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John had been alive again for less than two weeks. It had taken the horse almost that long to get used to him so he could go into town again.
He slung himself onto the horse and headed out for Armadillo. He didn’t know the exact state of the undead situation, but from what Abigail had said it seemed to have mostly cleared itself up, at least in the main towns. John figured that the Sheriff’s Office would likely be open for business again and he’d be damned if he was going to spend any more time that day rotting away in the barn.
A voice hollered behind him.
“Pa, where are you going?”
John turned on his horse and looked back at the barn to see Jack running towards him. John tilted his head.
“You can’t leave again!”
Well, shit.
John stopped and waited for his son to reach him. A jolt of guilt hit him over what had happened with the Pinkertons. Did Jack actually think he was intending on disappearing, intentionally this time? How long had he been worried about this happening?
If John was able to, he would have explained that this wasn’t the case and he was coming back. He just needed to get back to work because he was going stir crazy. Now that he couldn’t even speak anymore, he didn’t really know how to get his intentions across.
Thinking about it, he probably should have left a note in the barn or something.
John rummaged in his saddlebags, searching for his journal and a pencil. He didn’t find them, but he did find a pile of crumpled old bounty posters at the bottom. He pulled one out of the bag right as Jack reached him and held it out so he could see.
“Pa, wait.”
Jack was panting heavily, sweat forming on his forehead.
“You can’t – what’s this?”
Jack squinted at the poster.
“I – oh. You’re going bounty hunting?”
John extended a rotten hand out to his son, hoping he got the message.
Understanding dawned on Jack’s face.
“You… want me to come?”
John nodded. Jack grinned and accepted the hand, climbing onto the back of the horse. John shoved the poster back into the saddlebag and rode off.
Jack clung to his torso, leaning forward and resting his head on John’s back as he caught his breath. He held on uncomfortably tight, like he was scared John would disappear if he let go.
They rode for a few minutes like that before Jack finally loosened his grip.
“You stink, Pa.”
John grunted. He tried not to think about how hungry he was. He’d been hungry for days. Not the normal kind of hungry, either, it was the kind of hungry that resulted from being cursed like he was. Abigail’s stew wasn’t cutting it anymore. He needed something more, something fresh.
He reminded himself once again that he wasn’t a cannibal.
~
John slid off the horse with surprising grace for someone who was actively decomposing. Someone exited the saloon nearby, took one look at John and ran up the street screaming.
“Pa, I don’t think the Marshall’s gonna let you in looking like that.”
John put his hat on, forcing it over the cloth holding his forehead together and pulled it as far down over his face as it would go. It didn’t really hide how mangled he was, but it was better than nothing. They ended up tying a bandana around him and hoping nobody would notice he was missing an eye.
They walked into the Sheriff’s Office.
“What the fuck happened to you?” the Marshall asked almost immediately.
John just stood there. It was all he could really do.
“You’re missing an eye.”
“He can’t speak,” said Jack, “he had an accident.”
The Marshall frowned at John.
“He stinks. He ain’t one of those dead things, is he?”
“Uh, n – no. Of course not.”
“We’ve cleared most of them out of town, but we still get the odd few wander in.”
“Yeah, well, he’s… not like them. He just looks a little messed up right now.”
“Are you fucking with me, boy?”
“What? No. No, sir, no way. He’s one hundred percent human, I swear to God.”
John wandered off to look at the bounty posters attached to the wall. One caught his attention, the one that said MISSING along the top.
He tapped it, getting the Marshall’s attention.
“Huh? Oh. That’s Millicent Waterbury. Took off a few days ago, nobody’s seen her since. Details are on there.”
John nodded and ripped the poster off of the wall, stumbling back to the exit door. Jack followed him hastily. The Marshall stared after them.
“You sure you’re alright, John? Not planning on ripping out her throat, are you?”
“He’s fine.”
They left the building and John shoved the poster into his pocket.
“You think she’s still alive?” asked Jack.
John shrugged and mounted the horse. Jack looked up at him.
“You think the horse’ll take three people?”
John hadn’t considered that. He pointed at Jack, then at the floor.
“You… want me to stay here?”
John nodded.
“You’re coming back, right?”
Another nod.
“Alright, Pa. I’ll just… wait here, then.”
John leaned down and ruffled Jack’s hair before riding off.
~
He heard her before he saw her.
“Mister! Please help me!”
John came up on Pleasance House. The girl was trapped inside, a horde of undead pounding on the windows, trying to get in. He dismounted, promptly executing everything outside. With one eye he wasn’t as good of a shot as he used to be, but he was still brutally efficient.
Millicent ran out of the house.
“Oh my god! Thank you, that was awful!”
He grunted and staggered backwards a little as she hugged him. Millicent yelped and pulled back almost immediately, eyes wide with fear as she recognised him as one of the undead.
“Oh, God!”
She turned to run and John grabbed her by the wrist, pulling the missing poster out of his pocket with his other hand.
“Let go of me!”
Millicent clawed at his wrist, trying to break free.
