Chapter 1 – From the old West… (Red Dead Redemption: Undead Nightmare)
John watched with sorrowful eyes as his wife, Abigail, and son, Jack, rode off on the horse he had just ushered them onto. He knew this would be the last time he would ever see them, the last time he would be able to tell them he loved them. His days were at an end and he knew it. The foreboding dark clouds that were rolling in were extremely ominous to his current situation.
Jesus! Where did those come from? And why are they moving so fast? he thought, momentarily distracting himself from the misery in front of him and the doom he still had to face. The very least he could hope to do was save his family from a certain deadly fate if he sacrificed himself to the armed forces waiting on the other side of the barn.
He turned around, readying himself to confront whatever may come, and opened one of the double doors just enough to get a peek outside and ascertain the conditions.
It wasn't good.
There was a gang of men (ten of them at the very least) lined up in front of the building, guns aimed and ready to fill him full of holes and lead.
John took a step back and exhaled a deep, resolute breath, as if convincing himself that this was what he had to do. A moment later he pushed the doors open and walked outside to the greeting of hired hands with pointed weapons. Among them was the director of the Bureau of Investigation and the whole reason John found himself in this mess: Edgar Ross.
Even with death imminent, there was nothing more John would like to have done at that very moment than blow the smarmy mustache off that bureaucrat's face... and then put a hole between his eyes for good measure. The breathing pile of human rubbish had promised John he could go back to his normal life, a life with his family, after dealing with the former gang members he rode with once upon a time. But that promise only lasted so long before he brought an army to extinguish the last living memory of that gang: John himself. The American frontier and the old West were coming to an end in 1911 and gunslingers like John were becoming fewer and fewer as their world disappeared around them. It didn't help matters that men like Ross were hell-bent on bringing their extinction to them instead of letting it happen naturally.
I should have figured that filth would have survived a Goddamn apocalypse where the dead rise from their graves and feast on the living, John quickly thought to himself, recalling his feint hope that Ross had been eaten (or worse) a month before when Abraham Reyes, a revolutionary leader of a paramilitary group that had recently seized power in Nuevo Paraíso with John's help, had stolen an ancient mask from a holy Aztec temple. The mask (as John would later find out was called the 'Jade Veil of Blight Resurrection') was created as a cursed object that the Aztecs would present to their enemies under the pretense of it being a gift or sign of surrender. Once taken, all the dead of the land would come back to life and attack the group that held the object until it was returned to its rightful owners. When Abraham disturbed the ancient landmark and took the mask, hordes of the undead rose up and descended upon the populace of Nuevo Paraiso as well as New Austin and West Elizabeth… and maybe even the rest of the US for all John knew. It took him days, but John was eventually able to return the Jade Veil to the place where Reyes originally stole it from, thus ending the supernatural plague that had seized the land.
Bringing himself back to the task at hand, John reached for the butt of his gun, ready to pull a quick draw and take out as many of the men as he could before they put an end to his life. But then something happened... something that took them all by surprise. The black clouds that had formed overhead in the distance were all at once swallowing the sky above them, covering the men in a darkened embrace. A loud crackle of thunder seemed to shake the very ground beneath their feet and a collection of wolf howls could be heard nearby. These signature cries were not normal however, they had a certain demonic vibe to them that John remembered well. Before anyone could make a move one way or another, a pack of four undead animals attacked and began sinking their fangs into the soldiers and their horses. Chaos quickly ensued and John unholstered his Cattleman revolver and rapidly began unloading bullets into the heads of men and beasts alike.
"Goddamnit!" he yelled out angrily, retreating to the safe refuge of his barn as the dead men from the cavalry he had killed earlier began to rise and seek out human flesh as sustenance. The number would be overwhelming considering that the Marston family had shot and killed at least fifty men during the initial raid, and only a handful of those were from headshots.
His chest tightened as he climbed the unsteady rung to the hayloft above, the only sounds he could hear were a few more gunshots and the soul-tearing shrieks of men screaming their last breaths as they were being eaten alive.
The undead, while having a ferocious appetite and a powerful sense of smell that alerted them to a nearby food source, were not exactly as smart as they were when once alive. The befouled corpses knew how to run, how to hit and grab, how to chomp and chew... but they lost some of the more advanced motor skills, like the knowledge of how to climb a ladder or ride a horse.
