Thank you for stopping by to read this or unless you accidentally clicked on this, that's alright too. So I've always loved the first Undead Nightmares and really hope to see a second one. I remember one day talking to my friends that I thought it would be incredibly hot to see Arthur, Dutch and John fight zombies...topless, and they gave me a look like why are we friends with you and that same night I had dream about zombies and I knew that was a sign to write this. Or just a crazy coincidence...that makes sense too!
Anyways, some details, this starts at the beginning of the game when the gang is at Horseshoe Overlook and yet things have been going more smoother than originally and everyone in the gang is pretty chipper! I'm not a great writer, so apologies ahead of time, but I hope you guys can find something you enjoy about it. Please review, follow, favorite, or what have you if you like! Thank you for all the support!
No one could forgive Micah for killing Sean or whatever Sean had become. The wound was too deep.
The night it happened would forever haunt Arthur and the rest, because that was the night it happened. The moon was low and piercing down on him as he rode back to Horseshoe Overlook since a day of errands. He weary with his bed occupying on his mind. But the camp was awake and full of energy, something he thought they had lost.
Everyone had assembled around the fire, singing while Javier's fingers flickered the strings of his guitar. Molly had summoned enough strength to sit near the other girls or they had summoned enough strength to handle her superiority. In Abigail's arm, Jack was fighting the urge to sleep, while her head rested on John's shoulder. Even Swanson was content.
But the song stopped as Arthur drew closer.
"Ah, Arthur, my dear boy, come join us," invited Dutch as he offered the seat next to him and passed him a bottle of whiskey.
"So, what is it we're celebrating exactly?" inquired Arthur as he sat down and run his eyes over the gang.
"Why freedom, my friend! We are alive and well," Dutch boost with a sly grin.
Beer bottles roused into the air and 'ayes' echoed in the air.
"How did you get on with Mr. Downes, Herr Morgan?" Strauss asked. He looked different without a book so commonly in hand. But those beady, deceiving eyes peering above the rim of his glasses assured Arthur it was him.
"Sorry, Strauss, didn't get to him today," admitted Morgan and pressed the bottle to his lips.
"We owed him a great deal of money, he reminded.
"As you've told me before," the man conceded with a sigh.
"Now, now gentlemen," interjected Dutch as he roused to his feet. He balanced his stare between each section around the fire. "Listen to me, all of you. I cannot express how proud I am of each and everyone of you. It's been a rough few months. We have lost a great deal, but it has been through the effort of each one of you we have survived. We are still together."
Micah clearing his throat attracted the glare of several members. "Here, here boss."
And while they all rolled their eyes to him, they concurred.
"Thank you, Micah," he continued. "Thank you, all of you, for making us home again."
To that, they all drank and kept the night alive with songs and stories to reminisce over. Within that time, they had forgotten what had been, all they had lost and feared little for the future. Pinkertons were searching in all the wrong places. O'Driscolls were engaged in other matters. And those cash bonds held freedom.
The confidence of Dutch spread across the gang, leaving Karen the only one distraught. She often peered to the entrance of the camp and when her eyes returned so did her dismay.
"You alright, Karen?" Arthur asked.
Her inhale was short and irritation slipped into her tone. "Fine….You seen Sean by chance?"
Arthur gazed around camp as he realized the absences of Sean. It was difficult to believe, seeing as Sean was often at his ear the moment he could.
Steadily, Arthur shook his head. "No I haven't. I wouldn't worry though, Sean can handle himself fine."
Morgan's eyes fell to the ground with instant regret. Even Dutch couldn't convince them with that lie.
"Well, Karen, isn't that Sean over there?" Tilly announced as she scrambled to her feet with Karen following the same action. She hauled pass everyone who had sprung to their feet with a flush in her cheeks.
Sean came tumbling in by the west side, with moonlight reflecting off of him. His vest and pants were frayed at the ends and his coat was tattered. His hair was coarse and tangled. Yet it was his skin, that left wonder and Karen come to a halt. It was transparent and blue like he just climbed out of his own grave.
Even the horses were recoiling as he limped pass them.
"Boy probably just came from the saloon," Susan grumbled and sipped at her coffee.
"Maybe so, Miss Grimshaw." Arthur retrieved Karen and passed her to Susan with eyes drifting from Dutch and Sean. "Maybe so. Will you keep the woman here though? We best see what's wrong with him."
Susan didn't take a moment to accept.
Dutch was first to approach, calling out to Sean who neglected to respond. John and Arthur trailed behind, and Javier with Charles behind them. After arming themselves, Bill and Micah followed.
"He seems different….like somethings wrong," observed John.
"Sure doesn't seem like him," Arthur agreed.
"Sean, my boy, what has happened to you?" inquired Dutch as he stopped several feet away from Sean.
Yet there was no reply, no words at all, but instead a cry erupting deep from within his throat. Blood spewed out with his saliva. He shuffled closer with arms swaying back and forth like a pendulum. Dutch recoiled.
"Is this the lumbago you're always talking about, old man!" seethed Micah to Uncle with a long laugh that made Sean groan.
Dutch's hand roused. "Sean, what have you done?"
Now, there was nothing but silence.
"I heard in Valentine there was a cholera outbreak in Armadillo," Bill mentioned with his knuckles turning white as his hands tightened on his rifle.
"What the hell would Sean be doing in New Austin?" sneered John. "And put your gun away!"
"Well I don't know, John!" he retorted and waved his gun carelessly. "What about tuberculosis?"
Arthur drew in a short breath. "Bill, you're an idiot."
"Enough!" The only noise was Dutch's voice echoing in the air now. He strode forth and begun again. "I am not going to ask you again, Sean. Come here, son."
He released another shrilling cry that pierced their ears and scuttled towards them with arms stretched out. Those once beige teeth were exposed with blood slithering down them, and turning to crust on his chins. That rustic taste was his fuel. The beam once in his eyes was lost, replaced by a relentless void.
Lined in Sean's range of attack, but lost to the sight of him, Dutch stood there lifelessly. And as he acknowledged what was happening, he was out of time. His fingers trembled for his gun's handle, yet there nothing but air he clutched at. Glancing up, there he was. Sean's mouth wide open, ready to devour the taste of Dutch's flesh.
He closed his eyes, eased his body and accepted his faith as an unseen force brought him to the ground. A single shot hummed in his ears and as he finally opened his eyes, there Sean's body lolled to his side.
"Micah, you stupid fool!" Arthur growled while assisting Dutch to his feet. Micah's self - satisfied smile piercing back at him made his insides sting.
"What the hell was I supposed to do, Morgan! He was coming for Dutch and us!" protest Micah.
"We could have lassoed him! We could have….He didn't have to die damn it!" Arthur begun to pace with thoughts building within his mind. "Something just isn't right about this."
Charles had emerged from within all the action and took to Sean's side. His fingers swept down his body, noting the details of his skin. "He was a corpse…."
"You don't say red - skin," Micah chortled.
"No, his color and the coolness of his skin….He was dead before you killed him."