Massacre at Lonesome Ridge: A Zombie Western

by Samantha Warren

  He bowed as a predator's sneer pulled at his lips, then he stalked toward the house.

  Charity walked to the front porch of Stella's house and waited until she heard the screams start around her, then she stomped up the stairs. A light flickered on in an upstairs window. Charity smiled and raised her foot. The wooden door shattered as her heel connected with it. She tore what was left of it off its hinges and tossed it to the side. Her boots echoed ominously on the floors inside.

  Shuffling footsteps and frantic whispers came from upstairs. With a sneer on her face, she followed them. As she reached the top, a blast rang out and she jerked to the side. A sharp pain tore through her shoulder, but it faded quickly. She glanced down at the gaping hole, then up into the wide eyes of a man holding a shaking shotgun pointed straight at her.

  "You ripped my dress. I liked this dress." Her smile grew as confusion fluttered across his face. She didn't bother walking up the last two steps. Instead, she placed her hands on the railing and used her arms to throw herself toward the man. He collapsed beneath her like a rag doll. She gripped his throat and clamped down on his windpipe. He struggled, but he was no match for her. She sank her teeth into his shoulder just below his neck.

  Two bare feet came into view around a doorway just as the man stopped moving. Charity tried to snarl, but her mouth was full. A large chunk of flesh came off when she jerked back. She spat it out and raised her head. Stella's eyes were wide and terrified. She clamped her hands to her mouth and took a step back. Charity rose and took a step toward her.

  "Hello, Stella." The name tasted like bile on Charity's tongue. She hated the woman with a passion. Stella was the elected leader of the local woman's club. She had tried to recruit Charity several times, but all the while she looked down on Charity as if she were a worthless transplant. Charity would not be treated that way, not by anyone. Not anymore.

  Stella whimpered. Charity grinned. "A little louder, if you please."

  Stella's jaw dropped. For a brief second, she hesitated in the doorway and then she ran. She tried to reach the door on the other side of the stairs, but Charity darted out in front of her. She clamped her hand around Stella's throat and lifted her into the air. With a strength she didn't realize she possessed, Charity tossed her through the door. It shattered amid a myriad of moans.

  Stella landed on the floor with a huff as her breath was forced from her lungs. She tried to climb to her feet, but her legs were tangled in her nightgown and she struggled to breathe.

  Charity enjoyed the resounding echo of her heels on the wood as she crossed the floor to the bed. Two little boys were huddled together against the headboard. Twins. They whimpered as she reached them.

  "No, please." Stella reached out toward her children.

  Charity turned halfway and cocked her head. "Please? Please what?"

  The woman coughed. "Please don't hurt my children."

  Charity smirked. "Don't worry. I won't hurt them nearly as much as I hurt you."

  Then she grabbed the little boys by their hair. Stella screamed behind her as she pulled their bodies apart and smashed their heads together. They died instantly. She tossed the bodies to the ground. Deep inside, she felt a twinge of hatred at herself, but she shoved it back into the darkness and focused on the woman.

  Stella collapsed onto the floor, sobbing into the wood. Charity walked over and knelt beside her. "See? They didn't feel a thing," she said as she stroked the woman's hair. Her fingers tangled into the messy bun and she slowly arched the woman's head back. "Unlike you."

  Charity squeezed the hair until the woman yelped in pain. Then she took her sweet time stripping Stella's body of the most delicate flesh. A pool of blood spread out from the body and dripped through the wood and stained the ceiling below. Stella's screams started out strong, but they dwindled to whimpers and soon she no longer moved.

  Satiated at last, Charity sat back on her heels. Then she reached out and snapped Stella's neck with one swift motion. "You are not coming back," she said to the body beside her.

  After a few minutes of sitting peacefully in the dark, purposefully refusing to look at the cooling bodies on the bed, she forced herself to her feet. She left the room and shut the door behind her, mentally shutting out the carnage with it, then she headed into Stella's bedroom. Using the wash basin, she cleaned herself up. In the closet, she found Stella's nicest dress and stuffed herself into it. By the time she was presentable again, the screams and shouts in the rest of the village had stopped. She made her way downstairs and walked out into the quiet.

