Undead Fleshcrave: The Zombie Trigger

by Goforth, Jim

  What felt like a waterfall of relief cascaded over Seth, almost as it was a literal flood of liquid drenching him. Tempest and Heather?

  Though he’d been engulfed in a world of shock bordering on the catatonic back beside the roadside on the outskirts of Noumena on that most profoundly terrible night of his entire existence, Seth still recalled everything that occurred then. Even lost inside his mind with a whirlwind of horror and tragedy hammering on his brain, he’d watched events unfold, despite the fact that he felt as if he were watching from very far away, almost to the point where it seemed like he was watching a movie and none of it was real.

  He couldn’t forget Tempest’s criteria for ensuring none of those rescued from the undead ambush, the enforced exhibition of skin to show biteless bodies. Heather was one of those, made to prove she wasn’t bitten.

  Yet here she was, partially dressed, but much more unclad than she’d been on that night, in the throes of passion, being energetically fucked from behind by Tempest, the very guy responsible for her displaying so much of her body back then. And there was no force happening here, only the force involved in the pairs’ fornications, this was a completely consensual act, one that Heather was clearly deriving immense pleasure from as evidenced by the litany of sounds issuing from her as she shook and her breasts jiggled under the filmy material of her open blouse.

  Rather than resentment, anger, or anything along those lines directed towards Tempest, she’d instead taken feelings for him into a wholly unexpected realm.

  Heart still thundering in his chest and mouth still as dry as if he’d taken a big bite out of a wad of cotton wool, Seth backed away from the door.

  The actions in there were increasing in pace and fervour as were the ensembles of noise from the pair of them, so it would be wise to make his exit immediately, rather than stand outside the door like some half-assed voyeur, getting his kicks out of secretly spying on a couple fucking in the bathroom. Not that he was getting any kicks out of it, though the scene did make his blood race a little as he pictured himself in place of Tempest. Not with Heather though. Not with Julietta. No, Julietta was dead, she would never be able to be in that position ever again. It wasn’t even her that leaped into his mind though, when the thought occurred to him.

  He quickly made his exit, boots slipping back over the carpet noiselessly, leaving the lovers to their activities, hoping his presence in the room remained undetected. The last thing he wanted now was to get busted perving on these two, or for that matter, anybody in a state of copulation. At least he was well away from the door, couldn’t exactly get pegged for a peeping tom now could he?

  Leaving the bedroom, he exited through the small lounge area and escaped out of the suite altogether, out into the hallway.

  CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE-SCARLETT AND BIBLEBASHER

  Judging from the amount of people he’d laid eyes upon since entering Kathaarian, which, with the exception of Jazmyn at the front desk and those in his own party, was minimal to the point of zero, Seth was expecting the second bar in the joint to be bereft of humanity altogether, aside from maybe a solitary bartender.

  He was wrong.

  This bar, located through one of the doors pointed out by Jazmyn, hallway down the protracted hallway, was not only a large one that dwarfed the little entity out in the foyer, but was packed with patrons.

  As he left the short corridor which branched off the main hallway and led to a curtain draped door, he pushed through it and was immediately assailed by a soundtrack of noise, a melange of thumping music, laughter, voices.

  The place was doused in a subdued purple glow of light, so while it was quite illuminated inside, it seemed to be dark and somehow draped in shadows which cast off both a comforting and creepy vibe, all curiously rolled into one. Stools marched along the bar itself, most of them occupied, and elsewhere the room was well stocked with plenty of tables surrounded by four or more chairs, most of which were also occupied. There were a handful of pool tables off in a far corner, a jukebox, even a stage which, though currently unoccupied, looked suspiciously as if it was comfortably used to hosting such things as exotic dancers.

  After the wrong, but disturbingly titillating scene of discovering Tempest and Heather going at it hammer and tongs in the suite bathroom, Seth was a little disappointed to find there didn’t appear to be any strippers or scantily clad women making use of this stage right now.

  There were a host of women inside the bar, however, seated around the tables, some on stools sidled up to the bar, others thronging around the floor, he even spotted several dancing to the music pulsing from unseen speakers, perhaps courtesy of a DJ booth somewhere since he couldn’t see any band present and it didn’t seem to be emanating from the jukebox. Plenty of men here too, the sorts witnessed out on the street as his groups vehicles rolled into town. Bikers, truckers, tattooed sorts, leather clad souls, folks with long hair or bald heads, Mohawks, spikes, braids, ponytails, full beards, goatees. Looking at some of the people in here, Seth wasn’t sure whether that applied to both sexes on all accounts.

  Temporarily thrown by the vast amount of people crowded into this miasma of activity when he’d been expecting the joint to be deserted, Seth paused by the entry, a little stunned. He hadn’t heard anything from outside the door as he came down the hall, not until he physically opened the door to be blown away by it.

  The industrial beat of the current song playing insinuated its way into his brain and he realised he knew the song, one of his favourite non-extreme metal tracks. In fact, ‘Smell the Witch’ from ex-Emperor member Mortiis, and it buoyed him enough to leave his post by the door and make his way towards the bar, which was currently manned by three bar staff; two attractive women, one a buxom blonde in a tight T-shirt, the other a slim brunette with her long dark hair tied back in a high ponytail, and finally a big burly guy with closely cropped sandy hair and an impressive goatee.

