West of Hell Omnibus Edition (West of Hell 1-3)

by Brant, Jason

  The man stopped the horse at the bottom of the stairs, shouting at the people around him to stay away from the moaner he’d dragged behind. It looked like a skeleton with some meat still hanging from it, and not much else. Dust and dirt caked against its wet, exposed muscles, covering parts of it in globs of mud.

  “Stay back!” The man dismounted the horse and ran around to the moaner, giving it a swift kick in the shoulder, sending it back to the earth. He stepped on its back with both feet and held it down. “Don’t come near!”

  The people around him began to panic. Many of them crossed themselves as they took in the skinless man before them. McCall took the steps two a time and stood in front of the man holding the moaner down.

  “You!” the man said. “You saved my life!”

  “What’s your name?” McCall asked him.

  “Bill,” he said.

  “What happened, Bill?”

  “They were out there just like you said! Hundreds, no, thousands of them! The entire desert was black with them!” He pointed down at the moaner he stood upon. “This one and another came up to me, and I tried to help them, but they attacked one of my horses! I shoulda believed you, but how could I know? I thought you were crazy.”

  McCall put a hand on his shoulder to calm him down. His words came faster as he spoke, his syllables blending together, making it hard to understand him. His face turned red as he recanted his tale.

  “Ease up.” McCall left his hand there for a moment, trying to force him to relax. He let go after a few moments and motioned for him to continue.

  Bill took a deep breath. “You told me what was out there, but I thought you were crazy. They tore chunks out of my horse like they were digging in dirt. I shot one of them five times but he wouldn’t stay down! What you said came to me then and I put my last bullet in his head.”

  The crowd closed in around them, listening intently to Bill’s story. Their eyes got bigger and their mouths dropped slacker with every word that backed up what Karen and McCall had told them. Hearing it from one of their own had more of an impact on them than McCall could have ever hoped to accomplish by himself.

  “I managed to get Betsy here unhooked from the wagon and we took off,” he said. He gave the horse a pat on the shoulder. “After we got a little ways off I turned her back around. I knew that no one would believe me unless I took one of them back to town. I lassoed this one and tied him to Betsy.”

  “How far out are they?” McCall asked. He appreciated the guts it must have taken for Bill to go back and wrangle a moaner.

  “They were maybe a mile or two past the woods,” the man said. “There were so many...”

  Gary and Mike came around the gallows and stood next to McCall, looking down at the moaner in revulsion. The old man that had given Mad Dog so much trouble came behind them, his face absent of the rosy color that had been there moments before.

  “Step back,” McCall told Bill. He pulled his pistol out and put a round in the moaner’s chest. The bullet punctured through its ribcage, creating a small hole. Only a few drops of blood came out. It tried to push itself to its feet, but too much muscle had been tore away from its arms. It flopped on the ground instead, rocking back and forth in place.

  McCall turned to the old man. “You still think we’re lying?”

  “What the hell? How can he be alive?” the elder asked. He took an instinctive step back.

  Mad Dog put another bullet into its neck. It didn’t seem to notice.

  “Is everyone seeing this?” McCall looked around at his audience, pointing down at the moaner. “Do you understand what is coming for you now?”

  Karen stood at the top of the stairs and looked down at him, nodding her approval.

  “The only way to kill these things is to put a round into their heads,” McCall said. He fired one more bullet, blowing out a chunk of skull just behind its left ear. Its body went limp on the ground.

  “This is what is coming to wipe you out, only there are thousands of them.”

  Karen came down the steps behind them and stood next to McCall. “It gets worse. If you die at their hands, you become one of them. The same thing happens even if they only wound you.”

  “Where did they come from?” Gary asked. “What can make a man not die from being shot, or having his skin torn away?”

  “We don’t know,” Karen said. “All we’re sure of is that we have to stand our ground here, or be lost forever.”

  The old man looked at Bill. “You’re telling me there are thousands of these just on the other side of the forest?”

  “At least.” Bill closed his eyes and took a series of deep breathes. He shuddered once before reopening them.

  After standing in silence for nearly a full minute, the old man finally looked to McCall. “What do you want us to do?”

  McCall turned to Karen and lifted his chin in her direction. “Listen to her. She’s the smartest person I’ve ever met. She can give you some ideas on what to do.” He looked back at the old man. “And if you say one thing about her being a woman, I’ll drag you out to them and leave you. She survived against them for days – we’ll see how long you can make it. Don’t let your pride blind you.”

  The old man grumbled to himself, but didn’t speak. He glared at Karen, clearly upset with having to take orders from a woman, but the presence of McCall kept him in check. He wasn’t the only one that looked less than pleased with McCall’s idea. Murmurs from the crowd reached them. He silenced them by glaring around, looking for the people disagreeing with him.

  Karen grabbed his arm and turned him around. “What are you doing? What the hell do I know about fighting animated corpses?”

  “Animated? You can’t talk like that to these people or they’ll think you’re a witch or something,” McCall said.

  “Don’t act stupid – you know what I’m talking about. How can you expect me to set up some kind of defense for an entire town? I’m a whore for Christ’s sake!”

