Free Undead at Sundown by R.J McCabe Page A

hell of a day and he wasn't in any mood to be messed with.
          ‘God Damn it Davey!’ Big John said through gritted teeth and walked around the cart, rifle in hand just incase anything or anyone was to jump out of the dark, they’d be sorry if they did, he thought.
         John had walked around the rear of the cart as he didn't want to be too close to the horses, they were unsettled and he didn't much fancy being kicked or even worse trampled on. When he reached the other side of the cart he saw Davey standing a few feet away from the front wheel looking off into the distance, his back to John.
          ‘Hey Davey, what is it? What you lookin' at?’ Big John asked.
         Davey didn’t react, he seemed to make a sound though, a low sound, barely audible but John heard it all the same.
          ‘Davey?’ John’s voice was more of a whisper this time though as he’d become aware of how loud his voice sounded in the dark.
         Davey didn’t react, so John began almost creeping his way over to Davey, a feeling of unease gripped big man. He took a few more steps towards Doolan and then in the blink of an eye Davey was facing him. John could see that Davey’s chin and the cheek under his right eye were gone, ripped off it seemed and the eyes, Davey was a dark haired man with dark brown eyes, but these eyes were pure white. Davey’s mouth began to open but it didn't stop opening where it should have, it continued until his jaw was at an obscene angle, chin almost resting on his chest, tongue moving in all directions like a blind snake. Blood trickled out of Davey’s mouth and on onto his shirt. Then he let out a guttural, growling noise.
          John stood frozen with shock, looking at Davey with complete incomprehension, his own mouth hung open, his eyes wide. He stood that way until Davey’s hand reached out with insane speed and grabbed John around his throat, crushing his adam’s apple but pulling him toward Davey at the same time. John did the only thing he could, he pulled the trigger of his rifle. The blast was deafening in the still of the night and three quarters of Davey’s head disappeared.
          ‘Fuck!… Fuck!…’ shouted Big John and he watched the other man stand for a few moments before dropping backwards onto the floor.
         John was breathing deep, sweat covered his brow. He had just blew his friends fucking head off and what the fuck had been wrong with Davey’s face?
         He stood for a few more moments like a statue, that was until he once again heard unrest coming from the horses, then a wet ripping sound coming from the front of the cart, he spun around, the rifle gripped tightly in his hands.
          ‘Who the hell’s there? I'll blow your brains out of your skull if you try and fuck with me.’ He said, trying, but failing, he thought, to sound menacing.
         Of course, no sound came, no sound except a low droning coming from the horses, a sound which he had never heard from any horse. What the fuck was going on? John thought.
         He walked slowly around to the front of the cart squinting in the dark trying to make out something, anything that would give him a clue as to what was happening. He reached the first horse and saw that its head was lowered, the sound it was making was not like the breathing he had heard moments before, it was hard, laboured. Slowly the horse raised its head. The eyes weren't the dark glistening colour they usually were, they were white, almost glowing. The animals face had smears of blood across it but John couldn't see a wound. He tried to look a little closer but the horse thrust its head forward, snapping its teeth together and missing John’s face by millimetres.
          ‘Jesus christ,’ he yelled out.
         He heard a movement from on the cart behind the horse. Big John turned, pointing the gun in that direction but was unable to see anything on the cart other than the liquor they had