Casey cleaned herself up, found a more appropriate dress and made her way downstairs just as James the Bear got back to a hero’s welcome. Several hands clapped him on the back. More than one voice proudly exclaimed, “I knew you wouldn’t leave us.”

James the Bear acknowledged their welcomes and then sat down opposite Dodge. “The sound draws them away. That’s a useful thing to know that is. Maybe we can use it. I’ve left your contraption out not far from where I found it by the way. I can point it out on a map if you need. I also saw your horse, by the creek, a few others had fled there as well. Someone will need to round them up tomorrow.”

Dodge nodded. “I can do it. I’ve been thinking about that by the way, about the sound. I saw a bunch of gunpowder in the barn. If the town has anymore?” she turned to Mitchell, “Maybe we can use it to lure them in and take out a bunch at once. I think it’ll take few weeks to properly scope out a good location to pull it off but if we can make it until then and if we can find just the right location, maybe bury them under some rubble or something, perhaps things will get easier after that.”

James the Bear nodded. “Good, I like a solid plan. Mitchell, do we have anymore gunpowder?”

The butcher answered for him. “Pete’s got a whole stash under his store, plus I think the McCoy’s have some in their barn, and ol Winston’s always loaded.”

Mitchell gave the butcher a stern look for the interruption but then added, “We do, but I think we’d have to use all of it for it to be effective, and then what would we do for the next lot? Supplies don’t come through here often no more.”

Dodge nodded thoughtfully. “There’s some powder houses in the mountains. If we can get the numbers down, it’ll buy us a few weeks, and then some of us can go there and bring some back, maybe set up a regular trade route. I was planning on heading that way myself anyway.”

“You’re not staying with your caravan?” asked the butcher.

Pip, one of the caravan boys who’d taken shelter in saloon, answered for her. “We’re planning on heading back south tomorrow. We’re actually looking for a new gunman to accompany us.”

“I think Trevor was thinking about heading south,” replied Knuckles. He turned to Trevor. “Ain’t that right Trevor?... Trevor?”

Trevor was hunched over, not far from the dark-haired priest who mumbled things about hell and blasphemy how he’d failed some test. Neither of them looked in particularly great condition. Trevor’s skin was sweaty and he clutched at his side shivering.

Suddenly Jack remembered what he’d seen earlier. He pointed at Trevor with the barrel of one of his guns. “He was bit! We need to put him down.”

“Oh, blast!” cursed Artemis. “Hey, who’d you draw for your replacement?” she asked Ares.

Ares showed her his card. Knuckle’s face was clearly displayed. He was handsome for a cowboy, with wavy brown locks and new black leather hat so clean it shined.

“Ah, the other newbie,” remarked Artemis. “Good luck with that. I sure hope my next draw’s better.”

“You may not need to redraw at all dear,” Aphrodite observed as the scene below took a sharp twist.

“Wait!” Dodge stood up from the table, waving at Jack to stop. “If he only just got bit, there’s still a chance we can save him.”

“What do you mean?” asked James the Bear. “A bit man is a goner, once bitten...”

“Not if we get him properly shitfaced,” Dodge replied.

The entire room looked at her in confusion.

“Dionysus would have loved this,” mused Aphrodite.

“What?” asked the James the Bear.

“There was a guy I rode with for awhile down south who got bit, along with a bunch of other folks, but only he survived, and he never became like them. Only difference was he was stone-cold drunk the night he got bit. Now, I just chalked it up to coincidence, figured he just had weird blood or something, except a few months later this other woman got bit, in a town I was passing through. She managed to get back inside her house and hid but she figured she was gonna turn into one of them, and she couldn’t take the thought of it so she started drinking heavily. She woke up the next morning perfectly fine, apart from a really bad hangover. A week later she was still fine. It works.” She shrugged. “Anyway, what’s the worst that can happen? As long as we keep a guard on him, if he turns we can take him then.”

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

The saloon was silent. Then James the Bear burst into laughter. “You telling me I’ve been on to something with the drinking and fighting thing?” He raised his hands, “Well then, somebody get some whiskey! A round for everyone, extra for Trevor. And some food. It’s well past lunch and I’m famished.”

As Casey went to fetch the whiskey from the bar she heard her mother cry out “But who’s going to cook?”

That problem was soon solved as it turned out Billy had actually been paying attention all those years he’d been working as a kitchen hand. Soon such wonderful smells filled the saloon and even Casey found her mouth watering.

She was passing by Dodge, with another bottle of liquor in her hands, when Dodge grabbed her and made her sit.

Several eyes turned on them, and Casey might have shrunk down into her seat completely if Dodge hadn’t looked at them all and loudly proclaimed, “It’s silly that we all sit so apart when our time together may be so limited.” She waved towards Mrs Henderson. “Somebody drag that other table over here and let us all eat together.”

