by Greg Dragon
Summer Rain’s pout returned. She wished she could stay to watch, but instead she followed the shadows back out into the wild. Knowing the havoc her new minions were about to cause was enough. She found greater pleasure in the small acts of sabotage than actually destroying a whole town. Of the four she had attacked this way, two of them had been overrun, its inhabitants either turned or killed. Those were tiny settlements far removed from the rest of the world, much smaller than Lonesome Ridge, and Summer Rain had stayed around to witness the effect. A few of the inhabitants had tried to flee, but she caught them and turned them, leaving them to wander the woods alone. She wondered how long it would take until the creatures were discovered. So far, she had not encountered anyone that understood what she was. It made turning them easy. But now, she knew, that would no longer be the case.
Summer Rain walked through the woods until she found a small hill that rose into a clearing at the top. She settled down with the sleeping baby in her arms and looked up at the sky. For a very brief moment, she thought of her previous life, of the life she knew as a young maiden in a village by the river. Her finger trailed down the little boy’s cheek. She would have had children of her own someday and they would have been raised up to be shaman like their father. Instead, she was a monster, doomed for the rest of her days to walk the earth in search of living flesh, to turn others into vile creatures like herself. No, she thought, not like her. Most of them did not know the hell she lived in. They didn’t remember their past, what they were, the life they used to have. They were simply predators in a world of prey. She was cursed to always know what she was, what she could have been, what she lost.
Summer Rain growled into the night and shook the baby hard. He jolted awake and his startled cry echoed across the hill. She yanked away the blanket and clothing from the child and tossed the cloth to the ground. Silently cursing Little Bear, she sank her teeth into the soft flesh of the pudgy stomach. Flavor exploded across her tongue as tiny screams ripped through the night.
Chapter 24
As Hannah set cups and saucers on the table, Abby poured some cream from the ice box into a small pitcher and set the sugar bowl on the table. There were seven of them crowded around the little kitchen and it made for tight quarters.
“Here, take my seat.” Jasper stood up from the chair he occupied near the end and beckoned to Hannah. With a bashful grin, she returned the kettle to the cast iron stove and scooted around the other bodies. She slipped into the vacant chair. Jasper settled his hands on her shoulders.
Cora wrinkled her nose teasingly at him before she turned to Abby. The younger woman’s hands were on the table, cupping her tea, and Cora slipped her fingers into one of them. “Abby, Hannah, I know this is going to be difficult for you, but we need to know exactly what happened. Every detail. We need to know all you can remember so we can fight these things, so we can keep it from happening to anyone else. Can you do that for us?”
Abby took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She exhaled and looked straight at Cora. Her expression held none of the sadness and despair that had been etched into her features since that horrible night. Her jaw was set, her mouth was hard, and her eyes burned with determination. “Yes, we can do that. They need to be stopped, all of them. They need to be dead, permanently.”
Cora gave her a weak smile. “That’s the plan. With your help.”
Between the two of them, Abby and Hannah relayed everything they could remember. Shortly after they started speaking, Doc Whitman disappeared into the other room and returned with some paper and a pencil. Cora took note of anything she found useful. By the time they were finished, Hannah’s face was streaked with tears and Abby was shivering.
“Thank you, girls. I know that was hard, but this will help. I promise.” She patted the older sister on the hand and turned to her brother. “So what’s the plan, little brother?”
He quirked an eyebrow at her. “I dunno, big sister. You’re always the one who comes up with the big plans. What do you suggest?”
The saloon girl rolled her eyes, but the little banter between them helped to lighten the mood. “Well,” she said. “I think someone needs to head out to the Crawford farm, check things out, see what’s going on there. If those things are there, they need to be destroyed.” She cut a glance between the sisters. “And we need to take care of the others. I hate to say it, but if they’re not one of those things, they should probably be burned, just in case. We don’t want it spreading.”
Amos cleared his throat and straightened in his chair. He had been quiet up to that point. “I think you’re right. I’ll go, if you don’t mind, sheriff. I’ll take some men with me and we’ll clear the place out.”
