Four of my zombies shook off their hobbles during the night, so after I finished eating and shaving I set out to round them up. I went on foot, because the herd was in a small field and I knew the strays couldn’t have gone far in the surrounding trees.

I found three of the zombies a few yards into the trees and led them back to join the rest, then I went looking for the fourth. It took awhile but I finally found him deeper into the woods, and when I saw him I got a hell of a shock–a bear was standing in front of him and eating his guts.

The zombie was Limey, one that got gored by an elk early on in the drive. I’d wrapped some cloth around his midsection but the bear had chewed through it and was nibbling on the intestines that hung like a string of sausages out of the lime green jumpsuit. Limey just stood there smiling and scratching his ass.

There’s something about zombie meat that doesn’t agree with animals, so they hardly ever eat it, but for some reason the bear was attracted to Limey. That was fine with me because he was occupied and didn’t see me through the trees. I sneaked away and saddled my two horses. After kicking a dozen butts to get things moving, I drove the herd out of the field and back onto the trail.

I was traveling along an old county road that was cracked but level, and the herd was walking at a pretty good clip. The morning sun always freshens zombies and puts a spring in their step. So I was making good time, and I got about a mile down the road when I thought to check on my packhorse. I’d loaded him in a hurry and wanted to make sure everything was still in place, so I looked back. And I got another big surprise. Limey was about a hundred yards behind me. Not only that, but the bear was behind him.

Limey had been limping ever since I accidentally cut one of his haunches with my bullwhip, but when I saw him following me he was limping even more than usual. I wondered why, and then I saw that the cut butt cheek was gone and the bear was licking his lips. I uncurled my whip and cracked it above the herd.

We picked up our pace a bit. I looked back pretty often and was pleased to see Limey falling farther behind. I was even more pleased when I saw the bear leave the road and trot off into the woods. He moved fast, and bowlegged, and I figured the bad meat was having an effect on him. He was on his way to do what wild bears do in the woods.

The herd plodded along for a while, and I looked back a couple of times, then I got busy with other things and when I took my next look the bear had returned. He was nosing along behind Limey again, and Limey was in even worse shape than before. Something about butt meat must have appealed to the bear because both Limey’s haunches were gone. He no longer had an ass, and with the support of his butt muscles taken away his body was tilted back about thirty degrees from the hip. But he was still plowing ahead gamely, smiling at the sky, his arms dangling from his shoulders.

I kept cracking my whip from time to time, to move the herd along, but I also kept a close eye on what was happening behind me. I knew that nature would probably be calling on the bear again, and I wanted to be ready when it did.

My chance came before long. The bear trotted off to the woods and I rode back, drew my samurai sword and cut one of Limey’s Achilles tendons. I thought about cutting both, but if I dropped him where he was the bear might make a quick meal of him and come after my other zombies. So I just cut the one heel and then I rode back to the herd.

Limey continued to move forward after I cut the tendon, but he was slowed down considerably and I knew he’d never catch the herd. I started into a bend and when I glanced back for one last look he was a pitiful sight. He was angled back and smiling at the sky, and his arms were flailing like crazy with each lurching step.

I lost sight of him and pushed on around two or three more curves, and I’d forgotten about him by the time an old clapboard house came into view. It was a termite chew away from falling down and its front yard was full of clutter. My zombies shuffled past the place, toward the next bend in the road, but when I came to it I reined to a stop. Among the piles of junk and cordwood in the yard I saw a horse trough with a hand pump at one end. The trough was full of water.

I called out a hello and studied the house while I waited for an answer. Some hand-painted business shingles were nailed to the front door–“Sawblades Sharpened,” “Shoes Mendered,” “Cremations.”

No one answered my call, so I hollered again. I still got no answer, and there was no activity that I could see, so I swung down from my saddle and led my horse to the near side of the water trough. I led the packhorse to the other side, then I pumped a fresh stream of water for myself and we all drank.

I was hanging my full canteen on my saddle horn when a man appeared from behind the house. He carried an old carbine with a scope and what looked like a ten-shot clip. I faced him and let my gun hand hang down beside my revolver in its holster.

The man was skinny, dirty and shifty-looking. He walked toward me but stopped about ten feet away.

“Howdy,” I said. “Hope you don’t mind me using your water.”

“Not at all.”

He looked at my horses and then he turned his attention to my zombies. It wouldn’t take me long to catch up with them when I was done, so I decided to pass a little time talking to the man. I gestured to the shingles on his door.

“Looks like you keep busy, with the saws and shoes and such.”

“Not much of that. Mostly cremations. That’s what I was doing around back just now, raking over some ashes.”

“You cremate so they don’t come back zombie?”

“Yep. Folks don’t like to burn their own, so I do a decent trade in that.” He smiled. “Have a little fun at it, too.”

“Fun?”

“Sure. They’re dead, so there ain’t no rules on whether they got to be killed again before the burning.”

