Ashes of the Dead - Bucket of Blood (14 page)

“
What are they gonna do to us?” Andrew asked, twitching nervously.

“Keep your mouth shut,” Pickett told him.

Essa-queta paced back-and-forth and looked at each one of them, scanning their faces.

“
Hello…we come…in peace,” Pickett stuttered, speaking louder as if that would help the Chieftain understand him.

Essa-queta
continued to pace in front of them. “You have disgraced our ancestors by removing them from eternal rest,” he said in Washoe. “Their souls now wander in the afterlife, unbalanced.” He paused, getting angrier by the second. “You have kicked us off of our lands. My people starve…struggling to survive. And now…you have
cursed
us all. You must pay for your wanton recklessness.”

Pickett
looked at him with absolutely no idea of what he just said.

“He looks…
really angry,” Andrew said.

“Yup,” Pickett responded.

Cutler shifted his weight around, a sharp rock digging into one of his knees. “We do not mean you any harm. We are not the ones who have offended your ancestors,” he said, speaking in perfect Washoe.

The others
looked at him, completely dumbfounded that he could speak their language.

“We need your help,” Cutler continued.

Essa-queta approached Cutler and stood in front of him, very interested in what he had to say, yet still unsure if he would let them live.

“Continue,” the Chieftain said.

“Our people need our help. We have to get back to them.”

“
You are foolish. There is only one way to end this,” he said, and kneeled before him and pulled out a long sharp knife, and then pointed it at Cutler's sternum.

“Wait,” the Gunman protested.

“We must kill those who brought this curse upon us,” Essa-queta insisted, and pressed the knifepoint into Cutler’s chest, threatening to kill him.

“
Wait.”

Essa-queta
pulled back the knife, but only an inch. He turned to the Gunman, waiting for him to speak.

“Tell him if they help us
…” the Gunman said to Cutler, “…that we'll kill the man who started all of this.”

“
What?” Cutler asked.

But b
efore Cutler could translate, Essa-queta withdrew the knife, walked behind Cutler and cut his bonds. The warriors followed suit and cut the others free. Essa-queta walked over to the Gunman, now speaking in broken English. “Our people have a long history with the white man. A long history of deceit...and mistrust.”

“
You can trust me,” the Gunman assured him. “You can trust
us
.”

“I have no other choice,” Essa-queta responded, then whistled loudly
. He reached out and shook the Gunman's hand with his uninjured arm. “Our fate is the same. As is our enemy.”

A young Washoe woman
appeared with several horses, already prepared to travel.

“
Well hell, what are we waiting for?” Cutler announced.

•  •  •

Rose had kept watch all night, looking between two boards nailed across the window. Her eyes were bloodshot and deep bags hung beneath them. The undead still lingered outside the church, but now only wandered in circles or stood in a catatonic state. Their initial attack against the church hadn’t lasted more than an hour, and as night passed they slowly withdrew from the church, but many still remained outside.

She
dropped her head, nearly falling asleep from exhaustion, but fought it hard, rubbing her eyes with both hands. Her head fell again, bobbing up and down as she continued to struggle.

Eric
sat nearby staring at the floorboards and noticed her fighting to keep awake. “Why don't you get some sleep? I'll keep watch...wake you if anything happens,” he said.

Rose
nodded without protest and picked up her shotgun, and then slid her tired body into a pew and fell fast asleep. Eric sat down in her chair and took the lookout. Like Rose, he hadn’t slept much during the night, and also struggled to stay awake as his head fell listlessly.

•  •  •

Rose lay in a pew, and had slept hard for almost an hour.

Bang
.

She
twitched, writhing on the pew from the loud noise. Nearby, Eric slept soundly, slouched against the wall and dreaming hard. His lookout hadn’t lasted more then a few minutes before he decided to call it quits, overtaken by pure exhaustion.

Bang
.
Bang
. Rose awakened and bolted upright. She looked around with groggy eyes, struggling to focus them in the morning light.

Bang
. On the other side of the church, Beth pulled down pews and furniture from the barricade in front of the church entrance.

“Beth!
What are you doing?!” she yelled.

But
Beth paid no attention to her and continued to tear down the barricade and worked frantically to clear a path to the front doors. Rose grabbed Eric by the collar and shook him. “Wake up!”

Eric
jumped, ready for anything. He reached for his revolver, but it was missing from the holster. “What the--,” he said, still waking up and trying to stand on unsteady legs.