  She strolled down the middle of the street. Her men and women stumbled from the houses, drunk on the best dinner they had ever had. They gathered around her and waited. When the recently deceased began to rise, they joined the group, lost and confused, but aware that they were now part of something bigger. None of those who turned displayed signs of Charity's level of intelligence. She was both dismayed and grateful. She longed for someone to talk to, but she also feared the challenge to her rule.

  When all the bodies that weren't destroyed had risen again, Charity sent Walton to find a carriage. They rigged it to be pulled by several of her new soldiers, one of them being David, as none of the horses survived the slaughter. She grinned as she climbed inside. It was plush and comfortable. Her army was more than triple its previous size. She was fed and feeling good. She couldn't be happier.

  "On to Lonesome Ridge," she told Walton as he climbed in to join her.

  Walton relayed the message and Charity sank back into the overstuffed seat as they began to move.

  Chapter 20

  The Gaines brothers reached town early in the evening, just as the sun was sinking below the trees on the horizon. Jeremiah drooped against his saddle horn. His eyes were closed and he forced himself to take slow, steady breaths. His horse lagged behind Jed's a bit, but Jasper stayed next to him. The young man kept throwing furtive glances at his injured brother and it was starting to get on Jeremiah's nerves. He clenched his teeth and dreamed about taking a long swig of Neil Avery's special whiskey.

  The quickest path to the saloon from where they were was just a turn onto Main Street and then a straight ride to the middle of town. But Jed swung out and around the town, bringing them in near the train station. He slowed the horses to an almost painful crawl.

  "Looks like Fitch is shipping some crates back east," he said as he craned his neck to survey the loading platform attached to the back of the station. "Train should be in around noon tomorrow."

  He left the rest of his thoughts unsaid. The others didn't need to hear it. It wasn't the first time they'd hit the train before it came into Lonesome Ridge and Jed had already given them the rundown. They would rest up at the saloon for the night and then head out before dawn. If all went according to Jed's master plan, they would waylay the train a couple miles outside of town and steal anything of value.

  Jasper swallowed his sigh. The last time they tried to rob the train, Jed had made him jump from his horse onto the locomotive. He had missed the stairs and was rewarded with a broken leg and a cracked rib. Jeremiah had made the jump, but that particular train held few valuables and the risk wasn't worth it.

  This time, though, Jed wasn't going to act on just a whim. He already had an area picked out. Jasper had helped him stuff a bunch of clothes with straw and the dummies were waiting out near the tracks. The plan was to prop the dummies up on the tracks before the train arrived. The conductor would be forced to bring the train to a stop. While he was dealing with the fake outlaws, the real outlaws would jump up from where they hid in some weeds and board the train. Rumor had it that a big shipment of money was coming from back east to bolster the bank in Lonesome Ridge and if the rumors were true, the Gaines boys would be quite comfortable for awhile. Jasper liked comfort, but he also liked his life. He was less optimistic than Jed about the whole operation and hoped against all hope that something happened to keep them from having to try the not-so-little heist.

  "You
awake, boy?" Jeremiah nudged Jasper in the foot as Nelly pulled to a stop beside Dynamite.

  Jasper blinked and looked away from the crates. Jed was half a block ahead of them, having seen what he wanted to see, and Jeremiah was waiting. He was looking a little pale.

  "Yeah, I'm fine." He kicked his horse into gear and it followed after Jed.

  Jeremiah raised an eyebrow. He understood Jasper's reservations. He had many of his own, but Jed was the boss and they didn't have much say in the matter.

  "What about you? How's your arm?"

  Jeremiah wiggled his fingers and winced. "It's a bit stiff. Probably gonna have to waste some o' that good whiskey on it. Maybe I'll get Cora to fix me up right nice." He grinned as Jasper laughed.

  "She'd be quite happy to fix you, but not in the way you'd like." Jasper returned his brother's grin, but he was worried about Jeremiah. The wound was still bleeding through the cloth and every time he pictured that woman, a shiver worked its way up his spine. She wasn't right.

  "You ladies done gossipin'?" Jed asked when they finally caught up. He didn't expect an answer and they didn't give one. The three of them angled their horses toward the saloon.