I come across his type every once in a while–they don’t just destroy zombies, they enjoy doing it. No one likes to be around people like that.

“Well,” I said, “I guess I’ll be moving on.”

He acted like he hadn’t heard. “Yessir, I do a decent trade in cremations.”

I thought I saw where he was going with his talk about trade. He wanted something in exchange for me using his water.

He lifted his chin toward my herd.

“Looks like you’re on your way to do some bidness.”

“Going to San Francisco.”

He shook his head. “That’s a long piece. I don’t think all them zombies are gonna make it.”

“I expect to lose a few along the way.”

Thinking of losing zombies made me remember Limey. I looked back but didn’t see him coming around the bend yet. I wondered if the bear had finally finished him off.

The man lifted his rifle and aimed at my herd. The lead zombies were starting around the next bend in the road. “I ain’t gonna shoot,” he said. “Just want to get a better look through my scope.”

He studied the zombies, then he lowered the gun and said, “I’m thinking you oughta give me something for the water you and your horses used.”

I’d been right about him wanting to trade.

“We didn’t bathe in it. We just drank.”

“Still, what’s fair is fair. And it looks like you got enough zombies so’s you could spare one.”

“Well, like you said, they won’t all make it to Frisco, so I need to hold on to them. Besides, you should have a sign on your trough if you’re going to charge for water.”

“Oh, really? You telling me how to run my bidness?”

The man was beginning to get on my nerves.

“That’s not business. It’s robbery.”

He lifted his rifle and cradled it in his arm so it was aimed in my general direction. My gun hand was still hanging beside my holster.

“You shouldn’t insult me like that,” he said. I waited for him to make his move, but he didn’t, lucky for him. He relaxed a little and said, “Maybe you don’t like the way I trade, but I deserve something for the water you and your horses drunk. If you ain’t gonna give me a zombie, I’ll take some food.”

He deserved something, all right, and an idea popped into my head.

“Okay. Let me see what I can do.”

“There you go,” he smiled. “That’s how it works. The ol’ give and take.”

I went to my packhorse and dug through one saddlebag, then the other, stalling for time. “There’s some jerky in here somewhere.” I stalled until I saw Limey come lurching around the bend in the road. He was angled back at the waist, smiling up at the sky, and he was missing one of the arms that had been whipping around the last time I saw him. The bear had been at him again. The bear wasn’t trailing him, though, and I figured he was off-loading some bad meat in the woods.

When I saw Limey, I closed the saddlebag, pointed at him with a strip of jerky and said, “Good. There he is.”

The man looked down the road. He squinted, then he laughed and said, “Damn! That one’s got a major hitch in his gitalong!” He slapped his knee and laughed some more. “I’ve never seen a sorrier piece of zombie flesh!”

I acted offended. “Don’t make fun of him. He means more to me than the whole rest of the herd put together. I hate it that he’s torn up like that.”

The man saw a chance to do some trading. He went serious and did what he could to put an understanding look on his face.

“I know how it feels to see one of ’em you like in that shape, mister. I can take care of him for you. I mean, I can put him out of his misery.”

I sniffled. “Please don’t joke with me.”

“I ain’t joking. Honest.”

“So you’d…you’d put him down for me?”

“Sure. Be glad to. You give me that jerky and the zombie, and we’ll call it even on the water.”

I pretended to have doubts. “Well, I don’t know. He’s been with me a long time, and I’d hate to lose him.”

The man turned hard, driving home the deal.

“Look, you either do like I say, or I’ll ruin your reputation.”

That caught me by surprise. “Ruin my reputation? How would you do that?”

“I know people all up and down the way along here, and lots of folks stop in for water and to have their shoes mendered. I’ll tell them about you. I’ll tell them what you look like and say you welshed on a deal.”

I bit my lip to keep from smiling, then I kept biting to make it look like I was upset. I wrung my hands and said, “Well, there’s no need to… I don’t know…”

The man watched and grinned. He liked seeing me squirm.

I bit a thumbnail, faked a tic under my eye and said, “Well…you promise you’ll put him down quick?”

“One shot, right through the beaner.”

“One shot?”

“Yep. Can’t afford more than one. Cartridges are hard to come by.”

I pretended to give the matter some more thought but I didn’t take long. Limey was getting closer and the bear might show up again at any moment.

“Okay. I guess it’s a deal.”

I went to my horse and mounted. The man sputtered when he saw I was about to leave.

“Wait a minute. The deal’s for the zombie and the jerky.”

“No,” I said, biting off a chunk of meat. “I won’t throw in the jerky.”

“Then I’ll do like I said. I’ll ruin your reputation.”

“You mean you’ll tell people about this deal?”

“Sure will.”

“Okay, but when you do, be sure to tell the whole story.”

I rode off and caught up with my herd around the next bend. A couple of minutes later I heard gunfire behind me. Either the bear showed up at the man’s house, or it took eight shots to put Limey down.