Artemis leaned so far forward that only an inch of her butt remained on her seat. With glee she cried, “Time for the hunt to begin!”
“Easy for you to say, you didn’t draw one of the priests,” mumbled Ares. “I never should have redrawn.”
“What are you complaining about?” shot back Artemis. “You’ve got The Bear in your hand too! All I got was the newbie gunslinger, and the newbies always die.”
“Not as new as Aphrodite's one,” Hades pointed out. “That one’s so new, it doesn’t even have a name yet.”
Aphrodite studied the card with only the shadowy outline of unknown figure. The wild card.
“It’s not too late if you want to use your redraw,” Ares reminded her.
Aphrodite shook her head. “I like surprises.”
“Suit yourself.”
“Maybe my priest will pray to the right god this time and then I can gift him a boon.” Hades pondered before he filled his mouth with a handful of popcorn.
“That never happens,” replied Ares, “Least of all to the likes of you.”
“All it takes is just need the right circumstances,” replied Hades as he watched the horde approach.
BANG! BANG!
Pete took out two more before anyone else reached him.
Artemis giggled. “Two more points to me!”
Mitchell clicked his rifle’s bolt into place and pulled the trigger.
THUMP!
The shot hit a thigh, or what was left of it, right into fragile bone. Down went the creature. Something that had been somebody’s mother once. Her ragged skirt engulfed her like a deflated balloon as she fell. She tried to crawl forward, not quite completely dead yet, but the dozens of feet that followed, forced her head down into the dirt, and soon she was lost beneath them.
“Come get me boys!” enthused the butcher as he swung his flail in a wide circle.
Around him, the others dodged out of the way.
“Where’s your ranged weapon?” asked Trevor as he lined up his rifle and shut one eye.
SPLAT!
With perfect aim Trevor got one of devilish things in the eyeball. Red liquid squirted out so far, they could see it colour the sky from here.
“Don’t need one.” The butcher spat on the ground and looked forward eagerly with a mad grin.
“Well, what are you waiting for then?” cried ol Rusty, as he sprung forward toward the horde, an axe in each hand.
The butcher watched ol Rusty sprint past the town boundary with an unnatural abundance of energy for one who was so old. Then he sighed and began a slow plod forwards. The butcher was not one for running.
“Looks like one of yours might get some points soon,” mused Ares to Aphrodite, as they watched ol Rusty reach the front of the horde.
“Not as many as mine,” grinned Artemis, as Pete took out another one.
Ol Rusty skidded to a stop a metre away from rotting reaching arms. He wrinkled his nose. “Oh, phew, you fellas need a bath.”
He waited until they were almost at him and then he ducked back merrily. The creatures moved at about a third the pace of an average man, and Rusty was much faster than the average.
He giggled madly. Then he spat on the dry, dusty, ground between them and started swinging.
Blood flew in a circular motion and Rusty danced in the middle of it. He made sure to keep an eye out to the side so he did not become surrounded. The undead may move slow, and alone one was not much of a threat, but together they could easily become overwhelming.
Heads and arms went flying as Rusty painted the sky red. Bones fell to the earth.
Then his axe got stuck. It got stuck hard.
It lodged deep into the thick skull of what once would have been a right solid dude. The creature growled. It was a very thick skull indeed.
Rusty held it at arms length, keeping it at bay, with nothing but the force of his axe pushing down into it’s head.
“Oh shit!” he mumbled.
Around him bodies fell to bullets, but not fast enough. The creatures circled inward, surrounding him.
Artemis clapped her hands. “That’ll teach him for getting into melee too fast. A good hunter always knows when shoot first.”
“Hey, it ain’t over until the fat one sings.” Beside her, Hades pointed.
The Butcher screamed.
Rusty ducked.
A flail went flying overhead, shattering thick-skull into a bazillion pieces and cleaning up at least six other stinkers who had been circling in close.
“Ha, seven points to me,” said Hades, looking as pleased as if he’d swung the killing blow himself. “And a level up at that. Which means a minor boon to the butcher. Hmm, I think what he needs is some extra energy. Maybe this will increase his speed.” Hades pointed at the field.
The butcher suddenly found himself filled with overwhelming increase in vigor and with it, a need to hit more things. He chalked it up to the natural frenzy often induced during a good fight.
“Doesn’t that also mean more zombies?” Aphrodite asked, not quite remembering the rules. She considered them more like guidelines anyway. It was the story that mattered after all.
Ares nodded in confirmation as he stroked his goatee and watched the field like a commander thinking through strategies. “In the next battle.”
BANG!
The Gods all blinked in surprise and stared.