  Jeremiah sighed with relief when he saw the familiar faded sign hanging from the roof. His heart did a happy little dance, for more reasons than one. Whiskey and women were the two things he loved most in the world and the saloon had them both. It didn't matter that his woman of choice, Cora, had no interest in him. He would settle for one of the others. They were cheaper anyway, and they were more willing to give him what he wanted. Cora was a fine looking woman and fun to be around, but she would never do more than dance, and he had needs.

  His horse stepped on a rock and stumbled slightly. It jostled Jeremiah's arm and he grunted in pain. At least he would get a little attention from Cora, he thought. She was the best of the girls at fixing the injuries that the men tended to come in with, those that refused to see Doc Whitman, anyway. He flexed his fingers again and gritted his teeth. He considered turning around and heading to see the doc instead, but they were nearing the saloon. Besides, Jed would never pay the bill, so he pushed the thought out of his mind.

  A large crowd had gathered on the porch in front of the saloon. It was always fairly busy this time of night, but the regular patrons were accompanied by men and women who usually considered themselves too upstanding to be seen around the drunkards in the saloon. Those folks typically kept to the hotel restaurant on the other side of town.

  Jed led his brothers up to the outside of the crowd. His eyes narrowed as he surveyed the people. Most were chatting amongst themselves, but nervous energy rolled over them like a heat wave. Sheriff Connor McClane and his deputy stood on the porch talking to Neil Avery and Cora Monroe.

  "What's going on?" Jasper asked. He had a very bad feeling about the whole thing and wanted nothing more than to head inside and get a drink.

  "Dunno anymore'n you, do I?" Jed fixed his stare on the sheriff for a long moment before turning to his brothers. He nodded his head back down the street. "Go see the doc, Jeremiah. Have him take a look at you, get that arm fixed. I'll see what I can find out."

  Jeremiah grumbled. "It's fine. Can't I just go get a drink and have Cora look at it?"

  "No." Jed glared at him. "Get outta here, now."

  Jasper and Jeremiah exchanged a look. Jasper shrugged and spun his horse around. Jeremiah returned Jed's glare for several seconds, but his head was starting to swim and he really wanted to get off his horse. A cough rose in his throat, but he forced it away. Jed didn't need to know how sick he really felt.

  He followed Jasper down the street and they found Doc Whitman's house. Jasper hopped off his horse and tied him up at the post. Dynamite immediately dipped his head under the bar to drink. Jeremiah pulled his horse in next to Jasper's, but he didn't have the energy to get off. Instead, he sank further forward in the saddle and rested his head on his good arm. Jasper came over to him.

  "You gonna make it?"

  Jeremiah laughed. "Yeah, it's just a bite. I guess fightin' with that crazy bitch took a toll." He gathered his strength and swung his leg over. Jasper caught his arm and gave him some support as he climbed down. The younger man tied up the horse as Jeremiah slowly made his way to the steps. Jasper gave him his shoulder as he climbed up to the walkway and he leaned heavily against a post when he reached the top.

  Jasper left him where he was and knocked on the door. Inside, he could see three figures through the curtains. One of them turned to the door, then rose. The door opened.

  "Jasper." Doc Whitman's surprise was evident in his voice and on his face. The Gaines boys only came to see him when something was really wrong.

  "Hey, doc." Jasper gave him a weak smile and waved a hand at Jeremiah. "Jer needs a bit of fixin' up. We wouldn't have bothered you, but there's a big pow wow going on at the saloon and the girls look otherwise engaged."

  The doctor stiffened and cleared his throat. Jasper narrowed his eyes at him. He knew something about what was going on. "What's up, Doc? Something bad happen?"

  Doc Whitman bit his lip and glanced between the two men. Then he stepped aside. "Come in, please. We'll discuss it inside."

  Jasper gave him one last look before walking over to Jeremiah to take his arm. "Let's go."

  Jeremiah leaned against Jasper as they entered the doctor's house. The men turned to the left to enter the doctor's examination room. It was a mess. The table was askew, chairs were busted, blood was everywhere.

