"Leave Luther's body right where we flung it," Bates said. "You aren't burying anyone today."
After Sally Mae Webster phoned me up to tell me that my Korean War buddy Luther Webster had been shot and killed by the Bates brothers I knew that I wasn't going to stop until I had righted that wrong.
I wondered to myself just how many graves I was going to have to dig today.
WHAT PEOPLE ARE SAYING ABOUT STEVE VERNON
"The genre needs new blood and Steve Vernon is quite a transfusion." –Edward Lee, author of FLESH GOTHIC and CITY INFERNAL
"If Harlan Ellison, Richard Matheson and Robert Bloch had a three-way sex romp in a hot tub, and then a team of scientists came in and filtered out the water and mixed the leftover DNA into a test tube, the resulting genetic experiment would most likely grow up into Steve Vernon." - Bookgasm
"Steve Vernon is something of an anomaly in the world of horror literature. He's one of the freshest new voices in the genre although his career has spanned twenty years. Writing with a rare swagger and confidence, Steve Vernon can lead his readers through an entire gamut of emotions from outright fear and repulsion to pity and laughter." - Cemetery Dance
"Armed with a bizarre sense of humor, a huge amount of originality, a flair for taking risks and a strong grasp of characterization - Steve's got the chops for sure." - Dark Discoveries
"Steve Vernon was born to write. He's the real deal and we're lucky to have him." - Richard Chizmar
My Mom thinks I'm pretty cool, too.
This is a short story. Short stories are minnows on the hook. A reader bites into one and likes the taste, they are going to look for something larger to chew into.
Dead Man’s Salute
Sally Mae had married Luther Webster twenty-eight years ago and now she was washing his best clothes for his funeral.
“He shouldn’t ought to have done it,” Sally Mae Webster told me as she fished Luther Webster’s tired blue denim shirt out of the galvanized soaking tub.
She rinsed, stirred and boiled Luther’s clothes in the tub over the fire. She laid the clothes over a wooden bench and beat on them with the flat of her battling stick, pounding the dirt and soap out of the clothes. Washing by hand was that kind of work – tedious, slow and hard – but not everyone in the world could afford their own washing machine.
The whole time Sally Mae told me how her husband and my best friend, Luther Webster, had stood up against the Bates brothers.
“Them Bates boys stole our horse,” she said. “They burned down the stall.”
“Are you sure it was them?” I asked.
“We know they did it,” she answered. “They were stupid enough to leave a red hunting cap with the name JUNIOR BATES scrawled on the lining in black indelible ink.”
“That sounds like proof to me,” I said. “Did you call the sheriff?”
“The sheriff’s last name is Bates,” Sally Mae pointed out.
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Italian
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Already translated.
Translated by Stefano Vazzola
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Author review: Finding a solid powerful translator such as Stefano is sweet enough. Finding a solid powerful translator with a love for short horror and fantasy tales is truly wonderful. He is a pleasure to work with and a true professional. |
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Portuguese
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Already translated.
Translated by Eliane Carvalho
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Spanish
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Already translated.
Translated by Lirineia Berra
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Author review: I salute the translation skills of Lirineia Berra. |
