Apocalypse Then

by Al Lamanda

  “The walking sickness,” Little Sky said.

  “Is that what you call it?” the preacher said.

  “What do you call it?” Little Sky said.

  “The work of Satan,” the preacher said.

  From the windows, they watched as members of the mob of ghouls broke away and wandered into various shops, saloons and stores.

  “Most of those owned or worked in the shops and stores,” the preacher said. “That one in black coming to the church, that used to be my assistant Father Peter.”

  “A priest?” Lane said.

  “Not anymore,” the preacher said.

  “Some of them are going into the hotel,” Red Foot said.

  “The fat one in the suit used to be the owner of the hotel,” the preacher said. “Mr. Brady. A fine man. I met him several times on previous visits to Big Sky.”

  From the street, a dozen or so ghouls noticed the light in the window and slowly lumbered toward the hotel.

  “You said they don’t react to fire,” Lane said.

  “I didn’t say anything about light,” the preacher said.

  By the time Anderson realized his mistake it was too late. He blew out the two oil lamps to cast the room in darkness, but the lamps burning out in the hallway and on the first floor was like a beacon to the ghouls.

  Anderson locked the door with the key. Faint light from the hallway filtered in under the door. He stepped back and picked up the shotgun from the table and made sure both barrels were loaded. He checked the Winchester and the Colt revolver in his belt.

  Holding the shotgun at the ready, Anderson watched the light at the bottom of the door. He heard lumbering footsteps outside the door and then the light under the door was partially blocked.

  There was a few seconds of complete silence.

  Then a soft scratching at the door.

  Moans and growls followed.

  But no attempt to break in as yet.

  Save the shotgun, Anderson thought. It would blast a hole in the door wide enough for them to enter. He switched it out for the Winchester.

  The scratching became a banging.

  Anderson fired the Winchester and immediately cocked the lever. He fired again and a ghoul screamed out behind the door.

  The banging became pounding and it would be just a matter of time before the ghouls broke down the door.

  Anderson picked up the shotgun and held it in his left hand. In his right hand, the Winchester was cocked and ready.

  The pounding grew louder and the door began to crack.

  Behind Anderson, Robert opened his eyes and slowly rose up on the bed.

  “Come on if you’re coming!” Anderson shouted. “You demons.”

  Robert looked at the back of Anderson’s neck.

  The ghouls pounded on the door and it cracked a bit more.

  Anderson rapid fired three shots from the Winchester.

  Robert stood up from the bed and took a step toward Anderson.

  Anderson heard the noise, turned around and looked at Robert. Anderson didn’t see the deep set dark eyes or greenish tint of Robert’s skin. He didn’t see the blank expression on Robert’s face or the fact that Robert didn’t speak when he showed his teeth.

  All Anderson saw was his son alive and walking.

  Right up to the moment that Robert grabbed Anderson and tore a huge hole in his father’s neck.

  The Winchester fired a hole in the roof as Anderson screamed and blood gushed from the main artery in his neck.

  Robert chewed the flesh as Anderson slipped to the floor.

  Anderson looked at his son. “Robert,” he whispered.

  The door cracked open and then splintered and a dozen ghouls lumbered into the room just as Robert tore another hole in Anderson’s neck.

  A moment later it was a feeding frenzy as the ghouls rushed Anderson and ate him when he was still breathing, still looking at his son, wondering where it all went wrong.

  From the church balcony they watched as the light went out in the hotel room. They heard shots fired and then light came back into the room when the ghouls smashed in the door.

  There was a fleeting glance of a man who looked a great deal like Anderson’s son Robert, and then the room filled with snarling ghouls as they charged Anderson.

  Lane heard soft sobs and he looked at Maura as she wiped her eyes.

  “Pa!” Joseph suddenly screamed.

  “Your pa is gone, son,” the preacher said. “I’m sorry.”

  Wild eyed, Joseph suddenly turned away from the window and rushed to the balcony stairs.

