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Checking his rucksack, John was elated to find three bottles of Wes Dickens' zombie "deterrent" the potion had the opposite effect on the zombies and actually attracted them to it like moths to the flame, if he timed it right, it might be just the trick for getting to the kid. A small pack of zombies had congregated so close to the barn that it was impenetrable, but one lone zombie was shuffling away from the barn, heading towards some of the other decrypted buildings and John smiled at his good fortune.

He quietly stood up and with a mighty throw, nailed the lone zombie right in the head. It stumbled a bit, but began to glow a bit as the bottle shattered on impact and dosed the creature in the liquid.

Almost instantly the other zombies let out a scream as their senses clued them into the attracting sent and just as John had hoped, a majority of them began shuffling towards their comrade. Hoping he had enough time, John ran towards the barn.

He was dumbfounded when he reached the door and saw that the stairs to the loft were laying in a crumbled heap. He glanced up at the loft and realized what had happened, the kid must've done it. In trying to protect himself which was a smart idea, the kid had also made it that much more difficult to be rescued.

"KID," John called as loudly as he dared "Jefferson," a few precious seconds ticked by, but before John could start contemplating another way to get to the kid, a hand weakly appeared over the edge of the loft, followed by Jefferson's head, he was pale and looked half dead, but John could tell he wasn't infected, just near death from exposure and lack of provisions.

"Mister…" he called weakly as if just that one word was painful "mister I'm sorry,"

"No time for apologies kid, we've got to get the hell out of here." John looked around the barn and realized there was no way he was getting up there. "Kid, I need you to fall down here, I'll catch you."

Jefferson contemplated that move and weakly shook his head, ground level meant zombies…it meant death.

"N…I can't" he managed to whisper "the dead'll get me."

"They won't kid, I won't let 'em," John reassured him "my name is John Marston, I met your dad, Sam, he's helping to defend Armadillo," Jefferson perked up a little at hearing his dad's name, but John noticed he still wasn't moving towards the edge, not until he caught a glimpse of the gun strapped to John's back, that wasn't just any gun, that was his dad's Winchester.

"O…Okay," Jefferson said, he pulled his rucksack over his head and willed himself closer to the edge.

"I'm going to count to three, on three just fall I'll catch you kid I swear," John quickly glanced through the broken window, no zombies yet, either they were still preoccupied with their friend or they had found something else to focus on, which ever scenario fit better, John knew it was only a matter of time before they'd be sauntering towards the barn. "On three. One… two…three!" John called as loud as he dared as Jefferson did exactly what he was supposed to, he allowed himself to roll off the broken planks. John kept his arms out stretched and cradled Jefferson as he landed in his arms. This kid was younger than Jack, by a good five six years and just in a couple of days he was so thin and dehydrated, John could barely feel his weight in his arms. This worked in their favor however, making it that much more easy to slip out of the barn quietly, as John made his way back towards the road, Jefferson trying desperately to hold onto his neck, but being far too weak to really do so.

When the pair was a decent distance from the barn, John took his chances and whistled. Not only did this catch the attention of his horse as it came barreling towards them, but also a pack of zombies.

"Shit," John growled "hang on kid!" he fired a few rounds at the advancing zombies and nailed a couple right in the head, but what really concerned him was the green glow coming from the barn itself. He recognized that glow, that was those damn exploding ones. A split second after that thought crossed his mind, a glowing green ball was launched in their direction, giving John only moments to react and duck, Jefferson despite how weak he was let out a terrified yelp and clung to John tighter. Not wanting to waste any more time, John began running towards his horse, turning back every now and then to fire off a round. It was tricky, but horse and man reached one another amongst the zombie hordes, John threw Jefferson up onto the horse and climbed up behind him, the kid was so weak John didn't think he could hang on from behind, least if he was in front John had a better chance of protecting him.

As the hordes advanced, John spurred his horse back towards the road that cut through Tumbleweed, as fast as they were, the zombies could not keep up with the horse and were soon left in a cloud of dust.

