into his chest. It tore flesh from his ribcage and ravenously dug at the wound with its ragged fingers. Mason struggled against the undead man, but couldn’t push him away. “Jesus Christ! Get him off me!”
Cutler kicked the u ndead in the side, knocking it back into the dirt. It turned and snarled, then bit at the air, dirt plastering its decaying face.
It moved to attack again and boom ! Cutler flinched as the undead fell to the ground, shot in the chest. The Gunman stood next to him holding his revolver as smoke poured from the barrel. The undead man kept moving and tried to stand upright. It stumbled back onto Mason and bit into his thigh, blood gushing from its mangled jowls.
“ Ahhh!!!” Mason screamed as it tore into the muscle and ripped away more flesh.
Cutler fired his revolver and hit the u ndead man in the gut, but it kept attacking, ravenously tearing into Mason's leg. It was unstoppable. The Gunman fired again and the bullet entered the undead man’s temple and passed straight through its skull. Putrid black brain sprayed the dirt and fragments of bone ricocheted off a nearby building. The other two undead staggered straight for Rose, Johnny and Deputy Markley, snarling and moaning as they slowly moved across the street toward them.
The Gunman spun on his heels and fired, sending a bullet that split an undead's forehead. Cutler fired as well, and hit a second undead in the neck. The Gunman shot again, striking the third undead in the head.
Johnny continued toward the saloon with Markley’s arm over his shoulder. “Holy shit!”
But C utler waved them forward. “Keep moving! Get him inside!” He turned to the Gunman. All three of the undead lay in the dirt, motionless with lead in their brains. “What the hell is going on?”
But the Gunman could only shake his head as he reloaded his revolver, empty brass shells falling onto the street.
Several people began to step out of nearby buildings, concerned from all the shooting. A thick haze of gun smoke filled the air, penetrated by lamplights that faintly brightened the street. The full moon passed behind a patch of clouds and blanketed them in a veil of darkness.
Sheriff Picket t jogged toward them, gun drawn and eyes aflame. He saw the bodies with brains splattered in the dirt. “I need answers! What the hell happened?”
The Gunman holstered his weapon and turned to the Sheriff. “They attacked us.”
“ Bullshit!”
Pickett overturned an u ndead with his boot. “This man was unarmed.” He inspected closer. “You shot him straight through the head!”
Cutler held pressure to Mason's ble eding chest with a handkerchief and used his other hand to stabilize the bleeding from his thigh. “They attacked Mason. And something happened to the Deputy.” Cutler picked up Mason and started walking back to the saloon with him cradled in his arms. “He's inside with Rose,” he told the Sheriff, motioning with his head.
Pickett still glared at the Gunman and holstered his weapon, knowing that he had a lot of questions to answer, but that could wait, and everyone had already stepped back into the saloon.
I nside, Rose helped Cutler with Mason and held a bar towel against his chest as he bled on a table and moaned in pain. Cutler took off his belt and bound it tightly around Mason’s thigh. He notched the belt tighter and blood oozed from the deep wounds, and Mason squirmed in agony.
“ Hold still,” Rose told him as she lifted the bloody towel from his chest to check the wound, but blood gushed instantly and she quickly replaced it.
“Go get the doctor,” she told Cutler.
“I’m not sure he’s up to it, Rose.”
“Just get him. He’ ll know what to do. He’s gonna die if the doctor doesn’t help.”
Cutler conceded and ran up the stairs as fast as his thick legs would carry him. Rose continued to hold pressure against the wound, trying desperately to prevent him from bleeding to death. Deputy Markley sat nearby on a bar stool,
Cutler kicked the u ndead in the side, knocking it back into the dirt. It turned and snarled, then bit at the air, dirt plastering its decaying face.
It moved to attack again and boom ! Cutler flinched as the undead fell to the ground, shot in the chest. The Gunman stood next to him holding his revolver as smoke poured from the barrel. The undead man kept moving and tried to stand upright. It stumbled back onto Mason and bit into his thigh, blood gushing from its mangled jowls.
“ Ahhh!!!” Mason screamed as it tore into the muscle and ripped away more flesh.
Cutler fired his revolver and hit the u ndead man in the gut, but it kept attacking, ravenously tearing into Mason's leg. It was unstoppable. The Gunman fired again and the bullet entered the undead man’s temple and passed straight through its skull. Putrid black brain sprayed the dirt and fragments of bone ricocheted off a nearby building. The other two undead staggered straight for Rose, Johnny and Deputy Markley, snarling and moaning as they slowly moved across the street toward them.
The Gunman spun on his heels and fired, sending a bullet that split an undead's forehead. Cutler fired as well, and hit a second undead in the neck. The Gunman shot again, striking the third undead in the head.
Johnny continued toward the saloon with Markley’s arm over his shoulder. “Holy shit!”
But C utler waved them forward. “Keep moving! Get him inside!” He turned to the Gunman. All three of the undead lay in the dirt, motionless with lead in their brains. “What the hell is going on?”
But the Gunman could only shake his head as he reloaded his revolver, empty brass shells falling onto the street.
Several people began to step out of nearby buildings, concerned from all the shooting. A thick haze of gun smoke filled the air, penetrated by lamplights that faintly brightened the street. The full moon passed behind a patch of clouds and blanketed them in a veil of darkness.
Sheriff Picket t jogged toward them, gun drawn and eyes aflame. He saw the bodies with brains splattered in the dirt. “I need answers! What the hell happened?”
The Gunman holstered his weapon and turned to the Sheriff. “They attacked us.”
“ Bullshit!”
Pickett overturned an u ndead with his boot. “This man was unarmed.” He inspected closer. “You shot him straight through the head!”
Cutler held pressure to Mason's ble eding chest with a handkerchief and used his other hand to stabilize the bleeding from his thigh. “They attacked Mason. And something happened to the Deputy.” Cutler picked up Mason and started walking back to the saloon with him cradled in his arms. “He's inside with Rose,” he told the Sheriff, motioning with his head.
Pickett still glared at the Gunman and holstered his weapon, knowing that he had a lot of questions to answer, but that could wait, and everyone had already stepped back into the saloon.
I nside, Rose helped Cutler with Mason and held a bar towel against his chest as he bled on a table and moaned in pain. Cutler took off his belt and bound it tightly around Mason’s thigh. He notched the belt tighter and blood oozed from the deep wounds, and Mason squirmed in agony.
“ Hold still,” Rose told him as she lifted the bloody towel from his chest to check the wound, but blood gushed instantly and she quickly replaced it.
“Go get the doctor,” she told Cutler.
“I’m not sure he’s up to it, Rose.”
“Just get him. He’ ll know what to do. He’s gonna die if the doctor doesn’t help.”
Cutler conceded and ran up the stairs as fast as his thick legs would carry him. Rose continued to hold pressure against the wound, trying desperately to prevent him from bleeding to death. Deputy Markley sat nearby on a bar stool,
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