guess. My pa was real sick and he went to see the doctor and after that I didn’t see him again.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “David. David Unger.”

  “You stay here all night, David?”

  “No, I hid in the attic and came down this morning.” David lowered his head. “I had to go to the bathroom real bad.”

  John walked over to David. “Do you want to come with me? There’s no one else here.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Okay.” David stood and the two of them walked back to the front of the office and out onto the porch. John wondered what the boy had seen during the night, if he’d ever recover.

  David looked up and down the street and fought back tears. The smell was getting worse and several vultures had descended upon a body across the street. John put a hand on David’s back and led him to the horse. After putting David on the back of the horse, John climbed on and the two of them rode out of town.

  #

  A short time later John and David reached Jerry’s farm and John stopped on the road out front. “I need to stop here for a bit and get some things. First I need to make sure it’s safe, so I want you to wait on the horse, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  John dismounted and walke
d up to the front porch. The front door hung open and a partially devoured corpse lay in the doorway. He walked over to the body and looked down; the face was gone and John wondered if it was the prostitute he’d been with. What was her name? John couldn’t remember.

  John entered the house, checked all the rooms, and returned to the front door, a blanket in one hand. David and the horse were on the side of the road, the horse nibbling at some brown grass. “Look the other way,” John said.

  After had David turned his head, John dragged the body out of the doorway and around to the back of the house, where he covered it with the blanket. He weighed down the corners with some rocks and headed for the barns.

  The large barn was empty; in an upstairs room in the smaller barn John found two more bodies. By his recollection, that accounted for everyone who had lived here and there weren’t any signs that anyone else had been around. He walked back to David.

  “It’s safe,” John said. He took the horse by the reins and led it to the front porch, where he tied it to one of the supports. “Let’s go inside.”

  The pair headed up the stairs and John got his and Paul’s saddlebags. He took them downstairs and looked through them.

  “That your stuff?” David asked.

  “Yeah. Me and my brother’s.”

  “Where’s he?”

  “He’s dead.”

  “Oh.”

  Anger and sadness welled up inside of John as he looked through Paul’s belongings; some of his clothes still smelled like him. Why did it have to end this way? Why did his brother have to be so damn cruel, so damn evil? Now he was all alone; his whole family was dead.

  “Where are we going to go?” David said.

  “I don’t know. Probably California.”

  “Can I stay with you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean,” David started to cry. “I mean I’m not old enough to fend for myself yet. I don’t want to be alone.”

  “Don’t cry. It’s going to be okay.” John looked at David, at his pale and dirtied face, at his stained clothes. “You can stay with me.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You ready to go?”

  David nodded.