“That’s unfortunate,” observed Aphrodite.
This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.
“Well I didn’t see that coming,” said Hades after a moment’s silence.
“Do I get points for that?” asked Artemis.
“No points for friendly fire,” replied Ares.
“Damn.”
Ol Rusty’s head exploded, as a stray bullet from a shotgun found the wrong target.
“Oops,” mumbled Pete. Ignoring the looks the others were giving him, he shrugged, and reloaded his weapon.
James The Bear, who had been several paces in front of Pete, on account of his pistols not being great at long distance shooting, wisely took several paces back.
Pete did the same, mostly on account of the incoming enemy.
The Bear gave him a deadly look.
An oblivious Pete smiled, revealing several missing teeth.
The Bear shook his head and turned his focus back to the approaching group of undead, who had by now reached the town boundary, and didn’t seem to have shrunk much in size at all.
“Ready yourselves men, and prepare for close combat!” cried Mitchell as he picked off some of the closer ones in quick succession. “Don’t let them get behind us. Keep the way back to the saloon clear in case we need to retreat.”
“Real men don’t retreat!” cried Trevor as he fired six shots into the chest of one creature.
It kept coming.
Mitchell stopped it with a shot to the head.
“You’re supposed to hit them in the brain!” cried the fair-haired priest to Trevor.
Upstairs, Artemis rolled her eyes. “Typical noob.”
The priests may have been men of religion, but they were not unarmed. They stood side by side, dominions once of slightly different faiths, they now fought together. The fair-haired priest carried two revolvers, like many of the other men. The dark-haired priest had only a melee weapon, a long black pole, tipped with three sharp blades, the middle one longer than the others. As the enemy drew nearer, he lunged forward and stabbed one of the creatures right in the mouth.
His angle was off slightly and the blade went down, into the devil’s throat instead of up into it’s brain like he had intended. It tried to scream at him, but the flesh of it’s throat no longer held the firm structure it once had, and it came out more like a gurgle. It spat blood and flesh all over the pristine white robes of the other priest, who turned upon it with renewed fury.
“I just had these washed, you foul beast!” Forgetting the main purpose of his gun, he bludgeoned the thing to death with the butt of his revolver.
Undead surrounded them all. They grabbed at limbs with eternally growing fingernails, and snapped at healthy flesh with infected teeth. For every one that dropped, another row appeared behind.
“RETREAT!” came the cry.
Men stumbled over one another to get back into the saloon. But they found the door locked.
“Faith, let us in! Quick!” cried Mitchell
“Go around the back or they’ll know we’re in here,” Faith whispered through the door. Then she fell back quiet.
“AROUND THE BACK!” went up the cry.
The men scurried like rats around the building, leaving the undead to stumble slowly behind. The cook let them back in before any of the creatures could see where they’d gone.
Casey held her breath until she saw her father enter the room with the other men. Through the thin boards behind her, she could hear movement and moaning that surrounded the building. Some of them clawed at the door and the boarded up windows, but mostly they passed on by, wandering, searching for the live food they knew was nearby. They wouldn’t give entry to the building any real attempt as long as everyone remained quiet. Usually they only stayed for a few hours, but sometimes, like last time, they stayed for days.
“Do you think we got enough of them? whispered the butcher.
“Shhh.” Multiple fingers flew to their owner’s lips. The Butcher sat down on a chair and was quiet.
Even the Gods above watched in hushed apprehension.
Casey tried to peer through the gaps in the board but it was only a small hole. Outside the creatures seemed to be moving away. Down in the street she could just make out the late Mrs Fields. The woman looked a lot skinnier since she’d been turned. Well that was one way to lose weight, Casey supposed. Casey’s mother had, in the past, made many a biting remark or sneering comment about Mrs Field’s love for pastries and sweets. Mrs Fields had always seemed kind to Casey when they’d talked, but then her own mother was always kind when she was talking to people in public too, so who could really tell? She was always telling anyone who would listen how Casey was becoming a fine young woman, praising her publicly for things Casey didn’t think ought to be praised at all, and then critiquing her in private. Casey figured it was just to make sure she didn’t become complacent. It was for her own good really, but it didn’t stop her wishing if maybe just once she could have a genuine compliment. Perhaps she didn’t deserve one yet. She just needed to try a little harder.
CRASH!
A shattering sound interrupted Casey’s thoughts and she turned to see what had made the sound.
All eyes were on Billy. He’d accidentally bumped into a glass vase of flowers, sending them careening to the wooden floor. The vase now lay in pieces and white daises lay strewn at his feet.
One look at her mother's face and Casey knew there would be trouble to pay later. If there weren't trouble to pay now. There came a rattling at the door. Outside, the heavy breathing grew louder.