Connor chewed his lip as he looked at Amos. He was a good man, but he was young, about Abby’s age. He was also terrified of his own shadow and could get beat in a bar fight pretty easily. But he was still the deputy, and he had to take responsibility sometime if he was going to take Connor’s place as sheriff.
“Yeah,” McClane conceded. “All right. But you take some men with you. Abby, how many did you say you saw?”
“Three, I think.”
“Okay. Amos, I want you to take half a dozen men. Good men, who know their way around a pistol. Let’s see... Get Paul Finch, Norman Baker, the Anders brothers...”
“I’ll go.” Jasper’s hands were still on Hannah’s shoulders as he volunteered. Her head shot around and she stared at him with wide, glistening eyes.
“No.” Connor, Hannah, and Cora all spoke at the same time.
“Not happening,” Connor said.
“Please don’t,” whispered Hannah.
“We need you here, Jasper. Someone has to fill in for the deputy while he’s away. Connor needs someone by his side.” Cora’s voice was bright and reasonable. She spoke as if there was no other way to do things and that’s just how it had to be. Jasper pressed his lips together and lowered his head.
Connor glanced at him once more before turning back to the deputy. Get Billy Teagan and Longtooth McKee, too. They’ll go. Can’t trust ‘em for much, but they’re some of the best shots in the area. Cora, why don’t you go with him, help him explain the situation.”
Her eyes glittered as she winked at Amos. “I’d be happy to.”
The deputy flushed from his neck to the top of his head.
Connor rolled his eyes. “All right, so that’s settled. Now we need to talk about how we’re going to protect this town. We need patrols, day and night. Anyone who comes in or leaves gets checked for bites and whatnot. Doc is in charge of that. Anyone sick heads to the jail. We’ll keep them behind bars until he gives them the all clear.”
“That’s all good and great, but how are we going to get people to volunteer? You think anyone is going to believe this? I mean, it sounds like a load of bullcrap, if we’re completely honest.”
All eyes turned to Hannah. She was quiet and reserved, a little mouse who scurried around and never bothered anyone. And here she was, participating in a conversation that could literally be life or death.
“I’ll take care of that, too,” Cora said. “Tonight, I’ll help Amos and we’ll get him out of town at first light. Then tomorrow morning, we’ll gather everyone at the saloon and I’ll give them the lowdown. No offense, little brother, but I think they’ll be more willing to volunteer for a lovely lady like me than a drunk sheriff who can’t protect the town.” She returned his glare with a grin.
“Careful, Cora.” He pointed a finger at her and shook his head. “Anyway, that sounds like a good plan. Jasper and Jacob, why don’t you fellas join me at the jailhouse. We can go over the patrol routes, get it all worked out. Cora, you and Amos head out, round up the cavalry. Girls, you go on up to bed. Get some sleep. It’s gonna be a long day tomorrow.”
As everyone disbanded, Jasper pulled Hannah aside. He slipped his hand into hers and his heart melted as she gazed up at him with her startlingly blue eyes. “Hannah, I—“
She reached up and
pressed a finger to his lips. “No, Jasper. Not yet. Not until this is over.” She leaned up on her tiptoes and gave him a peck on the cheek, then scampered up the stairs without looking back.
Cora and Amos were able to convince all the men to join the deputy on his trek out to the Crawford farm. They tried to grab a few minutes of shut-eye, but none of them were able to sleep. Nearly a dozen people were gathered in the jailhouse. Instead of hemming and hawing until the light broke, they decided to start early, so they could be back before it grew dark again.
“Okay, boys,” Amos said as he glanced out the window. “Let’s head out.” He readjusted his belt and slapped his hat on his head. He looked more confident than he felt. Inside, his stomach was twirling like a twister and his heart was pounding so hard it hurt.
Connor walked over to him and slapped a hand on his shoulder. “All right. You boys listen to Deputy Barnett, now. You hear me? He has my full authority to make any calls he needs to make. Don’t question him. Just do what you’re told. And come back in one piece, got it?”
