Undead Fleshcrave: The Zombie Trigger (32 page)

He stumbled off on a desperate search for the facilities, hoping to find it quickly and minimise the time away from what seemed like a dream booth, but had instead turned out to be an island now shared by lecherous pirates.

Finding the toilet was easier than he expected it to be; the Kathaarian bar was big and spacious, though crowded, but it wasn’t a maze or a rabbit warren of rooms, so he stumbled over a hallway leading to both men and women’s restrooms almost immediately. Thankfully. Or he would have been saturating the crotch of his jeans in a way that wouldn’t have looked like some irate female dumped a drink in his lap.

It wasn’t as packed out in there, though a host of dubious looking miscreants loitered inside and the odd blue light used inside jarred his head as he came in. A couple of big burly biker sorts in sleeveless denim vests standing near the row of sinks, perhaps discussing something of a drug deal, tossed fleeting glances at him as he barrelled in, skittering on the tiles of the floor.

It was wet with water, spilled drinks from anyone inane enough to bring any into the toilets, as well as careless piss, and in his rush to find a spot to relieve himself Seth almost went ass up on it all. The urinal was playing host to a whole line of folk, as if they’d all come in together like a bunch of giggling teenage girls. Seth groaned until he spied a vacant cubicle and almost beside himself, he dashed into it, flinging up the seat, getting his jeans unzipped just in time, before unleashing a torrent that would have shamed a bull elephant.

As he splashed with a splatter that sounded deafening, he seethed over the intrusion by the Biblebashers. Not only had it cruelled any further time alone with Scarlett, but it thwarted all the questions of importance he’d wanted to ask her regarding how she ended up being involved with the whole Subversion zombie-maker hunting gig and many other things. Now those questions were being supplanted, or at least joined, by other pressing queries which had risen since she’d spoken about herself being part of the imaginary band Plaguewielder. If Seth was the guitarist of that outfit, since he was prominently lacking any guitar to tote on stage, if it came to that, did that actually mean that he would get to lay his fingers upon the beautiful Mother North? And his friends, playing their roles as the other musicians, therefore need to keep up appearances with the Blizzard Beast and the Funeral/Freezing Moons?

How else would they be able to perpetuate the charade without instruments? They would need to be carrying the Subversion instrument weapons, which, Seth supposed, probably were playable as actual musical implements. A buzz of genuine excitement sparked through him and his stream went a little erratic as he contemplated the possibility of holding that lethal beauty of Black’s in his own hands, not ripping tremolo riffs out of it, but instead ripping off zombie heads with it. Better yet, the ultimate prize, cleaving SamEdi’s skull in two.

He recalled the deadly power of Blizzard wielding the Blizzard Beast back in Noumena and could just imagine what destruction Mother North was capable of.

Did he really dare hope that he and his friends—particularly the haphazard, but apparently happy to kill zombies soul that was Dax―would be entrusted with such items?

Thinking along those lines managed to temporarily curb the other less pleasant thoughts plaguing him, but as he came back out of the bathroom and started off down the hall, an uproar of commotion carried down it, something of upheaval clearly in occurrence out there in the bar.

His panicked fearful cogitations immediately rushed back with force and he broke into a run.

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX-DEEDS OF FLESH

The hallway from the men’s room felt like it had grown in length between him entering it and leaving, it seemed to be taking forever for him to charge along it towards whatever unknown source of mayhem fuelled the noise of confusion down there. He
knew
it revolved around Scarlett, he just
knew
that his leaving the table acted as catalyst for those Biblebasher fucks to try something on.

Heart thundering, he was mere metres from being propelled from the mouth of the corridor and into whatever cacophony was in prevalence out there when a figure shot at him from the side, cannoning into him with a pair of arms wrapping around him, bearing him backwards into an alcove off to the side.

“What the…?”

“Shh!” Hissed a quiet voice. “It’s me, Scarlett!”

“What? Scarlett? What happened out there?”

“I’ll tell you in a sec. After we find a way out of here!”

“Christ, what did…I thought those death heads were going to…”

“They did. Well, they tried. Unfortunately for them, I’ve had a bad day for fucksticks trying to fuck me. So as a result, one of them is wearing a jug as a hat and the other has a big mouthful of ashtray.”

“Fucking hell! I knew those Neanderthals were going to try something as soon as I was out of the picture.”

“So did I. I was a little surprised they did it so brazenly, but well, let’s just say I was ready for it to happen.”

“What did they do?” Seth wondered. “So sorry I had to get up and go right then, I was trying hard not to move at all, knowing they were up to something, but I was busting so bad my eyeballs were turning yellow.”

“Never mind, point is, they’re not in much of a state to do anything for a while anyway. What’s down that way?” She gestured down the hallway, towards the separate men, women and handicapped toilets.

“Just the toilets,” Seth told her. “I didn’t see any other doors, but to be honest, I wasn’t paying a fuckload of attention to anything but where I needed to go.”

