by McCabe, R. J
Bill looked at Ken, and Ken at Bill before looking back at the men.
‘You know theres a name for people like you two.’ Bill said.
‘You’re damn right there is,’ replied Davey.
‘Mother fuckers.’ Bill said.
‘I was thinkin' of dangerous. Whats that mean?’ asked Davey.
‘Its kind of self explanatory, but whilst you are tryin' to work it out I'm gonna (pulls his gun) warn you that I don't want any assholes, or mother fuckers in my town, so I'm going to ask you to leave. Do it quietly and there'll be no trouble from us but do it any other way and you will be two be two dead, asshole, mother fucker’s, your choice.’
The two Blackwater men shared a glance and then looked back at Bill. John was about to speak when Davey placed a hand on his chest.
‘Come on big fella, lets take our liquor and get back to camp. I can see the sheriff here is trying to clean up his town, so we gonna give him a hand and leave. I figure if we stick around and make his job harder, then maybe he’s right and that does makes us a pair of assholes.’
Big John looked at Davey, his mouth open a little in shock at how co-operative his friend was being. ‘Okay Davey, whatever you say,’ and with that the two men downed their last drinks and walked out of the bar.
Bill and Ken stood still until the men were outside, at which point Ken turned towards Bill. ‘That went a little better than I thought it would.’
‘That it did Deputy’ replied Bill ‘And thank the lord for that.’
9
The two men rode in silence on the cart, the liquor stacked in the rear. Big John could sense that Davey was in deep thought, he wasn't sure how to approach what had just happened in the bar.
‘He sure is a piece of work that sheriff ain’t he Davey?’
‘That sheriff is a queer piece of shit and if it wasn't for the fact my eyes were a little hazy due to the whiskey we put away, I would have drawn on him and shot that prissy son of a bitch right there in that bar but I don't know him and he might be quick on the draw even if he don't look it. I've seen too many friends put in the dust because they drew on some sober son of a bitch, when they had a gut full of booze. I ain’t goin out like that but mark my words Big John, I'll have my day with the sheriff and he's gonna regret talkin' to me like he did, you mark my words.’
John liked the approach, he admired Davey’s way of thinking. He wasn't sure how tough the man was with his hands or how fast he was with his gun, but he had a clever way about him, John knew a dangerous man when he met one and he sensed something dark in Davey Doolan.
John looked around and realised how dark it was, the moon was hidden behind clouds and he couldn't see more than ten feet in front of the horses. ‘You know where we’re goin' Davey? Cause I can’t see shit.’
‘Sure I do!’ Davey said. ‘I've travelled these roads many times in the dark, you kind of get a feel for them, the bumps, the smells, the…’
‘Did you hear that?’ John interrupted.
‘I heard you interrupt me John thats bout it. As I was sayin' you kind of g…’
‘No shh, listen, I heard somethin'’
Davey halted the cart and the two men sat in silence listening, the first sound that came was the horses breathing. The men strained to listen. ‘What you hear John? You think we bein' followed?’
‘I don’t know what I heard but it wasn't like no sound I'm used to hearin' out here.’
Again the two men listened, but there was no other sound other than the horses.
‘Not sure I like being out here in the middle of nowhere knowin' what Joel did to the chiefs son over at the Apache camp,’ said Big John.
‘I don’t think they are out here John. As stupid as those feather wearin' fucks might be, they know better than to fuck with Blackwater men. Come on lets get back to camp.’
Davey snapped the reigns but the horses didn't move, instead they began to move as if something was bothering them, their heads shook and their hooves stomped on the ground. Davey tried to take control of the reigns but the horses behaviour was becoming increasingly agitated and unpredictable.
‘What the hells got these horses so spooked,’ said Davey still struggling with the reigns.
‘I told you I heard somethin', it was kind of like a…,’ and then from somewhere nearby in the dark came an ear piercing scream, a scream the likes neither man had ever heard before.
John grabbed a rifle whilst Davey let go of the reigns and pulled both guns from his belt.
‘What the fuck was that?’ said Doolan.
‘I don’t know Davey but I don't like it one bit, sounds big, pissed off, and plain fuckin' evil!’
‘Yeah, well, I just hope it ain’t you and me who's gonna be screamin' in a minute.’ Davey’s comment sent a cold shiver down John Duggan’s broad back.
