He couldn't fight all of them. Cassidy burst towards his horse, but a crowd of the Weepers had already gathered around the steed. They shambled towards the bounty hunter, stiff bodies jerked. Between lips black worms wriggled to fall to the hard earth. Despite Cassidy's warning, they came indifferent to the firearm.

He bolted up the street. Little Gregory was quiet, and Cassidy admired the baby's fearlessness. More Weepers came. Inside of the jail, the Sheriff had already barricaded doors and windows, though the sick people still came. Heedless of warnings they tore at the building, some were shot, yet stood after being knocked down. A tide followed Cassidy. Their faces were filled with desperation, as if cattle driven by a cruel drover. Waves swarmed Nayee's thoroughfare, some bled slow from wounds. Fluid, dark as their tears, ran from gory holes, but none tarried, showed pain or hesitation.

From a dark alley more came. A hand tore at the sling, and Cassidy swung a fist into the cowpoke's face. Back the man tumbled to the street, but rose up to pursued him. Others had taken his place already, hands scrabbled at Gregory. With a deft spin, the revolver reversed in his hand. It slammed in a man's nose, another's temple, but they only stumbled back. One nearly tore the sling free, in spite of the bounty hunter murmured curse. An uppercut from Cassidy knocked him to the ground. Hands of the tide reached for him, wide eyes bled black.

One grabbed his leg, but he kept on his feet. Cassidy beat at him, but the man's grip was iron. Another pulled the sling free, Gregory blinked, but the bounty hunter grabbed it. Hard grin turned to stone. No one would harm the baby, he swore. An adept spin brought the revolver's barrel around. Boom deafened, their grip gone. The gun turned on others, though only to wound. None faltered; all forced him to the ground. One took the child to the roar of Cassidy, who promised death. They piled onto him.

Smell of the tears was filled with a briny rot. Sweat and the slimy bodies' stench were overpowering, which was oily. Relentless, he bucked, fought, and cursed to be released. Some, after a few minutes, left the pile to slaughter more townsfolk, now that Gregory was further away. Bitter bile rose in Cassidy's mouth, so deep was his rage. Faces of his family swam up in the dark to shame him. Away at war, he could not have saved them. To this disgrace, his resolve was forged anew and unshakeable.

He tore a leg free, kicked one in the face. Cassidy wrenched his body, pulled out of their grasp. Into the desert the Weepers had carried the baby. Packs of ill men had moved away from his horse, and to his old companion ran the bounty hunter. They had lost interest in him. Between his teeth hissed a growled like lone wolf gone rabid.

Again, knocks assailed glass. Ghostly fists pounded the walls of the town, and over rooves claws scoured. Fury shook Nayee, yet the tumult moved along with the Weepers that went out into the desert. Cassidy bared a savage smile, shook off the shiver of ice on his spine. If the world was to go mad, he would go too. Among the shadows a gaunt figure moved, yet he kept eyes on the saddle. Long limbs were stretched, delicate. Monstrous, it moved with a grace. They were a hellish procession with the beastly woman as its parade marshal.

He tore his eyes away, focused on Gregory. Years in the saddle and chasing bounties had made him an expert rider. Up into the saddle he flew, before they hastened into the desert at a gallop. Moon now in the sky, its brilliance lit the way, until a cloud threw all into darkness. Around the Weepers he rode, though they were all moving in the same direction and easy to avoid. Brief were the gasps of moon glow, which haunted the dark. Some beacon drew the ill, some compulsion. Past a sign, caught in ephemeral light, he saw they were on the rode to Ruben Lawson's Loyal Lady.

Parts of the spread were in flames. Guiding light of the Weepers called them. The cattle had been the first slaughtered. Bodies asunder, bloody flesh was spread over the earth, feast for the worms, bugs, and predators of the desert. Lawson's men were falling back from the perimeter. Cassidy was no cut-them-up man, but the Weepers' wounds were severe. He shut his mind on the impossibility of their unrelenting life. People could fight, even deathly injured, though always fell when blood cooled. Chaos and destruction, blood and gun smoke, were the aroma of pitched battle. Clamor of the mind was cleared with thought of the infant.

The bounty hunter wondered if the well had been poisoned here too. Hell had come to Nayee, yet it had overflowed in the Loyal Lady. Virulent strain had struck the ranch. Cooley's men, that assailed the ranch, had empty black sockets, where the viscus fluid poured. Whispers of the afflicted were pathetic. Hair and clothes were matted to the body, which were permeated with the dark, oily slim. Any healthy men were swarmed, torn asunder. Obsessive destruction, exact and profound, was a lover's hate, only meticulous malicious ruin.

Gregory whined, and Cassidy turned, "I'm coming!"

Before he took a step, light of a torch graced it, recoiled. Eyes were beads of flame, orange as a campfire. Horrid arms were too long, and to the ground they hung. Bent legs, like a dog, were tightened ready to spring. Vulpine head turned to the bounty hunter with mouth wide in a fury, whine heartbroken. Sinewy, tight body of a woman; its dark beauty toned. Cassidy averted his eyes from the bare breasts. Reddish fur was already covered in bright blood. Is it a beast or woman, his mind clamored, but in the dark it was swallowed, hidden. He shook it off, only the child mattered. To linger on its horrible visage would unman him. A high howl rends the air, though it was feminine. Blue eyes, pulled towards the wail, were thrust away. It found him.