Massacre at Lonesome Ridge: A Zombie Western

by Samantha Warren

  He shook his head at her and walked back into the house, slamming the door shut before Walton could follow him in. The soldier hesitated on the porch for several minutes. He would put his hand on the door handle for a moment, then take it off again. He was trained to follow Little Bear, but his master's actions had left him without direction. Charity rolled her eyes and sighed. "I am surrounded by morons."

  She walked off the porch into the darkness. She used to be afraid of the dark before she was turned. She used to hate going outside the light where the animals prowled. Now she loved the middle of the night. She was strong and powerful, greater than any living creature. No person and no beast could touch her. She was a predator, the most powerful predator alive. Or dead. She wasn't quite sure yet. Either way, she was in charge. Or she would be. Soon. She walked out past the fields and stared at the moon in the sky. It was big and bold and beautiful, just like she was.

  Chapter 15

  Hannah's forehead rested against Abigail's shoulder as they plodded along the dirt track that served as the main road into Lonesome Ridge. Wyatt slouched against the neck of the plow horse. His fingers were tangled in the creature's mane and he listed dangerously to the side as the old beast trudged along. Both creatures were exhausted, but they kept moving faithfully down the familiar road.

  That was one of the few things Abby could be thankful for. She stared at the dark road ahead as memories of her mother, father, and sister played through her mind. She tried to focus on the good times, on Christmases and summer socials, on laughter and happiness. It wasn't working. Every time she pictured one of their faces, it was the last time she saw them. Dying, dead. Gone. And then the image would be replaced by the men who attacked them...

  Abby shuddered and shook her head to clear the image. There was something very wrong with those men. They were not normal. They were not human. She couldn't shake the feeling that they were dead, but that was ridiculous. How could they be dead? They were clearly alive enough to kill her family.

  When she was sure none of the creatures were following them, she pulled the horses to a stop beside a small stream. As she helped Hannah slide off, Wyatt's horse found its own way to the stream and began drinking. She walked over to him and gently shook his arm. He groaned, but didn't make any effort to get down.

  "Wyatt?"

  He turned his head on the horse's neck and looked at her with sad, tired eyes. He made no other effort to move, so she pulled up his pant leg to look at the wound. It was swollen around the edges and still bleeding. His skin was pale and hot. She patted his knee before turning to her little sister.

  "Hannah, can you help me get him down, please? We need to get his leg cleaned so it doesn't get infected."

  The younger woman's blond hair was matted and scraggly from the night's stress. She ran a hand through it as she crossed the short distance. She clapped a hand over her mouth as she approached and her eyes went wide with horror.

  "That smells awful."

  Wyatt's voice was so low they could barely hear it, but he finally spoke. "Thanks, sis." He gave her a weak smile.

  Hannah grinned at him, but she avoided his eyes. She took his leg carefully in her hands as Abby gripped his waist.

  "Okay, lean into me, Wyatt." As he slid toward her, Abby let her hands slide up until they were under his arms, then she gently pulled him off the horse. Together, the sisters half carried, half dragged their brother to the stream.

  Abby ripped his pant leg so she could see the wound better. The full moon gave her plenty of light to see by and she cleaned the wound as best she could.

  "It won't stop bleeding," she said as she pressed the cloth to the hole. Frowning, she ripped a strip from her shirt and bound Wyatt's leg. Blood continued to seep through, but there was nothing more she could do. "We have to get him to the doctor soon."

  Hannah bit her lip as she looked back at the horse. "How do we get him back up?"

  It took both of them all their strength and a lot of creativity, but they managed to hoist him back onto the horse. Soon they were on their way again.

  As they settled back into the quiet of the ride, Abby longed for another distraction. Her mind raced and her eyes burned with unshed tears. She tried to will them away, but they ignored her and broke over her eyelashes to stream down her face. They tumbled unbidden down her cheeks and onto the horse's dusty coat.

