Connor laughed and nudged Doc Whitman with his elbow. "She's good, that one."
The doctor was grinning, too. "She is. She has them wrapped around her little finger. They'll be scrambling to volunteer."
Cora was still addressing the men. "We need a few strong, able-bodied men who are handy with a rifle or pistol to run patrols around the perimeter of town and check out the outlying farms. We know there's at least one of these things out there preying on the fine folk of this town. We can't let that happen, can we? You fellas won't let anything hurt us, would you?"
No's echoed out firmly from the group. Cora beamed at them and clasped her hands over her heart again. "I just knew we could count on you lovely gentlemen to protect us. Sheriff McClane has a sign-up sheet posted outside the jail. Head on over and scribble your name down. The more volunteers we have, the fewer patrols everyone will have to run."
The crowd wavered, torn between staying with the saloon girls and running right to the jail to sign up. Cora waved her hands at them. "Go on, now, scoot. We have a town to protect."
Connor, Jasper, and Doc Whitman had to press themselves against the hitching posts to keep from being crushed in the stampede. The line in front of the jail was so long, it went past the saloon. Cora and the other girls brought out trays full of whiskey shots and handed them out to the men standing in line to show their gratitude.
The paper was full of names by the time the last person in line signed up. It was Robert Zane, the butcher. He scrawled his name in a corner and dropped the pencil so it dangled from the string, then he leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms.
"You ain't lyin'?" he asked as Connor strode up onto the porch with Cora on one side and Jasper on the other.
Connor shook his head. "No, Robert. It's no lie. The Crawford boy was the first. He died on Doc's table from a bite on the leg. Then he came back and killed Eva."
Robert chewed on a stick. "Aye, I heard ya shot her in the head."
"She was already dead. I was just making sure she wasn't coming back."
"And the Gaines boys?"
The sheriff exchanged a look with Jasper. "That's Jasper's story to tell, not mine."
Jasper lowered his eyes. He didn't want to discuss what had happened with his brothers. He didn't even want to think about it.
Robert chewed on a toothpick as he appraised the young man. "A'right. I understand. See you fellas around." He nodded and sauntered off.
Cora snorted. "Gotta love that man." She grabbed the piece of paper and pulled it off the nail. "It's so full, people were writing on the back."
"Good. We'll have to set up a schedule, make sure everyone understands what's going on. We don't want anyone else to get bit because of this."
"all right, I'll--"
A scream echoed down the street. As they turned in the direction of the sound, a horse came barreling toward them.
"That's Amos's horse!" Connor jumped off the walkway and ran to the horse. It skidded to a halt in front of him. Sweat poured off its hide and its tongue lolled out of its mouth.
Amos was draped over the horse's neck, barely managing to stay on. Connor grabbed him and pulled him off. Jasper came over and together they carried him into the jail. Cora was right behind them. She scooted around and cleared everything off the desk as the doctor rushed in.
"Amos? Amos, can you hear me?" Doc Whitman pressed his hand to the deputy's forehead as they laid him on the desk.
Amos moaned and his eyes fluttered open. "Shot," he whispered.
"Shot?" Connor's forehead puckered as his eyes narrowed. "Who shot you?"
"Oh, no." Doc Whitman didn't need to examine the young man to know where he'd been shot. His lower clothing was soaked with blood. The doctor lifted up the deputy's shirt and used a cloth to clear away some of the blood. "Connor..."
Connor's jaw clenched when he saw the wound. His eyes burned and he wanted to scream.
"Oh, God." Cora clamped a hand over her mouth as tears poured down her face. "Oh, Amos," she whispered. Doc Whitman stepped aside as she slipped her fingers into the deputy's.
He gave her a faint smile. "S'all right, Ms Cora." His voice was weak and she had to strain to hear him. She kissed his bloody fingers as he turned his head to Connor. "It was Billy," he said. "We were attacked. He didn't mean to."
Connor gripped the edge of the desk to keep his hands from shaking. "Where is Billy now?" He was afraid to ask. He didn't really want the answer.
"Dead. They all are."
"Did they turn?"
He tried to shake his head, but it required too much effort. "No. Not yet. But they might."
