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

by Brant, Jason

  “It’s built like a fortress. I guess Evans believed in being prepared. It’s stocked with ammo too. It’ll be the last safe place after everything else falls.”

  Speaking the villain’s name had McCall wondering what had happened to him. He doubted that Evans had fled the city. Witnessing the death and destruction that would fall on them soon would be too great of an enticement for the murderer. Even if it lead to his death, McCall figured that Evans would stick around.

  “I hope it doesn’t come to that,” Karen said.

  McCall coaxed his horse into a slow trot, heading toward the forest as the last of the sun’s light failed. Karen came up beside him, and together they went a quarter of mile beyond their traps, where they stopped by the tree line. There they waited in silence for nearly twenty minutes. A thick fog worked its way through the woods as they stood there, covering the area like a wet blanket.

  “Of course,” Karen said dryly. “This should help us see them better...”

  Muriel got antsy and started stomping her hooves and bouncing on her front legs. McCall’s horse joined her seconds later and he had to pat the stallion on the neck several times to get him to calm down. The mist continued to thicken and soon they couldn’t see more than thirty or forty yards ahead of them.

  McCall thought he saw movement directly ahead. He clicked his tongue, getting Karen’s attention, and pointed to the spot he was staring at. Then he saw it – the first moaner. It was a man, dressed in a black suit, blending in with the shadows dancing around from the flames of their torches. It had a dark hat sitting atop its head that hid its face from their view. It staggered toward them, its feet crunching twigs and kicking pebbles.

  McCall’s horse bucked at the sight of it, rearing up on its hind legs and nearly throwing him off. He gripped the reins and leaned forward, keeping his weight on the saddle as best he could. The horse fell back to all fours and wanted to run, but Mad Dog kept it in place. He wanted to wait as long as he could before running back to their traps.

  Karen pulled Muriel around in a half circle and faced the town, ready to take off. He could see the determination on her face and felt confident that her plan would work, at least for a while. Eventually they would overwhelm the field and force everyone back into the city, but McCall knew they could kill a great many of them before that happened.

  The creature stepped closer, stumbling over roots and dead branches. It let out a moan when it spotted them and raised its arms. Half of its fingers had been stripped to the bone, leaving them to hang down, swaying back and forth with each step. When it was a stone’s throw away, McCall gave his horse a kick and it took off, heading for the second pile of barrels a little further down the field. Karen did the same, heading for the closest trap. She would set it off before she retreated back to Sheol.

  More of the dead came through the forest, a mere spattering at first, but their volume increased steadily until they poured through the trees like water through a sieve. They flooded the field, moaning and stumbling, making their way toward Karen. She sat on Muriel, watching their advance and holding her ground.

  When the moaners drew near, she walked the horse around the pyre and waited on the other side, leading them a little further. They’d discussed this move earlier and had decided to wait in the field as long as possible, hoping to get the moaners to surround the explosives. They only had two large piles set up, and they needed to use them to the maximum effect.

  A few decaying bodies shambled toward McCall, drawn by the fire in his hand. He ignored them, knowing he had a few minutes before they reached his position. Karen held his attention now and he wanted to ensure that she escaped before the black powder exploded. His horse didn’t seem to agree with this idea, and it pranced around in an agitated fashion.

  Hundreds of moaners now worked their way around the field, closing in on Karen. They encircled her trap, wrapping around it and climbing over it, trying to reach her. She finally raised the torch in her hand and tossed it over those nearest her. It landed at the base of the explosive pile, igniting the whiskey-soaked ground and wood. With a scream she turned Muriel around and fled toward the city.

  McCall watched and waited, hoping her plan would work the way she’d intended. Karen made it halfway across the field before the kegs of powder exploded. The flash of light blinded McCall for a second and the concussion nearly knocked him from his horse. As his eyes adjusted he saw a massive tower of flame and smoke rising into the air. The tall grass surrounding the fire swayed from the force of the explosion, creating a wavelike motion throughout the field.