As they galloped, John contemplated where to go; a ride back to Fort Mercer was the obvious choice, but Jefferson was so close to death's door John didn't think he'd make it. The only settlement close enough to be of any help as much as John hated to admit, was Rathskeller Fork, it was close enough to give both of them a chance to rest and recuperate before making the trip to Fort Mercer. The only problem was, John didn't know what kind of state it was in, given the number of zombies he had encountered so far, he was pretty certain that Rathskeller would be no different, which meant putting the kid at risk. But as they galloped along, Jefferson's head bobbing as he struggled to stay conscious, John knew he had no choice, he had to risk it.

John's horse was fast enough that he didn't have any worry that the zombies would catch them, even the ones that were running on all fours seemed too slow to keep up with a healthy horse. John didn't even bother shooting the undead as they passed them, it wasn't worth the bullet, unless one or two were directly in his way that constituted a bullet to the head.

As they approached the outpost, another rider galloped past them, guns blazing behind him. He looked at John and Jefferson with a look of pure horror on his face,

"Turn back Mister!" He bellowed "ain't worth it, they's lost to the undead!" he galloped down the mule path in the direction of Tumbleweed and John knew it was pointless to call out to the rider, he had made up his mind and would figure it out right quick that he was heading towards death. Though, judging by the screams coming from Rathskeller, it didn't sound much better, but he had no choice, he had a dying kid in his saddle, Jefferson would never make it any further than they had already gone.

John turned the horse through the gates and winced as he realized what the rider had been talking about, the settlement was chock full of the undead and was being defended by four men and one woman on the roof of the building. Left unattended and unused was a Gatling gun, not far from the rope ladder. One of the older men situated on the roof moved towards the overhang, but this proved to be a bad idea as it gave way under his weight, sending him to the ground with a thud, which was quickly replaced with screams of bloody murder as the man was literally ripped apart by the undead. John had to think now, how the hell was he going to get a half conscious kid onto that roof and get himself up there without getting his leg chewed off by a zombie.

He felt around in his rucksack and sighed, he had two more of Wes Dickens formula left and knew he had to use them sparingly until he could find more of the ingredients. But this was a necessity, he aimed and threw the bottle at the furthest zombie from him. Instantly the corpse glowed green and a pack swarmed it,

"Hey I need some help down here!" John called to the man closest to the ladder "this kid is dying!"

"He aint infected is he?" the man replied "we ain taking anyone whose infected,"

"He aint infected!" John growled "neither am I, he needs some water! Now help me or he's gonna die then he will be infected!"

The man hesitated, but slowly leaned down, holding his hand out to John; keeping an eye on the horde not far from them, John boosted Jefferson up and the man grabbed him by the shirt collar, yanking him up over the edge of the building.

A scream caught John's attention, the hordes had finished with their investigation and were on the hunt for fresh meat. John turned his horse around and hopped off the animal, he sent it off towards the desert and out of harm's way, before climbing the ladder. He got off the ground just in time as the hordes reached for his boots, had this process taken a second or two more John wouldn't have made it up the ladder in time.

John was running low on ammo so he really didn't have any to spare, but he knew how to operate the Gatling gun.

"Hey, anyone using this?"

"Shit mister, ain't no one wants to use that thing, knocked Billy clear on his ass, them zombies gobbled him up real quick."

"I can fire it," John grumbled, he positioned himself behind the gun and let loose on the hordes as they began their next assault. Thanks to the Gatling gun, the assault was cut down significantly and when it was all clear, the cheers went up, but unlike the cheers in Armadillo, it was only halfhearted.

John found Jefferson off to the side where the man who had pulled him up had deposited him. He was barely conscious and John knew he was fading fast.

"I need some water." John called out, but no one answered him, thinking the gunfight had deafened the rooftop fighters he called out again, only louder "any of you have any water, this kid needs something to drink!"

"Shoot mister we aint got no water, that's how's they infected us."

"Who is they?"

"Them Mexicans, they poisoned the water mister, they want to turn us all into mindless cannibals."

"Look I don't care who you think did this, do you have any water or not, this kid is dying!"

"We dumped it all," the man shot back "lessen you want to make a break for the water pump over there, ain't no guarantee that aint goin' turn your boy there into a flesh eater."

John growled and scratched his chin, before he could jump down and try his luck at the water pump, he looked back at the kid, did he really want to risk the water. Before he could make that decision a woman knelt down next to Jefferson.