The men mumbled in ascent as they filed out the door. Only Amos remained. “It’ll be fine,” Connor told him. “They’re probably gone. And if they’re not, just be careful. There are three of them and seven of you. You have guns. Keep them loaded, keep them ready.”
Amos nodded and walked toward the door as Cora waltzed over to him. She grabbed his cheeks with her hands and pulled him to her. Her lips pressed against his and held him there for several seconds. Fire danced up and down his body and his mind ground to a halt. When she finally pulled away, his knees were shaking and he had trouble staying upright.
Cora laughed and patted him on the bottom. “You better come back to me, boy.” She gave him a wink and trotted upstairs and out of sight.
The sheriff sighed. “Be careful, Amos.”
The deputy regained his composure and cleared his throat. “Yes, sheriff. Will do.” Then he tipped his hat and disappeared out the door.
When the group had ridden out of sight, Connor followed his sister up the stairs. He found her in Amos’s bedroom, sitting on his bed with her head in her hands. Her shoulders shook and she sniffled loudly.
“Hey now, what’s the matter?” Connor strode across the room and gathered Cora into his arms. He stroked her hair and kissed her forehead. “What’s wrong?”
She cried into his shoulder for several minutes before she could articulate a sentence. “I have a bad feeling about all this, Connor. A very bad feeling.”
He pressed his lips to her hair, but said nothing. He had a bad feeling, too, and it just kept getting worse.
***
The sun was up in the sky when the Crawford farm came into view. Amos raised his hand and pulled the group to a stop. The men huddled in a quiet group around him as their horses snorted and danced.
“Finch, McKee, you boys head around to the left. Davey, Seb, go right. If anything seems off, you stay together and get the hell outta there. If things go bad, meet up at the bridge. Got it?”
“What’re we gonna do, boss?” Billy Teagan stared wide-eyed at the buildings in front of them. He had been joking about Amos, a boy half his age, being in charge the whole way there, but this time his voice held no trace of humor. He looked to the young man for real direction.
Amos swallowed and sat up higher in his saddle. “Let’s go. No point in dawdlin’ around here all day, is there? We have stuff to do back in town.” He kicked his horse into motion and clenched his teeth together as he rode straight toward the house.
The horses shivered as they got closer to the buildings, but none of them tried to bolt and nothing else moved. He could see Paul Finch and Longtooth McKee as they approached the barn. The Anders boys had swung around toward the fields. Amos dismounted in front of the house and tied his horse up to the hitching post. He narrowed his eyes at the front porch. A long rusty brown streak trailed across it from the door to the stairs. It disappeared in the dust at the bottom of the steps. His stomach lurched and he took several deep breaths to steady himself. When he turned, the two men were staring slack-jawed at the blood.
“Billy, you stay out here, keep an eye out. Give us a call if anything funny happens.”
“Aye, boss.” Billy pulled his pistol from his belt and double-checked it. Then he turned away from the mess and scanned the horizon.
Norman Baker was right on Amos’s heels as they walked into the small house. A small bed sat untouched in a corner and the cast iron stove was cold. The dining table was covered with the Crawford’s uneaten dinner. It had been knocked askew and several plates lay smashed to bits amid moldy food on the floor. The blood trail led from one of the bedrooms. “Stay here,” Amos commanded. “Watch my back.”
Norman’s gun was already out and Amos heard it click as he cocked it. The deputy sent up a tiny prayer that Baker wasn’t trigger-happy. He moved toward the open door and peered around the frame. It was trashed. The bed was flipped on its side and blood was everywhere. The curtain on the window flapped in a light breeze. Holding his gun up and ready, he edged toward the bed. He counted to three before stepping around it, ready to fire, but his shoulders relaxed when he found nothing. The room was empty.
He walked back out into the main room. Norman’s finger twitched on the hammer, but the man kept his cool enough to not shoot the deputy. “All clear in there. I’m gonna check this one.”
