Undead Fleshcrave: The Zombie Trigger (7 page)

"Zombie apocalypse?" Mark asked. "How is that possible?"          

"Pretty fucking easy, bud," Tempest responded. "If that room doesn't stay contained, there's going to be big problems."          

"Discuss later," the same girl who first urged them to keep moving chimed in again. "Let's get cracking immediately, if not sooner."          

"I'm not going with these people," Julietta said resolutely, her stubborn streak manifesting, her eyes blazing now, the shock at the flurry of violent acts abating for now.          

"Your choice," Tempest shrugged. "Stay and die, if you want."          

"Or go with you and die, right?" Miranda challenged now, also seeming to come free of the shell of shock. "Given a chance or the slightest reason you'll kill us."          

"If you get bitten, then yes, we'll kill you," Black said. "Otherwise, there are no intentions to kill you. If we wanted you dead, or rather, rising as undead, we would have left you to the humanivores inside. Use your head."          

He turned his obsidian eyes towards Seth.          

"Seth, if you want to take your chances on your own, that's entirely up to you. If you want to stay with us, you better get your girl on the same page quick smart." He included Mark in a broad sweeping stare. "Same goes for you."          

Seth was a fraction surprised that Black actually knew his name and bothered to use it when addressing him.          

Now he was stuck between his obstinate girlfriend’s choice and the offer made by Black.          

In reality they were all outside the venue, they’d escaped the immediate threat seething inside the Bar, and the longer they spent here with no showing from the group of security the more it seemed perhaps they had avoided peril altogether (discounting the absence of three of their friends and the brutal death of Lincoln).           What reason could they have for wanting to remain in the company of this lawless band and their female associates?          

Surely he, Julietta, Mark, Miranda, and Dax were best to bail the hell out of here, go to the police, go home, anything but remain here?          

Yet Seth hesitated, not voicing his thoughts on this matter aloud.          

Though it appeared clear-cut that they were out of danger, something inside him was telling him otherwise.         

If that niggling sensation was a harbinger in the vein of the one he felt before at the concert, prior to absolute hell on earth being unleashed, then he suspected he would be wise to heed it.          

Which he didn't particularly like the sound of at all.          

If he and his current friends had escaped deathly danger, then why did he feel as if it was far from over?          

Julietta’s fiery gaze burned deep into him, daring him to defy her.          

“Let's move," said the black-locked woman with the eyebrow bar, her final words on the matter.           She did exactly that and so too did Tempest and Blizzard, along with two of the other girls. Only Black and the last woman, another midnight-haired beauty with a tight black top festooned with silver gadgetry and a dark skirt coming halfway down her shapely thighs, a pair of black leather calf boots and an intricate silver snake ring on her middle right finger that crawled up the back of her hand hung around, albeit clearly with intentions of making their hesitation brief.          

"Seth?" Julietta said, her tone indicating he should make a choice and make it now.          

All sets of eyes were on him now, pinning him in the spotlight, the attention swirling uncomfortably around him like a palpable thing. He was never extremely at ease being the centre of attention and this unnerving situation was no exception to the rule.          

Shifting awkwardly in his boots, he avoided catching anybody's eye too long-especially Julietta’s—and looked instead at the side exit door, half anticipating the aggregation of grey security members to burst out at any moment.          

They didn't, and the numerous pairs of eyes looking at him, nominating him as the one to make the decision right then and there didn't cease their relentless stares.

CHAPTER SIX-BEER GARDEN BUTCHERY

"I think..." Seth started to speak and then a shouted curse carried up from the dark end of the alley.           From Tempest, who had already departed with Blizzard and three quarters of their female companions in tow.          

"Ah fuck!
Fuck!
" was what came barrelling back on the wind in a tone that commanded imperative action.          

The anticipated reply from Seth wasn't an immediate requirement, for instantaneously Black and the gorgeous gal in the boots left the scene in a cavalcade of rushing footsteps.           

The others all exchanged bemused looks, worried gazes shot through with dread and concern, though Julietta's pointed glare was also weighted with reproach when it hit Seth.          

As one unit they also ran in the direction of the critical yell, against most of their better judgements, following the departing duo ahead of them.          

Again Seth felt the kick of his heart in his chest, blasting painfully like it wanted to be totally free of the cavity and somewhere far away from this maelstrom of inconceivable terror.          

He could hardly fault that logic; he wanted the hell out of here too.         

Running towards the source of the frantic swearing bellow from Tempest rather than away from it didn't quite suggest he was in the process of getting the hell out, however.          

As they thundered down the thin, dim passageway, Seth became aware that he could hear a swelling crescendo of noise that wasn’t audible before.          