‘Who’s out there?’ Davey called, ‘You better know who you're fuckin' with!’ he added, but no reply came.
Davey then jumped down from the wagon and looked out into the darkness. Big John followed his lead and jumped down from opposite the side of the cart. He two of them stared out into the black of the night and it was then a smell reached John’s nose. It was a very unpleasant smell and seemed to burn the inside of his nostrils as he inhaled.
‘You smell that Davey?’ he shouted but no reply came. ‘Say Davey, you smell that? It don't smell right to me,’ But still no reply came. ‘Davey?’ he called again, ‘Answer me dammit. This ain’t no time to fuck around. Don't be an asshole!’
Big John stood still, his ears straining to hear something, anything from the other side of the cart. He was pissed at Davey for not answering, he was being a dick. He’d had 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 mo
re 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 collected from town. He moved closer, leaning over the edge of the cart to get a better look on board. Then he heard a swooshing sound as if a giant bird had flown just inches above his head. He looked up and it was then a terrible realisation hit him. John knew that someone or something was standing behind him, the feeling immense and then, as if to confirm his fears, a laboured wheezing noise sound began to come from behind him. It was coming from a throat that sounded like it was full of glass and breathing with lungs that were punctured with a hundred bullet holes.
The sweat on Johns brow made him look like he'd had a glass of water thrown into his face. He was afraid, more afraid than he had ever been in his life. He had only one choice. He whirled around and aimed the rifle in-front of him, as soon as anything came into view he would blow it away.
Something did come into view, a large figure, easily as large as him but not quite the same shape. Whatever it was grabbed the gun and ripped it from his hands with a strength and speed he could not begin to comprehend. The gun was tossed into the dark and he stood facing the thing in front of him.
John began to make out more of the figure. It wore no shirt and its dark hair hung long over its face. The heavily boned skull seemed to be painted and there was also paint on its chest. It resembled an Apache only the shoulders were swollen with more muscle than any man should have. It had a tree trunk like neck which supported a head, a head in which one gleaming white eye was visible among the matted black hair and then, before John knew what was happening, it jumped at him, knocking him against the cart, its mouth sunk into his neck and the pain that those once human teeth bought with them was immense. John felt the warmth of his own blood flood the top of his shirt and visions flashed in front of his eyes. He began thinking of the fight earlier that day with the sheriff, how quick and accurate that sheriff had been. He thought of Joel eating his apple, Joel with the devil, apparently, in his eyes. Well, he had met the real devil tonight and it was much more frightening than Joel fucking Blackwater.
He then began thinking about Missy, sweet, sweet Missy. He had been bad to her, he wish he could go back, treat her right, but now it was too late.
John could feel the life seeping out of him, he would never get the chance to make a mends, never get chance to hold her hand, to kiss her cheek or…to punch her face! He would never get chance to rip the eyes from her head! He would never be able to take a knife and cut the organs from her body, or would he? Maybe he would.
Hate began to fill him, consume him. His insides felt white hot with rage. He thought of the sheriff, about tearing him in half, listening to his skin rip and the guts hit the floor. His thoughts were swirling now, one act of brutality bleeding into the next, all logical thought was leaving him, making way for thoughts of mutilation and murder.
John knew his soul was dying, but something else was here now, here to use his body and command him. Blackness came for Big John Duggan and his soul was finally crushed under the weight of this new being.
10
Joel felt pissed. He hadn't had a drink all day and he wanted his whiskey. Where the fuck had those two idiots gotten to with the liquor? All they had to do was ride into town and collect some goddam drink but the pair of fuck-wits had disappeared and the card game had to go down with everyone being pretty much sober. Joel new no-one really bet much when the liquor wasn't in em. He hadn't made any money, he was sober, and he was in a bad mood. He felt like he needed to hurt somebody, to take some fucker out of this life, but who?
The workers here were decent folk hand picked by his father, so that only left his men, the enforcers but there hadn't been any unrest amongst them, and since the incident at the Apache camp, no-one seemed to be able to look him in the eye.
No doubt they all thought him crazy, just like the other men his father had employed had ended up thinking and his father employed some bad men, men who would smash you in the face as soon as they look at you. Tough, fearless men but Joel was different.