“Get off! Please!”
John brandished the poster at her, hoping she’d get the message.
“I – That’s me.”
John nodded. Millicent stopped struggling and just stared at him, frozen in place. He released her, slowly, preparing to grab her if she made a break for it.
“I don’t – Aren’t you one of them?”
He shrugged.
“Can’t you speak?”
John shook his head and turned to walk to his horse, gesturing for her to follow. She did, though she hung back out of grabbing distance. John mounted the horse, then waited for her to climb up.
“Can you take me home?”
A nod.
“You ain’t gonna hurt me, right?”
Another head shake, more emphatically this time. He offered her a hand and she hesitated a few seconds before taking it and letting him pull her onto the horse.
“You smell funny, Mister.”
John grunted in agreement.
Millicent slowly relaxed on the way back and began to ramble to him about the sickness and some guy she kissed last week and whether or not the infected could smell her. John kind of mumbled like he was listening, but really he was just thinking about how much he’d like a big slab of meat right now.
It was the mention of her uncle that got John’s attention.
“I mean, my Uncle Pete gets incoherent and mighty gropey from time to time, but – ”
John didn’t even register the rest of the sentence.
He knew exactly who his next meal was going to be.
He’d been fighting back the urge to eat someone for days. But if someone was touching this girl who was younger than his son, who had trusted him to bring her home despite his obvious affliction, well, he was already a dead man. He just didn’t know it yet.
On the way back to Armadillo, all he could focus on was the blinding rage in his gut, the level of which he hadn’t experienced since his outlaw days.
When they made it back, he helped Millicent off the horse and they went into the office.
“Pa!”
John nodded at his son.
The Marshall stood up from behind his desk.
“Oh. Uh, howdy there, Millicent.”
“Marshall!” Millicent waved enthusiastically.
“Thanks for the assist, John. We’ll get Millicent here back to Fort Mercer by tonight.”
Fort Mercer. Now he had somewhere to start looking.
“John? That your name?” asked Millicent.
He nodded.
She flung her arms around his neck.
“Thank you, John.”
“Nghhhhh.”
The Marshall rummaged under the desk.
“Suppose you want paying?”
He stood up, handing John a wedge of notes. John turned to leave.
“John? You can’t fool me. I know you’re one of them things. But you seem okay.”
John grunted at him on the way out.
He rode home with Jack. The whole time, he couldn’t stop thinking about Millicent’s uncle.
~
John set out again at sundown. He left a note in the barn this time, saying that he had business to attend to.
On the ride there, all he could think about was how slowly and painfully he was going to kill this man and how much he was going to enjoy doing it.
He wasn’t fighting the hunger anymore. There was an almost animalistic excitement rising in his chest, like something deep within him knew it was getting fed soon, and for once it wasn’t being suppressed.
John made it to Fort Mercer in record time and left the horse outside the gates. On the way in, he got the attention of someone who looked like a deputy.
“Who are you?”
John extended Millicent’s poster towards the lawman.
“Millicent? You’re too late, pal, she just came back a couple of hours ago.”
John tilted his head. The guy frowned.
“She’s already back. Don’t you understand?”
John didn’t say anything, just tapped the poster.
The lawman sighed.
“Go see for yourself, pal. The house on the end.”
If John could speak, he’d have said something about not giving out people’s home addresses to strangers. He waited for the guy to wander off, then went up to the door, listening.
There was the sound of vague scuffling, then deep, barely comprehensible slurring.
“Why’d y’go’n run off, worryin’ evr’one like that?”
“Uncle Pete, stop it!”
“L’me look’t you, girl.”
“Get off!”
There was a loud thud from inside and John kicked the door in. The guy was on the floor, on top of Millicent and all thoughts of pleasurably torturing him were forgotten in favour of getting him off of her as quickly as possible.
John stepped forward and shot the guy in the back of the head. His skull ruptured, chunks of brain splattering John’s shirt. Millicent let off a short scream and John grabbed him and pulled him away from her, dumping him onto the floor. Millicent scrambled back away from him, eyes flickering between John and the corpse of her uncle.
For whatever reason, no one came to investigate the gunshot.
Millicent stared at John. He stared back, not really sure what you’re supposed to do in a situation like this. Then he pulled himself together and lifted the corpse over his shoulder. He carried him outside and flung him over the outer wall to pick up on the way home. He started back towards the big wooden gates, stopping when he heard someone a few feet behind him.
“John?”
He turned his head slowly, looking back over his shoulder.
Millicent just stood there, looking up at him.
“Thank you. Again.”
John nodded once. Then he was on his way.
He left Fort Mercer, stopping outside the wall to pick up the body. He ate one of the legs on the way back. It was the best meal he’d ever had.
Millicent didn’t tell anyone about John. She told the law her uncle disappeared in the middle of the night, which wasn’t technically a lie. Nobody seemed to question it.
John snuck the rest of the body into the barn. It lasted him a few days.
Maybe bounty hunting would be even more profitable to him now than when he was human.
The future was looking bright.