"Were you bitten?"
"No, sheriff. Just shot."
"Amos..." Doc Whitman stood beside Cora with his hand on her shoulder.
Amos smiled at him. "I know, Doc. It's all right. I'm all right." He took a deep breath and his fingers slipped from Cora's. The smile remained plastered on his face as he stared at the Doc, but no longer saw him.
"No. God, no. Amos?" Cora picked his hand back up and cupped his cheek. His head rolled so he was facing her. "Amos?" she cried as she shook him.
The doctor gripped her shoulders and tried to pull her back gently. "He's gone, Cora."
"No, he can't be. I never... He..." Her whole body shook as she drooped against the desk to stay upright. "Oh, Amos." She cupped his cheeks in her hands and leaned over him. "I'm so sorry, Amos." She pressed her lips to his and let her tears stream onto his face.
Their grieving was broken by several shouts outside. "Now what?" Connor funneled his pain into anger and stormed outside. Jasper was right behind him.
More noise echoed down the street as Cora joined them. They all spun in the direction of the anguished screams at the far end of town.
Connor grabbed Cora by the arm and shoved her toward the jail. "Get inside, lock the door. Don't let anyone in unless you know they haven't been bitten."
"But--"
"Just go! Come on, Jasper" They took off at a run.
Doc Whitman came up beside Cora. "What's going on?"
She shook her head. "I don't know. It can't be good."
"It never is." The doctor pressed his lips together and trotted toward his office. Cora followed close behind.
****
Down the street, Connor and Jasper came upon a gruesome scene. Little Danielle Dinfield crouched on the walkway over Emma Jones. Tendrils of veins were dangling out of her mouth. Emma moaned as blood pooled on the wood around her head. A crowd gathered quickly, forming a semicircle around the pair.
Connor snapped at the morbid spectators. "Get back to your homes. Lock your doors." No one moved. "Get these stupid people out of here, Jasper."
He pulled his gun from his holster as his deputy tried to manage the crowd. He held a hand out to the girl as he walked up the steps. "Dani..."
The young child raised her head, but kept chewing. Emma had stopped moaning. Bile rose in Connor's throat. He would have to shoot the little girl. There was no way around it. He glanced back at the crowd. Some had heeded Jasper's warnings, but most remained where they were.
A big bellow parted the crowd. Robert Zane stomped through with two large butcher's knives in hand. "Din't ya hear him? Get back to yer homes, ya idjits, afore ya get yerselves all killed."
The people grumbled and moaned, but they scattered. Connor gave Robert a nod of thanks.
"Whoa, that's not right. Is that baby Dani?" Robert peered at the little girl who couldn't have been more than three.
"Yup." Connor cocked his gun.
"Where're 'er folks?" Robert stepped up to the open door, but he gave the little girl a wide berth.
"Dunno." Connor held the pistol out and pointed it carefully at Dani's head.
As Robert stepped inside, he fired. Startled screams echoed from down the street. The little girl flopped on top of Emma Jones's body and didn't move. Connor cocked his gun and fired again to silence Emma permanently.
"Her ma's in here. Don't
think she's comin' back. No sign of her pa, though."
The big butcher was halfway out the door when Dani's father threw himself down the stairs. Robert heard the man grunt and spun out of the way enough to avoid his teeth, but they went down in a heap on the walkway. The undead man snarled and snapped, trying to latch his teeth onto any part of the butcher he could. Robert was having none of it. He sliced and diced with the proficiency only a seasoned butcher could have. Chunks of the other man's face fell away, then an arm, then his entire jaw, and soon he was just a pile of parts on the ground. Robert brought his biggest knife down heavily on the man's head and split his skull clean open. The man finally gave up and joined his daughter in true death.
As Robert wiped his knives off, shots rang out further down the street. Jasper took off at a run, followed quickly by Robert. Connor checked the rest of the house before heading after them.
****
Doc Whitman grabbed his medical bag and hurried up the street toward the sounds of the gunshots. Cora was right on his heels. He gave her a quick glance, but didn't bother telling her to go back to the jailhouse. They ran down the walkway, right toward the barber's shop.