Sounds of glass shattering, a symphony of screams, other violent cacophonies blending in an infernal soundtrack all sewn together in a fabric of heinous death metal music, fat pulsing rhythms still undulating under a plethora of ragged guitar riffs.          

So the murderous zombie creators, the Undead Fleshcrave, were still playing, still assaulting their instruments and flooding the atmosphere with the insidious sounds that had morphed all the true DM heads present into undead flesh-chewing fiends.
What was the word Black used? Humanivores
.         

Under the impression that the band performance room was a soundproofed one, at least to such an extent that the volume of the music wouldn't impact so much on the surrounding businesses and residences, Seth wondered now why it was so loudly audible and more to the point, why it was even still going on.          

Something must have given way somewhere, he figured, hence the sound of breaking glass, the clarity of the terror-stricken screams.          

His party of five came out of the relative darkness and seclusion of the alley and saw why the noise had become so much louder.          

Out the back of the Quo Vadis bar was a beer garden composed of multiple tables, chairs and benches where patrons assembled to drink and socialise in the outdoor ambience, or to dine upon meals from the bar’s restaurant.          

With a no smoking indoors policy, this was a popular place for people who wished to indulge, to gather as well, and on most nights of the week it was very well populated out here. On evenings such as Fridays and Saturdays it was almost impossible to locate a seat or space in the place unless one was part of a group who managed to score a table and keep camped out there while certain members took turns at buying rounds of drinks.  Considering this was a Friday evening, the beer garden was predictably a full house.         

The reason for the hellish musical din of Undead Fleshcrave being so loud and audible was because all the glass in the walls and the doors had been smashed, either by the humanivore hordes crashing right through them or battering them to fragmented shards with the bodies of those unturned souls they'd feasted upon.         

It appeared likely that it was a combination of the two; the sheer weight of the multiple zombie freaks surging against the glass and through the doors created chaos, and some of these ghastly mutants waved hideous trophies such as dismembered legs or bloody-ended arms. Low barriers bordered the beer garden to separate it from the open space of a car park, but they weren't the sort that one would need to walk around to gain access to the other side.          

More often than not, security patrolled the area to ensure that patrons ejected from the premises for being too intoxicated didn't attempt to regain entry by jumping the barrier back in, but right now none of these burly meathead watchmen were present.          

Consequently, the entourage of chilling sounds issuing from the level above had already driven many to vault the fence out into the open, where they were able to look up and get some ideas as to what was going on.           And that was when the festering, flesh-devouring freaks from above began pouring over the edge.          

Seth and his gang arrived just as this started to happen.          

Like a tsunami of suicidal lemmings, the undead started coming over the railing of the balcony, some falling, some pushed forward by the tide of zombies behind them, some apparently leaping into a freefall.          Most disturbingly, Seth was horrified to observe, not all of them seemed to be taking the simple brainless route of falling haphazardly to the hard surface of the ground below. Instead, they swung over the railing, still gripping it with pallid dead-flesh hands and then climbed down, or utilised the bodies of other members of their undead army to carry them to the bottom. Seeing that sent horrible chills racing through him, scared the absolute fuck out of him.          

This went against pretty much everything he thought he knew about the entire zombie mythos, which up until very recently he considered something limited to television, books and movies.          

It suggested some kind of thought pattern was still evident, something more of a brain impulse than just the mindless need to feed on living flesh was active.          

Three Friday night revellers who’d vaulted over the barrier to examine the source of the noise were there, craning their necks up to see, when the tidal wave of undeadsters cascaded down.          

They were big guys, strongly built, with well-muscled physiques rippling their neat collared shirts and they came out with the appropriate bravado to suit their impressive size coupled with additional courage instilled by alcohol.          

Perhaps they wouldn't have been so ultra-keen to get involved had they known what horror was about to tumble down upon them.          

And then it did tumble down upon them, a torrent of undead bodies, burying them in a gruesome avalanche.          

Some of those zombies who'd fallen first hit the unforgiving concrete hard and splattered like gory sacks of rotten meat, segments breaking off and scattering across the pavement.          

Some of these fallen fiends didn't move again as more of their fellows dropped on top of them, but still others hauled themselves upright again, even with pieces missing and faces hammered out of shape by the impact.           Blood continued to splash up in a crimson mist as the bodies kept dropping and the trio of possible footballers were nothing but meat for the mutants, terrified shouts muffled under the deluge as claw fingers ripped into them and teeth savaged their skin.          

Screams reverberated from the packed out beer garden as the many other occupants witnessed this savage assault from above, this hideous rain of animated corpse people, and it generated immediate panic.          

The more ingenious zombies, or those that still appeared to possess a little more spark in their brain synapses, swung down from the railings like some ghastly breed of flaking skin bloody-mouthed monkey, clad in gore-drenched death metal shirts.          