The clouds hadn't advanced far enough East to completely blot out the sun and it shown its bright light into the upper loft as John swung one of the doors open to examine the state of his surroundings. It would have almost been a tranquil setting if it wasn't for the undead scurrying about beneath him and the dozens of freshly fallen beginning to right themselves and shamble through his property. Suddenly something caught his eye and he was all at once disappointed.
"Son of a bitch..." he cursed under his breath. One of the many walking dead that littered the ground was none other than Edgar Ross. It looked as if someone or something had ripped the man's throat out. John wasn't so much disappointed that Ross was dead as he was that he didn't get to do the deed himself, let alone even see it happen!
A thin smile lined his lips as he steadied the revolver on his forearm, pulled back the hammer spur and trained the front sight right between the eyes of the lumbering bureaucrat. John didn't really need to steady his firearm. Hell, he didn't even need to take such care with the aim, as the man could have easily just performed a quick-draw from his holster and hit a target square on at twice the distance of his current mark. The thing was, John wanted to enjoy this... at least as much as he could, given the brooding circumstances. There was a cracking 'boom' that echoed through the air as the revolver discharged, the sound momentarily competing with the harrowing crash of thunder above, and John watched as Edgar's head whipped back to a degree that surly would have snapped his neck if he weren't already dead. The entry point was a glorious sight to see, but the exit wound was spectacular. John knew there was a fair share of morbidity and possibly even sin involved in the pleasure he derived from what he saw, but watching the back of Ross' scalp flap around like a piece of paper caught in the wind was something he had only been able to dream about before.
The corpse collapsed to the ground and the loud sound brought with it the unwanted attention of the surrounding dead. They began to swarm the barn, releasing moans and screeches along the way as they rose their hands up in a vain attempt to reach live prey. The distraction, as it turned out, was a blessing in disguise, as it cleared the area enough for John to plot an escape by quickly lowering himself to a distance safe enough to drop from and making a mad dash to one of the distraught horses that had been circling around since hysteria first stirred the area. Upon securing a steed, he spurred the animal toward the road, bursting through the line of undead that had begun chasing after him as soon as his feet hit the ground. The horse whinnied in fear as it came in contact with the bodies, but as they flew to the side the stallion kept to the course. John may not have had the slightest clue where his wife and son had ridden off to, but he knew where he could find the mask and the man responsible for once again throwing the land he loved into peril. It was, in a sense, his own fault though, as he was the one who told Seth Briars the whole story of how he had bested an old Aztec curse by putting the dead back to rest and restoring order. The treasure-seeking loon may have been a dirty, grave-robbing prospector, but every man needed a place to rest at night, and that stinky old coot had taken quite a liking to the old Baccus place. That was where Seth would be, that was where the mask would be and that was surely where John needed to be.
As the small shack that sat on the property came into view, John was reminded of why he thought of the area as 'quaint'. Truth be told, if it wasn't for Jack, he probably wouldn't have even had any idea what that word meant... or that it existed. 'It means something is attractively unusual' Jack had answered when his father asked about the expression.
The words kept repeating in his head as he neared the building. 'Attractively unusual' would definitely be how John would describe the old Baccus place. It was nestled at the bottom of a hill and fairly secluded from the public eye. Back in the day it used to be the hideout for a group of moonshiners (hence the name) but was abandoned when they were caught and hanged for their crimes. Because of its out-of-the-way location, Mintie Cummings and Theodore Eaves, an interracial couple, had taken up residence on the property, thoroughly enjoying the ability to be in one another's company when such a pairing would have sent any community into an uproar and resulted in an unruly lynch mob. Unfortunately, it wasn't a mob that would split the couple up, but the wretched infestation of the undead from a month beforehand. John had saved Mintie when she became trapped in an abandoned house after taking shelter in it for the night and waking up to the place being surrounded by the hungry dead. As he escorted her to a safe town, she recalled of how he was the second man to save her from those 'things'. The first was Theodore, and it cost him his life.
It really came as no surprise to John to find that Seth had made himself at home in the shack during the ensuing chaos. The man was just as much of a charlatan as any snake oil salesman. Once the dust settled the first time around, Seth decided to stay at the abode as no one could contest ownership once Mintie left town. Mr. Briars had been an odd fellow since long before John met him, but even he was taken aback by just how cozy Seth was able to get with the undead. During the first disaster, he had lured a horde of them to his place and treated them far better than any living soul he had come in contact with and they, in turn, did not try to eat his flesh from his bones. They seemed docile, even, as they did not attack John either, despite Seth's attempts to sick a particular one on him.
