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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required III. There must be a hundred, silent and cruel, a slow-moving wave as the night grew cool, Rose had a shotgun, to blast out her hate, yet Sol remained steady, motioned her to wait. He didn’t shoot, he had planned out this trick, just drew a match and then picked up a stick, waited until they reached the circle below, then tossed out the stick with a forceful throw. Up went all the hay in a ribbon of flame, two dozen zombies were instantly claimed, those not on fire had to march through it, the tall flames making them clearly back-lit. Then came the guns, Sol’s Winchester fired, next Rose’s piece, he told her to aim higher; burning zombies jerked back, shot through the head, the fell power broken, they now could stay dead. But more just pressed on, ambling for the house, Sol reloaded quick, his gun already out. as they shuffled closed, deadly was his aim, the homestead a mess of moldering brains. Yet a large handful got up to the wall, not caring how many of them did fall, on those already down they clambered up, one head popped up, by a slug was walloped. And then, behind him, he heard a shrill scream, one had Rose’s foot, pulled with a strength mean, then papa Zander jumped up with a gun, panicked that he might lose another one. He shot out its head, and Rose them pulled free, picked up her gun for a slaughtering spree, the remaining zombies had gotten near, but were stuck below, quite close it appeared. The three gave their foes hot fire and death, from smoking gun-barrels new bullets leapt, below the dead dropped without a peep, their dead-again bodies now lying in heaps. Silence fell, no more zombies on the prowl, Sol took a breath, relaxed his hard scowl, then peered out carefully into the gloom, thought he saw a figure beneath the moon. A rider on horseback, with a bowler hat… he frowned, but did not tell Rose about that. They spent the next morning cleaning the ranch, burning all the bodies, lord how it stank! It would not be easy, just Rose and her pa, and trying not to remember what they saw. Sol stayed for two days, and then took his leave, riding away from the ranch quite relieved. No nee note had come, he’d been given time to rest his tired bones, relax and unwind; he’d hear for a town, for women and drink, an actual bed where he could stop and think. Ponder the red bowler, what it could mean, what new evil now walked upon Earth’s scene… to raise up zombies dark magics you must know, he rode on realizing he faced a new foe…
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