  “You’re a whole lot more than that and you know it. Just get them prepared.” He started to walk away, heading toward the center of town, when Karen called after him.

  “Where are you going? You can’t leave me here!”

  “I’m going to raid the jail for weapons; maybe see if I can find my Peacemaker. You know, the one you lost?” He gave her a smile. “You’ve got the double barrel there – anyone crosses you, let ‘em have it.”

  He’d turned away yet again when Bill jogged after him. McCall felt his patience slip away. He understood that this situation felt insane and unbearable to everyone but he and Karen, but he didn’t want to waste any more time. He needed the feel of more iron around him.

  “They told me you’re Mad Dog McCall,” Bill said as he caught up.

  “They say a lot of things,” McCall said. He kept walking.

  “You saved my life,” Bill said. “If you hadn’t warned me and given me that pistol... well, I’d be dead.”

  “If you hadn’t dragged one of those damned things back with you, I’d probably be dead too. You’re neighbors there looked ready to string me up before you came around. I guess that makes us even.”

  “The hell it does. I came back with that damned thing because no one would’ve believed me. You gave up one of your guns because you thought it could keep me alive.” Bill jogged in front of McCall, forcing him to stop. “I’ve heard a lot of things about you, but I just wanted to tell you that I don’t believe any of ‘em now. I just wanted to tell you that and to say thanks.” He stuck his hand out.

  McCall looked at it for a second before taking it in his own and giving it a firm shake. It felt good to have a few people see past the masquerade he’d created. He hadn’t realized how alone he had been until he had Karen, and now Bill, see him as something other than Mad Dog.

  “You’re welcome,” McCall said. “You can thank me by keeping yourself alive a bit longer and taking out as many of those disgusting bastards as you can.”

  “I’ll do what
I can,” Bill said. “We’ll send ‘em straight to hell. Assuming I don’t piss my pants when I see ‘em again.”

  McCall walked through the crowd again, inspecting those he moved past. They stepped out of his way as he came, giving him a wide berth. Many of them carried pistols or rifles. Some had axes, and one even had a scythe. If there weren’t more guns in Sheol, they were in for a short night. Fighting thousands of creatures with an axe wouldn’t be the best path to victory.

  He cleared the edge of the crowd and headed down the main street toward the jailhouse. More people walked in the opposite direction and joined the gathering by the gallows. There were still more that stayed where they were, drinking or smoking, watching with passive indifference. McCall glared at them as he walked by and noticed that most wouldn’t even acknowledge him. Their lackadaisical attitude would be their undoing. McCall hoped their bizarre mindset wouldn’t get him killed as well.

  He walked past a saloon that looked remarkably like the one he’d found Karen in back in Gehenna. That had only been a couple of days earlier, but it felt like an eternity. The world had changed drastically since he’d been arrested and thrown in that cell by the young deputy. Now people were looking at him as a leader of men, rather than the infamous outlaw he’d become.

  Instead of avoiding or intimidating people, he now gave them orders. Rather than running from the law, he now was the law, at least in a certain sense. He didn’t wear a badge or arrest people, but he spent a lot of his time trying to save them. The irony of the situation didn’t escape him.

  The jailhouse stood in dark contrast to the bars and brothels that surrounded it. It didn’t have people shouting from inside, drinking themselves stupid. He drew his pistol and flattened himself against the outside wall when he reached the building. Evans could be anywhere, and McCall refused to be taken out now, just before the final act would play out.

  He reached a barred window and peered inside, squinting against the glare bouncing from the glass. Not much could be seen, so he crouched down underneath the window, trying to stay out of sight. The door was only a few feet away so he inched his way to it, staying hunched over. It had been open when he’d run down to the courthouse, so someone had been around since then.

  McCall cocked the hammer on his pistol and counted to three in his head, taking deep breaths with each number. On three he jumped to his feet and kicked in the front door. He stayed low as he sidestepped inside, pointing his six-shooter at every wall in rapid succession.

  All of the cells were empty along with the rest of the office area. McCall dropped the gun back into his holster and walked over to a gun rack hanging on the wall behind Evans’ desk. Plenty of rifles and shotguns adorned the rack, all fully loaded. Whoever had been in there hadn’t taken all of the weapons at least. He grabbed a lever-action rifle and a pump shotgun.

  He’d heard of these kinds of shotguns before, but had never seen one. He examined it, working the pump on it, ejecting a shell. After emptying the gun of the rest of its ammunition, he counted the shells, finding six. This shotgun would allow him to carry more shells and take out targets faster than a double barrel – he liked it.

  His Peacemaker wasn’t anywhere in sight. Evans must have kept it with him, probably as some form of trophy. McCall hoped he hadn’t fled the city as he’d love to take that gun from Evans’ dead hands. As stupid as he knew it to be, he thought he would need his good luck charm if he were to survive the night. He also knew Karen would laugh in his face if he mentioned that to her.

  A couple of pistols sat in one of the deputies’ desk drawers. McCall pulled them out and found them to be of a higher quality than the one he had now so he put them into his holsters, tossing the other to the floor. He’d hoped to find some ammo belts, but he didn’t see any. Carrying bullets in his pockets was cumbersome and unwieldy, but he would have to make do.