  Lane rushed after him and grabbed Joseph by the back of his shirt. Joseph spun around to push Lane. “That’s my father out there!” Joseph screamed.

  Lane pulled his heavy Colt revolver and smacked Joseph on the side of the head with the barrel. Joseph collapsed in a heap into Lane’s arms.

  “Preacher, you have a bed or cot he can rest on?” Lane said.

  “Many,” the preacher said.

  The preacher walked to the wall opposite the windows and pressed his hands on a secret door that spun inward on a hinge. “In here,” he said.

  Lane lifted Joseph and carried him into the secret room that was large enough to hold a dozen beds and woodstove.

  “This room was used to give sanctuary to those in need of it years ago,” the preacher explained.

  Lane set Joseph on a bed and he and the preacher returned to the windows.

  Red Foot turned to look at Lane. “Isn’t that the Anderson boy coming out of the hotel?” he said.

  Lane turned to the preacher. “Do they come every night?”

  “Almost.”

  “They leave in the morning?”

  “Most of the time they do,” the preacher said. “That’s when I venture out to resupply if need be.”

  “Why haven’t you left altogether?” Lane said. “There’s enough food around here to last you a month on the trail.”

  “And go where?” the preacher said.

  “What do you mean?” Lane said. “For help.”

  “Help?” the preacher said.

  “Help, yes, help.”

  “Marshal, I am not from this town,” the preacher said. “I’m from Lewiston and came here with my assistant when it was overrun four weeks ago.”

  Lane stared at the preacher.

  “That was six weeks ago,” the preacher said. “I’ve been here close to a month and I doubt help is coming anytime soon. When I left Lewiston the Army was working with all available doctors to format a plan.”

  “Why wasn’t I told when I left Wyoming this was happening?” Lane said.

  “And spread panic,” the preacher said. “Besides, when it appeared the sickness was confined to reservations and a few towns it wasn’t the concern it is now. No offense to your scout, but until it struck white men hard it didn’t gain the attention it should have.”

  “None taken,” Red Foot said. He looked at Lane. “My family is an hour’s ride from Fort Keogh. I’d like to leave and go…”

  “I doubt a fort the size of Keogh has been overrun,” Lane said. “And it would take you a week in good conditions. If we go, we all go.”

  “Marshal, may I see you for a moment?” the preacher said.

  Lane nodded. He and the preacher walked to the secret room where Joseph was still unconscious.

  “The boy,” the preacher said.

  “Seth Mc Cain,” Lane said.

  “He’ll be one of them soon,” the preacher said. “We all know that.”

  “What are you suggesting?” Lane asked.

  “Restrain him for now until he…becomes one of them.”

  “And then?”

  “Do you even need to ask?” the Preacher said.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Poule drew third watch and drank coffee by the cupful to keep from nodding out standing up.

  The ghouls had calmed down considerably. In fact most were off the streets, having entered shops and stores. Maybe th
e preacher was right and they had some dim memories of where they lived and worked still in their minds.

  In any case, the streets were deserted and wherever they were the ghouls made not a sound.

  His cup empty, Poule went to the woodstove where a fresh pot was keeping warm. He filled his cup and paused long enough to roll a cigarette and light it with a match.

  When he returned to the window, Poule was shocked to see six riders slowly turn onto Main Street. Even from a distance he could see the riders were Calvary soldiers.

  What the hell were they doing riding in at two in the morning?

  They stopped and dismounted in front of the hotel. One soldier, the one in command probably, waved for two soldiers to enter the hotel lobby.

  Poule turned and entered the secret room and shook Lane awake.

  “Best see this,” Poule whispered.

  Lane went to the windows with Poule and peered down to the street. “Six horses, four soldiers,” Lane said.

  “Two went into the hotel,” Poule said.

  The two soldiers came out of the hotel and stood in the street with the other four soldiers, talking.

  Suddenly, ghouls slowly emerged from shops and stores.

  The six soldiers looked around at the ghouls.

  “They got them cut off from their horses,” Lane said.

  They soldiers drew their sabers.