Bang
. He looked across the church just as Beth pulled down another pew from the stack. Only a few pieces of furniture remained, and Eric and Rose rushed toward her as she reached for another pew.

“
Beth.
Stop
,” Rose said.

Beth turned, tears in her eyes, holding Eric’s gun. “
Don't…try…to
stop
me,” she demanded.

Rose
raised her shotgun and pointed it at her. “Beth--, put down the gun.”

Beth
reached into her front pocket and pulled out two shotgun shells, and then dropped them on the floor and grabbed Eric's gun with both hands. Rose cracked open her shotgun and saw that both chambers were empty. Beth had stolen the shells while she slept.

“You can’t stop me,” Beth said, cocking
the gun, both hands shaking. “We're all gonna die. It’s only a matter of time. I have to keep my children safe,” she cried, tears running down her red cheeks.

Sig joined them and tried his best to calm her down. “Beth, you don’t know what you’re doing,” he said, putting his hand out and trying to get her to come
toward him. “Put down the gun,” he told her gently.

Eric
stepped forward, but Beth swung the gun on him. “I said--,” and Sig leapt and reached for the gun, but Beth fired.

“
No!” Rose yelled.

Sig
fell to his knees clutching his stomach and fell over on his side as blood started to pool beneath him.

“Get back!” Beth yelled. “
All of you,” now more agitated than ever.

Beth
reached behind her and pulled away the last piece of furniture. She cracked open the door, still holding the gun on them. “Alright children.” Beth took a step out of the door and pulled her children close behind her. Rose and Eric could only stand there while Sig bled to death, afraid that Beth would fire on them if they tried to help him.

Beth finally turned away and ran
into the street with her children, but the way was blocked by undead who had been attracted to the noise. She turned and tried to run the other way, pulling her children behind her, but the undead had surrounded her. There was no escape from them. She pulled her children in close and covered their eyes with her dress. She kissed them each on the forehead and aimed the gun at the closest undead.

Rose and Eric watch
ed through the open doorway as Beth fired into the swarm of undead that pulsated around her. She spun around and kept firing, then disappeared into the horde and screamed as the undead closed in and tore her and the children to pieces. Rose and Eric could only watch in the doorway, helpless to stop the undead as they dug into her with their rotten fingers. An undead woman saw them watching and lurched toward them. Several more undead followed close behind, and moved toward the church with blood lust in their vapid eyes. They had tasted flesh, which only provoked their ravenous nature.

Eric
reached for the open door and pried it shut, then started shoving furniture back against the doors, trying to rebuild the barricade that Beth had so needlessly torn down. “Help me!” Eric shouted.

“Hold on,”
Rose told him as she scrambled to pick up the shotgun shells from the floor. She quickly loaded them into her shotgun and snapped it shut. Undead slammed against the front door and started breaking through the windows, reaching into the church and trapping them like rats. Rose grabbed one of the heavy pews and pulled it over to the barricade, then helped Eric lift it into place.

“
What do we do?” he said as they threw another pew in front of the doors.

“I have an idea,” she said, and grabbed her shotgun with a
desperate look on her face.

Essa-queta led the charge along with three Washoe warriors, followed closely by the Gunman and his companions. They raced along a ridge, riding as fast as they could. It was hard for them to keep up with the Washoe, who were keen horsemen and seemed to know every rock that covered this land. Even with an injured arm, Essa-queta rode like the wind and would look back every few minutes to make sure that the others didn't fall too far behind. He had been raised on horseback his entire life, fifty long years on the prairie.

They clear
ed the ridge and descended into a deep ravine, and then followed the riverbed for several miles. After an hour of hard riding they left the winding path and crossed an arid grassland that stretched on as far as the eye could see. They pushed the horses to their limit, but were determined to reach the town as soon as they could. They found the road at the edge of the grassland and turned onto it, knowing that it would take them straight into town.

With the sun at their backs the
y reached the outskirts of the town and left their horses tied to an old abandoned wagon. They snuck along a thick line of dead trees that once formed part of a shelterbelt to the north of town, intended to block the harsh wind.

The
Gunman, Cutler and Essa-queta crawled on their bellies through knee-high grass and kept as low as possible. The Gunman inched forward to a tuft of Big Bluestem grass and pushed it out of the way.

Down below they
could see dozens of undead roaming the streets, with no sign of human life, or any life for that matter. On the far side of town, the church was completely surrounded by undead, and looked as if they would raze it to the ground.

