chased the living souls who’d fled inside, possibly through and out onto the busy street in front of the bar.
At least five strewn bodies lay on the pavement in a wash of widely splattered blood, heads severed or with gaping holes in the craniums where Black and Blizzard thrust blades to snuff the last of their brain capacities. The immediate danger was over, but Seth had a sinking feeling that wasn't going to be a lasting state of affairs.
"Hey, hey! Set her down a sec," one of the guys said from behind him in a weak voice, and he and Dax obliged, lowering the blonde to a sitting position on the concrete.
The man who made the request, the darker haired of the two, tall and thin in navy trousers and a white dress shirt fell onto his hands and knees and dry retched, coughing and choking.
Then he spray-painted the carpark with a jet of vomit, predominantly liquid form, most likely the assemblage of drinks he'd happily consumed earlier, before his evening went terribly pear-shaped.
"Jesus," Dax murmured, looking away.
Seth almost felt the need to heave himself and relieve his own stomach of its contents, but after all the carnage already witnessed thus far this evening, this lot here was relatively mild in comparison. Gory and grotesque, yes, but nowhere near as bad as watching undead monsters tear screaming human prey to flesh ribbons.
"Anyone else need to hurl?" Black asked, the sarcasm flickering in his tone barely disguised.
"Who are you guys?" the sandy-haired man who’d managed to keep his gag reflex under control queried with wide eyes.
"Later," Black said curtly.
Then he pierced Seth with a dark stare.
"Okay, Seth. Decision time. You coming with us or you taking your chances alone?"
CHAPTER SEVEN-DECISIONS
At the risk of further driving a wedge between Julietta and himself, Seth made the snap choice to stick with Black and his band of dubious cohorts. There were several reasons behind his decision, though in the precious few seconds he had to make that choice, not all of them came to him until later.
The prime one related to what Tempest referred to earlier.
“Zombie apocalypse. That is what the fuck we are going to be dealing with...”
Only a couple of hours ago, or less, the whole concept would have seemed illogical, ludicrous, outlandish, impossible. Now it didn't seem like any of those things, there was nothing farfetched about it at all. In fact, it seemed probable, imminent…just about inevitable.
Black and his people had sworn they needed to keep the band room of mayhem contained.
Delays cost them the opportunity to do that and now the Quo Vadis bar was a hotbed of teeming bloodthirsty zombie activity, and while some of the facets and aspects of how a few of these particular zombies acted were a little at odds with everything Seth had been led to believe about the undead, he was willing to bet that one thing about them was going to be uniform with zombie folklore.
Those they dined on would rise again themselves. Turned to members of the undead battalion as well. Unless they were despatched in the manner Black and his assassins chose, nullifying their brain activity or separating heads from bodies.
Which meant all those victims who couldn't escape the hungry wrath or weren't completely masticated into nothing but sloppy red pulp and gnawed bones were going to switch allegiances from the land of the living to that of the undead.
Giving abundant credence to Tempest's originally inconceivable notion that an apocalypse of the zombie kind was most certainly on the
At least five strewn bodies lay on the pavement in a wash of widely splattered blood, heads severed or with gaping holes in the craniums where Black and Blizzard thrust blades to snuff the last of their brain capacities. The immediate danger was over, but Seth had a sinking feeling that wasn't going to be a lasting state of affairs.
"Hey, hey! Set her down a sec," one of the guys said from behind him in a weak voice, and he and Dax obliged, lowering the blonde to a sitting position on the concrete.
The man who made the request, the darker haired of the two, tall and thin in navy trousers and a white dress shirt fell onto his hands and knees and dry retched, coughing and choking.
Then he spray-painted the carpark with a jet of vomit, predominantly liquid form, most likely the assemblage of drinks he'd happily consumed earlier, before his evening went terribly pear-shaped.
"Jesus," Dax murmured, looking away.
Seth almost felt the need to heave himself and relieve his own stomach of its contents, but after all the carnage already witnessed thus far this evening, this lot here was relatively mild in comparison. Gory and grotesque, yes, but nowhere near as bad as watching undead monsters tear screaming human prey to flesh ribbons.
"Anyone else need to hurl?" Black asked, the sarcasm flickering in his tone barely disguised.
"Who are you guys?" the sandy-haired man who’d managed to keep his gag reflex under control queried with wide eyes.
"Later," Black said curtly.
Then he pierced Seth with a dark stare.
"Okay, Seth. Decision time. You coming with us or you taking your chances alone?"
CHAPTER SEVEN-DECISIONS
At the risk of further driving a wedge between Julietta and himself, Seth made the snap choice to stick with Black and his band of dubious cohorts. There were several reasons behind his decision, though in the precious few seconds he had to make that choice, not all of them came to him until later.
The prime one related to what Tempest referred to earlier.
“Zombie apocalypse. That is what the fuck we are going to be dealing with...”
Only a couple of hours ago, or less, the whole concept would have seemed illogical, ludicrous, outlandish, impossible. Now it didn't seem like any of those things, there was nothing farfetched about it at all. In fact, it seemed probable, imminent…just about inevitable.
Black and his people had sworn they needed to keep the band room of mayhem contained.
Delays cost them the opportunity to do that and now the Quo Vadis bar was a hotbed of teeming bloodthirsty zombie activity, and while some of the facets and aspects of how a few of these particular zombies acted were a little at odds with everything Seth had been led to believe about the undead, he was willing to bet that one thing about them was going to be uniform with zombie folklore.
Those they dined on would rise again themselves. Turned to members of the undead battalion as well. Unless they were despatched in the manner Black and his assassins chose, nullifying their brain activity or separating heads from bodies.
Which meant all those victims who couldn't escape the hungry wrath or weren't completely masticated into nothing but sloppy red pulp and gnawed bones were going to switch allegiances from the land of the living to that of the undead.
Giving abundant credence to Tempest's originally inconceivable notion that an apocalypse of the zombie kind was most certainly on the
Similar Books