People thought him reckless, but in his mind, he did whatever had to be done to set things right, so if others couldn't see the reason in it, then fuck em, were his thoughts.
There wouldn't be anyone to kill on that night so he needed to put it to the back of his mind but if those two idiots didn't hurry up back with the liquor that could easily change.
He walked over to a man who was dozing against a tall wooden beam and kicked the sleeping man in the side of the leg. The men let out a loud snore and then opened his eyes.
‘Wake up Stowford, you ain’t off shift until I say so, I got somethin' for you to do.’
The man shook his head, unsure of what was happening, until he saw Joel standing in front of him at which point he got groggily up to his feet. 'Sorry Joel, not sure what happened there.’
Joel sniggered and spat onto the floor.'I know what happened you lazy bastard, you fell asleep before you was off duty, and you know what that means, don't you Stowford?'
Stowford, a short, meaty man with a handlebar moustache, began to look sheepish, before speaking, ‘Sir it’s just, I ain’t been sleepin' so good and…’
‘Turn around.’ Joel interrupted, his face like stone.
‘Joel listen, I didn't mean to…’
‘Will you just shut the fuck up. Take off your hat.’
‘But I…’
Joel knocked off Stowford's hat. He took one of the guns out from his belt and pointed it at Stowford's head before cocking the trigger. The hatless man jumped at the sound and began to shake and murmur.
'BANG!' shouted Joel into the man’s ear, causing Stowford to jump out of his skin and let out a peculiar high pitched squealing noise. Joel kicked the man in the ass and sent him flying forward before letting out a huge roar of laughter. The man fell flat on his face whilst praying to Jesus, thanking him for not having a bullet in his head. Joel took a deep breath and slapped his knee, ‘I got you there you stupid son of a bitch! I ain’t gonna shoot you for falling asleep now am I? I think you guys got the wrong impression about me.’
The man got to his feet, dusting himself down. ‘Yeah, you sure got me there Joel. Almost shit my pants.’ He tried to join in Joel’s laughter, his though, was forced.
Once Joel had managed to calm the laughter down he put his hand on Stowford’s shoulder. ‘However, if I find you asleep a second time whilst you meant to be workin’ then it will be the longest sleep you ever take and the last. You got me?’
‘Yes, Mr. Blackwater, I got you.’
‘The name is Joel. My father is Mr. Blackwater. I don't want you gettin' us confused. He's the one with all the money, the manners, and the calm demeanour, I'm not.’
/>
‘Okay Mr Bl… I mean Joel.’
‘Right, enough silliness. I sent Big John and Davey Doolan out to pick us up some liquor an age ago. They should have been back by now. Take a light out over that way and see if you can see anythin'. If not then some of you might have to ride out and see where they at. If you find em drunk and sittin' on their asses, I want you to put a bullet in both of em, I can’t stand selfishness. Now go see if you can see em out there.’
‘Right, I’m on it Joel.’
With that Stowford ran in the direction of the nearest lantern and then off towards the direction the men would be approaching from. Joel spat on the floor and watched him go, he let out a small laugh. ‘Stupid asshole!’
Stowford made his way through the camp and out towards the barren land on which the men would be traveling, He was glad to be away from Joel as the man was in a strange mood and had been so since killing that Indian chiefs son. It was as if he was itching to go to war, only there hadn't been no sign of those Apaches. Maybe they had got the message after-all, Joel was a scary bastard, the kind of man that would slit your throat in your sleep if you ever got the better of him.
There wasn't any point in messing around with someone like that, not unless you were willing to go the whole hog and there weren't too many men who would be willing to risk the wrath of Jack Blackwater by killing Joel. Jack knew men all over the country it seemed, in fact he seemed more like all over the world, he had a goddam Japanese Samurai with him these days so they said. If you were gonna try and kill Joel then you had better be ready to find a good fucking hiding place because him or his father would get you in the end. Those Blackwater’s there unforgiving sons of bitches, they never forgot.
Stowford climbed a small dirt bank and held the torch out in front of him looking out into the night. He thought it was a stupid idea as he wouldn't be able to see shit out in the dark, but it kept him out of camp. He strained his eyes against the dark but saw nothing. He decided he would have to venture out further to get a better look. He could still hear the bustle of the camp behind him and it wasn't helping him concentrate so he began taking steps out into the night.