“
Shit. No way we can fight our way through that many,” Cutler said.

The Gunman pushed the grass back into place and turned to him. “We’ll have to. There’s no other way.”

“Distraction,” Essa-queta said in Washoe.

“
What?” the Gunman asked, not understanding him.

“
Distract them,” Cutler translated. “Lure them away from the church.”

The Gunman nodded
, agreeing that it was their best option. He turned and followed Essa-queta and crawled back down the hill, but Cutler crawled forward and moved grass out of the way, taking one last look at the undead below. “
Excellent
.”

•  •  •

The Gunman and the others crept along a building, keeping their eyes sharp around every corner with their revolvers ready. They moved across a street and slipped through an abandoned alley. There were no undead in sight, and those that they had seen from the hillside had all but disappeared from the main part of town.

When the
Gunman thought he had found a safe place to stop he turned to the others behind him. “Okay. Here's the deal,” he said as he holstered a revolver. “Cutler, Pearce and the Chief are going to lure those things away from the church.”

Pearce
looked a little surprised at this news. Cutler handed him a gun and some bullets. Pearce nodded and shoved the gun in his belt, understanding that he was going to have to use it this time, no exceptions.

“
Sheriff, Andrew, you three…” he said, now pointing at the three Washoe warriors, “…and I will get them outta’ the church after the undead are lured away.”

They all nod
ded in agreement, each accepting their duties. The Gunman wiped sweat off his forehead as he glanced at the burning yellow sun that was set high in the sky above them. “After you lure them away, get the horses and meet us on the far side of town.”

“
Psssst...hey, pssst...” somebody said from above them.

The
Gunman looked up and saw Jay poking his head out of the hayloft.

“
Holy shit. Jay!” Cutler said.

“
What the hell are you doing?” Jay asked.

“Rescue mission,” Cutler
said.

“
Better rescue me too while you're at it,” Jay added. He spit out a wad of tobacco, picked some remnants out of his teeth, then put in a fresh wad. “I've been stuck up here for two damn days. Just me and the horses,” he complained. “Smells like shit up here,” he said smiling, and then readjusted the tobacco deeper into his cheek with a dirty finger. “And I'm almost outta tobacco, god dammit.”

“
Jay. Can you see the church from up there?” the Gunman asked.

Jay
blocked out the bright sun with his hand and peered over toward the church on the far side of town. “Hell of a sight. I’m pretty sure all them nasty things are headed over there.”

“Headed t
o the church?”

“
Yup. Hell…streets are fairly clear from what I can tell.”

“
Shit
,” Cutler said.

“
Get our horses ready, Jay. Take them to the far side of that hill and wait for us there,” the Gunman said.

“Alright,”
Jay said as he spit into the hay. “See you fellas on the other side.”

•  •  •

Cutler, Pearce and Essa-queta made their way down a boardwalk, moving from one doorway to the next. They moved as silent as possible with their guns drawn but there were no undead in sight. This made Pearce uneasy and he kept searching for them anxiously. They had spent the previous two days running from the undead, and now they were nowhere to be found. Something must have drawn them away and cleared the streets of their implacable lust for human flesh.

They reach
ed the end of the next street, turned a corner and saw the church, surrounded by undead,
every
undead in town. There were at least a hundred, maybe more, throbbing around the outside of the church. Several windows were broken in and undead crawled through them. The front doors had been smashed down and the undead had started to make their way into the church. From were they stood, they couldn’t see any sign of Rose and the others. Cutler’s heart sank, but he was determined to finish what they had started.

“
Alright. Let's do this,” he said, and walked across the street toward the pulsating horde of undead. He stood in the middle of the street and raised his gun, taking aim at the nearest undead. It turned toward him, sensing his presence, and Cutler shot it straight through the skull, then stood there waiting.

The entire legion of u
ndead turned around and started walking straight toward him. Cutler continued to fire at the undead and took down four more with detached precision. He spun on his heels and walked the other way, and then turned around the corner, where Pearce and Essa-queta were waiting.

“It's working,
” he said to Pearce.

“
What now?” he asked.

“What else? Let’s g
et the fuck outta here!”

Cutler, Pearce and Essa-queta retreat
ed down the street, with an entire army of undead following close behind them.