  Flaming chunks of wood and flesh cascaded through the night, flying in every direction. A full arm landed in the tall grass to McCall’s right, dropping to the ground with a thump. Several pieces of unidentifiable body parts splattered around him over the next dozen seconds, forcing him to shield his face. Flaps of burning clothing slowly fell from the sky, quickly setting clumps of grass afire.

  McCall squinted, trying to see through the blaze, wanting to take in the damage caused by the explosion. He couldn’t see a single moaner anywhere near the spot where the barrels had been. At least he couldn’t see a whole one that was. Pieces were scattered everywhere. What remained of torsos pulled themselves along, still trying to chase Karen.

  He let out a yell of victory, raising his torch into the air as he did so. The first part of her plan had worked to perfection. She’d taken out hundreds of the bastards without firing a single shot. Those that hadn’t been blown to bits were now set aflame and stood out against the darkening night. They wouldn’t be sneaking up on anyone.

  The sounds of cheers reached him as the roar of the explosion abated. He looked back to the city to see the citizens jumping in the air, celebrating the small triumph. Karen reached the first line of people and stopped in front of them, turning back and waving at McCall.

  He bobbed his torch in the air, signaling that he was ready. She waved her arms over her head again, with more urgency this time. McCall stared back at her, not understanding what she was trying to communicate. She pointed at him excitedly, which only served to confuse him even more.

  They’d decided that he would go back toward the forest and lead more of the moaners back to his pyre before lighting it, but now he wasn’t sure what to do. It looked as if she wanted to change the plan, but he didn’t understand why. None of the moaners were close enough to be a concern yet, and she’d already cleared hundreds of them out.

  Then he felt the heat on his back. He looked over his shoulder and saw that the barrels behind him were already burning. He could see a length of leg from the knee down sitting in the middle of the flames, the piece of pants enshrouding it afire. It must have fallen there from the explosion and prematurely ignited McCall’s trap.

  “Oh shit!”

  McCall turned his horse toward the city and kicked it in the ribs, throwing his torch to the ground. The stallion bolted forward, clearing a dozen yards in an instant. It wasn’t enough. The barrels exploded behind them; blinding McCall in a barrage of light and deafening sound.

  Pain ran up the left side of his body as he hit the ground, tumbling through the grass. He stayed there, not able to see or hear anything, feeling every bump and bruise from his fall. His eyesight returned first and he could see flames all around him. The surrounding grass burned furiously.

  He forced his body into action, grimacing as he fought his way to a standing position. A high-pitched ringing in his ears blotted everything else out. Heat baked his legs and he looked down to see his pants were on fire. He bent down to swat at the flames, but his balance was shot to hell and he fell on his side.

  Mad Dog rolled on the ground, trying to extinguish his pants, but he came in contact with more dry grass and managed to ignite it. He jumped to his feet again and ran from the burning foliage, stopping at a bare spot of earth and slapping at his pants. The hair on his legs had been burned away and his skin was thoroughly singed, but he seemed to be ok otherwise.

 
He looked back at the burning wreckage, shielding his eyes against its glare, feeling waves of heat pulsing off it. The horse blew past him, galloping north, away from the city and forest. Without a ride, he wouldn’t be able to outrun the dry, blazing grass. He stumbled away from the fire anyway, hoping to find another way back to the frontlines.

  His legs regained some of their strength and he broke into a run. To his right he could see the shadows of more moaners walking through the roaring fire Karen had set. Hundreds of them moved forward, heading straight for the city. McCall knew he could get there before they would, but the fire would overtake him first.

  His hearing still hadn’t returned when he tripped over something on the ground. He pitched forward, landing on his chest, barely getting his hands up in time to help break the fall. Rolling to his back, he looked down at his feet to see the upper body of a moaner pulling at one of his boots.

