Wanted: Dead or Undead (Zombie West) (14 page)

But he didn't, not even when she bit harder and his
bittersweet blood slipped down the back of her throat. She clamped down even
more, and he screamed as she pierced through the delicate skin and rubbed her
teeth together.

He pushed against her until she finally gave in and fell
back onto the floor.
Shoot me! Do it!

Instead, he cradled his injured hand against his chest and
stared at her in disbelief. Why didn't he shoot? She would have.

Wen appeared behind Cowboy and Caroline, and all three of
them watched as she reached up and wiped her bloody lips with the back of her
hand to make a point.

She wished she could bite them all.

It took eight stitches to close the wound. Caroline offered
him a swig of whisky to take away the sting, but Trace refused the temptation.
Getting roostered-up wouldn't help the situation one bit.

What should he do with Red? Had she finally turned? No, not
turned, but definitely highly volatile.

Wen had barred her door so she couldn't get out. She was in
no shape to go anywhere, but none of them knew what she might try next, given
her present state of mind. Who knew, maybe next time she'd bite off one of his
digits.

Trace winced as Caroline wrapped a bandage around his hand
and tied it in place.

"How does that feel?"

"Fine, thanks."

She sighed and proceeded to put the first aid kit away
without another word. Caroline acted a little odd herself, talking and avoiding
his gaze.

"What's wrong with Red?" Wen handed Caroline some
cotton scrubs and tweezers, but directed his question to Trace. "Why would
she act out like that? I thought she was doing a'right."

Trace shook his head. She'd been through a lot in the past
few weeks, and endured more than most people could handle. Perhaps she'd hit
her limit.

"It's my fault." Caroline looked down at the
table. "It's all my fault."

"What are you talking about?" Wen placed his hand
on her arm and waited until she looked up.

"She wanted to see her back." Caroline batted back
the tears in her eyes. "She wanted to know what it looked like."

Trace slumped in his chair. It all made sense now.

"I should've said no. I should've convinced her to
wait—"

"No," Trace interrupted her. "If she wanted
to see it, there's no way you could've stopped her. She's stubborn that
way."

Wen nodded in agreement. "Yeah, she sure is. She
would've found a way, with or without your help."

"She seemed so tough, tougher than any woman I've ever
met. I thought she could handle it." Caroline closed her eyes briefly
before turning them on Trace. "I think she bit you because she didn't like
what she saw and hoped you'd put her out of her misery."

Caroline's words hit him like a horse kick to the chest.
Shoot
her?
Never.

Trace rested his arms on his knees and hung his head. He
would have to convince Red of her beauty, when the only thing she saw in the
mirror was her flaws. That might prove damn difficult.

***

Curled up in a fetal position on the bed, Red hugged herself
and stared at the wall. Her tears had long since dried up. She shouldn't have
bit Cowboy. It had been a stupid thing to do, but in the moment, it seemed
rational. She couldn't blame them for locking her inside the room—she herself
didn't know what she was capable of.

Red hoped she hadn't caused him any permanent damage, and
that somehow he'd find a way to forgive her.

"Red?" The little voice that spoke her name with
such concern tugged at her heart.

Red turned her head toward the door. "Rivers?"

The girl peered in at her through the window and pressed her
hand against the glass. "Are you a'right?"

Red got up, ignored the pain, and made her way over to the
window using the wall for aid. "I will be."

Rivers smiled before looking up at Red with gravity in her
young, brown eyes. "You scared me something awful. You made Fisher cry,
too."

Red squeezed her eyes closed as the girl's words punctured
her core. She'd been too absorbed in her own pain to think of anyone but
herself and her own misery. Selfish and stupid.

"I was scared you had turned," Rivers said.
"Because if you turned, that would mean someday I could turn too, and I
don't want to be a zombie. I don't want any of us to be zombies!"

Red placed her hand on the glass, mirroring Rivers in an
attempt to comfort her. "I'm so sorry I scared you. I really am. I was
wrong to do that."

"You shouldn't have bit Cowboy, either. He loves you,
you know?"

Red didn't say anything. What did a ten-year-old know about
these things?

"I love you, too." Rivers smiled her honey grin,
and Red had to swallow her rising emotions. "You saved me and Fisher, and
so I'll love you forever."

Red wrinkled her brow. "No, Rivers, I didn't save you.
I tried to keep them from biting you, but I couldn't stop it from happening. I
wish I'd tried harder."

Though she'd saved Fisher from certain death, she'd failed
Rivers. The girl had begged her not to let the zombies bite her, but Red's
strength and will had given way.

