Massacre at Lonesome Ridge: A Zombie Western

by Samantha Warren

  "Come in."

  Charity froze with her foot hanging off the last step. She leaned over and looked into the sitting room. Someone with long black hair occupied David's chair. It faced the fireplace, away from the door. On the floor beside the chair sat a man. He was dressed in a ragged Confederate uniform that had dark brown stains on the sleeves and pant legs. He stared at her with dull eyes. His skin was gray, like hers.

  "Come." The voice came from the man in the chair. It was thick with an accent Charity could not place.

  She stepped down onto the floor. "Where's David?" She kept her hand on the banister and balanced on her toes, ready to bolt back up the stairs.

  "Here," said the hidden speaker.

  Charity heard a light scuffing sound before David's head appeared from in front of the chair. He looked terrible, much like she did before she cleaned up. Gray skin, lifeless eyes. He stared at her with his mouth hanging half open, like her grandfather after his stroke when she was just a child.

  "Sit." David flopped out of sight.

  Charity narrowed her eyes. She didn't like the idea of someone else treating her husband like a dog. Sure, he hadn't been kind to her lately, but he was still her husband. She stomped across the floor to the chair, a scathing retort on her lips. It died before it left her mouth.

  Sitting in the chair was a young man. His long black hair flowed around his shoulders, but chunks were missing from the sides and back. His skin was a grayish brown. Wounds covered his body, but they did not bleed.

  He turned his head to look at her. Where his eyes used to be were gaping red holes. His face was cracked like the ground in the middle of summer.

  He spoke in slow, labored English. His voice was hoarse and low. “Hello, child. Welcome to a new world.”

  Charity stared at the man in the chair, shocked into silence.

  The man in the chair spoke again. "My name is Little Bear. You are Charity?"

  Charity nodded. "Wh..." She stopped herself and glanced around the room. It was just the three of them. Outside the window, the world was still. She couldn't even hear the usual snorting of the horses and cattle. "What are you?"

  Little Bear smiled. His teeth were stained a dark brown. "Death," he said.

  Charity cut a look at David. He sat on the floor in front of the empty fireplace staring out into nothing. From this angle she could see his blond hair was matted in the back with dried blood. The lower part of his shirt was torn and stained.

  "What do you mean?" Charity kept David in her peripheral vision and looked back at Little Bear.

  The smile had not left his face. He spoke again. "In due time. You must be starving." He raised a hand and waved it toward the back.

  The soldier rose and disappeared from the room. The front door slammed shut behind him. A minute later it creaked opened.

  The smell hit Charity like a brick wall. It was Christmas dinner, the freshest baked bread, and the stench of fear, all rolled into one. Her body vibrated with a hunger so intense, it made her insides hurt. She could feel it in every part of her body, from her stomach all the way out to her fingers and toes. Her teeth rattled with anticipation of sweet, delicious food.

  The soldier came into view. Behind him stumbled the kitchen maid, Isabelle. Her hands were tied and a rag was stuffed into her mouth to keep her from talking. Her eyes were huge and glistened brightly above tear-stained cheeks. She was being pushed by a big brute of a man with the same gray skin and dead eyes as everyone but Isabelle.

  Isabelle was very much alive. Charity imagined she could hear the blood pulsing through the girl's veins. Warm, wonderful blood. A growl tore up Charity's throat and escaped before she could stop it. At the same time, David rose. The same hunger she felt burned in his eyes.

  "Down," Little Bear commanded.

  David hesitated as he stepped forward. He wobbled for a moment, his eyes shifting between Little Bear and Isabelle. Then with obvious reluctance he sank to the floor and scooted around so he could continue to stare at Isabelle.

  Little Bear watched her as he spoke. "Go ahead, Charity."

  Charity tried to look at him, she wanted to, but she couldn't tear her gaze away from the girl. "I don't understand." The words were forced through clenched teeth. She knew exactly what he meant. Isabelle's fear sweated out through her delicate skin. The wide doe eyes swelled with tears that spilled down her face. Charity knew they would season her cheeks with a delicious saltiness. She could almost taste the tender flesh on her tongue and it made her weak in the knees.