  They flowed unchecked until Lonesome Ridge came into blurry view on the horizon. Abby blinked rapidly and took several deep breaths to regain her composure. Her heart lightened a mere fraction as hope grew with the buildings. The town was seated on a ridge overlooking the river below. It used to be one of Abby's favorite sights. As much as she loved living on the farm with her family, the monthly visits to town were a treat. The ride was long, but she had loved every minute of it. The ride would hold no joy for her now, though.

  Abby bit her lip as they entered the town. The torches were still lit, but it was very late. Even the drunkards and saloon girls were sleeping. She decided to go straight to Doc Whitman's instead of waking the sheriff. She had known the doctor most of her life. He came to Lonesome Ridge just before Hannah was born. He had saved her mother during a very difficult childbirth. There was nothing the sheriff could do for her family anyway. Doc Whitman would patch Wyatt up and give them a place to sleep for the rest of the night. Then tomorrow she could figure out a plan and talk to Sheriff McClane.

  The horses plodded down the middle of the street, bone tired and as much in need of rest as their passengers. Their hooves made hollow sounds as they thudded against dry dirt packed solid from years of near constant use.

  Abby's jumped as a door to her right creaked open. She blinked into the torch hanging on the post nearby. The bars on the window told her it was the jail before she recognized the man standing in the darkened doorway. The sheriff stepped out into the light and tipped his hat toward her as she stopped the horses. Hannah roused herself behind Abby. Her grip on Abby's stomach increased almost to the point where Abby couldn't breathe.

  "Ladies," the sheriff said as he came off the steps toward them. His eyes were shadowed but his hand was on the pistol at his side. Not for the first time on that long trip Abby berated herself for losing her shotgun. She could have made a stand, she could have saved her family.

  "It's awful late for you kids to be out and about. Something happen back home?"

  Abby clenched her teeth together and nodded. She started to shake so badly she could barely hold onto the horse's mane. Tears rushed down her cheeks in torrents. Her chest seized and she bent over, sobbing.

  "Shhh," Hannah whispered behind her as she stroked her oldest sister's hair. "We're safe now. The sheriff will take care of us."

  Sheriff McClane stepped closer and put his hand on the horse's neck. Concern was heavy on his face now that the girls could see it in the light. "What happened? Where's your ma and pa? Madeleine?"

  Abby shook her head, unable to speak. Hannah squeezed her shoulder and tried to explain. "They...," she whispered, but her voice trailed off into tears.

  When Wyatt coughed behind them, Abby's eyes shot wide and her crying came to a sudden halt. In her grief, she had forgotten his leg. She pulled herself out of the pit of despair she had been sinking into and spun around on the horse. "Wyatt's been bit, sheriff. He needs help bad." Her voice cracked with the sob that still sat in her chest

  With a nod, the sheriff walked over to the boy. He pulled away the bandage to look at the wound in the flickering light of a nearby torch. As the stench hit the air, he sucked in a breath through his teeth and jerked away. The movement threw Wyatt off balance and the boy canted dangerously sideways. He was so weak, his fingers slipped through the horse's mane without making an attempt to hold on. As he toppled off the horse, the sheriff grabbed for him and managed to slow his fall.

  With a grunt, the older man hefted the boy into his arms. He stomped up the steps to the door to the jailhouse and kicked it open with a foot. "Amos," he called in a voic
e barely louder than a whisper as the door banged against the wall. In short time, the deputy trotted out the door, pulling his pants on as he went. He pulled up short when he saw Sheriff McClane and the girls. "What's happened?"

  "Take the horses to the stable and get them cared for, then meet me at Doc Whitman's."

  Amos glanced quickly at the horses, then nodded and disappeared inside. He returned in the blink of an eye with two lengths of rope. As the girls slid off their horse, the deputy tied the ropes around the animals' necks. He led them off toward the far end of town to the public stables.

  "Come on. This way."

  The girls knew the way to Doc Whitman's by heart, but they followed the sheriff like lost puppies who were far from home. When they reached the doctor's house, Connor laid the boy on a bench just outside the door. His knocks were heavy. They thundered out across the street and echoed off the buildings. Hannah jumped and stepped closer to Abby. The older girl slipped her arm around her younger sister and pulled her close.

