GuNNhead

He looks through the windows from the back alleys. From the first floor they’re all too dark, just appear to be houses, but he comes upon one house, and on the opposite wall, there is a large ammo supply shelf. Locked, but well labeled. He opens the window, and as he’s lowering himself in, a smell hits him; distracted, he slips on the wet floor. Water, nothing more. He gets up, and cracks open the doors to the ammo cabinet with the but of his gun. He refills his ammo, and starts back out the window.

“Don’t move… Alright, now remove that pistol you got there, and put your hands up. Turn around.” Responding to the voice’s commands with the cocking of a gun backing them up, he does so. With more light flooding in from the outside, he realizes that this isn’t the gunsmith’s, but the jail, and he’s facing the sheriff square in the eyes.
“It’s not what you think, somethin I can’t explain is goin on.”
“That’s too bad, because you really needed to be doin some explainin right now.” Sheriff Thron motions to the cell with his pistol. The stranger starts getting in the cell, knowing he’s beat.
“Hah, who knew it’d be this easy to make so much money, wanted men just linin up inside my jail.” He sifts through wanted posters. “There we go, ‘Red’ Reed Thomson, you’re quite the murderer.”
“That may look like me, but it ain’t me, I’m no murderer, in another life I used to be known as Kurtis Kelvin”
“Kurtis Kelvin, the famous lawdog? So, even though you’re a dead ringer for this here killer, comin to town after some psycho cannibal, you’re the youngest lawman there was, and damn near tamed the west before you were 20, before I was even born, before you were killed? You can understand your story don’t exactly match up to the facts.”
“Yeah, the lawman died, had to. Sometimes it’s all too much for one man.”
“What happened?”
“Settled far out, down in some nowhere town south of the border. I changed my name, and they stopped lookin, or so I thought. Guess they had more than one contingency, putting posters up in case I ever came back. Guess no place is far enough to escape the evil of man…”
“So what brings you here? Evil?”
“These damn dead, rose up outta the ground, outta the horizon, killed mosta everyone in the town while I’d gone for supplies. Someone knew I was there, had to. The buried came back, but not as they were. No, these things were decomposing, shambling wrecks. Even the ones those things ate up, or just the bit. The folks in my town ate each other, sheriff, all dead, mindless. Except for six of em. The Six Shooters, men I’d killed, all back again, a gang of outlaws. Now, unless dead men can bring themselves back to life, there’s no telling who’s in charge, commanding them, but they have the power to bring back the dead. No way the real Six Shooters would have just tossed me in a ravine, they’da shot me dead.”
“Well that’s just the loveliest story, what with knowing the laws, I hope you understand while I keep you locked up in here till we can get some facts sorted out.”

This entry was posted on June 18, 2012 at 3:33 am and is filed under Fiction, Horror, Western. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.