  “They’re out of ammunition,” Lane said. He grabbed his Winchester off the wall and turned to Poule. “Wake the others, then come downstairs. Move.”

  Lane raced down the stairs to the church interior and quickly removed the four cross beams that secured the oak doors. He took a deep breath, let it out slowly and opened one door and stepped outside the church.

  Thankfully not a ghoul was anywhere close. Lane stood on the top step and looked two hundred yards away at the six soldiers surrounded by a hundred or more ghouls. The soldiers were slashing out with their sabers, cutting heads and necks, but it wouldn’t take the ghouls long to overpower the soldiers.

  “The church!” Lane yelled. “In the church!”

  If the soldiers heard him they couldn’t pinpoint his voice.

  Poule suddenly appeared by Lane’s side. “Oh, Christ,” Poule said.

  “Keep your eyes open,” Lane said.

  Lane ran back into the church to the long rope that dangled from the bell in the steeple. He grabbed the rope and pulled hard to ring the massive bell. It took six or seven pulls to get enough momentum to keep the bell ringing, then he raced back to Poule’s side.

  “They hear it,” Poule said. “They see us.”

  “Let’s give them some help,” Lane said.

  Sabers weren’t effective weapons at close range. They were long and needed room to swing and thrust in order to kill. Up close they were just a too long and cumbersome knife to do much damage.

  Sergeant Meeks, leader of the six man squad swung his saber with all his weight behind it and decapitated a ghoul in front of him.

  Two more took his place.

  Corporal Banks shoved his saber into the heart of a ghoul and before he could pull it out, two ghouls jumped on him. They wrestled him to the ground and bit off chunks of his flesh. More ghouls tore at Banks and as the corporal screamed they ate him alive.

  Church bells suddenly rang out. Meeks looked down the street to the bell towel that towered above a massive church.

  A ghoul reached for Meeks and a shot fired and the ghoul’s head exploded.

  “The church!” Meeks yelled to his men. “There are people at the church.”

  Behind Meeks, Private Turner screamed as a ghoul took a bite out of the back of his neck. Blood squirted onto Meeks as he turned around and sliced the ghoul’s neck in two.

  Three ghouls jumped on Turner and he went down fighting hard and screaming.

  More shots fired, more ghouls fell dead.

  Meeks sliced two more ghouls in the stomach, broke free and ran hard toward the church. He didn’t realize several ghouls were in hot pursuit until shots rang out and he heard them fall behind him.

  “Run!” a voice cried. “We’ll cover you!”

  Meeks pumped his arms and legs for all he was worth and covered a hundred feet with shots whizzing by him. He looked ahead and saw two men in the street with Winchesters. Then shots came from above and he realized men were in the bell tower.

  Scripture, Teal and Red Foot fired their rifles from the windows of the balcony. Maura and Little Sky watched from a corner window.

  The ghouls had one man down and he screamed as they tore into his flesh. Scripture, Teal and Red Foot, along with Lane and Poule in the street, managed to kill a dozen or more, but others just took their place.

  Another soldier went down, then another and their screams caused Maura to turn away from the window.

  They could see his sergeant stripes in the yellow moonlight. He broke free and ran toward the church.

  Lane and Poule shoot several ghouls on his heels. They could hear Lane yell for the sergeant to run.

  “Where’s the preacher?” Poule said as he reloaded his Winchester.

  “Downstairs I think,” Red Foot said.

  A ghoul made a grab for the sergeant and Lane blew its head with his Winchester.

  “Fucking things can run when they want to,” Teal said.

  A ghoul came at the sergeant from the street and grabbed the sergeant by the arm. The sergeant spun around and hacked down with his saber and sliced the ghoul’s arm off at the elbow.

  Unfazed at losing an arm, the ghoul kept chasing the sergeant and when his face hit moonlight, Red Foot said, “Ain’t that Robert Anderson?”

  Two shots rang out from the street and Robert’s head exploded and he fell backwards to the street.

  “Not anymore,” Teal said.