  Charity jerked her head to the side, forcing herself to look away. Her nostrils flared as she glared at Little Bear. "What are you?"

  Little Bear smiled again. "What are we, you mean. We are vengeance. We are revenge. We are death."

  Charity shook her head. She still didn't understand. He was babbling.

  Little Bear raised his hand and beckoned. The big brute brought Isabelle forward until she was standing right in front of Charity.

  "Eat," he said.

  Charity shook as she fought back the hunger that threatened to envelop her. Her hands clenched in tight balls that she used to beat upon her thighs. She berated herself for her stupidity. This was just a dream. Just a dream. She would wake up soon and David would be lying next to her in their bed upstairs.

  But the hunger was very real, and she could no longer fight it. She took a step toward Isabelle. She was right in front of the girl now. The maid whimpered around the gag as she gazed at Charity. Her eyes pleaded with her mistress and she tried to speak. Charity didn't hear her. Her ears buzzed with Isabelle's pulse. She took another step forward. Isabelle tried to take a step back, but the big man was directly behind her and she couldn't move. Charity reached out a hand and trailed a finger down the soft skin of the girl's neck. She pulled the finger back and licked it.

  Her legs nearly buckled at the intense flavor. It tasted so delicious. All her resolve evaporated in an instant. Before she knew what she was doing, her hand darted out and tangled itself into Isabelle's hair. The girl screamed around the cloth shoved into her mouth. Charity snarled and a vicious grin pulled at her lips. She ripped the cloth away to let Isabelle's screams pierced the air in full force. The sound sent shivers of ecstasy through Charity's body. Riding the high of the screams, she tipped the girl's head back and pressed her nose to the throbbing vein. She inhaled deeply and moaned.

  The continued screams vibrated against her lips as they trailed along the salty skin and she savored the moment. Then Charity's teeth pierced the skin, tiny drops of blood ran over her tongue, she shook with a pleasure she had never before known. It was heaven. Nothing she had ever eaten or experienced, not during her childhood or even during her wedding, could match the explosion of flavor and joy that started in her mouth and coursed through her entire body. It was too much and not enough, all at the same time.

  Charity's teeth snapped closed and she yanked her head back. As a chunk of flesh ripped from Isabelle's throat, the girl's screams became burbling gags. The meat tasted even better than the blood. She chewed slowly, making the moment last as long as she could.

  Isabelle sagged against her as the last bit of life left her weak body. Charity forgot about everyone else in the room. It was just her and the girl, the girl she hated, the girl she now loved. She pulled Isabelle's head back again and trailed a finger down her throat. This time she took a bite from the shoulder. It was tougher than the flesh at the throat, not as tender. But it had its own unique flavor and it was still beyond anything she could have imagined.

  For several blissful minutes, Charity ate, taking bites from various parts of the body, testing their delicacy, comparing their flavors, discovering her favorite bits. Finally, her hunger was sated and she let the dead maid slide to the floor. Charity sank down with her, feeling weak and spent.

  "Take her outside." Little Bear's voice broke through the strange wall of happiness that surrounded her.

  As the big man hefted Isabelle's body over his shoulder, C
harity looked up at him. She was in a fog, confused by what just happened, by what she felt. She still floated in a dream world, but it had taken on an all too real hue. A small piece of her was appalled at what she had just done and it clawed its way out from under the animal urges that were threatening to take over. She shook as she realized what she had done. She was a cannibal, devouring the flesh of her very own kitchen maid. She wiped her arm across her mouth. The back of her hand came away streaked with blood.

  "I don't understand," she whispered.

  Little Bear leaned over and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Welcome to the fold, my little one."

  Chapter 10

  Jeremiah Gaines wandered over to the barn, grumbling the whole way. "Stupid Jed. What's he know anyway?" Jeremiah continued to mumble for several minutes in a nonsense language he had invented as a child to express his anger toward his older brother. He threw open the door to the barn and stomped through. The wind slammed it shut behind him as he made his way past the mostly empty stalls. The large barn was falling apart after years of disuse. Animals of every sort used to ramble all over the farm when his parents were alive. Now they just had three horses, one for each of the three remaining brothers.