They catapulted themselves into the beer garden as the panic raced through the place like a flash flood. Tables and chairs were overturned, drinks tipped over and glasses smashed on the ground, plates of food abandoned in a strewn mess.          

Aside from springing over the short barrier to run to the carpark, the only exit from this unexpectedly threat-laden beer garden was back inside and through the lower level of the bar.          

There simply weren’t enough entry points for all the Friday night folk who'd assembled out here to fit through the couple of doors; they crushed against the glass in a screaming mass.          

"Too late!" Tempest was bellowing. "Fuck, we're too late!"         

Seth and his bunch watched the zombie-gush overrun the upper railing, hammering the concrete or hurling themselves into the beer garden of desperate would-be evacuators.          

"Oh my god!" Julietta whispered in disbelieving fear, her hands unconsciously clapping against her face.         

Miranda went to scream again, but Mark was quick-witted enough to cover her opening mouth with a hand, a vital whisper for her to remain quiet hissing from him.          

"Go! Go!" Black commanded, issuing directives to Tempest, Blizzard and the girls who were standing out in the open expanse of the car park's entrance. "Get to the truck!"          

The fivesome didn't hesitate; they were off in a flash, not electing to stick around to watch as more of the former death metal fans turned flesh-eaters spilled from above.         

For some reason Seth was expecting Black and the beauty in boots to just race off after their friends, but they didn't, at least not immediately.          

Both turned gazes to Seth and his terror-stricken crew.          

"Come on," Black snarled. "Move it or die."          

"What about those people?" Julietta asked.          

"We can't help them all, we sure as hell can't save them all. There's too many undead. I told you time wasting was going to be costly. That's on you."          

With a final dumbfounded look back at the Quo Vadis beer garden, Seth saw the panicked evacuation attempts had reached a crescendo of utter mayhem. Plenty of those nearest to the doors had escaped and were fleeing in blind fear through the bar’s interior to a soundtrack of screams, shrieks and insane shouts, but so many had not. Trapped in the crush, they’d been swarmed on by the ravenous fiends, ripped apart, bitten into, dragged down to the ground in a welter of blood.          

Sanguinary rain splashed in patterns against the exterior of the glass windows, desperate hands slapped against these planes and then slid down under a barrage of flesh-rending violence.          

With these bloodthirsty merciless images scorched in a traumatic imprint into his brain, Seth snatched at Julietta's hand and broke into a run, urging the others to hurry up and do likewise.          

The horrible screams and sounds of slaughter rang in his ears as his feet pounded the pavement, and he wasn't sure if he could still hear the death metal refrains of Undead Fleshcrave; he thought the music may have stopped.          

Perhaps the surge of zombie masses was to have been the penultimate part of the hideous band’s life-changing performance, a warmup of sorts for a summary massacre of unwitting bar patrons within. Seth didn’t know and couldn’t afford to care.          

He allowed himself a fleeting look back over his shoulder, and if his eyes didn't deceive him, not all of the zombies were concentrating on the banquet of trapped meat. Some of them were coming after him and his friends and the sight of them shot renewed horror and panic coursing through his body.          

Not only that, but some of the customers from the beer garden opted not to throw themselves into the crush clamouring to get into the bar. Instead they vaulted the barrier in vain, desperate efforts to be free of the horror engulfing the place.         

Some of them hadn't made it far before hungry undead snagged them with clutching hands and tore at them with savage maws.          

However, some of them did escape.          

Wild-eyed with fear, they fled across the car park on the heels of Seth's bunch.          

"Please, wait for us," a desperate voice pleaded from back there, and Seth braved another backwards glance.         

A trio of bar patrons who'd jumped the fence and avoided catastrophe at the hands of the feral undead stumbled in staggering runs after them, two men in short sleeved button up shirts and a young blonde woman in a floral skirt.          

It was the girl who’d called out to them, her face flushed and desperate.          

As Seth spied them valiantly striving to catch up, the woman attempting to run in high heels had one of those unfortunate shoes twist under her. With a loud cry she lost her footing, her ankle twisting in the unsteady prison of the shoe and she went down, knees striking the solid concrete.          

Behind her a cluster of zombies were advancing, all bloodied lower faces and staring eyes, some still clad in their death metal band concert uniforms of black T-shirts and denim jackets, though these garments were inundated with gore, even stray pieces of human flesh.          

Some of the undead somehow lost some of their clothing in the mayhem of either the slaughter inside the bar, or the lemming freefall over the balcony, and amongst these lurched a female with her top half in only a blood-soaked bra, her grey ashen breasts flopping like hacky sacks.         

Seth noted another alarming facet of some of the zombie movements that shook up all his preconceived notions of zombie lore.