A small excerpt from my short story "The Four of July" due to be released in the Wild Wolf Publications Anthology "Wish You Were Undead" due for release this June.

Before we get to the front door, Jack says "First things first, hold up," He heads to the beer cooler in the back and opens it. Pulling out a twelve-pack of beer, he frowns at it. "Well, warm beer is better than no beer!" He opens up a bottle and downs it in seconds. "Much better!" "What are you doing? Isn't this is a fucking crime scene?" Mike asks.  Jack lets out a huge belch, "Do you think the cops, or anyone else is gonna give a shit about a twelve pack of beer missing. Are they gonna come in and take inventory? No, they're gonna walk straight over to dead Fred or whatever the hell his name is, stick a meat thermometer in his ass and vacuum up what's left of his brains." Mike and I start chuckling and it doesn't take long before we're out right laughing. I start for the door, "Good point." Immediately after opening the door, something grabs me by the arm and pulls me toward it. I look into my attacker's face and nearly piss myself. The thing looks like a man, with pale greenish, bloodshot eyes, half of the left side of its head has been torn away; its left eye bulging from its socket and dripping with thick yellow pus. The bones of its jaw protrude through the torn skin. It moans as it tackles me to the ground, opens its mouth and lunges. As I punch and push the thing away from me I yell "Get this fucking thing off me man!"Mike kicks the creature in the head, knocking it off me. It stands up as I scramble away. Jack stares into its rotting face, his eyes wide with shock. Mike is fixed to the spot, staring in horror. It begins to move toward him. Jack reacts faster than I've ever seen him. He punches the thing in what's left of its face, knocking it back to the ground. Breaking the empty beer bottle against the wall he jumps on its chest, he raises the broken bottle over his head and jabs it straight down into its left eye. Thick yellow-brown fluid shoots out the top of the bottle, splattering his shirt. It twitches, and then lay motionless.