  Jeremiah stopped in front of his horse's stall. "Howdy, Nelly," he said as he opened the door. The mare nuzzled his pocket when he closed it behind him. "Here ya go, my lovely lady." He reached into his pocket and took out a stick of peppermint candy he had swiped from the general store earlier in the month. He snapped one stick into several pieces and held them in his hand for her to take. She rested her head on his shoulder as she munched and he scratched her along the jaw. "That's my girl. Least someone loves me."

  He glanced over at Jed's horse, Saddle, who stood looking through the bars longingly. Jeremiah narrowed his eyes at the horse. "Stupid name for a stupid horse," he mumbled even as he reached into his pocket with his free hand. Using his leg for leverage, he broke one of the remaining candies into several pieces and pulled them out. Then he stuck his hand through the bars and let Saddle lap the pieces up. He scratched the old horse on the nose even as he continued to grumble.

  When his fingers started to ache, he pulled away from Saddle and pushed Nelly off his shoulder. Nelly's reins were hanging just outside the stall and he reached through the bars to pull them off the hook. After slipping them over the horse's head, he led her out into the walk way.

  A young stallion stood with his head over the door on the other side of Saddle's stall. Drool dripped from his lips as he stared at Jeremiah. The big man dropped Nelly's reins and took two giant steps to reach the door. "Don't worry, I didn't forget you, ya big dummy." After doling out a quick scratch and the last couple pieces of peppermint, he grabbed his saddle from the saddle rack and threw it over Nelly's back. He cinched it tight and led her out into the sunshine.

  "Hey! Where you think yer going?" Jed called to him from the porch where he sat on the steps whittling a stick. There was a pile of old shavings on the side of the stairs and an enormous collection of hideous wooden figures cluttered up nearly every surface in the house.

  Jeremiah pulled Nelly around to face Jed. "Lonesome Ridge. What's it to ya?"

  Jed raised an eyebrow at him. Jeremiah had a weakness for the saloon girls. Especially one in particular, one who had no interest in him and who could get him in a whole mess of trouble with the sheriff. "You keep yer nose clean, ya hear me?" Jed waggled his knife at his younger brother. "I don't need you bringin' McClane down on us again. We don't need him stickin' his nose around here any more than he already does. In fact..." He stood up and hollered into the house. "Jasper, get yer ass out here. Yer headin' to town."

  The young man came out onto the porch. "Why do I have to go? Jer can handle himself." But he was already strapping on his belt. It was a futile argument that he never won.

  "Don't go givin' me no lip. Move. Jeremiah's ready to go already and yer gonna make him late."

  Jasper jumped off the edge of the porch to avoid his oldest brother arm as it made a beeline for Jasper's head, then he trotted to the barn as Jeremiah began to protest behind him. "Aw, com'on, Jed. I don't need no nanny goat. I can look after myself."

  Jed grunted and went back to his whittling, effectively ending any potential conversation before it began. Jeremiah grumbled atop Nelly until Jasper returned with Dynamite a few minutes later.

  "Come on. Let's go," Jasper said as he nodded toward the path through the hills.

  Jeremiah glared at him for a full thirty seconds before he spat on the ground, aiming in Jed's direction. The older Gaines brother pretended not to notice, even though his eyes narrowed and his face darkened. With a growl, Jeremiah spun Nelly around and spurred her into a trot. She felt his irritation and snorted as she kicked up dust in her wake. Jasper sighed and followed at a slower pace. This was a regular occurrence and he knew Jeremiah would eventually slow down and wait for him. No matter what his brother said, he liked having Jasper along for the ride whenever he went into town. Jasper kept him out of serious trouble... usually.

  As he expected, Jeremiah was waiting where the hills split apart to go their separate ways. He spat again and a fat glob of brown juice pooled on the hard dirt.

  Jasper's nose curled and he fought against his gag reflex. He glanced at his older brother. "You should wash up before we get to town if you don't want Ms. Cora to dump a bucket on you."

  Jeremiah glared at him again. "That only happened once. She never dare do it again. I'd whoop her and she knows it."