The little girl pressed both hands to the glass, her eyes
intent. "You did save me. I only got bit when I tried to save you."

The words caught Red off guard.

Before she could question the girl, Rivers turned away and
removed her hands from the window. "I've got to go," she said, and
disappeared across the courtyard.

Red continued to press her hands against the cool glass long
after the girl had left.

***

No one dared to approach Red's room for the remainder of the
day, except for Trace. When he checked on her, she simply sat on the floor in
the corner with her head on her knees, staring at the wall.

By the following morning, Trace couldn't stand it any
longer. He looked through the window and found her balanced on the edge of her
bed with her hands folded neatly in her lap. She lifted her sad eyes to meet
his.

"Is it safe to come in?"

She gave a slight nod, but said nothing.

He unlocked the door and slowly pushed it open, but didn't
step over the threshold. "You're not in a biting kind of mood, are
ya?"

"I don't think so." Her face was as solemn as
ever. "But I make no promises."

"Fair enough." He took a couple of tentative steps
into the room and left the door open—just in case. "You hungry or
anything?"

"No, I'm okay."

"How're ya feelin'?"

"Like a fool." She swallowed hard and pointed to
his hand. "I'm sorry about that."

"Caroline told me about the incident with the
mirror."

Red turned her head away and pulled the shawl draped over
her shoulders a little tighter. The shards of mirrored glass had been carefully
arranged in a pile near the door. She must have spent the night on her hands
and knees cleaning up the mess she created. Even the now empty wooden frame sat
righted.

"I knew it was going to be bad, but I didn't... I
wasn't...." She closed her eyes and composed herself. "It just
shocked me, is all." Her eyes were glossed over but she did not cry.
"It was worse than I imagined."

"Can I sit?" He motioned to the space on the bed
beside her.

"If you dare." She slid over and made room, which
he took as a good sign.

The bed dipped under his weight, and her hip slid down to
rest against his. He placed his injured hand on her knee in an attempt to
bridge the uncomfortable gap between them. Red gently slid her hand beneath his
and lifted it for inspection, turning it palm up and then back down. Aside from
the blood that dotted the white bandage, there wasn't much to see, but she
spent a great deal of time looking at it anyway.

"I'm really sorry." She set his hand back down on
her thigh and covered it lightly with her own hand. "Does it hurt?"

"No." Making her feel guilty wouldn't help the
situation, and he knew his pain didn't compare to hers. "It's not too
bad." He turned his hand upward and weaved his fingers between hers as if
to assure her.

"It was a stupid thing to do."

Trace squeezed her hand and attempted a smile. "I can't
argue with that."

She tried to remove her hand from his, but he wouldn't let
go. Not yet. Not now.

"Red." He spoke her name quietly, his hand still
entwined in hers. "Have dinner with me." The words just came out as his
brain struggled to keep up with his rascal mouth.

"What?"

"Tonight," he explained, trying to make sense of
his words. "You and me. A date."

She yanked her hand free, and Trace cringed as stinging pain
shot up his arm. He held back the explosive curse that licked at his lips,
begging for release.
No swearing. Be calm
. He'd told her it didn't hurt
and this sure wasn't the time to prove himself a liar.

"I'm not interested in your stupid games," she
said. "It's not funny."

"I'm not trying to be funny. I'm being serious. Very
serious." At least he thought he was.

"Why are you doing this?" A thick layer of hurt
coated her words.

"Doing what?"

Red stood and crossed the room. She folded her arms over her
chest and stared at him. "This!" She swung her arm about. "This
whole patronize-the-damaged-girl act. I don't need you to do that."

Patronize.
He didn't know what that meant, but
assumed by her tone that it wasn't good. "That's not what I'm doing."
By the look on her face, she didn't believe him.

"Why don't you ask out Caroline instead? Go ask the
pretty girl—"

"I
am
asking the pretty girl." He crossed
the room and stood within inches of her, then tilted her chin, forcing her to
look at him. "I've seen your wounds. I know what they look like. And I'm
telling ya, there's nothing ugly at all about a girl who's willing to risk
everything, including her life, to protect two little kids. Actually,"—he
paused—"I can't think of anything more beautiful."

"Cowboy, please. Don't—"

Trace took her hands in his, silencing her as he gently
squeezed them. "Tonight. You and me. Dinner."

***

"Let's pin it up." Caroline slipped her fingers
into Red's hair and swirled it into a bun on top of her head, leaving a few
loose curls to frame her face. Hair up. Hair down. Red didn't care, for the
most part anyway.

"Perfect," Caroline said with a smile. "You
look so pretty."