  Using his arm, he brushed the papers and other office articles off of Evans’ desk. He got low and put his shoulder against it, sliding it across the floor. It thumped against the front wall, just under the window to the left of the door. He placed the chair behind it and lined the top with boxes of rifle and shotgun ammo.

  He did the same with one of the deputies’ desks, but he placed this one under the window to the right of the door. Again he put ammo all around it. He sat in the chair and held a rifle in front of him, placing his elbows on the desk. Looking down the sights, he practiced aiming out the window and found the height of it to be just about perfect.

  If they got pushed back into the town, the jailhouse could act as a temporary safe haven. He and Karen could each take a window and take out anything that came across the street. The bars covering the glass would give them at least some kind of protection. There was enough ammo to last them a long time. As a refuge of last resort, the jailhouse would work well.

  He walked over to the front door and examined it. The wood was thick and heavy and the hinges looked to be doubly strong. A large plank sat against the wall beside the door with two metal hooks on either side of the doorway. He closed the door and placed the plank behind it, securing it into the hooks and barricading the entrance.

  Evans had built this place to be a fortress for himself. If anyone ever figured him out, and he couldn’t escape, he must have planned to make a last stand here. Unless they burned it down, it would be hard for anyone to penetrate the fortified building. McCall counted what few blessings he had that Evans hadn’t decided to lock himself in there already.

  He lifted the plank and placed it back against the wall. He opened the door and left it ajar as he went back to Evans’ desk. After grabbing several of the ammo boxes, he picked up the shotgun and rifle. It wasn’t much, but if he picked his shots he could take out quite a few of the moaners before he had to resupply.

  With guns in hand, McCall stepped into the street and went in search of a horse.

  Chapter 8

  Karen watched McCall walk down the road and out of sight.

  He’d put her in charge of the rabble that surrounded her and she didn’t have the slightest idea why. She’d never been the boss of anyone except herself before. The only time she ever led someone was when she took them to her bedroom at Ellis’. What McCall expected of her bordered on the absurd. Even still, she appreciated the vote of confidence he gave her, as misguided as it was.

  The old man that continually argued with McCall stared at her with contempt written all over his face. He might as well have been reading her mind. Mike shared a dismissive glance with the old man.

  “And what do you know about fighting, little lady?” the old man asked.

  Karen felt her blood boil at his snotty tone. “About fighting old men? Not much, but I’m about to get some firsthand experience.”

  “Don’t raise your voice at—”

  “Listen to me, you cantankerous old shit,” Karen said, pointing a finger in his face. “I’ve killed more of these things in the past two days than I can count. I know how to kill them, I know how to fight them, and I know what works best against them.”

  She took a deep breath, surprised at how easily that had flowed out of her. Maybe McCall was right – perhaps she could do something positive here. What she said had been true; she did know how to fight off the moaners. The only person more adept at killing them was McCall.

  The old man, whose name she didn’t care to know, looked at her wide-eyed, but didn’t argue further. Even Gary and Mike, two deputies who must have seen a lot of things due to their service, seemed surprised at her outburst. Gary gave her a sly smile and an approving nod. Though she hated his subservient role to Evans, Karen already felt that he would be of value to them in the oncoming battle. He seemed to have a warmer heart than the rest of them anyway.

  “The night will arrive before they will,” Karen said, looking at the lowering sun. “These things don’t need daylight, or even eyes, to find and kill you. They’ll have a distinct advantage after sundown, so we need to find a way to get as much light as possib
le around the city.”

  She looked around at everyone, waiting for someone to speak up. No one did.

  “We need things that will burn,” she said. “Does anyone have large amounts of kerosene, whiskey, black powder, or anything else that is flammable?”

  “We’ve got enough saloons in Sheol to get the whole country drunk,” said a voice from behind her.

  She turned to see Bill, the man that brought the moaner, walking through the crowd.

  “They aren’t going to want to give up their booze though,” Bill said.

  “Then we’ll need to take it. We aren’t in a position to fight over stupid little things. If everyone doesn’t throw their hat on the pile, we’re all going to die. Can you go around to all of them and get them to gather up all of their barrels of whiskey?” she asked Bill.

  “Yes ma’am.”

  Karen turned to Mike. “Do you know of anyone that has a lot of black powder? What about the sheriff’s office?”

  “Nah, we only got a couple of guns in there,” he said. He didn’t look entirely pleased to answer her questions, but he did so anyway. “The blacksmith might have some though. He’s got all kinds of stuff over there.”

  “Ok, I need you to go over there and see what you can find that can hold a flame.” She could tell that he didn’t like taking his orders from a woman, though she didn’t particularly care how much it pissed him off.

  “Is there any place in town that sells kerosene, or a store that will fill your lanterns with oil?” she asked the people around her. “What about split wood?”

  “I’ve got a whole lot of kerosene in my store, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you just burn it,” a man said from somewhere in the crowd.

  “Who said that? I can’t see you. Step up to the front,” Karen said.

  A short, plump man pushed his way through the first few rows of people and stopped in front of Karen. His face had already reddened from the short trip, and he breathed through his mouth. “What?” he asked between huffs.