  "What--"

  "This way, please." The doctor stood in the door to the kitchen. His eyes were hard as he stared at the men.

  Jasper glanced back at the blood. There was a lot of it. He led Jeremiah out of the room and into the kitchen. The older Gaines man sank down into a chair. He was breathing heavily as he flopped his arm onto the table. The two girls on the other side of the table stood up so quickly, one of them knocked her chair over.

  When Jasper finally pulled his attention from his brother to look at them, he had to bite back a gasp. The Crawford girls. He had known Abby and Hannah since they were kids. He was a year older than Hannah, Wyatt's age. He and Wyatt used to play together on Sundays on the town square. One of his best memories was of going to the church social with his ma and pa, of a young Hannah Crawford playing with them and her sisters, her blond pigtails bouncing as they chased each other in circles.

  "Come on, Hannah." Abby gripped her younger sister's hand and pulled her toward the door.

  As they left, Jasper's eyes met Hannah's. He smiled at her. He couldn't help himself. Her blue eyes glistened as she looked at him. She shook her head almost imperceptibly before she pushed past him and followed Abby up the stairs.

  "What are they doing here?" Jasper asked as Doc Whitman set Jeremiah's arm on a clean kitchen towel.

  The doctor glanced at him briefly and began unwrapping the bloody bandage before answering. "Wyatt is dead."

  Jasper's jaw dropped as his heart sank. "Wyatt? What happened?"

  The doc cleared his throat and shook his head. "It's not my story to tell."

  Jasper glanced up the stairs after the girls. He longed to go up and wrap his arms around Hannah, to comfort her. He took a step toward the stairs.

  "Holy hell..." The doctor's gasp drew Jasper back to his brother.

  The wound was festering and smelled of rotten flesh. Jeremiah flinched and visibly gagged. "Dumb bitch," he growled from between clenched teeth.

  Doc Whitman narrowed his eyes and leaned forward. He stared at Jeremiah intently. "What exactly happened to you? I need to know everything."

  Jeremiah explained the story about the woman who attacked them. "She was crazy."

  The doctor pressed his hand to his forehead and closed his eyes for a second. Then he pushed himself back from the table and stood. He walked out into the hall and called up the stairs. "Abby? Abby, can you come out here, please?"

  Abby appeared at the top of the stairs.

  "Abby, I need you
to go get Connor. Quick now. Don't dawdle."

  The girl frowned as she stomped down the stairs. "What's going on?"

  He leaned close and whispered, "Just get him, please. And hurry."

  As Abby left, Jasper grabbed the doc's arm. "What's going on?"

  "Your brother... He's in big trouble."

  "Why? What did he do this time?"

  "It's not anything he did. Nothing he could have stopped. That woman, she... Wyatt... I can't. I just can't. Connor has to explain it to you. He has to make the decision. I'll clean your brother's wound, but there's not much else I can do. It's too late. I'm sorry."

  Jasper squeezed his arm tighter as a boiling mixture of anger, fear, and despair crept into his chest. "Too late? What does that mean? How is it too late? It's just a bite. Fix him."

  "Jasper, you're hurting me." Doc Whitman's voice was calm, but firm as he delivered the unspoken command.

  The young man glared at the doctor a little longer before releasing him and giving him a little shove. The doctor shook his head and sighed, but said nothing. Instead, he walked over to the table and began to clean Jeremiah's arm. He was very careful, both not to hurt Jeremiah and not to touch the actual wound. He was just finishing when Abby returned with the sheriff and Jed Gaines.

  Connor looked from the doctor to Jeremiah to Jeremiah's arm.

  "He's been bitten," Doc Whitman said.

  Connor blinked once and pulled his gun.

  Chapter 21

  Jed reacted on pure instinct. His own pistol was out in the blink of an eye and trained on the back of Connor's head just as the deputy came in. Amos stared at the group for half a second before pulled his gun and pointed it at Jed. Jasper's eyebrows rose up to his hairline as he pulled his gun and pointed it at Connor before switching it over to Amos. The whole scenario would have garnered many laughs had it been done by stage performers, but no one was laughing as they stood in the middle of a deadly showdown in the doctor's kitchen.