Red would have to take her word for it because no one would
let her near a mirror. Perhaps it was better that way. She felt foolish in this
gown with her hair all pulled up, and seeing her reflection in a mirror would
only verify this was a ridiculous idea.

A date inside a zombie-surrounded fort with Cowboy? Didn't
they have better things to do, like make plans to survive?

"Twirl!" Rivers pulled Red to her feet and danced
around her like an energetic puppy. "Twirl around!"

Red didn't feel like twirling, and didn't even know if her
body could do such a thing, but she gave one little spin for Rivers.

"Do it again!" Rivers clapped her hands together.

Red put her hand up. "No, that's plenty for now."

The little girl's face fell and her bottom lip turned down
in a dejected pout. Red hated to disappoint her, but she didn't think she could
handle another spin.

"Let's remember she's still healing." Caroline
placed her hand on Rivers' shoulder. "We don't want her to hurt any more
than she already does. Especially not tonight. Cowboy wouldn't like that."

Cowboy
. She should've put an end to the whole thing
before it had even begun. Perhaps she'd agreed to this out of a sense of guilt
for having bit him. What did he expect? A relationship? Impossible. The world,
in its current state, wasn't equipped for such nonsense. Maybe in the future—if
there was a future. It seemed insane to begin something that couldn't possibly
last.

She did it for them—Rivers, Caroline, Cowboy—in order to
bring a sense of normalcy back into an abnormal world. Everyone longed for a
time before the outbreak of the plague. Even she longed for it. Courting. Boys.
Dates. She might have been married by now, possibly with a baby or two.

She shook her head. They could playact at normal all they
wanted, but they'd never achieve it, no matter how much they pretended.

Cowboy stood beneath one of the barren fruit trees wearing
his best bib and tucker—gray striped vest, colonel tie, frontier pants, and
black frock jacket. He looked more handsome than a man had a right to. When Red
emerged from her room, he removed his hat and held it over his heart out of
respect.

The grin on Cowboy's face was infectious, and Red smiled
despite herself. She didn't mean to encourage him, but his grin widened even
more. No matter how much she tried to convince herself that the whole thing was
silly, she couldn't stop the nervous quake in her knees or stop wringing her
hands.

The cream dress she wore didn't belong to her or Caroline—a
frontier woman must have left it behind when she passed through. Unfortunately,
the woman hadn't left any shoes, so Red had to wear her old, faded cowboy boots
with the lacy dress. It was the best she could do under the circumstances.

Most of Cowboy's attire likely came from old trunks and
armoires as well, but everything sure fit him something nice, as though it had
all been made with him in mind.

Red's cheeks grew warm and she hoped it was only internal
and didn't show crimson on the outside.

Kerosene lanterns hung from various tree limbs across the
yard. The small flames flickered in the gentle evening breeze, casting playful
shadows on the stone walls. A perfect night—the warm before the winter
storm—and she intended to enjoy it.

Cowboy gave Fisher the go-ahead, and the little boy walked
toward Red with great purpose. From behind his back, he produced a single
yellow flower and held it up for her. It glowed in golden contrast to their
gray surroundings.

She took the flower from his small hands, and he scampered
back to Cowboy's side. Cowboy put his arm around the boy's small shoulders and
bent down to whisper in his ear. Fisher smiled and skipped over to take his
place next to the small crowd that watched and waited—for what, Red wasn't
quite sure.

Ira sat in his designated chair with a crooked grin on his
lopsided face and Lasso at his feet. Caroline pressed her hands together, and
her eyes sparkled the look of a proud mama—though Caroline was a full year
younger than Red. Wen stood behind her with his hands resting on Caroline's
shoulders. She appeared more than comfortable with his touch. Rivers could
barely contain her excitement and looked like she might burst. She held her
little hands over her mouth, suppressing squeals, as she twisted from side to
side.

Red felt like a show pony as all six pairs of eyes, seven if
you included the dog, fell on her. The timid butterflies in her stomach morphed
into wild, wing-flapping bats.

Cowboy took several steps toward her, locking his dark eyes
on hers, and Red held her breath. "You look beautiful."

Red wanted to correct him, and tell him that
he
looked beautiful. He'd combed his hair back into a slick style she wasn't
accustomed to, so she reached up and tousled his brown locks. They released and
fell more naturally over his forehead, just the way she liked, and he didn't
appear to mind her touch one bit.

Rivers' childish giggles rung out in the courtyard, and Red
snatched her hand away.

Before it fell to her side, Cowboy lifted it to his lips,
his warm breath cascading over the back of her hand. "You hungry?"

