A former gunslinger is hired to escort a woman and her older, dying husband across post-Civil War America after the latter pleads he be buried in his Pennsylvania birthplace to avert a terrifying ghoulish force.
This story originated when I pondered the vampire, zombie and werewolf mythologies, and what they might have been "before" Stoker, Romero and Chaney Jr. defined those genres in the public eye. How would frontiers-people deal with creatures such as these, were they to encounter them without any yardstick to measure the experience by?
Because this seemed a fascinating scenario, I decided to write about it, including a nice love story along the way. It's a post-Civil War western in a still-bleeding nation, with the North and South conflict simmering, and a tense build-up to an in-your-face encounter with the unknown.
I'd reckon the breakdown to be about 75% genuine old-style western, 15% building dread, and 5% all-out monsters of my own invention (not exactly vampires, zombies or werewolves).