Right now, most of his attention was captivated by the acknowledgement that Scarlett was still holding him in an embrace of sorts, her body crushed up to his, full firm breasts pressing against his chest. She smelled wonderful, even with a mingled aroma of tobacco and bourbon lurking amongst an intoxicatingly heady perfume. He could have stayed here for quite a while, but acknowledged they didn’t have a while.

Taking a deep breath, he eschewed the usual Seth Tanner err on the safer side of caution technique and took her by the hand.

“Come on,” he urged, and with heart thumping more frenetically than before, for several reasons, he proceeded to lead her right out of the hallway, into the innards of the Kathaarian bar and then surged right through the milling throngs of the crowd, keeping his eyes dead ahead, aiming for his destination only, looking nowhere else.

The temptation to fling hasty eyes over towards that corner where originally they’d had a wonderful little sanctuary in the form of the unoccupied booth almost overwhelmed him, but he steeled his resolve, determined not to break eye contact with that door out. Any second he fully expected firm hands to land upon him, snatching him and apprehending them with furious voices demanding to know what the fuck they’d done.

Obviously Scarlett was of the same school of thought, for she was in such close proximity to him she was still touching him, her hand clasped tight in his, her body against his. That bit he had no problem with whatsoever, it was the other possibilities of what could happen, trying to traverse the crowded bar, noise and confusion swirling around.

Seth was put in mind of a situation way back when he and Mark were kids, barely into their teens. Trying valiantly to impress a bunch of girls, the pair of them accepted a dare from those females to go into a liquor store and steal some bottles of alcohol. Seth didn’t even know what brand, type, or anything he was purloining, he wandered around a busy shop, eyes always on the front counter and everything else, trying to take it all in. He picked his moment wisely, albeit with sweating palms and pounding heart, when a bunch of raucous college guys stocking up for a party commanded all the attention of the store clerk and other staff members. He snatched a couple of random bottles, stuffing them in his jacket and pockets, and then attempted as calmly as possible to make the long walk from the back of the shop to the front, and then out to freedom and certain exalted approval from the congregation of teenage girls. Every single harrowing step of the way he fully expected a heavy hand to drop on his shoulder, a booming voice to resonate in his ear, spelling the end of his very transitory shoplifting career. It didn’t, he made it out of the store with stolen goods intact.

Right now, he felt exactly like that, transported back in time to where he was a nervous kid trying to run a gauntlet to escape the danger zone.

A giant man with a long braid and otherwise close cropped hair, most certainly some form of security, loomed up in front of them and Seth’s heart sprang into his mouth, the perspiration drenched hands of a youth stealing ghastly alcohol that was almost impossible for young palettes to contend with, swamping him now.

The guy completely ignored them as Scarlett abruptly turned towards Seth, clasped his face and brought it towards hers. He felt her lips brush his and then his eyes, darting back to the security personnel, spied him continuing away, heading back towards that far corner.

Reluctant to break up whatever development this was—though he acknowledged it was just a diversionary tactic—Seth nonetheless knew it was prime time to keep the train rolling.

“Let’s go,” he whispered and she smiled at him, a seductive expression, one he dared hope was loaded with thinly veiled promise under the subdued purple glow. Or maybe he’d just indulged in a lot more bourbon than he thought he might have.

Then they were clear of the main body of congestion, bypassing the bar area where Blondie, the brunette and the goateed bartender continued to serve drinks for those still waiting. It didn’t appear as if everyone in the bar were privy to the disturbance in the far corner, or some even concerned by it. Undoubtedly, disturbances sprang up all the time, it didn’t necessarily require each patron of the place to get involved.

Now Seth chanced one brief look around, back over his shoulder. Nobody was bearing down on them, no irate security, no bloodied furious death metal band members, no bystanders pointing accusing fingers at Scarlett. Nothing.

Then he and Scarlett were outside, drifting down the hall, through the door, through the curtains. Back into the corridor that was obviously so soundproofed all music and barroom crowd noise was deadened to the point of nonexistence.

All the same, neither of them was about to rest on their laurels, or sit around congratulating each other on their escape; it wasn’t guaranteed until they were ensconced in the rooms. Seth didn’t exactly know what Scarlett had done, and though in self-defence or otherwise, it would seem she’d messed Ralph and Tre and their lecherous groping hands up just a tad. Enough to warrant them having to flee before questions started to be asked, jeopardising everything Black had explicitly spoken about. Warned them all succinctly not to do anything like that. Of all of them it seemed incongruous that it wasn’t one of Seth’s friends responsible for it happening this time.

Only now did Seth start to worry about the fact that he’d pulled the room door closed, made sure it was locked. He couldn’t quite recall if he’d locked the door of the room containing the copulating couple, or if it had locked once he’d pulled it closed. Though it was true that the door was originally standing ajar, he knew he’d pulled it all the way shut as he hastily exited.