  Seth picked his way through a milling collective of patrons, some who ignored him, some who paid him little attention, some who eyed him off in various measures, and some who consciously moved to allow him through. He looked like any one of them with his long black hair, piercings, and leather jacket over a black Satyricon shirt, so it wasn’t as if he appeared out of place here, much less threatening or suspicious to any of them, so nobody immediately presented him any trouble.

  At the bar he had to wait a while as the trio tended to others who’d been pressed up against the bar between those lucky enough to have secured spots on the stools, but eventually the blonde woman floated down into his orbit. Up close she was still quite a beautiful woman, though not as young as Seth took her to be from a distance, with her scant makeup not quite covering up crow’s-feet around her light blue eyes.

  “What can I get you, hun?” She asked in a voice that, though smooth and pleasant, also had an abrasive edge to it, as if not only did she serve drinks, but also spent some time indulging in them.

  “Bourbon and coke,” Seth replied and then, as she nodded and moved off to comply with the order, he wondered whether he should have clarified a brand name so he didn’t end up with the cheap ass house bourbon while getting slugged the price of top shelf. Never mind.

  “Looks like I won’t have to drink all by myself, after all,” said a voice in his ear and to the right, slipping in through the crowd noise and the hypnotic pulsation of the Mortiis song.

  Glancing around, Seth saw Scarlett standing next to him, having slipped to the bar, now with one elbow propped upon it. She had a couple of faint bruises dotting her face, courtesy of the overzealous cop assistants to Boss flinging her bodily into the truck’s tray There were shadowy black circles under her dark eyes as if she hadn’t had enough sleep the last few days, which Seth knew to be the case―none of them had but she still looked absolutely stunning, beautiful under the subdued purplish glow of the bar’s interior light.

  Her lips were hitched up into something of a grin, one of the few times he’d seen much of a smile from her
aside from that moment she’d surfaced from the back of the Tundra after he laid Boss down with a cranium shotgun blast.

  “You having to drink by yourself?” He grinned back, unable to stop the sudden warm feeling spreading out over his entire body, including his visage. He waved a hand around to encompass the crowded bar behind them. “I don’t imagine you’d have any problem in that regard. Surprised you don’t have a pack of drunks slobbering over you as it is. Being a sexy, stunning…ah, being a woman in here all on her lonesome.”

  If Seth wasn’t mistaken, that grin on her countenance grew wider and more prominent, mirrored in her eyes as well.

  “I’ve got that whole unapproachable, don’t fucking come near me vibe going on,” She replied. “I’ve got no interest in drinking with any of them in the slightest.”

  But she does with me? Seth pondered, but aloud he said, “I hadn’t noticed that vibe at all.”

  “Really? I thought it radiated off me.”

  “Nope.”

  “Hmm. Damn. I’ll have to try and cultivate a harder edge then. Seemed to be working just fine. I warned off a few likelies with just a stern ‘stay the fuck away’ look.”

  Blondie returned with Seth’s drink and he gestured towards it, still looking at Scarlett.

  “What are you drinking?”

  “I’ll have the same as that. But I’ve got this.” Before he could reach out to stop her, she’d slid a folded bill across the counter wet with moisture, probably a mixture of water and multiple alcohol spills.

  “No, I’ll…”

  “Next time,” Scarlett cut him off, then to Blondie. “I’ll have one of those too.”

  Finding a place to sit was going to be a monumental task, Seth knew that from the moment he’d entered, and gazing upon it now as they trekked through the packed interior, the air full of drifting tobacco smoke, assorted perfumes, colognes, and alcohol, only confirmed that. Not one of the tall bar stools marching along it were available, let alone two, and everywhere he peered in here, gazing through the purple glow and the smoke haze, all other seating areas, booths, and tables all appeared equally as occupied.

  Apparently Scarlett had a better eye for spotting vacancies than he did, or she’d been in here long enough for her eyes to become accustomed to looking through the assortment of foggy substance loitering in the air, for she abruptly said:

  “There!” while jabbing a black finger-nailed digit on the hand she wore that intricate snake ring on towards a far corner of the room.

  Then she clasped his free hand with that hand and began to make a beeline through the crowd, towing him with her.

  The touch of her skin ignited him with a sizzle that coursed a strange delightful feeling through him, her hand feeling both oddly cool and warm at the same time. He tried not to read anything into it at all, after all, she obviously didn’t want clueless Seth getting left behind and lost in the milling assembly of drinkers and Kathaarian evening party people, but he couldn’t help his mind drumming up ridiculous concepts anyway.

  She charged straight through the thick cordon of people in an unerring line. Nobody suddenly claimed the booth, or appeared from under the table to take up residence in the seats, or any of the other ludicrous notions that popped up in Seth’s head to battle with some of his other thoughts; they made it there and the booth remained available until Scarlett was slipping into one side and Seth sat down across from her. Temporarily, he’d debated on sitting next to her, then figured if he wanted to look directly at her and talk to her, it made more sense to sit on the other side.

