Chapter 2

Wait what the fu-

The Bitch shrieked right in my ear as I felt her claws dig into my jaw.

"SHIT!!!!" I panicked and the Jeep swerved off the highway and flipped over, landing on the hood and skidding to stop.

All the while me and the Bitch were wrestling, but no matter how much I fought, I was the one losing. But no matter what she clawed, tore off, or bit into, I managed to get my hand on my Six-Gun.

PAH!!!

One bullet to her chest, stunning her.

PAH!!!

One bullet to her skull, causing a fatal injury.

PAH!!!

And one to her throat, finally shutting her up.

I sighed, examining my hody for any extremely fatal damage. Not a damn part of my body was intact. My fuckin' abs were shredded, and not in the good way. My chest was looking worse for wear. And my arms, legs, and face have seen MUCH better days. I laughed, wincing in pain, "Still sexy as hell."

"You're a confident man..." a feminine voice growled from somewhere near me.

"Hey babe. You got any medkits or some pills? I'll trade ya' a few rounds or a ride. Promise I won't do anythin' stupid." I groaned, hoidting myself to my elbows, searching outside the flipped vehicle for the voice's owner.

Then I remembered something, I hadn't seen a soul for miles since I got outta town and reached the plains. The only creature I've seen was...

And the Bitch knew I'd realized too. "You're certainly a moron. So...Wanna explain why I'm fifty miles from where I fell asleep?"

I laughed awkwardly, "I, uh... took the Jeep for a little joyride that's all. I was gonna put it back, I swear..." I tried to move my hand toward my Six, which I'd dropped cause I was certain I was safe. Which hooray and hoopla for me, I'm fucked now.

The Bitch crawled toward my hand and jabbed her claw into the metal roof in front of my arm, halting my slow progress toward my Six. "Well that's not very welcoming. I'm sorry I hurt you, honest. I was just...startled. I've not seen a living man in what? Two or three years? What year is it?"

I racked my brain to answer her question, maybe she would let me live if I answered. "I think it's 2017. Maybe 2019. It's been a while."

"Aw that's cute. You've lost track of time worse than me. But at this rate, you'll die anyway. Guess I might as well get a delicacy while I'm at it." the Bitch's gray and bloody tongue licked her lips and she stuck a claw into a deep cut on my chin. Then she slid the claw over her tongue, relishing the taste.

Then I remembered something. I had another weapon. I quickly reached down to my pant leg and unsheathed my Bowie, slashing at the distracted Bitch.

She didn't notice the Bowie, and the Bowie made her regret it.

She screeched as her hands were severed from her arms, her eyes nearly turned red from fury. She was silenced when I slit her throat with a accurate slash. Then her eyes rolles back into her head and she fell unconscious.

I quickly rummaged through my satchel, finally finding some twine, I scrambled behind her and tied her arms at the biceps and her legs at the ankles. Couldn't tie her by the wrists because well, she doesn't have hands so she'd get free immediately. Then I'd be on the menu again.

I dragged her limp unconscious body out of the Jeep and got a good look at her. I could see that she'd once been quite beautiful. Redish blonde hair, how the hell that's possible I dunno, but call 'em as I see 'em, and a pair of formerly-blue eyes. But thanks to the infection, her eyes had transformed into a yellow color with a ring of green deep inside. I leaned her body on the left side of the busted out window and stepped back to look at my situation.

I couldn't flip this big-ass truck over. I might be strong and sexy, but not THAT strong. It'll be like a buff butterfly bench pressing 500lbs. Except said buff, sexy butterfly is currently bleeding out at a stupidly fast rate.

I sighed and sat down with my back to the busted window and the tied-up Bitch to my left. My vision started to darken as I felt my lack of sleep catching up to me. "Maybe a little. Not a good idea with you here, but you're a fiesty one and hurt me prett'e bad." And I slowly drifted off, with a Bitch tied up beside me.

I dreamt of the day just before the virus took hold of the world.

I was a typical country guy, hat, gun in the pickup, the whole package. But when I first saw a horde, a passion instilled in me by my ancestors lit aflame.

