The moon was full and bright tonight as he rode on the path towards town. He had been away for nearly 3 months tracking the criminal draped across the back of his horse. Some referred to him as a cowboy, a gunslinger, bounty hunter. He didn’t care about any of that. All he knew was the sheriff would pay him a nice bit of coin for the dead man behind him.

The sherif had originally offered him more money to bring the man back alive to stand trial. The gunslinger was silent as he mounted his horse, about to set off on his bounty. Before he rode off, the gunslinger looked the sheriff square in the eye and replied, “Just so I don’t leave you wondering....it’ll be dead.” And he was gone leaving the kicked up dust and last word with the sherif.

He was thankful for this so called profession. He was good at it. Damn good.

The night brought a bit of a chill to the air as he brought his duster closer to himself for some warmth. As he drew closer and closer to town he felt a sense of uneasiness. He was thankful for the peaceful night during the last legs of this journey but now as he rode closer to town the silence was deafening. The town was never the busiest type

Of place. One jail. One saloon. Maybe a population of maybe 150 men, women, and children. A “One Horse” type of town if he ever saw one. But as he rode his stead into the outskirts of town, not a single man or women was In sight. Not even a random drunk stumbling out the saloon after too much whiskey.

The gunslinger, his bounty, and horse now were square in the center of town. Silence. He demounted from his horse and walked towards saloon. If anyone would be around he figured it would be there. Even at the current hour, there was always a man still at the bar not knowing when to cut himself off. A game of poker that stunk of smoke and stale beer that had been going on all night. As he stepped to closer to the batwing doors he saw it. The entire entrance of the saloon had been boarded up. Windows covered with 2 x 4’s. Dried blood covering the steps of the entrance. His horse began to shuffle his feet, almost sensing the incoming danger. There was a smell in the air, and just then he knew. The gunslinger had known this smell very well. Hell, he had been smelling it behind him the last month of his journey. The smell of the rotting dead.

Just then the saloon doors began to shake, the insides sounding of low growls and noises the gunslinger could not identify even in his numerous journeys. He instinctively put his hand to his holster as the saloon doors began to shake with more and more force. He slowly took a few steps back, his horse now nearly uncontrollable behind him. He heard the clawing of wood and that same growling again but growing as if his presence had awoken more and more of what the folks of this town wanted to keep inside of this saloon.

*BOOM*

The clawing and sheer force of the presence inside was too much. The batwing doors flew off and that’s when the gunslinger saw it....The undead. The walking dead began to stumble out after the gunslinger, smelling the fresh meat of himself and his horse. The maggots eating away some the faces of the dead as they made their way towards the gunslinger. The gunslinger ran towards his horse trying to grapple the reins of the spooked horse. Now on his horse, He fired shots from his revolvers, all hitting their marks but useless to targets that were already dead. He turned his horse around and attempted to ride out the way he came in.

As he made some distance from the undead he could see two of the creatures standing in his way between him and his escape. As he rode closer the moonlight reflected off the badges and he knew who these men were. Shocked at the sight of the very same Sherif who gave him his bounty and a deputy beside him. He squeezed the revolver in his hand a little tighter. He lined up his shot as both of the undead inched their way closer in his path.

“Need to make this count” he thought. He lined up his revolver as he pushed his horse to go faster.

*BANG*

The deputy was down. A shot right between the eyes.

*BANG*

Down went the sheriff. A shot clear center in the temple of his skull.

He rode pass both bodies, now dead twice over.. He had shot the sherif and he did shoot the deputy. He rode into the night once again, the bright full moon above him, never to return.