  The booth was a long table with black leather lounges on either side, comfortably seating four, six in a squeeze. There were a couple of empty glasses on the table, one or two with remnants of liquid in them and a half full ashtray.

  Whatever the policy was for smoking inside bars and so forth, or whether it was even legal or not, seemed to be completely bypassed in Kathaarian; all the tables hosted ashtrays, there were plenty of them dotted along the stretch of the bar itself and a myriad of people were smoking in the room without thought for reprisal or consequence.

  Seth wondered why this booth was so available, to him it was just about the most ideal location in the whole bar to sit. Perhaps patrons were just too intoxicated to notice, maybe it was too dark over here to see it-hell, he hadn’t even seen it-it could be any reason, but, in any case, he was pleased to be there.

  Scarlett tipped up her glass and held it out, belatedly Seth acknowledged what she was aiming to do and clunked his against hers.

  “To ending this all,” she said, and though he knew she referred to the Undead Fleshcrave threat, momentarily other things flashed through his mind that kicked a panic into him.

  Why should you care anyway? A snide, distinctly unpleasant voice issued inside his mind. Why the hell are you thinking about this girl at all? Why would you be fantasising about her―even though you’ve been doing so just about from the start—when Julietta is barely a week dead?

  Because she IS dead and nothing I can do will ever change or alter that. What’s more, she killed the relationship with me before she went and killed herself…

  Seth managed to chase the disapproving voice away to a tiny corner of his mind, burying it deep under other, better thoughts. Mostly of Scarlett. Even with those faint bruises and obvious fatigue marring her visage, she was wondrous, resplendent here with the smoky haze and purple glow casting a weird tone over her.

  “To…yeah, that,” Seth said. “To putting an end to this. And…for all those who’ve had to…well, for all those that aren’t here,” he finished, a silent toast to their deceased companions.

  “Yes,” Scarlett looked momentarily sombre, the expression still not managing to counter her beauty any. “Absolutely.”

  A silence crept in, though only between them. All around, the crowd noise persisted, continuing unabated, along with the mesmerising thrum of the Norwegian industrial music.

  After a little while, Scarlett said, “Speaking of those that aren’t here, have you seen Tempest at all?”

  Great, Seth rued. Here it comes, she was keen to see Tempest here most after all.

  Then he of course remembered that yes, he had seen Tempest recently. He most certainly had. Obviously Scarlett and Tempest were not an item, but if there was any hope on Scarlett’s behalf that they would be…

  Keeping it to himself might be the better course of action, but then if she did harbour some interest in the guy she might be crushed to learn later, especially if he did decide to reciprocate her attentions. After hooking up with Heather. Seth wouldn’t cope too well with that nugget of information hanging over his head. So he just spilled it.

  “Yeah,” he said, after a solid slug of his bourbon, almost draining it. “I…well, he was a bit busy.”

  “Busy?”

  “With Heather.”

  “With Heather?” Scarlett echoed and if Seth wasn’t mistaken, he detected a glimmer of amusement lurking there. If she knew what he was intimating, she wasn’t about to let him get off easy without spelling it out for her.

  “Yep. With Heather.”

  “Define busy. Wasn’t she going to get some wine and have a bath?”

  “Well, she’s getting something en route to a bath,” Seth said, feeling heat flush his face red, suddenly glad of the purple lighting probably rendering his skin tone too indistinct to pick out the blush colouring it.

  “Is that so?” Scarlett didn’t look crushed or disappointed or anything, but highly amused. “I’ll be damned. Can’t say I’m too surprised. Though, in a way, I am surprised.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Do you remember what happened by the roadside?” She said that, almost wincing a little as she acknowledged how wrong that might have come out, taking into consideration exactly all the terrible things that occurred there. “Didn’t think that would have sent Heather running into the arms of Tempest.”

  “I think it had exactly the opposite effect as to what most peo
ple would expect,” Seth said. “Is Heather not his type or something?”

  “Oh no, Heather is precisely Tempest’s type. Hot and blonde.”

  With that said, Seth mulled on it, keeping to himself the notion that maybe Tempest was motivated by more than he’d let on when he’d had the two suspected zombie-bitten women reveal themselves, though he sure hadn’t seemed like it. He’d been all business and nothing more. He thought about Heather’s close call with the rapist cops, wondered why she would suddenly be so desiring of the sexual attention of Tempest. Then he wondered why the hell he should even be worrying about any of it?

  After all, Black had insisted they all have fun, celebrate, unwind a little and just enjoy this night of relative freedom before tomorrow, when shit got extremely heavy again. Tempest and Heather sure as hell were enjoying themselves and each other, making the most of it.

  And here Seth was, with what he considered the finest woman of them all, alone with her. If that wasn’t something to be enjoyed without concerning himself with the motivations of others, what was?

  He noticed that her glass was empty and quickly finished his off.

  “Up for another?” He questioned and she nodded, going to rise. He stilled her with a wave. “No, I’ve got this. Remember, I was getting the next round?”

  “In that case, get a jug,” Scarlett advised. “That way we won’t have to keep making trips to the bar so frequently.”