****
The end of town was a mess of bodies and blood by the time Connor, Jasper, and Robert arrived. People were screaming and fleeing in all directions in a panic. Hannah and Abby were in the middle of the street, surrounded by the entire Smith family. Abby had a rifle, but Hannah held a knife in each hand. The mother and two of the Smith daughters were already dead, two from gunshot wounds and the other from a hole in her head. The father, other daughter, and son still crept up on them.
Jasper raised his gun, but Connor grabbed his arm. "No, you might hit one of the girls."
Robert roared and charged with his knives up. The father turned and tried to tackle him, but he took the man down as easily as he had Mr. Dinfield. With the creatures distracted, Abby took the chance to shoot the son in the head. The boy toppled to the ground in a heap. The daughter screamed and threw herself at Hannah, who was closest to her, but Hannah raised a knife, aimed, and let it fly. It sank deep into the girl's eye socket. She tripped over her own feet and slid to a stop mere inches from Hannah's boots.
"Everyone with a weapon, get in groups of three," Connor shouted. "Search the town. Kill any of those creatures. Anyone who's bit, come to the jail."
****
Doc Whitman was running full speed past the barber shop when the window shattered beside him. It startled him so much, he tripped and stumbled sideways. The barber threw himself out of the window at the doctor and latched onto the man's shoulder with his teeth. Cora screamed as the pair went down in a heap. The doctor tried to roll away, but the barber grabbed him and snapped down on the man's throat.
Cora pulled up her skirts and yanked the small pepperbox from its hiding place on her upper thigh. She cocked the hammer and fired. It missed the barber and hit the doctor in the cheek. He slumped underneath the barber. Screams tore at Cora's throat even as she cocked the gun again. The barber, realizing his prey was dead, turned toward the living flesh behind him. He hit her legs as her gun went off and she toppled to the ground. But she was a better shot than her brother and she fired, again and again, until the gun was empty and the barber stopped moving.
****
When all was said and done, seventeen people were dead, including those who had been turned the night before.
"You all right?" Connor asked as Cora helped him load the body of Doc Whitman into the wagon to be taken out of town. They were going to burn the bodies and leave symbolic grave sites. No one wanted to leave one of those things around where it could return.
"Yeah," she said with a smile. "I'm fine."
"You sure?"
"Connor, my darling, I am perfectly all right. I'm just a bit shaken is all."
He raised an eyebrow at her, but didn't push the issue. When he had returned from the edge of town, he had found her curled up against the wall, shaking, with her arms around her knees. The empty gun lay between the two dead bodies. He had wanted to check her for bites, but she was insistent that none of it was her blood.
At Connor's command, the remaining residents were all moved closer to the center of town and heavy patrols were set up. Those who refused to move were given strict rules about how and when they could come into town. They had to be carrying a white flag, and no one was allowed to enter after the sun set. Everyone also had to be thoroughly checked for bites and meet the approval of the guards who were handpicked by Connor. All the undead had been mindless eating machines, as far as Connor could tell, so he figured anyone who was capable of creating and carrying a white flag would at least be still alive.
He left Jasper in charge of the patrols as he headed out of town with the wagon. Cora waved them off before she turned toward the doctor's office. She gritted her teeth tightly as she walked across the street. Once she was inside, she shut and locked the door. She started a fire in the fireplace and put the kettle on to boil, then she grabbed a bunch of bandages and antiseptic. When the water was hot, she took the antiseptic, bandages and hot water upstairs to Eva's old room.
She set the supplies on the dresser and pulled up her skirts. The bite looked almost as bad as it felt. With nerves of steel, Cora set to work cleaning out the wound.
Chapter 28
Jeremiah approached the caravan of undead from the back. He walked up to a woman shuffling along and fell into step beside her. "Howdy," he said with a grin as he tipped his hat in her direction.
Her head cranked around slowly. She stared at him with dull, dead eyes for three full seconds before facing forward again and promptly ignoring him.
He scratched his head and shrugged. "A'right then." He moved up next to the man in front of her. "Howdy," he tried again. The man blinked at him twice, but continued shuffling forward without a word.
