Morning
Town Square; Warpath, Texas
ISSUE #15
GHOST RIDERS IN THE SKY
PART THREE
”Frank! We got incomin’! Seventy-five or a hunnred’ mean sonsofbitches! Git to cover!” Vig sprinted as fast as his legs would carry him, sliding around the mines they’d placed and ultimately diving behind a collection of water-filled barrels. He grabbed his shotgun off his back and pumped the forend. The ‘Bounty Hunters’ were about to get deader than a doornail.
Greg slid into cover not far from where I was. The M16 felt like a hot, burning coal in my hand. It was aching to be fired, to let out a stream of lead death upon the bastards that were coming to tear this town apart. I took solace in the fact that this time, the firefight was on my terms rather than the enemy's; Greg and I had set up enough traps to make a dungeon master sweat. Now, we only had to wait until the wall gave to their charge.
We didn't have to wait too long.
Between the hail of gunfire and, presumably, the Bounty Hunters ramming their undead bodies against the wall, it eventually gave as anything else would. It could be repaired, but that would have to be for later. And as they approached, Greg and I met them head on. We'd jump out of cover, firing at the boxes of explosives we had set up, before ducking back down and hearing the satisfying sound of... Well, an explosion. What? I can't come up with some witty metaphor for
everything.
When the boxes were gone and we were forced to simply use our guns against them, I finally noticed that whenever one of them went down, they wouldn't do so in a mist of blood... They'd simply fade into nothingness, bits and pieces of them flaking off before collapsing into nonexistence like ash. Well, looks like Greg was right when he mentioned how strange this shit would be.
Before long my M16 ran dry and I was out of mags for it. Greg tossed his shotgun, indicating he was out too. While I pulled out my signature dual pistols, he pulled out his own, two revolvers. They were advancing fast on us, and we had no choice but to lay down fire as we started to walk backwards in order to get a safer distance away.
"How much longer until we reach the saloon?" I asked, praying to whatever God existed that those things couldn't understand English.
"Coupla blocks!" Greg shouted. He tossed his empties and pulled another two revolvers from their holsters.
"But if we let 'em keep laying fire into us like this it'll be slower going n' molasses uphill."He had a good point. We were out in the open, no cover, no anything. It was dumb luck we hadn't been gunned down as is.
"I got an idea! There many side alleys in this town?" "Place is plumb full of 'em!" Greg yelled back, and I looked to my right. What do you know, there's an alley right there. To my left, closer to Greg, was yet another.
"Alright, I'll head through here, you head through there, we'll make our way to the saloon separately! See you there!"And so we ran.
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