  A light came on in the doctor's house and in several houses down the street. The sheriff picked the boy back up and stood in front of the door. It swung open to reveal a disheveled Doctor Jacob Whitman in his night clothes. Behind him stood his nurse, Eva, Wyatt's bride-to-be. She held a candle high so that it shined on the visitors. When she realized who it was, her eyes went wide and her lip began to quiver. The doctor gave Connor and the boy a quick once over and stepped aside without a word.

  The girls followed Connor into the house. The sheriff broke to the left and laid Wyatt on the table in the doctor's office. Eva pushed her way past the doctor and grabbed the boy's hand. "Wyatt? Wyatt, can you hear me?"

  Doc Whitman gripped her shoulders gently and pulled her away. "Eva, I need you to focus. We need light, and you need to bring me some boiling water and my tools."

  Eva stood staring at Wyatt for several seconds before she shook her head and ran off to follow the doctor's orders. She put a kettle over the fire to boil and laid out his tools, then she scurried around the house lighting candles and lanterns.

  "He was bitten," the sheriff said as Doc Whitman pulled the small tool tray over.

  Doc Whitman grabbed a pair of shears and cut away Wyatt's pant leg. The smell began to permeate the room as he pulled the bandage off. He pressed the back of his hand to his nose and made the same noise the sheriff had. The wound was dripping with blood and pus.

  "Bitten? By what? It almost..." He paused and grabbed a magnifying glass from the table.

  Abby watched him as he inspected her brother's leg. The confusion and doubt on his face mingled with her own tiredness. She felt like she was going crazy. She felt like she was dreaming, lost in a strange world. She began to question everything she had seen, all that had happened.

  "It looks... But it can't be. Not like this." Disbelief flooded the doctor's voice as he blinked twice at Wyatt's leg, then raised his eyes to stare at Abby.

  She nodded slowly as Hannah slid behind her to hide from the doctor's appalled expression.

  Connor's narrowed eyes darted between Abby and the doctor. "What is it, doc?"

  Doc Whitman shook his head. "Well," he said as he bent over to examine the wound again. "It looks like he was bitten by a man, but it's too dark around the bite. And the skin is starting to rot. It's impossible. I would believe that of a snake bite, sure, but this is clearly not. There are no animals that I know of that can do this. It's already infected and just by the look of him... Well, it doesn't look good. How long ago was he attacked? If you'd brought him in right when it happened--"

  Abby glanced at Eva. The girl's hands shook as she placed a bowl of steaming water on the table. Droplets splashed onto her fair skin, but she didn't even flinch. Her attention was completely on Wyatt. "We were eating dinner," Abby said.

  The doctor's hand dropped to the table. "Dinner... just a few hours ago?"

  Abby nodded as she fought against another bout of tears.

  "No, that's completely impossible. This type of infection would take days to set in, at least, if a man could even do that to another man. It just makes no sense." He mumbled to himself for a few moments as he poked at the wound. "Give me some time to look him over and see what I can do. Eva, take care of the girls, please."

  The terrified young nurse led Abby, Hannah, and Sheriff McClane from the room and shut the door behind her. Her voice was soft and monotone when she spoke, mere habit rather than true hospitality. "Would you like some tea? I'll refill the kettle." Without waiting for an answer, she wandered into the kitchen.

  The others followed her. As the girls sank into chairs around the table, Connor leaned against the doorway. "Abby, what happened?"

  He had his hat in one hand and his arms were crossed. His eyes bore into her. She shook her head. It was all too strange. How could she explain it? The face of the man who killed her father swam in front of her. Her heart pounded in her chest so hard it hurt. "I don't... It doesn't make sense. They were dead."

  The sheriff straightened and raised an eyebrow. He hung his hat on a peg by the door and pulled the chair out from the end of the table. He swung it around in front of Abby and straddled it backward. "What do you mean 'they were dead'?"

  Abby raised her eyes, but she didn't look at the sheriff. She looked at Hannah. Her younger sister's eyes were wide. Even though Hannah was nearly seventeen, she looked about five in the light from the flickering candles.

