Excerpt: Magdalena Crane: Rogue Zombie Hunter

"Someone get the hell up here and gimme a hand, eh?!" the driver was hollering.
"Can either you or Phillip shoot a gun?" Mags asked, looking desperately at Eloise.
The other woman shook her head. "Not exactly something I had time for in finishing school and well, Phillip...." Eloise nodded in the direction of her husband who, despite all things, was still passed out asleep in the corner of the coach.
"Right then." Mags, with great care, pulled up the isenglass window and climbed out and on top of the coach.
"You?" the driver asked, looking back at her.
"Trust me," she assured him, "I'm the one you really want up here."
He shrugged. "There's a brown bess in the box behind there. Can you shoot something that big?"
Mags pulled out the long rifle and looked it over. Not that different from the guns she was taught how to use by Nishit. Thanks to God that he, unlike the rest of his tribe, had been willing to teach her how to use firearms.
"Yeah," she said. "I think I can manage."
"How many you count? Also, think you can manage before the spooked horses run us into the woods over there?"
Mags took a minute to take in her surroundings. There was a large forest straight in front of them. If the horses had their head, they'd go straight into it, destroying the coach and everyone likely in or on it. On their left were three of the Scourge, teeth bared and only one thing on their partially-disintigrated minds: the passengers' brains. To the right were another three. Few of them, however, looked truly and properly dying, which gave Mags pause to wonder whether they were truly rogue at all.
"Do you think you can guide the horses toward the gap over there where the trees are a little further apart? You know, just in case?"
The driver grunted and pulled in on the reins, trying to ease more than force them over in the proper direction.
Mags took the brown bess into her hands and looked down the muzzle and along the guide. A gun like that didn't have too many shots and the zombies were closing in with an amazing speed.
CRACK! She released the first shell into a nearby monster, its head exploding almost immediately on impact. Brains and gore sprayed the ground around him as his effectively-decapitated body fell heavily to the sodden earth.
Mags trained the gun on the next closes of the scourge. "I think I'm only going to manage two shots before they get here, so you know," she said to the driver just before another shot exploded from the mouth of the rifle. It ripped the zombie's left leg clean from its body and, for a moment, Magdalena watched as it tried to pull itself helplessly along the ground with only the use of its arms.
They had finally made it to the coach and one of the four remaining enemies flung himself from the ground and onto the side of the stage. It clung to the ladder that was built into the wood and allowed both the passengers and driver to more easily access the baggage carried on the roof.
With more dexterity that Mags had expected, the zombie found its way onto the roof and lumbered along it, somewhat unevenly due to the shaking of the stage, toward her.
Having not expected to be attacked while on the carriage, Mags had foolishly packed her two tomahawks into the piece of luggage that was more than three feet away and mere inches from her zombie assailant. Searching about her person, she located the hunting knife that was tucked into her left boot and two shorter knives hidden in holsters she'd sewn like pockets into the sides of her dress.
"Try to drive straight!" she yelled unhelpfully at the conductor who merely grunted back angrily.
With the greatest of care, Mags stood up on the stage and attempted to find her footing. Balance somewhat acquired, she walked unevenly from her place beside the driver toward the zombie in the middle of the stagecoach roof, knives bared.
The zombie launched itself through the air toward her, hands reached for her face.
With a deadly, downward stroke, Mags sliced away four of its fingers on its right hand. Blood spurted out, hot and liquid as she had not expected it to and she screamed in sudden surprise.
"They're not Rogue!" she yelled at the driver who continued to focus his entire being on sending the horses toward the treeless patch ahead.
Mags kicked out hard with her left foot against the zombie's knee and sent it sprawling across the roof, nearly sliding off the back of the coach.
Two more had managed to finally catch up to them. One had just peeked its head up from behind and the other was on the far side of the coach, staring at Mags as if trying to size her up.
Magdalena took a careful step in the direction of the one on the side of the coach and attempted to stomp down on top of its skull.
In theory, such a move would have sent it sprawled back onto the ground, perhaps even tumbled beneath the wheels of the coach, if she was very lucky.
Her luck seemed to be running out, however, for the scourge reached out and grabbed her ankle as her foot got near to its head. The zombie, a rather large male in a smithing apron, twisted hard against her balance and sent her falling hard onto her face. One of the pieces came up quick beneath her and she was sure that, if she was alive to see it, would leave a nasty bruise just beneath her collarbone.
The zombie pulled hard and Mags was almost dragged from the stagecoach. At the last moment, she was able to cling onto the rail on the roof that was used to tie the luggage down and she hung, haphazardly, several feet from the ground with a blood-thirsty zombie attempting to bring about her last minutes on earth.
Magdalena still had one of the sharp little knives in her left hand, although the other had fallen to the ground when she caught herself from falling. Thinking quickly, the brought the knife down and slammed it hard into the zombie's ribs.
Hours and hours of learning aim and patience with Devraj had payed off. The knife slid beautifully through the skin and muscle between his third and fourth ribs. With a sharp pull, she was able to slide cleanly between, separating the ribs from each other and leaving a very large gash in the zombie's side.
The zombie tried to reach for her again, but Mags planted her boot against his chest in a hard kick that sent it tumbling to the ground and left behind in their not inconsiderable dust.
As she was catching her breath, Mags heard the driver start screaming again. With great pain, she was able to pull herself high enough to see that the other two zombies, apparently grown bored with her, had opted to go for the stage driver instead.
Pain shot through Mags' shoulder as fully pulled herself on top of the stage. She pulled the hunting knife that Harshal had given her out of her boot and approached the zombies. Mags chose her steps carefully along the top of the coach, the entire stage still rocking dangerously from one side to another.
"Everyone going alright out there?" Eloise's voice called from inside.
"I'll tell you in a minute," Mags yelled back, which had the double effect of getting the zombies' attention away from the driver.
The first, a rather small and stocky woman, lunged at her, screaming loudly and clawing at the empty air. Mags stepped to one side, nearly toppling over backwards as the stage lurched, and brought the hunting knife down hard across the zombie's outstretched arms, severing one of the hands completely while the other hung on by little more than a half-inch of skin and muscle, both bones slices in twain.
The female screamed again, this time in pain as blood spattered forth from her arms, showering everything in red, Mags' newly altered dress included.
"I really ought to learn to wear darker colors!" she yelled angrily as she momentarily inspected the spattered lavender traveling down.
In her anger, Magdalena stepped forward with decision and slammed her shoulder against the handless zombie woman, sending her flying hard from the stage to the ground below.
The coach was approaching the trees by then and the other zombie eyes Mags warily. He was her final prey and tougher than the others had been. His left hand still had but one finger on it.
The zombie took a step away from the driver and toward Mags, his eyes trained on the ground in front of him instead of on his quarry.
Magdalena smiled as the coach entered the forest, safe for the moment, and dropped flat against the roof of the stage. Her entire body would likely be covered in bruises first thing the next morning, but for now she was able to enjoy the sight of a large branch hurrying their way. It slammed hard against the zombie's back, which finally threw the sure-footed foe off balance. He fell with a heavy thud to the ground below and Mags was thankful that she was already in a safe position as the rear wheel ran over his head, squishing the thing like a pumpkin into a deeply-stained mess on the forest floor.