  The sergeant was seventy five yards from the church. The closest ghoul was twenty feet behind him.

  “Run!” Lane yelled from the street.

  “See any others?” Red Foot said.

  “They got them all,” Teal said.

  And just like that, the sergeant tripped and went down face first. A dozen ghouls converged on the sergeant as he got to his knees and reached for his saber.

  Lane and Poule picked off several ghouls around the sergeant, but then he disappeared in a sea of ghouls and they could hear him scream as his flesh was torn off his body and consumed.

  Lane and Poule continued to fire, but it was no use. The sergeant was gone.

  Lane and Poule lowered their Winchester’s and helplessly watched as the ghouls tore the sergeant to pieces less than two hundred feet from them.

  “Let’s go,” Lane said.

  And then the preacher was in the street, waving his Bible at the ghouls.

  “The Lord is my Shepherd!” the preacher screamed at the ghouls. “I shall not want! I shall fear no evil!”

  “Preacher, get back!” Lane yelled.

  The preacher ignored Lane and walked closer to the ghouls, waving his Bible, screaming, “The Lord cast you to hell, demon! Go back! Stay there!”

  The ghouls around the sergeant looked up at the preacher. They tossed aside the scraps and made a sudden burst toward him.

  Unfazed by the rushing ghouls, the preacher kept walking and waving his bible.

  “Get back here!” Lane yelled.

  “Back to hell with you I say!” the preacher yelled. “Back!”

  Lane and Poule opened fire on the ghouls, taking out five or six, but the rest of the pack was on alert and started a charge toward the preacher.

  “Son of a bitch,” Lane said.

  The preacher continued forward. “The hell and damnation to all of you!” he yelled.

  “Preacher!” Lane yelled and ran toward him. “Get back here!”

  “I fear not for I walk with the Lord!” the preacher yelled and waved his Bible.

  The crowd of ghouls raced toward the approaching preacher.

  “Drink the blood and the spirit of the Lord!” the preach
er yelled. “For you shall answer to him on judgment day!”

  Lane rapid fired his Winchester, taking down three or four ghouls before he was empty. He held the rifle in his left hand, drew his Colt and fired six shots, taking down two more.

  “Marshal!” Poule yelled behind Lane.

  A hundred feet in front of Lane, the horde of ghouls reached the preacher. They grabbed and pulled, snarled and bit and the preacher disappeared inside the vicious circle.

  Lane could only watch.

  And listen to the sound of flesh being torn from bone.

  “Marshal!” Poule yelled again.

  Lane ignored Poule and emptied the spent rounds from his Colt revolver and reloaded. He holstered the Colt and fed rounds into the Winchester until the magazine was at maximum, then he cocked the hammer and waited.

  It only took several minutes for the horde of ghouls to finish off the remains of the preacher. They slowly stood and turned toward Lane.

  “Marshal, run!” Poule screamed.

  The horde snarled at Lane and then they were on the move.

  Lane shot the first three in front, taking them down with head shots. The horde simply stepped over the fallen and kept moving.

  Lane shot several more and they went down.

  The horde closed the gap to seventy five feet, snarling savagely at the sight of Lane so close now.

  Lane brought down several more ghouls with head shots and the Winchester finally clicked on empty.

  Lane drew his Colt revolver, cocked and shot several more ghouls.

  Fifty feet and still coming, the ghouls paid no attention to the fallen, the bullets or anything else as Lane emptied his Colt, taking out several more in the process.

  Lane holstered the empty Colt and stared at the ghouls as they kept marching forward. He could see the blood on the faces and teeth, the animation and hunger in their eyes as they sought another meal of human flesh.

  When the ghouls were but twenty five feet from Lane, he backed up slowly, turned and ran toward the open doors of the church.

  Poule was on the steps, picking off Ghouls with his rifle to give Lane some cover. Shots fired from the balcony and a few more ghouls fell by the wayside.

  Lane hit the steps and took them two at a time. He and Poule entered the church, slammed the doors shut and dropped the four bars in place to secure them shut.