The
Gunman, Pickett, Andrew and the three Washoe Warriors turned a corner at the far end of the street. They watched as the undead left the church behind, lured away by Cutler's pure brazenness and huge brass balls. “Hell of a thing,” the Gunman said.

They ran down the street and carefully approached the front of the church.
The heavy front doors were smashed in and partly ripped from their hinges, hanging limply in the doorway.

“We’re too late,” Pickett said, seeing no sign of
life inside the church.

The Gunman stepped
inside with both guns drawn. All of the windows had been broken through and the barricades had been ripped down. Dried blood had pooled on the floorboards and seeped into the cracks. All that remained of Sig were scraps of his clothing.

“Nobody is left,” Pickett said, “
We're too late.” He sat in a pew and lowered his head into his hands.

The
Gunman walked across to the other side of the church and then stared at the altar. The withered effigy of Jesus Christ looked down on him, hands nailed to the cross, a bleeding wound on his side, and tears in his eyes. The Gunman hated the sight of him, and wanted to rip him from the wall and break him in half.

Bang
.

The Gunman turned his head.
Bang
.
Bang
. Now looking at the hole in the floor. He moved toward it with Andrew and Pickett close at his side.

“Careful,” Andrew told him.

Bang
.
Bang
.

They look
ed into the pit and saw that the hole had been covered with a makeshift barricade, hastily constructed over the entrance to the mineshaft. The Gunman holstered his revolver and stepped into the hole. “Help me,” he asked the others.

Andrew and Pickett climb
ed down next to him and they grabbed onto the heavy slab of wood and lifted hard, revealing Rose and the other survivors, hiding cleverly inside the dark tunnel.

“
We were wondering how long it would take you to figure out we were down here,” Rose said, smiling at him impishly.

“Well I never…s
mart girl,” Pickett said.

The
Gunman reached down and grabbed Rose by the hand, and lifted her into his arms. There was a moment between them, but only a moment. The Gunman stood aside and continued to help the other people out of the tunnel as Rose looked on.

•  •  •

Cutler, Pearce and Essa-queta rounded a corner with their undead friends close behind. They turned into an alley and crossed toward another street, but their path was already blocked by several undead.

“
Shit
,” Cutler said.

They turn
ed back and hid inside a shallow doorway as the undead closed in on both sides.

“
What do we do?” Essa-queta asked them.

“I have no idea,” Cutler answered.

Pearce pulled out his revolver. “We finish this,” he said.

“
How?”

“
Lure them into the saloon. It's the only building big enough to fit them all in.

“Okay
--,” Cutler said skeptically, “Then what?”

“Then we
burn
it to the ground,” Pearce said darkly.

Cutler grinned widely
, liking the plan more than any other he had heard up to this point. “
Excellent
.”

Pearce
stood and pulled off his clerical collar, then dropped it on the ground. They left the doorway, making sure the undead could clearly see them in the street, and then turned toward the Bucket of Blood saloon.

•  •  •

When the streets were clear of the undead, the Gunman and Rose led everybody toward the outskirts of town.

Jay waited
for them on the hillside with a small band of horses, squinting in the sunlight with a fresh wad of tobacco already tucked in his cheek. The Gunman walked up to Larken, rubbed her nose and scratched her neck. It was a welcomed reunion between two old friends.

“
A friend of yours?” Rose asked.

“
We’ve been through a lot together,” he said.

Rose
smiled and stroked Larken's neck and watched the Gunman caress the other side. She sensed a deep bond between the two. “I see.”

The
Gunman tightened the saddle on Larken and checked the stirrups, then grabbed the reins and mounted her.

“
What are you doing?” Rose asked. “You’re leaving us?”

“
I’m going to finish this,” he said and kicked Larken in the side and rode off without another word, to
kill Jack Richards
.

•  •  •

Cutler and Essa-queta busied themselves barricading a few windows inside the saloon. Pearce stood nearby in the doorway, waiting as the undead slowly approached. Cutler finished securing a rope to the second floor that they could use to escape, then joined Pearce in the doorway. “Alright. That should do it.”

The u
ndead were nearly upon them, and the street swarmed with their rotten corpses.

“
Okay. I want you and the Chief to go ahead and climb up there,” Pearce told him.

“
Not without you,” Cutler countered.

“
Give me some extra bullets. I'll hold them off…as long as I can.”

Cutler hesitantly
reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of bullets and gave them to Pearce. “Are you sure?”

“
Yes. I’ll be fine,” he said, rolling up his sleeves.