CHAPTER 1

Somewhere in New Mexico, 1887

A bullet struck the rock next to Jacob Kreed's head, and he ducked back behind the boulders he had chosen for a shield. "Why did we agree to take this job, Nate?" he asked.
  Nathaniel Kreed sighed, as he had done numerous other times when such a question had been presented to him by his brother. "It might have been because
you wanted to protect the townspeople and the stagecoaches that use this pass from the undead outlaws that have recently begun preying upon any innocent
that wanders across their path."
  Another bullet slammed into the boulder, throwing chips of rock past Jacob's face. "That couldn't have been it," he said.
  "Then maybe it was for the money the sheriff offered on behalf of the owner of the stagecoach in return for taking care of this little problem."
  "Yeah, that's what must have done it." Jacob heard one of the guns click empty and he knew that the rest would be doing the same very soon. "It's bad enough when someone brings back ordinary folk and makes zombie out of them, but when they do it to outlaws it's just so much worse."
  "There is something to be said about a mindless creature being capable of continuing its life as a gunfighter," Nathaniel commented with a slight grin.
  "Now don't you start in on that again," Jacob said with a tone of warning as he pulled out a pair of cavalry pistols. He ran his fingers across the silver plate on the handle of each pistol, speaking in a low voice while doing it, and a faint reddish glow began in the cylinder. "Any fool might be able to pull a trigger, but it takes a good mind to be able to use a gun properly." Jacob heard another click, and he knew he had probably thirty seconds before the zombies could work out how to reload their guns. Taking a deep breath, he rose to his feet and turned, pointing his guns at the trio of undead in the pass below him.
Their cadaverous faces looked up at him as their emaciated limbs fumbled with their guns in a desperate attempt to reload faster. Jacob smiled slightly as he pulled the triggers of both guns at the same time, and a pair of scarlet streaks left the barrels.
  The zombies only had a moment to realize their predicament before the streaks hit them full in the chest, and their torsos exploded in a burst of crackling crimson energy. When the smoke cleared there were only a few twitching bits lying among the loose rocks.
  "Gets 'em every time," Jacob commented with a lopsided grin.
  "That might be true, but one of them is getting away," Nathaniel replied in a chastising tone.
  Jacob looked at the third zombie, who was moving much faster than he would have thought possible for something that had recently been dead. "I guess that was a fresh one," he muttered as he holstered his pistols and picked up the Colt revolving rifle he had left leaning against a rock. Muttering a few words, he touched the silver plate on the side of the rifle, before bringing it to his shoulder.
  "You're not going to hit it from here. It's moving much too quickly even for you." Nathaniel saw that his words weren't having any effect on Jacob, so he said, "You're not as good as you think you are, Jake."
  After removing his hat and handing it to Nathaniel, Jacob looked through the sights on his rifle and aimed at the zombie. "You could be right, Nate. Maybe I'm not as good as I think I am," he commented as he gently pulled the trigger, and a flash of scarlet left the barrel, which quickly turned into a spiraling burst of crimson that streaked towards the zombie. When it struck, the burst blew off the zombie's lower body, and it collapsed into the dirt. "I guess I'm better," Jacob said before slapping Nathaniel on the shoulder.
  "I stand corrected. Now let's go and see what that thing can tell us." Nathaniel returned the hat to Jacob, and then picked up the staff he brought with him and began to walk across the top of the ridge. Behind him, he could hear Jacob chuckling quietly. "Mother always said you were incorrigible," he said to his brother.
  "And she was right," Jacob responded as he walked with the barrel of his rifle resting against his shoulder.
  After a couple minutes of walking, they reached the zombie, who was trying to drag himself away with his hands, and Jacob noticed that the zombie was making surprisingly good progress. "Maybe I should have charged that bullet a little more and took off his hands, too."
  "What you did was sufficient." Nathaniel crouched down next to the zombie. "Though, if you would be so kind as to hold it down I would greatly appreciate it."
  "It'll be my pleasure." Jacob put his foot on the center of the zombie's back and pressed down until it couldn't move forward, though it continued to claw at the dirt trying to gain purchase.
  "Thank you." Nathaniel rubbed his hands together, as he chanted in a low voice, and then he put each of his hands on either side of the zombie's head, making sure to touch its temples with at least one of the fingers of each hand.
  At first, the zombie resisted and tried to break the contact, but then it relaxed and Nathaniel was able to enter the creature's mind.
  "What are you seeing?" Jacob asked.
  Nathaniel cocked his head to the side and replied, "A mess. A chaotic jumble of mismatched images. About what one would expect from something that died and was brought back."
  "So the usual?" Jacob asked as he pressed down harder and felt bone splintering beneath the soles of his boots.
  "Yeah, Jake. The usual." Nathaniel closed his eyes tightly and began to search the zombie's memory for anything that might help them. Finally, he found something and he happily withdrew from the zombie's mind. "There is a mine that was abandoned a few years back about a mile in the direction our little friend here was crawling. That is where we will find the person who is orchestrating the attacks."
  Jacob nodded, as he took the information in, and then he spoke again. "You want me to kill it." He noticed that Nathaniel gave him an odd look. "Kill it again, that is, since it was already dead to begin with. Unless you wanted to bless it to death."
  Nathaniel got back on his feet with the help of his staff. He mentally wished that using his abilities didn't drain him as much as it did sometimes, and then he responded to Jacob's query. "He was an evil man in life, hardly better than he is now. There is no reason for me to waste my time securing his soul passage to a better world," he replied while smoothing out his poncho.
  Without a word, Jacob pulled out a flask and took a quick drink. Then he took a step back away from the zombie, splashed it with some of the alcohol, and then pulled a cheroot from his pocket. He lit the cheroot, and then flicked the lit match onto the zombie's back. The alcohol ignited almost immediately, but the zombie kept crawling through the dirt towards its destination, despite the fact what was left of its body was burning. Then he stared at the creature dragging itself across the ground until the fire had finished its work.
  "Let's go get that necromancer so we can collect our money," Nathaniel said as he headed towards where they hid their horses.
  When they reached the small cave where their horses were tethered, Jacob said, "You know, Nate, every time we burn one of those things it reminds me
of a barbecue."
  "Why am I not surprised?" Nathaniel replied as he mounted his horse and set off in the direction of the mine.
  "What's that supposed to mean?" Jacob asked as he put his rifle into the holster on his saddle, and then he swung up onto his horse. "Really, what's that supposed to mean?" he asked as he pulled up alongside Nathaniel's horse.
  "Just that you think with your stomach."
  "I don't always think with my stomach." Jacob took a drink from the canteen on his saddle, and then he spat the water out. "Too warm to drink," he muttered as he pulled out his pistol and started charging it for a spell.
  "No, you're right. I forgot you sometimes think with a lower part of your body." Nathaniel watched as Jacob fired his pistol down into the mouth of the canteen, which caused frost to immediately form on the outside.
  "Are you still mad about that señorita in Nogales?" Jacob asked before taking a drink of the chilled water.
  "Are you talking about the harlot or the priestess?" Nathaniel asked, looking at Jacob out of the corner of his eye.
  Jacob shrugged. "Either one."
  "You tend to get us into trouble when you start thinking with your lower half, Jake."
  Jacob began to share his opinion of that accusation as they made their way across the desert and towards the mine.