Then he discovered Scarlett had the key to the other room. In a flash, she pulled it out of her purse, letting them both in. Seth realised he’d virtually been holding his breath the entire time they’d bolted along the hallway from the bar to the corridor of rooms. As had been the case before, the area here was deserted, but they didn’t hang around and wait for some questioning soul to emerge and query their rapid pace. Once they were inside Seth let his breath expel out in one prolonged exhalation, relief bathing him as comprehensively as it did when he discovered it was Heather having sex with Tempest, not Scarlett.

He came to the realisation that Scarlett was laughing, wildly, almost maniacally, her long black hair flying as she pirouetted around the lounge room area, her eyes sparkling. Seth stared, captivated.

Here was a woman who belonged to a deadly group of individuals who slayed zombies with ruthless, unrelenting violence and expertise, and were making lethal plans to do likewise with Undead Fleshcrave tomorrow, and yet it was the outwitting and incapacitating of two overgrown burly death metal thugs in a bar fight which had her high on adrenalin, laughing delightedly at the actions and their ensuing escape from the scene.

She grabbed his hands in hers and swung him around the room with her, almost with an energy that threw caution to the wind, just about taking out pieces of furniture in the process.

Seth wasn’t sure if anybody else had returned from their various destinations; he didn’t think so, or surely the raucous, but delightful laughter of Scarlett would have brought them out to investigate.

It was intoxicating and infectious, and he was caught up with it, laughing with her, though he hadn’t exactly witnessed her actions which left Ralph and Tre laid low, with bourbon jugs and ashtrays becoming their enemies. He almost felt sorry for them when he recalled some of the other swift violent things Scarlett had been responsible for in the past. Almost, but not quite. Mostly he was just a little sorry now that he hadn’t been on hand to witness it.

Abruptly they weren’t at arm’s length any more, spinning each other in wide crazy circles, they’d loomed in much closer and Seth found himself staring deep into her wonderful dark eyes. The smile on her face slipped away to a slightly more sombre one, a searching expression. She remained where she was as the careening loops slowed down and then they stopped the motion altogether. He wasn’t sure if he was drunk, or if she was, or anything. He sure didn’t feel like it. Not inebriated on alcohol anyway. Lightheaded on a slew of other colliding sensations maybe.

Then Scarlett released him and the grin reappeared on her countenance as she stepped backwards.

“I think I need to take a shower,” she said and Seth felt his heart plummet. This was it, any electricity that might have sparked was effectively about to be fizzled out intentionally by her, creating separation by her avowal that she needed to be elsewhere. Should have held onto her. Kissed her. Borne the brunt of any slap that was forthcoming. Though from her it was more likely to be an uppercut. Or a headbutt.

She flashed him that vibrant smile again and then began to stride off to the bathroom. He watched her go, heavyhearted, the moment lost. Cursing the infernal Biblebashers for sucking any potential for him having fun over the course of the evening.

“You coming?” Scarlett asked, her voice floating back from the open door of the bathroom.

The electricity he’d mentally been ruing as having vanished, stolen consciously away by her decision to take herself out of his presence came back with a fearsome vengeance. Now he knew he was drunk, badly so, he had to be.

“Who? Me?” He managed to say, gesturing at himself with a thumb as if to clarify who he spoke of.

“No, of course not. The potted plant in the corner there. Who do you think?”

Seth gaped like a fool, looking like he’d been zapped with an idiot gun. Then he slowly started to walk in a daydream.

“Hurry it up,” Scarlett prompted. “You can’t tell me you don’t need a shower too. I definitely need to wash the feral remnants and tainted touch of all those filthy fucking cops off, and those drunk death heads in the bar there only reinforced that desire to do so. A wash up in a dirty service station sink does not constitute the thorough clean I’m after. Can’t imagine you think so either.”

“No, I do not,” Seth got out, certain his voice was going to come out in a squeak, or at least a husky whisper. “Not at all.”

He followed, head spinning. He didn’t know what conclusion to draw, but then again, he really didn’t need to. It seemed pretty explicitly stated what she meant without her actually having to voice it in exact words. In a daze, he found himself leaving behind the lounge area and stepping after Scarlett into a large bathroom populated by a separate bath and shower, all gold taps and handrails, bright white tiles, a mesmerising mosaic in a faint purple hue decorating tiles on the walls. Purple was clearly intended to be the principal colour scheme of Kathaarian, the towels hanging on the rails were large fluffy entities of that particular colour, embossed in black lettering with the name of the establishment.

It wasn’t any overly spectacular fancy ass hotel bathroom, but it was sparkling clean and modern, and made some of the bathrooms of the places they’d stayed in along the way look like downright embarrassments, completely unfit for human use. Neptune Towers sprang to mind, but all of that was irrelevant right now. Especially with Scarlett pulling the bathroom door closed behind them both, locking it from the inside.

Seth’s heart hammered a violent tattoo inside his chest, which only intensified as Scarlett stepped out of her boots and unbuttoned her black blouse, nonchalantly striding over to the shower as she did so. She slipped it down her arms, flung it away from her, clad now only in a lacy midnight bra that accentuating the fabulous curves of breasts Seth had cast many a furtive glance over, envisioning what they must look like freed from their restraints.