Bodacious Creed: a Steampunk Zombie Western (The Adventures of Bodacious Creed Book 1) by Jonathan Fesmire

Author:Jonathan Fesmire [Fesmire, Jonathan]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Bodacious Publishing
Published: 2017-08-18T06:00:00+00:00

After the riders escaped, Creed ran along the riverbank and approached The House of Amber Doves from an alley off Main Street. He didn't dare run back along Pacific after spotting El Tiburón. The man had taken him in once with that hound. Creed felt ill-prepared to face them again. Luck had favored him when the steely turned tail as Creed continued chasing the kidnappers.

For the second time that evening, a cloud of dust had stymied him. One of the riders had tossed an explosive over his shoulder, and Creed coughed as it dislodged grit from the road. The taste of dirt filled his mouth, and the particles irritated his eyelids. It took a couple of minutes for his tear ducts to wet and clean his metal eyes.

He arrived at the back door to Amber Doves, where Anna waited.

“How did you know I’d be here?” he asked.

“I spotted the row out front.”

Of course, and she clearly knew he would return to the back of the bordello. Anna opened the door, looked in, and signaled for him to hurry. He went through to her bedroom. Anna shut the doors and stood with him near her vanity.

“Was that Margarita Fullerton?” Anna asked. “No, you wouldn’t know her. She was the madam here before I bought the place. That was her, I know it. Someone got hold of my research.” Anna’s breath quickened and her hands shook.

Creed grasped her shoulders. “I don’t think so. I think someone, probably the man who tried to capture me, got the idea from you. From this.” He pointed at his head unit.

“Math.”

“What? He used math?”

“No,” Anna said. “Never mind. What’s happening out there? There’ve been gunshots.”

“That woman murdered some people at Hartgraul’s brothel.” Creed watched her eyes widen. “She’s gone insane. And now the underground has her.”

“From Plowshares to Amber Doves.” Anna went to her vanity and staggered once. She sat on her bed instead. “She'd been holed up in her house for months. Would you check on her? If she’s safe at home, we’ll know it was someone else, that in the dark, as haggard as that woman looked, maybe it wasn’t her, after all.”

Creed raised his eyebrows.

“Look,” Anna said, “someone used my technology to change her. But they have it wrong, you see? Margarita was strict, catty, but a killer? No.

“This is what I was afraid of, that my work would get stolen and misused. That poor white cat. It went missing. I bet someone found it.” This made no sense to Creed, but when she gazed into his eyes, he decided to not pursue the matter. “Whoever did this can raise the dead, but they don’t have the correct parameters. They’re like Victor Frankenstein, and they made a monster.”

“She must have hated Hartgraul,” said Creed.

“Yes, she did.”

At Fullerton’s place, Creed would either find her alive or find clues, perhaps even something to help him infiltrate the underground. “If Hartgraul lives and can speak, he'll be able to identify her to the marshals. Right now,” Creed said, “We may be the only ones on that trail.

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