"Private?" Josh said, crossing his arms. Colm looked a little old to be a private, but if he managed to make it all the way to retirement, then he was likely a very good soldier. Still, he looked a little shaky.

"Look, friend. I'm sure you're very qualified, but this looks like simple grave-robbery. In spite of the odd circumstances, anyway. If it gets worse, I'll be sure to-" said Josh before he was cut off by a scream. Then another. Then a dozen more.

The Sheriff instinctually reached for his shotgun and made sure it was loaded before running outside past Colm. "We will discuss this later!" he yelled back to the old soldier.
------

Standing tall at the far end of town, past the saloons and underneath the shadow of a massive water tower, were a horde of the dead. Still dressed in their Sunday best, they unmoving throng were still familiar to those residents of Longwater who remembered them. At their head, pacing back and forth, was a tall man in a long black duster. On his hip sat an old Colt that still looked dangerous in spite of it's rust.

When Josh pushed his way pass the onlookers, he leveled his shotgun at the man and the mass of corpses behind him. The Sheriff tried to call out, demand an explanation, but found his throat to be completely dry. All he could do was stare in horror at the impossible sight laid out before him.