  Its mouth worked as it came at him, moaning no doubt, though he couldn’t hear it. He gave it a solid kick to the top of its head, knocking it back and allowing him to stand again.

  The fire had already caught up and now consumed the dead man he’d just kicked away.

  Chapter 10

  Karen and Muriel reached the edge of Sheol and were showered with applause from its people.

  The blast had slammed against her back and nearly knocked her from the saddle. She’d felt the heat of the inferno, but dared not look back until she got to safety. Now she could see that the explosion had devastated the moaners that had surrounded the pile of booze and black powder. Their bodies were scattered across the field and left smoldering in the tall grass.

  Some of the corpses still walked forward, but they were consumed by flames and easy to spot. She dreaded the thought of what they would smell like when they got closer. Their stench already made her want to gag and she couldn’t imagine how awful they would reek now that they’d been set on fire.

  She looked over to see McCall standing by his stack of barrels, holding his torch and waiting for her to reach safety. A flaming chunk of moaner fell from the sky behind him and landed on the trap. The whiskey-soaked wood burst into flames as he stood there, clueless as to the danger directly behind him.

  Karen waved her hands in a wide, frantic motion as she tried to get his attention. He raised his torch to her in some kind of gesture that she didn’t understand. She threw her hands back in the air, doing anything she could think of to get him to look over his shoulder. She watched in horror, thinking that he would die before the battle even began, when he finally turned around and saw the danger behind him.

  His horse took off just as the explosion rocked the field. Karen spurred Muriel into motion, not waiting to see if he’d make it. She had to avert her eyes as the flash blinded her and she couldn’t see what had happened to him. As the initial flare died down she looked around for McCall, unable to spot him.

  Though Mad Dog wasn’t atop it, his horse sped past Karen, running in clumsy, panicked strides. She pushed Muriel even harder, heading to the spot she’d last seen him. He popped up from behind a large clump of grass only to fall down again a moment later. The fire spread behind him, burning through the field at a frightening rate.

  McCall jumped up again and sprinted away from the flames only to fall out of sight yet again.

  “Goddamn it! What are you doing?” Karen asked under her breath.

  She slowed Muriel down as she approached where she thought he was, and nearly fell off the horse when he stood up right in front of her. The fire was already on top of him as he backed away from it and walked right into Muriel, oblivious to their presence. He spun around, raising his fists up to throw a punch.

  “Get on, you dumb ass!” Karen yelled.

  It took him a second to recognize her and Karen realized that he must have been knocked senseless from the blast. He lowered his fists as he ran around the side of the horse and looked up at her.

  “What?” he asked with a shout.

  “Get up here!”

  He pointed at his ears. “I can’t hear a damn thing!”

  She was about to reach down and slap him for wasting so much time, when he reached up and pulled himself onto Muriel’s back. Karen prodded the horse forward while McCall wrapped his hands around her stomach. They ran back to the front line, past the edge of the tall grass, and stopped at a spot where McCall had placed a couple of guns.

  Mad Dog hopped off the back of Muriel and staggered slightly as he hit the ground. Deputy Mike stepped out of the crowd of people that swarmed around and helped Karen off the horse. She thanked him, surprised that he would volunteer to help her do anything. He’d been nothing but combative since the moment she’d met him.

  “What happened?” he asked her.

  “I fucked up! We placed the explosive piles to close to each other.”

  McCall stuck his pinky fingers in his ears and swirled them around, grimacing. “That didn’t work so well!” He continued yelling, though the sound of the fire wasn’t loud enough to warrant it.

  “Are you ok?” Karen asked him.

  “What?”

  Karen didn’t feel like screaming back and forth so she walked over and inspected him. His pants were blackened and sections of the fabric had burned away. The patches of skin the holes revealed had turned an angry red. His hands and face were covered in soot. Though he seemed to be in some pain, she couldn’t see any significant injuries.

  “You’re all right,” Karen said, patting him on the chest.

  “I think my hearing is coming back,” he said. “Did you say ‘I’m all right’?”