The dark-haired priest crossed himself. "You've doomed us all."
As the shutters shook, Casey ran from the window.
Billy looked as if he was about to cry. He was about her age, almost a man, but not quite.
Casey felt sorry for him. “It’s alright,” she whispered as she reached down to pick up the fallen daises.
“Leave it.” Her mother grabbed her shoulder. But her eyes watched the front door with fear.
A thin crack appeared in the wood.
They had seen it happen before. Once the creatures knew the food was inside, they would pile up and push, until under the share force of their weight, the door would collapse inward.
“We need to retreat upstairs and barricade ourselves in,” whispered Mitchell.
“It’ll do no good,” mumbled the cook. “We haven’t the food to outlast them now.”
“Better we end all our lives now, before they get in,” suggested James The Bear. “Go out with some dignity.” He pulled a pistol from one hostler. “Woman and children first.”
The Butcher shook his head and held up one of his large knives. “I intend to go out fighting, just like how I came into this world. God bless you mama.” He crossed himself.
“Don’t be a fool man. You don’t want to become like them.”
Hades shook his fists with joy. “TPK! TPK!”
Artemis narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t be so eager for things to end.”
“It would just mean a redraw anyway,” Ares told him as he shuffled cards and handed one to Aphrodite. “For the one you lost. They’ll come into play next battle.”
Artemis leaned over Hades to see what Aphrodite had drawn. “Oh, another wildcard. That’s some luck, or unluck. Probably another newbie outlaw wandering by trying to make a name for himself. But we haven’t even seen who your first one is yet.”
Aphrodite picked her original wildcard up. As she did the colours on the card began to fill themselves in.
“Oh look!” cried Artemis, “It’s revealing itself, they must be about to join the battle. They don’t usually come in so late. Perhaps they will be a skilled shooter after all. It would only be fair at this point.”
Hades pushed Artemis off himself with a scowl and then looked curiously at the card Aphrodite held. “That can’t be right.”
Ares leaned over the table to get his own look. He frowned. “You haven’t been manipulating the battlefield again have you Aphrodite?”
“Who me?” she asked innocently.
CRASH! RATTLE! RATTLE! HONK! HONK! NEIGH!
From outside the saloon came the distinctive sound of hoof beats followed by an horrendous noise that could only be described as half a kitchen and a goose, being dragged behind a horse.
Whatever it was, it drew the attention of the undead, and soon the rattling and banging on the saloon doors came to an end.
“We’re saved,” remarked the dark-haired priest. “But by what?”
As things quietened down Casey carefully approached the window again. Peering out she could see a few straggling dead, but not much else. She waited and watched, as others joined her, sticking their eyes up to the gaps. Eventually they were rewarded.
Coming back to clear out the last of the walking undead, was a lone rider on a red roan coloured horse. Their back was to the saloon but the group could just make out a figure wearing a beige hat. Resting up near the pommel of their saddle was a large horn. Trailing behind the horse on the ground, attached to the back of the saddle was part of a cow carcass, and hundreds of utensils, spoons, knives, forks, even a couple of pots and pans. The horse danced on all four feet, as if not wanting to be where it was, but it obeyed the rider and did not run from the spot until commanded.
The rider did a fast loop and then slowly trotted at the head of the smaller horde, gathering up the remaining undead and luring them all out of town.
They waited nearly an hour before anyone dared open the doors, but once they did they found the streets decidedly empty. Then the butcher’s stomach growled, along with several others, and breakfast was quickly demanded. The attack was all but forgotten. Just another day in the west.
Food was just being served when the door to the saloon opened and in walked a figure. Their hat was beige, rimmed with darker leather. It matched the hat of the lone rider who had ridden through their town only an hour earlier. As did the rest of the clothes, brown leather chaps, and a plaid shirt. Two pistols at each hip. Everyone turned to look.
The figure was not tall, but they were obviously lean and fit. They had muscular shoulders, a square jaw and cleft chin, as strong as any man. Even the long loosely tied red hair was not entirely out of place, if a little shinier than expected. But this figure had something Casey had never seen on any man. Instead of a sharp triangular shape and small hips, this outlaw had wide hips, and curves, soft, supple, and distinctive. Shapely and seductive, not in a sensual way of course. Casey’s gaze was drawn and captured out of pure and innocent curiosity, at least, that’s what she told herself in that first moment she laid eyes on Dodge. And as the figure raised their head, and their hat no longer hid the rest of their face, Casey could see as plain as day that this was no man. Instead, in the doorway to the saloon, stood a woman. A woman wearing pants.