Zombie author and editor Pete Bevan runs the excellent online zombie fiction site Tales of the Zombie War.
Over there Pete has posted a short story that I wrote that’s kind of an alternative history of the Battle of the Little Big Horn.
With two catches:
- Its from the point of view of Native Americans
- Its got zombies
Entitled Hokahey, I hope you guys enjoy it. (and yes, its free to read over there)
First few paragraphs here:
HOKAHEY By Christopher Eger
August 9, 2012 Short stories Tags: military
“Some things are best forgotten.”
May 17, 1967
No one remembered the original name of the old mining town. A sign long ago placed by an enterprising entrepreneur that proudly proclaimed Hot Coffee in bold letters had won out by default. How Myers wound up in Hot Coffee, Colorado was a long story. However, if he found the final survivor of Custer’s Last Stand, it would make his book like money in the bank.
He turned off his Ford at the end of the dirt road in front of its only house. The structure looked as if a blind carpenter had built it from scrap wood while working only at night. He picked up his satchel and made for the door. Three raps of his knuckles on thedoorframe resulted in the door opening slightly from the vibration. It swung open to display the one-room house in its entirety.
To say the interior was Spartan was an understatement. An old packing crate served as a table. A potbellied stove sat unused in the corner. Opposite of the stove was a pile of blankets and animal skins that served as a bed. Three logs about a foot square stood around the center of the home for use as chairs. On one sat the man he had come to see.
The man was small and shrunken, with skin that was weathered and tanned as dark as cow hide. Innumerable wrinkles cracked across his face and skin before they merged and cracked again. A long thick ponytail of snow-colored hair adorned his aged skull. He sat wrapped in a buffalo skin coat of the type popular decades before. Around his neck was a leather-braided necklace with an iron key and eagle bone whistles tied to it. The stale smell of tobacco with a hint of decay wafted from the shack.
“Wohei hotootouee-isee?” Spoke the old Indian in Arapaho asking ‘well, why have you come?’ In his hand, he held a long sheathed knife.
Meyers answered him in Arapaho saying that he was looking for the great warrior and wizard known as Black Knife of the Niowat clan. This brought a wheezing cough from the ancient Native American.
“Don’t insult my people’s language by putting it in your mouth. Your tongue is not ready for it,” the Indian said in carefully measured English. “I am Black Knife.”
“I would like very much to talk to you of Custer…”
The Indian shook his head, “I don’t like Custard, too sweet.”
“No sir, Colonel Custer, and the Battle of the Little Big Horn in 1876.”
“I am an Arapaho, what would I know of this? Cheyenne and Sioux killed the blue coats. Arapaho are a peaceful people. The name Arapaho means ‘traders,’ we are not fighters. ”
Meyers sat on one of the logs and opened his satchel while he talked. He brought out mimeographed copies of an interview with a Cheyenne chief named Two Moons from the 1890s. He read from it that an Arapaho hunting party of five braves led by Black Knife smoked the war pipe with the Cheyenne and were at Custer’s Last Stand. As he spoke, the Arapaho’s face changed.
“We referred to what you speak of as the Battle of the Greasy Grass,” said Black Knife. “And you cannot comprehend it. The white man is the maker of history. Only his memory is respected. Mine is better forgotten.”….
(read the rest here http://www.talesofworldwarz.com/stories/2012/08/09/hokahey-by-christopher-eger/ (link here)