  She nodded rather than yelled. More people circled around them, waiting for orders. She looked around at them, seeing their fear. Losing half of their initial attack to a flaming piece of moaner didn’t breed confidence. As she glanced over the crowd, she thought that it appeared to be a little smaller. People had already begun to flee.

  “Now for the hard part,” she said. “Everyone get ready. Remember that you aren’t killing anyone – they’re already dead!”

  McCall picked up a shotgun and stuffed shells into his pockets. He tossed a rifle and a box of rounds to Karen before he picked up a double-bladed axe. After rolling his shoulders, he gave her a grim smile. She’d seen him prepared like this before, when he’d arrived at Ellis’ saloon in Gehenna.

  “Everyone spread out. We need to be at least ten yards apart so we aren’t shooting and stabbing each other. Don’t fire unless you’re sure you can hit them in the head.” She lifted the rifle in front of her and looked down at it. This would be the moment of truth.

  “Go!” McCall yelled. He stood in front of Karen and looked into her eyes. “Stay close to me and I won’t let anything happen you.”

  “I think you mean that I won’t let anything happen to you,” she said.

  The people of Sheol began spreading out in silence. Many of them were so consumed by fear that they shook uncontrollably. Unless they calmed down, they would be of no use to anyone. They wouldn’t be able to shoot straight, or think clearly. Karen figured they would be the first of many to die. The more she watched their movements and body language, the more convinced she became that they were doomed.

  Most of the field burned in front of them. The grass ended fifty yards away and the fire stopped there, but the smoke washed over them, making it hard to see. The flames took care of the fog, but the smoke proved even worse. Karen hacked a few times when it hit her lungs. Her eyes stung as she tried to peer through the enveloping gray, and she wiped at the water leaking down her cheeks.

  The first of the moaners stumbled out of the grass, engulfed in flames and stalking toward their defensive line. At least a hundred guns went off at the same time. The ground in front of the corpse was peppered by bullets, as was the body. None of them hit the head however, and it only staggered backward before regaining its balance. Pieces of dirt blew into the air as rounds punctured the ground, destroying the short grass in front of the walking corpse.

&nb
sp; “Goddamn it!” Karen tried to shout over the roar of the gunfire. “Only take sure shots!”

  No one listened. They all fired their weapons until they clicked empty. Most of them stood there, slack jawed, watching in horror as the moaner kept coming. Much of its chest cavity had been blown away and portions of its ribs were exposed, yet it walked on. It leaned further back than should have been possible, its destroyed abdominals unable to support the weight of its upper body.

  Karen ran at it, hoping she could reach it before any of these idiots could reload and start shooting again. She stopped ten yards away and raised the rifle, lining up the sights with its forehead. Holding her breath, she squeezed the trigger and watched as the top of its head blew away. The body dropped to the ground where it came to rest in a jumble of awkward, blood-soaked limbs.

  The heat from the burning grass singed the hair on her forearms and she had to step back, raising a hand to protect her face. She jogged back to the line of people and glared at Gary and Mike, who stood toward the middle of the group. Neither of them wanted to match her glare so they inspected the area in front of them instead.

  “Head shots only!” She could tell that almost no one listened to her at that point. Panic had taken over. She went back to McCall, wondering what she was thinking when she’d formulated a plan that had to be carried out by a bunch of frightened people.

  “What did you expect?” McCall asked.

  “More than this,” she said, shaking her head.

  Ten or more moaners staggered through the flames at once. A woman further down the line let loose a long, shaky scream and then the shooting started again. Karen frowned again as she watched people waste more of their precious ammunition. The corpses fell to the ground eventually when someone finally connected with their heads. They would run out of bullets long before they ran out of targets to shoot at.

  Most of the clothing covering their dead bodies had been burned away and the skin underneath had charred and split. No blood came from the fresh wounds, but the muscles underneath glistened as light from the fires reflected off of them.