She looked up, dazed. "What?"

"Dinner. I made dinner myself"—he tipped his head
to the side—"well, mostly myself."

She took a deep breath.
Get it together.

As they walked past the little group, Lasso flattened his
ears against his head and rose from his seated position to stand on all fours.
He narrowed his eyes and growled behind his closed jaws.

The dog hadn't seen her in weeks, and she probably seemed
like a stranger among familiar faces. "Hey, boy." She reached her
hand toward him. "It's only me. It's okay."

When he bore his teeth and growled even louder, Cowboy
pushed her behind him. "No! Bad dog!"

Lasso lowered his head, but continued to eye Red with a
rumbling growl despite Cowboy's reprimands.

Wen grabbed the dog by the scruff of the neck and held him
back. "Go on, I'll take care of him. He's just not used to seeing you
around, is all."

Cowboy took her hand and led her away, but she glanced over
her shoulder at Wen dragging the dog to one of the rooms and shutting him
inside. Red knew Lasso was just doing his job—protecting the people he loved
from someone he didn't recognize—but that didn't make it hurt any less.

"I'm so sorry," Cowboy said. "Don't know what
got into that crazy mutt."

"It's a'right. I'll feed him some scraps of meat
tomorrow and we'll be the best of friends by the end of the day." She
smiled to ease his fears.

They reached a small table set for two and he pulled out a
chair for her. Once she sat, he removed the cloth that covered her plate to
reveal a heaping plate of pan-fried potatoes.

Red couldn't help but laugh.
Potatoes.
She'd taken
potatoes from his saddlebags to make their first breakfast together, and then
he'd refused to share them with her when she made the joke about changing his
name to Jackass.

"Gravy?"

She nodded, and he poured a light drizzle over the mound.

"I can't possibly eat all of this." Two or three
servings' worth of potatoes covered her plate. Besides, she had yet to regain
her appetite after her three-week slumber. A few bites would probably fill her
up.

"You're skin and bones, Red." He placed another
covered plate in front of her. "You need to eat, put back on the weight
you lost."

He was right. Her protruding rib cage and sunken features
were proof. She couldn't have weighed more than a hundred pounds at this point.

The second plate revealed a thick slice of red meat, fresh
and seared on both sides. When she cut into it, a thin line of blood ran to the
edge of the plate. She dipped her fingers into it and brought the salty taste
to her mouth.

"Applejack?" Cowboy presented a pitcher.

She nodded and he poured the lightning liquid into her mug.
The beverage tasted like nectar, a far piece better than the same old boring
water.

"Okay." Cowboy pulled out the chair across from
her and sat down. "Ask me anything."

She cocked her head. "Ask you what?"

"Anything." He handed her a warm roll; no way had
he made those. "What do ya wanna know about me?"

What do I want to know?
It was such an open question
with endless possibilities, and yet, she couldn't think of a single thing to
ask. "I think I know everything I need to know about you."

He slumped in his chair. "Is that a good thing or a bad
thing?"

She sawed off a small piece of meat, placed it in her mouth,
and shrugged. "Depends how you look at it."

"Well, how're you looking at it?" Cowboy leaned
forward and rested his elbows on the table.

Red mirrored his movements. A lantern hanging in the tree
above them swayed in the breeze. "If I didn't know the kind of man you
are, I'd be asking all sorts of questions. But I know enough to have formed an
opinion."

He considered that for a moment. "Okay, then, but what
if I have questions for you?"

She smiled through her sigh and leaned back in her chair.
"Then I'd be disappointed. That would mean that, after all this time
together, you don't know me at all."

***

Ira picked a mean guitar. His crippled hands plucked away at
the strings with precision and ease, transforming the rather silent night into
a festive affair. The courtyard began to take on the feel of a dance hall.

Red watched the kids flitter about. Rivers held up the edge
of her dress as she twirled around, and Fisher skipped between the couples and
slapped his knee in time to the rhythm.

Wen led Caroline across the grassy surface, their feet in
sync as they gracefully sashayed from one side of the compound to the other.
Red would've liked to follow after them and kick up her heels, but she
regulated herself to swaying side-to-side in Cowboy's gentle arms. He held onto
her hips, taking care not to touch her back, and she placed her own hands on
his upper arms, unable to reach up and wrap them around his neck.

"Thank you." She moved in closer and rested her
head against his chest, feeling each breath he took. "Thank you for
this."

"So have I convinced you I'm a good guy who shouldn't
be bitten again?"