There was a brief moment of consideration followed by several nods, shrugs, and mumbles of agreement. Truth was, quite simply, no one had ever suggested all eating together before. The separation had been habit more than anything and now that an alternative arrangement had been suggested with jovial enthusiasm and good justification, no one had any objections. Indeed, as Mrs Henderson sat herself down next to Mr Henderson with a smile and his hand subtly patted her thigh, it could have been said that some were actually rather pleased with the idea.

Faith may have looked a little put out but she could read the room well enough to know that objection would not get her very far. And when, later during the meal, Mitchell turned to her and said, “You know, it’s actually kind of nice to be seated next to you at dinner,” she blushed and became far more amiable for the rest of the evening.

Billy did all the serving himself and while he seemed quite proud of his cooking, he watched them all take their first bites with obvious apprehension.

He need not have feared for his feast was met with many murmurs of approval, of which the drunken states of many of those in attendance did little to suppress.

Casey studied the weirdly shaped small brown things on her plate. She poked at their soft fleshy texture curiously with her fork.

“They’re mushrooms,” Dodge remarked.

Casey frowned. “I thought that’s what they looked like, but aren’t mushrooms dangerous to eat? And these ones are so strange looking.”

“It depends on what mushrooms. These are Morel mushrooms by the look of it and it’s a good sign that they’re hollow. That’s one way you can tell the difference. We eat them on the road sometimes, if we can find them.” Dodge waved Billy over. “Billy where did you get these?”

He grinned proudly. “I’ve been growing them for years now. This travelling musician passed through town and he gave me a book about them so I’ve spent a lot of time learning how to identify and grow all the different kinds. Don’t worry, it’s safe. I eat them all the time, especially the morels, which are these ones, but cook never let me put them in the food. She thought they looked too strange and no one would eat them. They’re delicious though, really, and healthy. Try them.”

“Thank you Billy.”

Casey stared down at her plate. ‘Healthy?’ She hesitantly took a bite and her mouth was suddenly filled with the most wondrous flavour. It was smokey and buttery and ...

“Is that garlic?” Dodge asked Billy.

He nodded eagerly. “Cook never let me put that in the food either, God rest her soul.” He crossed himself briskly. “But it’s great right?”

Dodge nodded. “And hard to get I hear?”

Billy grinned. His eyes glinted. “I have my sources.”

Around the table were several more joyously indulgent proclamations of, “Oh God!”

Hades watched with unconcealed eagerness.

“Oh, you’re not gonna get that to happen a second time,” remarked Artemis. “No one’s praying to the god of the underworld over food.”

“Mmm, food,” purred Aphrodite. “Did you know that mushrooms are an aphrodisiac?”

“You just like that word cause it’s named after you,” replied Hades.

“Is there any food that you don’t consider an aphrodisiac?” Artemis jabbed, knowing Aphrodite all too well.

Aphrodite smiled and shook her head. “Food is the life blood. It grants the energies required for passion and...” She paused as Ares held out an apple for her. She took it gratefully. “Thank you Ares.”

He nodded. Then tried to focus on the players down below. But as Aphrodite brought the apple to her lips, his eyes were drawn back up.

Aphrodite was known to play with her food. She abhorred the idea of using any type of cutlery, other than for distracting zombies. Touch, after all was a significant sense and why should one enjoy food with only sight, smell, taste, when there is so much to feel of form and texture? She caressed the apple, feeling every bump and hidden bruise with her painted fingertips. The smoothness. The curve. She raised it to her mouth and after kissing it gently in several places, she licked it. Texture that felt like one thing to the fingers, could feel entirely different to the tongue. Finally she sunk her teeth right in and closed her eyes as the juices filled her mouth and ran down her chin. She wiped her mouth with one delicate finger, catching the droplets right before they could fall away, and slowly she licked her finger clean.

Across the table Ares watched with his arms crossed.

She smiled at him.

Artemis sighed. “Now you’re making me hungry.”

Hades grinned wickedly. “I know what you can eat.”

Trevor had soon passed out and now snored loudly on a long bench by the front of the room. Knuckles watched him closely, gun in one hand, spoon in the other, while he had a helping of dessert, berries picked by Billy himself. The quality of the food had quickly caused Casey to forget her usual worries. That, plus she got to sit next to Dodge who spent half the meal telling Casey about all her wonderful adventures.

The only person not enjoying a good meal it seemed, was the dark-haired priest. They’d managed to get him to move to the table but he still seemed out of sorts. While he could now answer simple questions and perform simple actions like passing the salt, any question about the events of earlier seemed to pass right through him and he’d get a vacant look and start mumbling again. “Oh God, what the Devil have I done?”