Ever since then I'd donned a hat I'd found on a dead Texan and the name Six-Gunner. And yes, I know full well it's called a revolver, but I like Six-Gun. Besides, Six-Gunner sounds cooler than Revolverer. That don't make no damn sense!

I woke up from my self-refective dream and found the formerly tied up Bitch standing above me. My only thought accidentally came out of my mouth, "Well shit. I fucked up huh?"

That resulted in a small smile and a affirmative nod.

I groaned as I reached for my Six-Gun, "Your hands are still in the truck so I'll just make it easy for ya'." I raised the barrel of the Six to my temple.

The look of confusion, but satisfaction nearly made me laugh. It would have, too, if it wasn't on a damn Bitch's face.

I grinned, "I ain't that stupid." I twisted my wrist and the Six aimed at a barrel of gas I'd stashed in the back for the trip, which hsd began leaking and created a huge puddle I 'accidentally' dragged the infected gal through. "Breathe wrong. I dare ya'."

She knew damn good and well what she'd gotten herself into. She could do absolutely nothing but bite at me cause her hands won't heal unless they are reconnected. And she can't heal from being burned alive. "You son of a bitch. I knew this shit wasn't sweat." She growled, glancing at her soaked hair and clothes.

"Now I'ma get up and reach in my bag, but if I see you move, I'ma blow us both to Hell. Capeshe?" I smirked, sliwly reaching for my bag.

I pulled out a bundle of something bloody and tossed it to the Bitch. "Here. These are your's."

The bloody cloth fell away, revealing her amputated hands.

"Your words. I'm dying anyway. For a Witch, you're weridly sentient. Might as well the more capable one here live." I sighed, putting the gun down. I'd ran out of ammo the moment I filled her with those three shots. I'd used it all on a horde that followed me from the mall.

The Witch glared at me, clearly struck stupid. But not a word came from her mouth as she knelt down.

Then she said, "I'll get you a medkit if you use that twine to tie my hands in place so they can heal." She grumbled something about stupid humans.

I chuckled, "Aight. Might as well." I grabbed the remaining twine from my bag and began to tied the clawed hands back to their owner's forearms.

"I think you'll be ready to use 'em by tomorrow. As for me, eh. Do what ya' want." I slid back to the truck and took off my shirt, revealing just how much damage she'd done while we'd fought.

I don't wanna go too far into it cause it honestly made me want to throw up. And I've eaten three-month old roadkill before without gagging. But I could see my ribs and nearly had to hold my own guts from spilling out.

My face would be scarred until I was unrecognizable if I even did survive. That is assuming I don't get infected from these massive-ass wounds, which is a certainty let's be honest.

And all the while the Witch was staring at me. But oddly, not a single look of hunger shown on her face. "This is annoying. I like prey that fights. It's like you're willing to face your death. How have you survived this long with a mentality like that?" She sauinted her eyes as the morning sun began to shine brightly in her face.

I coughed and spat out a glob of blood, " 'Cause this is a ending I could be proud of. Dying at the hands of a Witch, the most violent and deadly mutant. Albiet if word got 'round I gave up, my rep would be ruined. But hey, history's made by the mothafuggin' victor." I coughed again, but it hurt less this time.

As my dad used to say. 'If you can still feel pain, you're still alive.' And at this rate, I'm dead in minutes.

The Witch poked at the exposed rib that emwas right above my barely-beating heart, sending a wave of excruciating pain though my body. "So a Cowboy tale? Is that what you want your life to be? Because no damn cowboy tale I've heard of the cowboy gives up in his last moments. He gets up and keeps fighting."

"Super encou-" I coughed violently and spat out another, much thicker, glob of blood, "-encouraging coming from someone who's already dead and can't feel pain."

SMACK!!

She slapped the 'tard' out of my retarded statement. She pointed a claw at my face, which now sported three new deep scratches. "I do feel pain asshole. And that was for shooting me three damn times. You gave me back my hands so I'm not too angry about that. You were trying to defend yourself. As for tying my up, you're shitty at it. But at least you weren't expecting me to be stuck there."

I could feel my body turning colder as my vision faded. But even as I died, I raised my hand and held up my favorite finger.