"Here boy, drink this," she held out a flask to Jefferson, but the boy was so out of it he didn't even realize what was in front of him. John however wasn't about to be trusting anyone, Jefferson wasn't his kid, but if this was Jack he wouldn't a perfect stranger give him something to drink out of a random flask.

"Hey, what is that," John rumbled reaching for the flask. The woman didn't seem startled by his gruffness, she simply shrugged and handed the flask to John

"Them boys may be total idiots, but they are right about one thing, it aint safe to be drinking the water 'round here. Not with the dead landing in the wells an' such. But your boy needs to drink something."

John held the flask up to his nose and gave it a sniff, it clearly wasn't water, but it wasn't alcohol either.

"What the hell is this?"

"It's tea, I boiled the water myself and the tea leaves are from England."

"Tea?!" John exclaimed his took a sip, it was tea, didn't taste great, but it wasn't the worse thing he'd ever had.

"Yes tea," the woman replied, she took the flask back from John and held it to Jefferson's chapped lips, he didn't even acknowledge that there was something in front of him, John could still see his chest moving and knew he wasn't gone yet, but he felt a rise of panic wondering if he had made a mistake coming to Rathskeller, had he gambled with Jefferson's life and lost?

The woman was insistent and gently wet Jefferson's lips with the tea, he instinctively licked his lips, but his lips were so dry that he couldn't wet them enough take it all in.

"Come on kid," John whispered

"What's his name?" the woman asked

"Jefferson,"

"Come on Jefferson, you need to drink darling." She tipped the flask closer to his lips and he began to drink slowly "there you go, that-a-boy, easy now, little sips. You're safe now."

"M…mam…" Jefferson managed to croak out "momma…"

"Shh, you rest now." The woman capped the flask and stuck it tenderly back in her corset. "where are you and your boy coming from? You a plain fool to be traveling around with a baby right now. Where is his momma?"

"It ain't my idea lady, trust me. I'm bringing him back to his father."

"You aint his father?"

"No, my name is John Marston, I have a ranch up north, but I've got friends in Armadillo, came down to see if things were better down here and if there was a chance of a cure. My wife and kid are sick."

"Sorry to hear that John, Armadillo you say? Who you know in Armadillo,"

"The marshal and his boys, couple others."

The woman scoffed and shook her head.

"That useless man, let me guess he was hiding out under his desk when the undead started walking around."

"I wouldn't say that." John replied "you know the marshal I take it?" he looked the woman over and sighed, he recognized her now, she was one of the…entertainers at the saloon in Armadillo, Gwen was her name. He remembered saving her life from a scoundrel that was trying to assault her at knife point. She seemed to recognize him too.

"I remember you now, you were that outlaw turned bounty hunter that was helping the marshal out." She paused "how'd you end up with this kid?"

"When I stopped in Armadillo it was overwhelmed, I helped clear it out and one of the guys mentioned his son had left with a wagon train bound for the fort, he just had a bad feeling that something had happened."

"Do you usually take the word of feelings? 'pecially of a stranger."

"Normally no, but it wasn't too far out of my way and it was one father to another."

"So was the fort overrun?"

John shook his head

"No it was safe, but the kid wasn't there, the wagon trains never made it."

"So how'd you find him?"

"He was hiding out in a barn in Tumbleweed."

"He made it to Tumbleweed!?" Gwen exclaimed "how long ago?"

"Few days give or take."

"So now you're bringing him home?"

"Yep, then continuing on my way. Been hearing all sorts of rumors about what started this thing, following whatever lead I can."

Gwen looked Jefferson over, pushing his bangs back motherly,

"Well, outlaw, bounty-hunter, friend of that good for nothing marshal, what you're doing for this boy and his father that's plum the stupidest and sweetest thing I've ever heard." She looked down at Jefferson again "he can't move for a while yet John, a day or two should be enough, but he needs rest. That tea I gave him will help, but he needs to see a real doctor for some real medicine." Gwen paused "where are you planning on meeting his pa?"

"Back in Armadillo I 'spect, he's probably safer at the fort, but I promised his father I'd get him back to him."

"Well, like I said, he's got to rest a bit, there's a room below on the other side, it has a ladder directly to the roof, he'll be safe there and can be moved quickly ifen we need to."

John nodded

"Thank you."

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