The Burr Conspiracies by Taylor Paul

Author:Taylor, Paul [Taylor, Paul]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2012-02-07T05:00:00+00:00

As the wolves approached, the militiamen raised modified muskets with spring-loaded bellows affixed to their muzzles. On my command they struck the spring triggers and the bellows slammed closed, propelling a hot steamy mist laced with liquefied silver.

The wolves’ eyes swelled shut as they doubled over in pain. The blinded beasts scattered, stumbling aimlessly throughout the House chamber.

“Fire the chimneys!” I cried from my command perch at the base of the Rotunda’s vast dome.

Militiamen stationed on the roof adjusted boilers fixed atop the Capitol’s many chimneys. With a collective hiss, the boilers pumped more steam infused with liquid silver throughout the House chamber, permeating the air with tiny droplets of the aerosolized metal.

Wolves grabbed their throats and struggled to plug their ears as the silver filled every wolfen orifice. The chamber echoed with the whimpers of a thousand hounds.

The silver mist was working. And all it took was the smallest fraction of our silver reserves.

I gathered with the militiamen atop the Rotunda and watched the wolves pour out of the Capitol, tumbling down the huge marble staircase to escape the tainted air. They gathered in a monstrous heap at its base.

But then my eyes wandered to the horizon, where I spied another dark, undulating mass. It approached at a quick walking pace, led by a festooned General. I recognized the ostentatious bicorn hat and the wide red cuirass as that of Robert Ross, head of the British North American divisions. And his stumbling infantry was the zonbi horde, which Burr had turned over to British command.

General Ross called out to the wolves.

“Mohawks, recover your strength in the open air! The zonbi army will flush out the Americans!”

Ross halted his steed and ordered the zonbis forward. They staggered with increasing speed as their olfactory nerves smelled stationary prey.

“Separate and fill each entryway!” ordered General Ross. “Feast on the American swine!”

The zonbis lurched ahead.

Several militiamen panicked and jumped from the roof.

“Hold!” I cried. “Stand fast on the Dome!”

The advancing rows of zonbis split when they reached the writhing wolfen mass at the stairs. The militiamen watched in horror as though a legion of their own pallbearers approached.

But the zonbis did not continue forward.

Instead, they circled the wolves and inched inward.

“Zonbis, move forward!” yelled General Ross.

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