Jeremiah received the same response from everyone he tried talking to as he worked his way forward through the group. Finally, when he was almost up to the carriage, a young woman who was missing an arm responded in the form of a finger pointed at the carriage.
"Queen," she hissed as she dropped her hand and continued walking.
Jeremiah tipped his hat to her. "Thank ya. Mighty kind o' ya, miss."
The woman went back to ignoring him altogether.
"A'righty then," he grumbled. "Lovely group o' folks here. So nice to meet y'all." Jeremiah gave up trying to elicit conversation from those around him and trotted up to the carriage. He grabbed hold of the bar beside the door and swung himself up onto the step as it rolled along.
"Anyone in there?" he called as he knocked on the window.
The curtain pulled aside to reveal a face that took his breath away. Even though her eyes were that same dull gray of all the others and were narrowed suspiciously at him, her beauty could not be masked. Her blond hair was pulled back to reveal her long slim neck, her lips were shaped perfectly, and he wondered briefly is she had ever considered a career as a saloon girl.
"Who are you?" Her voice was hard, not at all as soft as her features. "What do you want?"
The carriage hit a bump and jostled him on his precarious perch. His foot slipped and he swung halfway off the step. "Uh, do you mind if I come in there, miss? It'll be a might bit better'n hanging around out here all day." He grinned at her, hoping he looked charming and irresistible.
The woman's eyes searched his face. For a tense moment, he feared she would turn him away, but then she said, "Very well. Come in." She leaned forward and popped the latch on the door.
Jeremiah took the handle and yanked it open. He had to dangle further off the step to allow it to swing out all the way, but he managed to pull himself inside and jerk the door shut behind him. He plopped down on the seat opposite the woman and sighed.
He took his hat off and held it across his heart. "Nice to make your acquaintance, miss. My name's Jeremiah. What might yours be?"
Her nostrils flared as she decided whether she reall
y wanted to talk to him or not. "Charity," she finally said. "Charity Banks... No, Thomas. Charity Thomas."
He held out his hand and she took it. Her fingers felt nice cupped in his. "Pleasure to meet ya, Miss Thomas. It is miss, right?"
The corner of Charity's lip twitched. "Yes," she said. "It's miss."
They were both quiet for a moment as the carriage rolled along. "So where're ya headed, miss?"
Charity leaned back in the seat with her hands clasped in front of her and stared at him. "Who turned you?"
Jeremiah debated whether to mention the fact that she avoided his question, but decided to let her have the upper hand for the time being. "Dunno." He shrugged a shoulder and leaned back. As he set his hat on the seat beside him, he elaborated. "Some crazy Injun woman attacked me on the road the other day as I was headed to town. I shot her a couple times, but she didn't die. Then I started to feel all sick and stuff, and now I'm like this. Like you. I sees all you people comin' and decided I'd introduce myself and figure out what's goin' on, 'cause it don't make no sense to me."
"Interesting. An Indian woman, you say?"
"Yup. Though I don't see no Injuns in your group here."
Charity smiled and crossed her hands in her lap. "So Jeremiah, where are you from?"
His eyes darted in the direction they were heading, but he nodded off to the left. "Out that'a way, miss. On a small ranch in the hills. Grew up there with my Ma and Pa and two brothers."
Charity arched an eyebrow. "Oh? Two brothers? Are they still alive?"
Jeremiah hesitated. "One is," he finally answered. "The other met an awful end at the hands of a pretty bad man."
Charity's eyes trailed down his face to his shirt. It was still stained despite his attempts to wash off the blood. "And did this happen fairly recently? When this 'bad man' attacked your brother?"
"Yes'm." Jeremiah couldn't meet her eyes. He was afraid of what he might see.
Charity leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees. She clasped her hands and placed her chin on top of her knuckles. "And how did he taste?"
Jeremiah's head jerked up. Her lips held a friendly smile. It was also a creepy smile that gave him the shivers. For the first time, he considered that joining up with this group might have not been the best idea. "Well, miss, to be honest, bits of him were delicious, but most of him was tough and, well, off. He wasn't a nice man, neither, so I guess the end was fitting."
Massacre at Lonesome Ridge: A Zombie Western Page 18