As suspected, there was another gathering of brainless savages surrounding the crazed prospector and, much like before, Seth was dancing around erratically with one of them, the Jade Veil tied to his face with a length of twine. John was not in the mood for any of Seth's games and he meant to make that point very clear from the get-go. Six shots rang out, echoing across the pristine landscape and six bodies once again returned to their state of peaceful rot and decay.
"Don't even think about it," John commanded, jolting the reloaded gun cylinder back into place with a flick of his wrist.
A cowering, shivering Seth stopped dead in his motion at the warning as he reached for his revolver. Instead, he redirected his shaky hand upwards and slowly removed the mask, so he could see just who had ruined his party.
"Oh, hey- hey there John," Seth said with a slight feeling of relief. "If you fancied talkin' with me alone you coulda just pulled me to the side instead of removing all of my guests here." He looked around at the bodies encircling him, kicking at their feet and arms to see if maybe, just maybe, John had not completely killed all of them.
"Cut the shit, Seth. You know why I'm here, so just hand over the relic and we can call it a day. I'll go fix this whole mess… again."
"Fix this whole mess?" Seth stood up, appearing somewhat defiant to what his friend was suggesting. "Fix this whole mess? Don't you see what's goin' on here, John? It's beautiful! These are my kind of people! They don't judge me like the livin', they don't leave me like the livin'! They don't tell me what to do or care 'bout how bad I smell. I like the world this way, John." He began to cackle a mad laugh that John was all too familiar with.
"I ain't kidding around!" John raised his revolver up again, aiming the barrel of the iron squarely at Seth's forehead. "My family is out there in this mess this time! For chrissakes, I need to put an end to this before it is too late for 'em!"
"Alright, alright!" Seth conceded, digging into his pants pocket. He dug his hand in so forcefully that he nearly lost his trousers around his ankles by pulling the material out from under the rope that tied it to his waist. Luckily for John, that worst case scenario did not pan out.
"Ah," Seth breathed, seeming content in finding whatever he was looking for. "Here you are, John. Do treat it with care, 'tis important to me," he said, holding a glass eye in his outstretched palm.
"What the hell is this?" John questioned, looking at the trinket being offered to him. The eye was a memento of the very last time John had accompanied Seth on one of his 'treasure hunts'. Seth was convinced that this one would be the one, the real deal, a trove of wealth beyond imagination. And, in the end, all it turned out to be was a Goddamn glass eye. During the first uprising of the dead, people had all kinds of theories about why it was happening and who was behind it. One of those theories was that the eye was causing it and Seth was to blame. It his typical foolish fashion, Seth had swallowed the eye without prompt or warning. John knew how he must have got it back… and he didn't want to touch the damn thing after that.
"Not the eye, you crazy bastard! The mask!"
Seth recoiled in fear, clutching both the mask and the eye to his chest in protest. "This here mask is mine, John, mine! It's making the world a better place… for me! Why it's-" Seth suddenly stopped, feeling an awkward sensation in his hands. Suddenly there was a sharp pain and he yelled out in disdain, dropping what he was holding. "Damn thing!"
The mask spilled to the ground and landed with a 'clink' sound as it bounced off a protruding rock. John's eyes widened in dread and he rushed towards the fallen artifact. He picked it up and a felt a quick and sudden sting across one of his fingers.
"Shit!" he grunted and hastily pulled his hand back while keep a firm grip on the mask with the other.
"Did it cut ya? It cut me."
John glanced at his finger and saw that it was indeed bleeding. "How the hell did it cut us?" he asked, his eyes glancing in the direction of the Jade Veil. What he saw almost made him drop the mask in astonishment. Smack dab in the middle of the green forehead was the damn glass eye. It looked as if it had been absorbed into the mask and… the thing was looking around like it was alive! "What'd you do, Seth?!"
"I ain't done nothin'!" Seth defended, making his way towards John and placing his hand on the other side of the mask to turn it his way for a better view. "I ain't done- well, would you lookit that."
Suddenly a white light began to emanate from the altered mask, pulsing from it. The light grew wider with each wave and before they could even begin to react, both John and Seth were enveloped in the glow. They couldn't see anything, they couldn't hear anything and neither of them knew how long it was going to last.
Time was not exactly something they could keep adequate track of in their circumstance, but it certainly didn't feel like long had passed before the waves began to dissipate, and the light with them. When they could see and hear again, the two found themselves in very different surroundings.