GuNNhead

The townsfolk burst out of the Sheriff’s with Kurt leading the way, and begin mowing down undead after undead with a flurry of gunfire. For a good few moments, their grouping remains together, but upon clearing out enough of the invading undead to move around, they begin to split up, each with their own ideas. Some go into houses where they know there is more ammo, mainly Ma Perkins’ house. Her husband was an avid collector and marksman before his passing a few short months ago.

“Where in the Sam Hill do we go now?”
“The whole town’s surrounded, there’s nowhere to go, just keep firing!”
“Screw this,” says Maggie, as she pushes Season into a shambling undead and makes a run for her bar, “I can hold up just fine on my own!”
Kurt fires, and saves Season from being bitten, and Maggie makes it to the saloon doors. A body lurches out, vomiting bile upon her, she pushes her way back in, but that is all they see before having to focus on more pressing matters.

Gunshots ring out into the night, the small group finding small breathing times where the horde is less intense. “I’ve gotten through this once, and tarnation, I’ll do it again!” Times are spent climbing onto awnings to buy time, or to break in second-story windows after hearing the screams of other townsfolk in trouble after zombies burst in through the ground floor door. Morning starts to break, and a good number of the people are still alive. Having battled through most of the buildings, they’ve arrived back into the center of town in front of the chapel. Ammo is low, and many tools have been adapted into weapons. Fighting exhaustion and the remaining groups of straggling, dried-out undead, they hear what could be hope. Riders on horseback, could they be saved? No.

The graveyard starts to erupt, and old loved ones rise from their graves.
“How is this happening? Why didn’t this happen sooner?”
“I don’t think Harked Node was ever a real target, darlin. Now we’re dealin with real trouble.”
“What is it?”
“My bother.”

The Six-Shooters ride into town, right among the zombies, and stop yards away from the group. Kurt stands in front. The surrounding zombies stop their mindless onslaught, and encircle the group, standing still.
“Hah, so you are alive, dear younger brother.”
“Wish I could say the same for you, Flint, you rotting scum.”
“Haha, yeah, I bet you do, ‘cept you’re the one that killed me.”
“Too bad you’re too dumb to stay dead.”
“Too smart more like it, you’re just lucky I got orders not to shoot you dead back when we found ya.”
“You damn lapdog, who are you working for? What’s their endgame?”
“Ah, Kurt, you always were slow in catchin on. The endgame is to win, I always knew deep down people were doomed, the only way to win was to be closer to the ground than those shifty snakes were. If you couldn’t scam em, you should just upright kill em. Now, I have the best of it all, I’m six feet under ground, and got the grind of the century. Let me ask ya, who has all the gold once everyone is dead?”
“Nobody, you mad dog, it’ll be worthless. It’ll all be worthless.”
“Exactly, the hoards of undead kill everyone, then, y’see, my boss has a new plan for the whole west, and me and my guys are at the top.”
“So why wasn’t I made dead right away?”
“Dunno that, just know what the bossman said, “Can’t kill him directly,” though I do know you weren’t part of this plan, somethin to do with the stones now is all I know.” Flint gets off of his horse, and continues. “That gun’s rightfully mine, little brother. I wanted that gun, but father gave it to you, sayin I’d use it for misdeeds, even said that you was a better shot. That chaffed me something fierce, forced me into misdeeds. Luckily I had some friends, we eventually become the Six-Shooters. One day, a private investor wanted to hire us. They said to kill Kurtis Kelvin. We got 6 of these rare red stones just for accepting, and 60,000 each once it was done. I was overjoyed, woulda done it for free. But, it was our last living exploit, you saw to that, shot us dead. But we came back, as cause of the stones.”
“So what now? You want my gun?”
“I don’t want nothin from you, but my boss now sure does. Two towns now you fought for, shoulda just turn tail and run, live out your old age somewhere and die. Now you have to answer to the big guy.”

This entry was posted on August 13, 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.