Blog Summary

A blog for poetry, prose, and pop culture.

Monday, September 10, 2012

Flash Fiction: Under a Dead Sun: Past Sins

Chapter 41

Morgan gripped the reins in his teeth as he loosened the pistol on his belt. Satisfied that it was in easy reach he freed his Winchester and cartridged in the first round. A calm sort of ease had spread through him, the tension of the situation almost melting completely away. Despite the things he had told Ally and the Padre he knew this was most likely a one way trip. There were to many of hells creatures out here and not enough bullets in his gun. Still, if he could hold out long enough, maybe. just maybe little Ally would have a chance. He'd pull every one of the mother fuckers towards him if he could. He nodded to Ally and the preacher and prepared to spur his horse. They were ready. He paused one last time, laying his rifle across his lap. With his hands free he took the tomahawk from his belt and drew a line across his palm. the red blood blended with his dark, tan skin and he traced to trails across his cheeks, like his mother had shown him all those years ago. He clenched his left hand tight to staunch the blood, and picked the rifle back up. Let the bastards smell him coming. Hell wasn't the only thing walking the earth to be feared today.

Just as he spurred his horse a huge clamor across from above them, down the winding trail from the top of the bluff. He craned his head to the right to see a large stage coach, being driven by a heavyset man hell bent on leather. There was another man on the roof of the stage, and two separate horses running in front of it. He could swear, even from this distance, that the lead rider was a woman. Morgan watched as the shuffling masses of undead shambled toward the team, and Morgan knew this may be a better break than he could have hoped for. As much as he was prepared to die, he'd made a promise to get that girl to Desperation. This could be just the distraction he was waiting for.

"Change of plans lass, follow me."

Morgan spurred his horse, keeping the rifle aimed at any of the monsters that drew to near. He heard Ally and the pastor behind him as the hugged the coastline, using the protection of the river on his left as he watched for monsters on the right. In the distance he could see the stage curl around the bottom of the incline and head hard up the road towards the central gates of town. Morgan hoped that he could find one of the side entrances by the river to get in through, but worse case he would have the duo stick to the wall and head towards the center. He didn't allow himself to think what would happen if no one would open the door.

Morgan brought the Winchester to bare and snapped off two quick shots at two errant creatures who had wandered in to close. The sound of gunfire lured another small herd towards them but the group was well past the danger of the creatures before they could pose any real threat. Morgan could taste the sweat in the leather of the reins and his levered the rifle again, snapping off another shot at a lurker emerging from the water on his left. He felt the slather of his horse as it charged along the bank, and the feel of the wood on the butt of the Winchester, his senses flaring out in anticipation. He continued looking left, twisting slightly in the saddle to check on Ally and the pastor. Ally's teeth were gritted as she urged the horse faster, but Morgan could see the tell tale sign of tears at the corners of her eyes. Father Enrico had a detached look, as he thumbed back the hammer of the old pistol. He had one hand on the side saddle mount as he fired. The old gun barked once as one of the undead's head exploded in a mixture of bile and teeth.  Morgan couldn't help but be impressed, for a man of God he sure had the aim of the Devil.

Morgan snapped back to attention as the sounds of new gunfire erupted from his right. He glanced over and watched as the second lead rider of the stage group lurched from his horse, falling in a sickly thump from the fast moving mount. He looked again as the figure atop the stage lashed out with his rifle, catching the driver across the jaw. He watched as the heavy set driver lurched forward in the seat and the other man made a daring leap from the moving stage onto the horse train. After a few moments the train was free from the stage and the lone man took off towards Desperation.He watched as the first rider, the woman, fired shots at him but quickly gave up as she spurred her horse towards her fallen friend.

Morgan looked at the walls of Desperation loomed closely overhead. He saw a few ragged men atop the harbor door lookout and waved to them, pointing to the preacher and the young lady. A clean shaven man in a brown hat and a scraggly older fellow with one eye nodded. He saw the old man drop from sight and a few second later the gates of the harbor door cracked open.  He fired the rifle until the weapon clicked empty, clearing the few stragglers from the area. Several heavily armed men emerged from the door, including the one eyed man, as he reared his horse up short, snapping out his pistol.  Morgan looked back at the woman and the stalled stage, then glanced quickly as Ally pulled her horse up into the doorway. She caught his eye as he looked back and she shook her head no, her eyes heavy with tears as Morgan kicked hard into his horse, heading right towards the thick of the monsters.

Hell rides hard today.

End of Line.

No comments: