Undead Fleshcrave: The Zombie Trigger (34 page)

Her mouth clamped over his as she clung fervently to him, tightening every hold she had on him from those lips to her arms, her legs around his waist and the hot snug tunnel that held him in thrall below.

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN-INTO THE INFINITY OF THOUGHTS

When he woke, Seth didn’t have the faintest idea where he was. Nor did he have any clue what time or what day it was, anything. He woke up on his back, which wasn’t his normal choice of position to sleep in, generally he would be on one side or the other, ending up on his back if he was supremely tired or found trouble drifting off or getting comfortable in his chosen position.

He couldn’t recall tossing and turning, so it must have been the former. He glanced to the left and saw he was not alone in bed; a shape was cuddled under dark purple and black coverings and a long tangle of black hair was spread out over matching pillows.

Julietta?

His first thought was that he appeared to be in a profoundly tiny room with purple walls, so small, in fact, that it seemed to enclose the bed entirely and left no further space, and then it all came rushing back with a cavalcade of thrilling memories.

It wasn’t Julietta beside him in the bed, Julietta was long dead. This was Scarlett and he was here in one of the queen beds in the strange Kathaarian accommodation.

And the reason for him falling fast asleep on his back stemmed not from broken, troublesome slumber, but from exhaustion brought about by the night’s activities.

There was really no other way to put it, he realised, without stating that he and Scarlett basically fucked for the majority of the night, eventually crashing out with him on his back and her on his chest. Sometime during the night she must have rolled off and over, snugging herself up in the warm cocoon of covers.

She was obviously still asleep now, so he laid back, gazing up at what looked like a purple ceiling, though he knew it was the top of the canopy. His nether regions were pleasurably numb, to the extent that he felt like if Scarlett abruptly awoke and wanted more, he mightn’t be able to provide immediately.

After their first fast and furious encounter they relaxed a while, lay there and talked about all manner of things, nothing too heavy or involved, just randomness and simplicity, neither one of them wanting to drop the magic of the moment down into what they were planning to do tomorrow. Eventually the talking slipped around to more erotic topics and then all speech was replaced by more kissing, exploring, and touching, and Seth found himself rising to the occasion once more.

She mounted him, swinging astride, and impaled herself on his stiff organ, riding him at a much slower, leisurely pace than the previous affair and, though it was probably a little too soon after that romp for his reservoir to have restocked, consequently meaning he didn’t cum, he certainly sustained an erection long enough for her to do so, grinding up and down while he gripped her perfect buttocks or toyed with her abundant bouncing breasts.

Nobody had returned from whatever nocturnal pursuits they’d elected to embark on outside the walls of Kathaarian, nor did Tempest and Heather, clearly busy with their own sexual antics in the room next door or sharing that bath Heather spoke of, to approach their door. So the pair of them remained blissfully naked and roamed the room as though they were the only two guests here, helping themselves to drinks, and sharing food back in their selected bedroom.

After a longer duration in which they just enjoyed each other’s company and talked together, did other little things that made Seth feel as though he was on a holiday with a stunningly beautiful woman, almost as if he’d been transported to some bizarre, but brilliant dream landscape, things got intimate once again and their bodies entwined once more.

This marathon sex session in itself felt like a fantastic dream sequence with far more in-depth explorations of every inch of each other’s bodies, extensive periods of mutual oral sex, massaging, kissing, and a wide variety of positions, as they entangled in one another under the subdued lights. The canopy surrounding the four poster further enhanced the feeling of them being completely separated from the rest of the world, ensconced in their own purple tinged sexual universe, worshipping one another.

Eventually it culminated after what felt like a glorious eternity filled up with sucking, licking, busy hands and busier mouths, endless acrobatics, with Scarlett kneeling and facing the headboard, her hands atop it. She thrust out her ass and Seth, kneeling behind her, entered from the rear, near enough to orgasm from the prolonged fucking already experienced, that it didn’t take too long before thrusting into her from behind, her gorgeous ass slapping against him, that they both reached climax.

Now he recounted this with great relish, playing it over in his head as he gradually became fully aware of where he was and what transpired the previous evening. That was, assuming it was morning. It was fairly safe to believe it was, they’d spent countless hours together, beginning with the time in the Kathaarian bar and climaxing, quite literally, while he saw to her doggystyle on this very bed, surpassing any vivid dreams he could have conjured up in all his fantasies of her.

Plenty of things remained unasked though, and unanswered. Once over the course of the night he’d aimed to direct the conversation into the less enjoyable side of things, where sinister record companies utilised death metal bands as zombie-horde creators and how it would come about that people like Simon Black and his cohorts—including Scarlett―would become Hunters of all the above, or even how they’d learn about it at all.

However, Scarlett was quick to curtail talk of those subjects, any questions that ventured anywhere near.

“Let’s just forget everything else tonight. Tonight there is nothing, but us. Just us.”

As he remembered all of this, the fantastic beyond belief sensation of making love to the goddess over and over again, all the other things, warm embraces, gentle kissing and cuddling, stuff that felt as if it was no longer part of an unearthly world filled with pain, death and undead, he wondered if that poignant statement meant today was a totally different day. One in which all that happened between them the night before was the past, to be left behind, never to be approached again. A one-off thing, never to be repeated.

That thought punched the breath out of him, soaked him in a desolation that hurt. He hoped to hell that wasn’t the case, because he was hooked hopelessly on her now and suspected those hooks were working their way into him right from the very start. Even while Julietta had been alive. He felt bad about that part, it was impossible not to, but was it perhaps some strange grand master plan of fates to bring Scarlett into his orbit because Julietta wasn’t going to be in it much longer?

Dredging up thoughts of that nature right now was too deep, too much of a strain on his grey matter. It hurt his head, which surprisingly wasn’t aching from any hangover.

It felt like he’d imbibed a shitload of alcohol last night, but with no ill effects. Only an ache of pleasure in his groin and a few spots elsewhere, where the heights of passion caused Scarlett to use her teeth and nails on his skin.

He gazed up at the purple drift of the canopy, reliving the glory of the night, all of the pressing concerns of the impending mission easily swept away once she’d suggested they dwell on nothing, but enjoying one another’s company and bodies.

Now the realities were starting to creep in, he was finding himself plagued with questions and the unknown quality of what lay before them. Not just whether Scarlett wanted the night to remain an isolated incident, but everything beyond that.

Then he noticed that she was awake, having rolled over on her back, the dark waves of her tousled hair framing her countenance. A sleepy expression was on her face, her eyes barely open, but it wasn’t one suggesting she was about to ask him to forget that everything which happened the previous night should be left where it was and never mentioned again. Instead, a bright smile stole across her face, curving her wonderful lips up into a genuine warm indication that she wasn’t going to take that approach.

“Morning,” she murmured, and his heart swelled a little, ceasing its aberrant thumps and painful agonising that he was about to find himself a one night stand regret.

A hand snaked out from beneath the covers and slipped through his unruly locks, clasping the back of his head and drawing his face down to hers to capture him in a passionate kiss.

That was further reinforcement that it wasn’t meant to be a one-time thing, something to be forgotten and left, and it shot a bunch of different pangs through him.

If only they really were the sole occupants of this room. If only they had the whole day to spend together, a week, more, just to learn about each other, do things together, explore the chances of blossoming and developing a relationship. So many things.

If only there wasn’t a far greater, pressing concern, with an outcome that might mean, not only did they have no future together, but maybe no future in breathing at all.

If only…

Last night, while the suite was entirely at their disposal, free to wander at will in states of nudity and occasional arousal, they’d both had the foresight to relocate their own personal effects, clothing and other items belonging to each of them to the bedroom they’d selected as their own. So, with the knowledge that the others would inevitably return at some stage or the other, they wouldn’t need to be attempting furtive sneak outs to obtain clothes without worrying about being caught naked. At the time, revelling in the sensation of being gloriously naked with Scarlett equally unabashed, Seth hadn’t really been caring if anyone walked in, this adventurous streak no doubt enhanced by the effect of alcohol as well, but now, in the morning, he was glad they’d thought ahead.

Not that he was in any rush at all to roll out of this heavenly bed with his wondrously beautiful and naked bedmate and consider dressing. Not any time soon, that was for sure. If he had his way, he would happily wile away many more hours here with her, just talking, sleeping, enjoying her presence, everything about her. With maybe more of the fleshly delights they’d engaged in for the majority of the night coming into play at some later stage. But he knew that wasn’t going to happen. No chance.

Soon enough, they both found that everyone else had returned to Kathaarian, without consequence following their own evenings out.

In the back of his mind there was a tiny part of Seth somehow wondering—thinking, maybe hoping―what if none of them came back to Kathaarian? What if he saw none of them again and it was just Scarlett and he left alone to their own devices for the rest of time? Then he quashed that foolish notion; that wouldn’t put an end to the curse of Undead Fleshcrave. That would just give them free reign to unleash terrible mayhem upon Blackwater Park, bring forth the undead plague, and continue to perpetuate it without opposition. No matter what the determined proprietor of this place avowed.

Ultimately, he and Scarlett would be swallowed up in a zombie hell, and without all their current companions he didn’t imagine they would be able to outrun it, or take any measures to stop it.

Then, there wasn’t a whole deal more time to contemplate what ifs and scenarios that might or might not become realities.

As per Black’s command that they all take a night off, get out and have fun, or stay in and have fun, they’d all done exactly that. Seth knew Tempest and Heather shared similar pursuits to Scarlett and him, but he wasn’t too concerned with how the others elected to spend their downtime. All he cared about was getting through to the end of this because he now had a purpose beyond it. And that was Scarlett. First, however, he had to face this daunting prospect, looming large and dark like a hideous storm cloud promising a torrential storm of juggernaut capacity, blotting out the sun.

Fun time was over and potential terror and carnage was imminent if shit went bad.

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT-BLACKWATER PARK

When the sultry female manager of the Kathaarian business referred to a death metal extravaganza in occurrence in Blackwater Park, she wasn’t elaborating or fabricating the size of it in the slightest.

Seth was expecting something along the lines of the show played by Undead Fleshcrave in Armada, a full house in a large venue like the upstairs of the Quo Vadis Bar, maybe a slightly larger place, but at very least something remarkably similar.

He was wrong. Even though both Scarlett and Black managed to locate where this alleged death metal extravaganza was due to take place, Seth hadn’t really taken into account that when the sleazy Tre of Biblebashers infamy stated the concert would literally be taking place
in
Blackwater Park, he meant actually in Blackwater Park itself, the place which the entire town took its name from.

Right in the very centre of town, you can’t miss it,
Tre stated blithely when Scarlett subtly worked conversation around to that without tipping any information the way of the lunkheaded death metal freaks.

Seth noticed that Scarlett hadn’t pressed for any exact venue name, and neither had he, merely filing away the exchange in the back of his mind for later reference, certain there must be an applicable location, a bar, a stadium, something sizeable enough to act as a venue to suit a loud death metal concert which was in the dead middle of the city, something they would automatically know. Besides, hosts of potential concert goers should be relatively easy to spot, pretty conspicuous. Or would have been, had the town not been loaded with people who may or may not be possible metal aficionados.

As it turned out, the death metal extravaganza was in fact something of a festival. It wasn’t an indoor thing, there were no bars, concert halls, or potential venues present. As Tre affirmed, the show would be taking place right in Blackwater Park.

Whether Black was aware of this previously, Seth didn’t know, but he and those he’d gone out with the night before also learned of the location.

Seth sure as fuck wasn’t expecting this. Giant tents, makeshift stages, all kinds of things set up in the Blackwater Park in preparation for a death metal festival, the ideal location for such an event, bound to draw the hordes in like flies. Whether they were diehard fans or casual observers, mildly interested onlookers or rainy day metal followers, Blackwater Park itself was a masterstroke on behalf of Global Death.

As proclaimed, Blackwater Park was in the middle of the city, the metropolis sprawling out into residential and industrial areas of commerce all around it. Surrounded by towering wrought iron fences, with massive spike tipped gates, stone pylons adorned with ornate patternings, the Park was a large, open plan entity hosting all manner of gardens, play areas, seating, walkways, and paths along with woodsy areas thoroughly choked with trees. Various constructions, stone statues, fountains, and man-made water features existed in the place too.

Right now, the serenity or relaxed atmosphere the park might conjure up during the daytime was instead supplanted by a boisterous bluster of heavy metal music, a raucous beer soaked party vibe, where the folk who usually emerged at night to crawl the streets were instead appearing in sunlit hours, keen to be part of this death metal extravaganza, which by all accounts was intended to stretch from late afternoon long into the night.

With Black not chancing bringing the Tundra to the region on the off chance it would be spotted and recognised by any of the Sentinels who’d witnessed it racing to try and cut off the truck down on the blood-soaked beach at Noumena, the whole lot of them left the vehicle in the Kathaarian car park and walked to the Blackwater Park.

“What. The. Fuck?” Was Dax’s reaction as they arrived, observing from a distance that while music pumping forth from the giant location was not live yet, it was powered out of enormous stereo systems and speakers assembled, and the area swarming with people. Many were clearly death metal fans, as evidenced by familiar band T-shirts, the same uniforms chosen by all those witnessed at many a concert, but still others were just the type of people all of them witnessed parading around the city streets previous nights. Folks in droves were already flocking here to check out this event, and it was evident that this was no simple one off concert in a closed in venue aimed at morphing all the death heads inside into undead fleshcravers.

This was a calculated masterplan, the culmination of Global Death’s first strike on unleashing the zombie apocalypse, and though all the targets assembling here weren’t going to be immediately susceptible to the insidious Zombie Trigger, all those that weren’t were going to provide free-range meat for the roaming fiends once the Trigger was switched on.

“Jesus Motherfucking Christ,” Mark said in a hushed utterance. “How the hell are we going to work this?”

Blackwater Park may have been a rough city, a metropolis where unsavoury characters and hardened souls might feel they didn’t need to worry much about recriminations for various actions, or where they could happily hide out without thought of anyone tracking them there, but there was no shortage of security on hand for this extravaganza.

The region was choked with security, big beefed up brutes packed full of muscles and menacing auras, stern faces on giant shoulders and very short necks, most of them clad in plain black T-shirts emblazoned with white lettering plainly stating which part of the festival they belonged to.

Seth didn’t see any of the Sentinels around, nor did he see any sign of Undead Fleshcrave, nor the buses or vehicles he expected they might be arriving in. That didn’t meant they weren’t there; Blackwater Park was a big ass place and they could be anywhere. However, he was willing to bet Undead Fleshcrave was one of the headlining acts―if not,
the
headliner―so that would mean their set would be played much later on, most likely late in the evening.

Gazing with some trepidation at the horde of security thronging around a series of turnstiles which obviously weren’t always present at the Park, but obviously temporarily installed for the purpose of today’s shenanigans, Seth was struck with a paralysing thought. An unwelcome one. Something that obviously hadn’t occurred to any of his companions.

“What are the chances…” he slowly enunciated his dreadful thoughts, and eyes went to him. “…of this being a massive set up? A trap.”

“What do you mean?” Tempest asked him, dark eyes narrowing. “Of course it’s a trap. Our trap. Only motherfucking Undead Fleshcrave aren’t going to know about it until it’s too late. That’s the point.”

“No,” Seth shook his head vehemently. “No. Not what we’re planning to do. This whole thing. A death metal festival right here, at this particular time. When all up and down the coast all metal fans are being targeted as being the ones responsible for the undead outbreaks in all those towns?”

Some of the others in the group belatedly cottoned on to what Seth was implying, and a collection of worried expressions darted across visages, predominantly Mark, Miranda, and Heather.

Tempest’s eyes narrowed even further and he exchanged a glance with Black, who raised an eyebrow up in a curious triangle.

“You know, that did not once cross my mind. I don’t think it’s the case at all, more a case of Blackwater Park not walking the same straight line as all these other places. I’d be betting this festival has been a while in the making, in order to coincide with the tour Undead have been spruiking. Seems highly unlikely there would have been enough time to throw it all together just in order to have a giant barrel of death metal fish to shoot, all ready to roll. The time frames don’t gel. It’s a good thing you’re always thinking, Seth, but some of the shit you conjure up, is overthinking. It’s not possible that this is solely created as a means of catching a shitload of ‘perceived zombie threats’ all in one place and trying to eradicate them all at once.”

“Point taken,” Seth realised that was probably true. Quite some organization had gone into the assembly, creation and set up of this thing here, so for it to be a trap as he proposed, those responsible for pulling it together would have to be mind readers or possessed prior knowledge death metal music was about to unleash an undead apocalypse. However…

“Still, if some of those radicals, cowboys, and self-appointed witch hunters get wind of a big death metal shindig happening here in Blackwater Park…”

That disturbing statement went down like a lead balloon, engendering more panic and alarm in some. The last thing they wanted was to be ensnared inside a throbbing mass of humanity, a packed out park of rabid death metal fans where immediate escape from the vicinity was liable to be impossible, if a host of whackjobs, nutters, gun-toting idiots, even police and authorities of the same mindset, turned up, surrounding the Park.

“Calm the fuck down!” Tempest advised. “Don’t you people hold too much stock in what that Jazmyn girl said at Kathaarian? This town ain’t like any of the rest we’ve been in. We’ve seen plenty of police presence around here, but ain’t none of them, or nobody else, looking to take potshots at potential metalheads because they’re afraid any second one of them is about to go full zombie and start munching faces off. So, first things first, forget all that bullshit and let’s get our asses inside the Park. Find Undead Fleshcrave. Kill Undead Fleshcrave. That’s the whole mission. That’s all we have to do.”

Before a riot of responses could come flying from those with further wild theories about an assortment of things, stemming from Seth’s original proposition, Black held up a hand for silence.

“Okay. The band goes in first. The rest of us will come in at a later stage. That’s you, Seth, Mark, Dax, Scarlett, and Miranda, do you want to be part of the band?”

“I can’t play an instrument. Or sing! Or anything like that!” Miranda wailed. “How can I be in the band? What am I going to be, some kind of metal cheerleader?”

“For fucks sake,” Tempest shook his head. “You don’t actually have to play any goddamn instruments. We aren’t here to play anything. We’ve been over this, just this morning. The way to get closest to Undead is for some to pose as a band on this bill. Since those motherfuckers and the Sentinels have seen us in Noumena, the gig will be up immediately if it’s us claiming to be a band on the same show. Which is why it’s now Seth, Mark and Dax. The reasoning for you being part of it too is so you don’t have to split up with your loverboy. Caught the plotline yet?”

Miranda bestowed a scowl upon him, but accompanied it with a nod.

“Yes. I get it. So we go in as the band? And then what? Wait for you guys to come in.”

“Pretty much. Wander round, enjoy the festival. Act like a band who is going to be sharing the stage with the other bands. Mingle. If possible, locate Undead Fleshcrave. Don’t do anything, just keep an eye on them, find out their set time, et cetera, et cetera, shit like that. It’s not rocket science. We’ll be in there before long to take over at that point. Don’t worry about playing any damn music on stage because that isn’t what you’re here to do.”

“Well, what if they put us on stage before you get in or something?”

“You aren’t even on the damn bill, technically. How is that going to happen?”

“Aren’t we bluffing our way in as a band? What if they actually want us to play? Then our cover’s pretty fucking blown isn’t it?” Mark said.

“Look, if they don’t buy the band shit, that doesn’t really matter now. We were all expecting this thing to be in a fucking actual venue, not some mammoth outdoors festival, so the whole notion of arriving as a late addition to the bill is a little blown out of the water anyway.” Black said. “You five go first, if you manage to get inside then good, if not, we’ll figure something else out. The bottom line is that Undead Fleshcrave will be playing here. What we need to do now is find out exactly where and when that is going to happen. If they manage to switch the Trigger on here, it is going to be a fucking calamity, mark my fucking words.”

Inevitably, it was a fucking calamity. Though it was through none of the perceived threats or possibilities dreamed up by any of them that things unravelled.

***

Attaining access to the festival was so simple it was almost ridiculous for the quintet designated as the mock band. Initially, there was opposition as security thronged around and the stern faced no-nonsense woman manning the turnstile they opted to go through pointed out the name they’d provided as a performing act was not listed anywhere, on either the multitude of flyers and posters visible all over the place, nor on her clipboard.

They decided to run with the name Scarlett created the night prior, Seth already loved the name as a band moniker regardless of who was responsible for it, and the others didn’t have anything to pull off the top of their heads, so Plaguewielder it was. That brought about the one and only stumbling block for them obtaining entry. Only temporarily though.

Seth found himself as spokesperson, not through any choice of his, but merely because neither Mark nor Miranda wanted to, and letting Dax take charge would have surely fucked things for them all from the get-go. Scarlett joined him in being the voices of the mythical outfit Plaguewielder, and their comeback to the stern scowling bitch was that they were a new addition to the bill, an out of town act tacked on at the last minute.

Just when shit was starting to look dire and it seemed as though they were about to be tripped up before getting a foot in the door, another staffer drifted over their direction.