  The sheriff caught her stare. "Eva, why don't you take Hannah upstairs and get her cleaned up and into a bed?"

  The nurse hesitated for the briefest of moments before she scuttled over to the girl and gently took her by the arm. Hannah resisted until Abigail nodded. "It's all right. I'll be right here. Go get some sleep."

  Hannah allowed herself to be led out of the room. Abby was silent until she heard their steps disappear up the stairs.

  "We were eating supper," she began, not looking at the sheriff. She stared into the murky grayness outside the window. "The sun was nearly set. Maddy was there. She always comes home on Saturday." Her voice broke as she thought about her older sister, her best friend, dead eyes staring up at her from a slack face.

  "It's all right. Take your time." It was clear that the sheriff had dealt with tragedy before. He was calm and patient, giving Abby time to compose herself. He didn't push for details, but let them flow.

  "We were almost done when we heard a scream, an animal. It came from the barn. Pa said it was the cattle. I thought maybe some coyotes had broke into the barn or something. They've taken the calves before. We grabbed the shotguns and ran out there. Ma took the others into the bedroom just in case in was bandits."

  She stopped as the scene at the barn played out in her mind. Connor prodded her to continue, so she did. "Pa opened the door... It wasn't a coyote. It was a man, a couple men. They were... they weren't..." She took a deep breath and described the men to the sheriff. When she finished, tears rolled down her face.

  He sat there, silent and brooding for a very long time. She was fine with that. She didn't want to talk anymore anyway.

  "Connor." Doc Whitman's voice came softly from the doorway.

  Abby looked up. He wouldn't meet her eyes. Connor rose to follow the doctor from the room, but Abby was up and through the doorway before they could stop her. She ran into the operating room.

  "Wyatt," she whispered frantically. She grabbed his hand. It was cold. Too cold. "Wyatt, wake up." She shook his shoulder gently. His body jiggled with the movement and his arm flopped limply off the table. She longed to scream at him, to beg him to wake up, but she didn't want to wake Hannah. She wasn't ready to put her littlest sister through that kind of pain.

  A pair of hands gripped her shoulders and pulled her away. She swung around and buried her face in the doctor's chest. "I'm sorry, Abigail," he said as he stroked her hair, but she couldn't hear him over the sound of her own grief.

  Chapter 16

  Charity stared at the stars overhead. The men Little Bear tas
ked as scouts had been gone for three days. That meant that the farm they found was at least a day's walk away. She pondered for a moment. Dixonville was in the other direction. She knew Lonesome Ridge was a few days' ride that way.

  David had taken her there once. There were lots of townsfolk there, more than double the number at Dixonville. The railroad ran right through it, making it the most important town in the area. And she couldn't deny that the sheriff was pretty cute. It would make a good place for the start of her new empire.

  Charity tapped her chin. "I like that idea," she mused aloud.

  She turned and looked at the men and women milling around outside in the dark. They weren't a real army. Not yet. But they were a start.

  "A start," she muttered before walking back up the stairs.

  Walton had consigned himself to his fate and sat with his legs draped over the edge of the far end of the porch. She pulled the door open as quietly as she could and locked it tight behind her. Then she went into the kitchen and found the big butcher's knife sitting on the table where Isabelle had left it. She tested its weight in her hand and ran a finger across the blade. It cut a fine slit in her thumb, parting the gray skin like it was butter.

  Charity's lips pulled into a tight smile. "Perfect," she whispered.

  With the knife firmly in hand, she tiptoed across the hallway into the sitting room. The top of Little Bear's head was visible above the chair in front of the fire. With Walton was outside with the other mindless drones, the young man was alone.

  Indecision tore at her. She could take him now, slam the knife into his head and end it all. Or she could give him a chance to change, to bow to her rule. The small shred of loyalty she felt to him won out. She walked around the chair and stood in front of him with the knife dangling in her hand.

  She waited for him to look up. He wouldn't. He knew she was there, of that she had no doubt. His non-reaction made her second guess herself, but she was committed to her course of action.