Norman nodded. He was wound as tight as a spring, but so far he was keeping his head. Amos laid his hand on the closed door and slowly turned the knob. When it clicked open, he listened carefully for any noises inside. It was silent, so he pushed the door open all the way. There was a big bed in the middle of the room and a dresser along one wall. He checked underneath the bed. It was clear aside from an empty leather sack. He grabbed the bag and turned to the dresser. He didn’t know which clothes belonged to who, so he just filled the sack with whatever he could find and pulled it closed. Then he swung the bag over his shoulder and walked out of the house.
“What do you see?” he asked Billy as Norman followed him out.
“S’all quiet right now, boss, but Finch and McKee disappeared into the barn and I ain’t seen hide nor hair of ‘em since.”
“Let’s check it out.” He tied the sack to the back of his saddle before heading toward the barn.
Near the doors, they found a big brown stain on the dirt. “This must be where Abraham died,” he murmured as he stared at it. Glancing around, he found pieces of clothing and a long bone, but nothing else of note. He pressed his lips together and turned away. He held his gun up as he pushed open the door. It creaked loudly and he cringed. After checking that Billy and Norman were right behind him, he inched inside.
The interior of the barn was dark. He found a lantern hanging on a hook and used Billy’s matches to light it. The lantern flared to life and cast an eerie glow on the area around then. Bones, dried blood, and rags littered the space. A boot lay next to one of the stalls. Abraham Crawford’s boot. The foot was still attached, but it was rotting quickly. A faint sound echoed from the other side of the stall wall. With careful, quiet steps, he walked toward the stall and peered over the short wall.
Phyllis Crawford, or what was left of her, lay on her back. Her lower half was missing completely, along with one arm and part of her chest. She flailed her remaining arm weakly, whether trying to turn over or reach for him, he did not know. The left side of her jaw was missing, along with her tongue. Her mouth worked, as if she was trying to speak, but all that came out were muted moans. Her mottled eyes stared at him with a hunger that set his adrenaline racing.
“Oh, Lord in heaven.” Billy Teagan was never a man of God, but when Amos turned around, he found the old troublemaker on his knees with his hands folded. Norman Baker ran to the door and wretched outside.
Amos backed away and shut the door. Phyllis wasn’t going anywhere. He wanted to check the rest of the barn before he figured out what to do with her. A faint glow lit up the barn at the far end.
“Billy, come on.” Amos raised his weapon again and walked toward the light. “Paul, is that you?” he called as he neared the other side of the barn.
The only response he received was a low groan. He tried again. “McKee? You down there?”
The stalls ended near the door and made way for a small storage room. Amos crept to the side and peered around the last stall. The door to the room was half open, moving back and forth slightly. Small grunts came from inside. “Paul?”
He sidestepped toward the door. Booted feet were sticking out from behind it, jerking back and forth in random fashion. “Shit,” Billy whispered behind him. He echoed the sentiment. Amos nudged the door with his foot. It didn’t move, but the grunts stopped. He glanced back at Billy, who held his gun higher and nodded.
Amos stepped up to the door and placed his hand on it. He was about to shove it when a man, one he had never seen before, moved out from the shadows. The man snarled at him and lurched forward. Billy’s gun went off behind him and he felt a seering pain in his back. He jerked to the side, just out of the reach of the dead man. Billy fired again and hit the man in the chest.
“The head,” cried Amos. “Shoot him in the head!”
He leaned against the wall and pressed a hand to his stomach as he leveled his gun. He fired. A hole blossomed between the man’s eyes and he dropped like a rock. Screams tore through the barn from the other end.
“Oh, God. Norman!” Billy glanced at Amos with wide, fearful eyes.
“Go!” Amos waved his gun in the direction of the other door. “I got this.”
He wasn’t sure if he had it or not, but Billy had shot him, and didn’t even realize it. He didn’t want the man’s gun anywhere near him. He glanced up just in time to see another of the undead shambling around the door. It was a woman and her face was covered in blood. He leveled his gun at her and shot her through the left eye. She tumbled forward and landed in a heap on top of the man.