Robert Evans is a gunfighter. He hunted Zombies in the old days and he was feared. Even now his reputation is respected. But the old days are gone. The world belongs to the UN-Dead now. The Zombies are evolving, changing, adapting... Robert has come to Rapid City one last time on his way out of the territories and out to the plains where it is said the Zombies do not rule, and a man can live...
I am Robert Evans, a gunfighter. I wear stitched leather gloves with no fingers. There is a man in Alabama City that makes them special for me and a few others that be in the life of gun fighting. They protect my palms. They give a good grip. And they leave my fingers clear so they do not get tripped up when I need them. Those gloves have always made people look twice, and a lot of what I am about is psychological. A painted picture. I want to be feared. Sometimes I think I am no better than the Zombies when it comes to that but if you fear me you stay away from me. I don't fight overly much anymore. That sort of occupation is dying out I guess. There was a time when the world was crazy though and we found ourselves in a different kind of life. The cities fell. The cops failed to keep us safe. Governments were all talk, and then they were no more. The dead were everywhere.
That was our time. Gunfighters. Gold on the nail and we could make death happen. I carried two fully automatic 45 caliber pistols with custom extended clips. Made my own ammo. Still do. Knock a Zombie down at 100 yards. Walk into a crowd of Zombies and take them all out before one could touch me. And although I was not special I was no slouch. There were only a few in my league. Jimmy Jenkins... Lila West... A few others. We were sent for from all over to take care of Zombie outbreaks. But the sheer numbers overcame us. And the shock wore off and those that were still alive began to fight back. And we, gunfighters, became outcasts. Social misfits. Hated almost as much as the Zombies we had once been hired to kill. The people felt we had taken advantage of them. Lied to them. And some even suspected that we ourselves had something to do with those Zombies. Some sort of bond. Like maybe we had spawned them so we could profit from them. I never made no Zombie any more than I'd ever be willing to eat one. But back in the beginning? We was feared. I could not tell you how many Zombies I put in the ground for permanent. Thousands. High numbers of thousands.
Rapid City was settled by some of the first survivors to come out of the Northern States. They fled the cold winters, they fled the Zombies. But the Zombies followed and killed them all.
The ones who came later rebuilt Rapid City and it became a gateway to the Southern States. A dusty, dirty town where the shotgun ruled at the Blood and Breakfast. It also became a haven for the Gunfighters who roamed the territories and offered themselves for hire.
Robert Evans is passing through one last time...
About Wendell Sweet
See more books from this Author
Published February 12, 2013
by Wendell Sweet.
Science Fiction & Fantasy, Horror, Literature & Fiction.