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FAN FICTION

Shanghaied - Written By Kansas Jones

(Takes place prior to "The Wrong Train")
March 1865

A full moon illuminated the night. The fog that had moved in, providing cover, had started to dissipate. The rhythmic pounding of horses'' hooves echoed through the trees of the surrounding woodland. They were making good time. They really had no choice. Colonel Clay Cartwright rode at the head of what remained of his squad. He and his guerilla team had been dispatched behind Union lines. Their mission was to scout the area, compromise any outlying outposts or towns, and hit whatever Union patrols they came across, causing as much havoc as they could before retreating back to Confederate territory. They had been operating behind enemy lines for two months now and had done quite well. Until tonight, that is. Less then an hour ago, Cartwright and his squad of six men had located a small farm that had been converted into a Union way station. They quietly moved in, intending to compromise the station and render it inoperable. What they found was unbelievable. The few soldiers stationed there had been killed. The family that operated the farm had been killed. Livestock had been scattered throughout the fields. The entire area had been ransacked. "Colonel, look at this." Corporal Wexler had shown Cartwright a fallen soldier. He had evidently scrawled a message on the floor boards using his own blood. The message simply read "Soldiers". "Soldiers, sir? I don''t understand. Did another patrol attack this farm?" Cartwright tore his gaze away from the blood scrawl and answered Wexler. "No. We are currently the only patrol assigned to this area." "Unless, the soldier boys were betrayed." Sergeant Saunders said from across the room as he nudged a dead soldier with his boot. "Explain." Cartwright barked, turning toward the senior sergeant. Saunders walked across the room, carrying something he had been examining. He handed the object off to Cartwright. It was a green uniform cap, favored by the elite snipers of the Union. It was soaked in blood. Cartwright spoke. "Sniper activity has been down in this sector for months. And this outpost is too small, it wouldn''t have a sniper unit assigned to it. Saunders, I don''t know if you''re right or not, but we ain''t waiting around to find out if there''s a rogue union bunch or not. Let''s move. Saunders, get the men moving". At that moment, Private Burne came running into through the doorway, shouting a warning. He was cut off in mid-sentence due to a bullet that caught him in the neck, killing him instantly. Cartwright, Wexler, and Saunders all had their pistols drawn even before Burnes'' lifeless body hit the ground. The three men ran to the windows and peered out. Tearing down a distant hill were what appeared to be four men on horseback. But they were not men, or horses, at least not anymore. The horses were bony and gaunt, their eyes glowing red, their skin a pale gray color. The riders wore tattered remains of green sniper uniforms. They were no more then skeletons, eyes glowing red like beacons, piercing the night with their sickly glow. They fired long range rifles with frightening accuracy. The bullets left a ghostly trail of smoke lingering as they screamed through the air. Private Grayson went down, a bullet straight to his heart. Private Tate caught one to the head. Private Breck dove into the doorway of the house as Cartwright, Wexler, and Saunders covered him. Cartwright had heard the rumors off and on for years. Walking skeletons that terrorized the plains and towns of the West. Undead soldiers that rose on the battlefield, turned against their living comrades. He had always dismissed it as non sense; the ranting''s of half-crazed Indian fighters, lonely settlers that saw mirages, or cowardly soldiers. "What the hell are they?" Saunders hollered as he aimed and squeezed off a shot at the attackers. The undead horsemen rode past the house, intending to circle back around for another attack. "I don''t know, and we ain''t waiting around to find out. Move! While they regroup!".


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