  Jasper laughed. "She did it twice, Jeremiah. And I have no doubt she would do it again if she thought it was necessary. That girl is afraid of no one, especially not you."

  Jeremiah snorted. "Whatever. That little whore needs someone to teach her a lesson. She'd do right to listen to us menfolk."

  The younger man shook his head. His brother was all bark and no bite. "Why would she do that? She has you boys wrapped around her finger. And she's not a whore, she's just a dancing girl. She gets you all riled up, then sends you off to one of the real whores. You're just mad because she won't take you to her bed."

  The older Gaines brother growled. "She will. Just you wait. One of these days, she will."

  They rode in silence to the river. "Stop here." Jeremiah jumped off Nelly and draped her reins over a tree branch near the water before he stripped down to nothing.

  Jasper pressed his lips tightly together to stifle the know-it-all smirk that would surely get him a good beating. He tethered Dynamite near Nelly so they could both drink and wandered down the river a short distance to give his brother some privacy. Not that Jeremiah had a modicum of humility anyway. He would strip down in the middle of town and bath in a horse trough if he thought the sheriff wouldn't arrest him for it.

  As Jasper sank down onto a log to get lost in his own thoughts, Jeremiah splashed about in the cold water. It hadn't rained for awhile, so the river was low. The mud he kicked up made it brown and ugly and didn't help him getting clean much, but he didn't notice. He always felt like a kid whenever he bathed in the river. It was the only place he would bathe, and he didn't do it often enough. But it was fun when he did.

  A flicker of light caught his eye and he dove toward it. The fish slipped through his fingers by barely an inch. "Lucky bastard," he grumbled as he stood up and surveyed the water again. It took him several tries, but he caught the fish and soon after that, he snagged another one.

  "Jasper, get over here."

  The young man looked up in time to see his brother emerge from the river, stark naked, dripping wet, and carrying two large fish. He grinned and grabbed some of the fallen twigs that littered the ground around the trees.

  "I thought you wanted to get to town," he said as he piled the wood up and got a fire started.

  "Eh." Jeremiah shrugged and looked to the sky. "Sun's still high yet. We got time. Don't wanna get there too early or the good whores is still sleepin'."

  Jasper snorted and rolled his eyes. He took the fish from hi
s brother and skewered them on two longer sticks. Then he propped them over the fire using several stones. Jeremiah lay back on the ground to air dry, heedless of the dirt that was now covering his backside. Jasper rolled his eyes and pulled a small book from Dynamite's saddle bag.

  He settled himself on the other side of the fire. He opened the book very carefully. It was called Frankenstein, written by a young woman named Mary Shelley. The shopkeeper's wife, Emma Jones, had let him borrow it. She had lots of books, books she had brought with her from back east. Rumor had it she was a librarian before moving out west. Why someone would give up that life to come out west and toil in the hot sun and dirt all day, Jasper would never understand.

  Jasper found the page where he left off and began reading. It was a good book. They always were. He had to be careful with them, though. Jeremiah mocked him for reading, but he never did anything cruel to him. Jed, on the other hand, would snatch the books from his hands and throw them in the fire hard enough to send the coals flying. Mrs. Jones had been very upset when that had happened to one of hers. Jasper thought she would never lend him another book again, but she forgave him and now he took great care with the books. Jed never saw one and Jeremiah never said anything about it to Jed.

  Jasper glanced at his brother. Jeremiah was rough and uncouth, a bull in a china shop as the saying goes, but he wasn't Jed. There was a stupid innocence to Jeremiah. He did what he was told and didn't think much about right and wrong. He just went with the way life flowed. Unlike Jed. Jed went out of his way to hurt people. Sure, on the face of things he pretended to have morals. No shooting women or children, no shooting the animals. But that didn't mean he didn't find other ways to do damage, to hurt people as much as he could. Even those he claimed to care about weren't immune to his vileness. Ma and Pa were afraid of him toward the end. She died before Pa, which was a stroke of luck for her. Pa didn't make it to a natural end. Jasper was there the day Jed decided to "put the ol' man outta his misery." He had tried to stop his oldest brother, but he was too weak. All he did was earn himself a broken arm, a black eye, and several bruised ribs.