She inhaled his rugged scent—delicious. "You're a good
guy, a'right, one of the better fellas I've come across. But I can't promise I
won't still sink my teeth into you."

He laid his head on top of hers. "How 'bout you just
slap me instead? Less damaging but still makes an effective point."

"Okay. A slap it is."

The music slowed in tempo and Red closed her eyes. The
longer she held him, the more she gave into the tangible feeling of safety. She
shouldn't desire such a thing. He could hold her for a while, but eventually
he'd have to let go.

That moment came sooner than she expected when the sound of
gunfire outside the fort walls brought her head upright and caused Ira to stop
playing mid-melody. As rapid shots continued to blast and the moans of the
zombies increased, they all stared at one another, dumbfounded.

Cowboy pulled away from her, gave a quick nod to Wen, and
they both grabbed their rifles and scaled the ladders to the towers. Red joined
Caroline and they stood together next to Ira. The children clung to them, their
eyes wide with fear.

"It's gonna be okay." Red hugged Rivers close.
"Everything's gonna be just fine."

No one could get inside the fort without one of them opening
the gates. As far as she knew, no one planned to do that.

"Sounds like fireworks," Rivers said.

The booms came quickly, some in unison—three or four shots
fired at once. No one had to tell Red there were several gunfighters out there.

This attack on the zombies should have come as a blessing,
but Red knew that anyone who would approach a zombie-infested fort had to have
an ulterior motive. The question was, were they friends or foes? The people
outside the gate could kill all the walking dead they wished, but it didn't
mean they should let them in.

"Can't tell how many are out there," Cowboy called
to Wen. "Too dark to be certain. But they're sure slaughtering the zombies."

Red huddled with Caroline, Ira, and the kids, and waited out
the storm of gunfire. It only went on for five minutes or so, but felt like
hours. The assault stopped almost as quickly as it had begun, and with it the
moans and gate-scratching they'd all grown accustomed to.

"All clear!" someone shouted from outside the
walls. "Stand down!"

Red wished she were in better health, because she
desperately wanted to climb the ladder and see for herself. Who was it? How
many? This feeling of helplessness made her antsy.

"You there!" a man's voice called over the wall.
"Are you aware that you're unlawfully occupying a piece of government
property?"

"That so, huh?" Cowboy countered. "When a
zombie's trying to bite my hind end, the last thing I'm thinking of is which
law I'm breaking."

Red snickered. Even Fisher looked up at her and smiled his
toothless grin.

"You shot all these here zombies so you could arrest me
and my family for unlawful squatting?" Cowboy readjusted his rifle.
"You taking us to jail or somethin'?"

"We have no plans to arrest anyone or remove you from
the property. But since we're performing a government service, we ask that you
let us in to replenish our supplies, rest our horses, and check out the
telegraph system we know is employed inside."

"Mighty fancy talk you got there," Cowboy said.
"So exactly what government service are you folks performing? Since most
of the country has gone to hell with this outbreak, I assumed our government
had, too."

"No, sir. We're trying to uphold whatever bit of
civility we can, though it's been an uphill battle. We here consist of two U.S.
Marshals, three Cavalry soldiers, a lieutenant, and a doctor."

"Sounds mighty impressive, but what's to stop you from
taking everything we've got, hurting our women and children, or killing the lot
of us once you get inside?"

"That's not what we're after. We also only ask for a
night of rest within the walls of the fort, and whatever provisions you might
have to spare. If nothing else, we just want access to the telegraph system."

Telegraph? Red scanned the fort and, sure enough, thin lines
rising out over the stone walls came into view. A sense of optimism surged
through her veins at the sight.

"Well, I can tell ya right now, it don't work,"
Cowboy said. "We've sent several messages out over the line ourselves and
received no response."

As quickly as her optimism had risen, it plummeted. Of
course it didn't work. That was the kind of world they lived in now—full of
disappointment.

"We'd still like the opportunity to try," the man
persisted. "We've taken care of your infestation problem, and the least
you could do is give us that."

"Actually, you've made a big mess for us to clean up.
We were doin' a'right before you came. Now we have to pile up those bodies and
burn them before it stinks up the place."

"We'll take care of that for you—"

"Tell ya what," Cowboy interrupted. "We'll
toss some bags of food down to you, and you can supply us with your names. I
will personally see to it that your messages are sent over the wire. That's
about all I can offer."

"I guess we'll have to settle for that. Biscuits, jerky
and hard tack would be much appreciated. Whatever you can spare. As for our
names, you need paper to write it down or something?"

"Nah." Cowboy pointed to his head. "I've got
a real good memory. My partner here will help me remember."