every single person in this town if things don't get sorted pronto. We needed to keep that room the band played in tonight contained and that didn't happen. Now, if we can manage to contain things to Armada, there's a slim chance of cataclysm being avoided, but otherwise I'd start thinking about forgetting you folks or any of us even have a home."
"Are you fucking having a lend of us?"
"Does that look like the scene of a joke over there?" Tempest pointed a stiff finger back at the Quo Vadis slaughterhouse. "Those ugly undead motherfuckers are bona fide zombies, kids, and this is shaping up as an outbreak that is going to fuck this town in the ass."
"What do we do then?" Heather wailed, on her feet now, but hobbling between Wayne and the sandy-haired man, leaning on them for support.
"Kill Undead Fleshcrave for a start," Black said.
"Kill Undead Fleshcrave?" Dax resumed his idiotic fetish for repeating what was said.
"What in the hell is Undead Fleshcrave?" Wayne wanted to know, a query backed up by nods from his towheaded friend and the moaning Heather.
"The band who played upstairs tonight," Mark said helpfully.
"Kill the band?" Wayne appeared to have caught Dax's contagious predilection for echoing statements.
"The band is the reason for the zombies," Mark said, but his explanation was only met by confused blank gazes from the three newcomers.
"Again with the standing around flapping gums and waggling tongues." This came from the same woman who'd prompted them to move earlier, the girl with the eyebrow piercing. "Where's your car?"
"Over there.” Sandy pointed at an off-white four door sedan a couple of rows across from Black's pickup. "We all came together. It's Heather's, she was designated driver..."
"Was," Heather affirmed. "I can barely walk now, let alone drive."
"Yeah, like I said, that isn't a problem, one of us will drive," Tempest said. "Fit five people maximum?"
"Yeah," Wayne said hesitantly, gazing warily around the circle of unfamiliar faces, most of whom must have looked pretty threatening to an ordinary clean cut fellow like himself. "But..."
"Problem?" Tempest raised an eyebrow.
"I mean...who are you people? Sincere thanks for saving our butts and that but...but what you're talking about...killing this band? I mean, I don't know...”
Black was at the tray of the Tundra, busying himself with a series of long black instrument cases.
At this juncture he turned around, his penetrating obsidian eyes honing in on Wayne's before floating across to include Heather and the as yet nameless man.
"Time to make a choice people," he said simply, delivering the same ultimatum he’d presented to Seth. "With the amount of people we have along now we need another vehicle. If you're happy to offer the services of yours, that's fine and dandy. If you want to stick with us, by all means do so. If you want to take your chances alone, two drunks and a cripple, that's entirely your call."
"But don't waste time mulling over it," snapped the girl with the eyebrow adornment. "Think fast and decide. Quick."
The trio exchanged an assortment of glances, worry, bemusement, confusion and fear all jostling to occupy prime position on countenances.
"Where...where are we going?" Heather was first to speak.
"The music has stopped, that means the band is hauling ass out of the venue. Ready to hit the road and keep rolling. To spread this malady to another town, and so on. Catch my drift?"
Seth caught Black's drift loud and
"Are you fucking having a lend of us?"
"Does that look like the scene of a joke over there?" Tempest pointed a stiff finger back at the Quo Vadis slaughterhouse. "Those ugly undead motherfuckers are bona fide zombies, kids, and this is shaping up as an outbreak that is going to fuck this town in the ass."
"What do we do then?" Heather wailed, on her feet now, but hobbling between Wayne and the sandy-haired man, leaning on them for support.
"Kill Undead Fleshcrave for a start," Black said.
"Kill Undead Fleshcrave?" Dax resumed his idiotic fetish for repeating what was said.
"What in the hell is Undead Fleshcrave?" Wayne wanted to know, a query backed up by nods from his towheaded friend and the moaning Heather.
"The band who played upstairs tonight," Mark said helpfully.
"Kill the band?" Wayne appeared to have caught Dax's contagious predilection for echoing statements.
"The band is the reason for the zombies," Mark said, but his explanation was only met by confused blank gazes from the three newcomers.
"Again with the standing around flapping gums and waggling tongues." This came from the same woman who'd prompted them to move earlier, the girl with the eyebrow piercing. "Where's your car?"
"Over there.” Sandy pointed at an off-white four door sedan a couple of rows across from Black's pickup. "We all came together. It's Heather's, she was designated driver..."
"Was," Heather affirmed. "I can barely walk now, let alone drive."
"Yeah, like I said, that isn't a problem, one of us will drive," Tempest said. "Fit five people maximum?"
"Yeah," Wayne said hesitantly, gazing warily around the circle of unfamiliar faces, most of whom must have looked pretty threatening to an ordinary clean cut fellow like himself. "But..."
"Problem?" Tempest raised an eyebrow.
"I mean...who are you people? Sincere thanks for saving our butts and that but...but what you're talking about...killing this band? I mean, I don't know...”
Black was at the tray of the Tundra, busying himself with a series of long black instrument cases.
At this juncture he turned around, his penetrating obsidian eyes honing in on Wayne's before floating across to include Heather and the as yet nameless man.
"Time to make a choice people," he said simply, delivering the same ultimatum he’d presented to Seth. "With the amount of people we have along now we need another vehicle. If you're happy to offer the services of yours, that's fine and dandy. If you want to stick with us, by all means do so. If you want to take your chances alone, two drunks and a cripple, that's entirely your call."
"But don't waste time mulling over it," snapped the girl with the eyebrow adornment. "Think fast and decide. Quick."
The trio exchanged an assortment of glances, worry, bemusement, confusion and fear all jostling to occupy prime position on countenances.
"Where...where are we going?" Heather was first to speak.
"The music has stopped, that means the band is hauling ass out of the venue. Ready to hit the road and keep rolling. To spread this malady to another town, and so on. Catch my drift?"
Seth caught Black's drift loud and
Similar Books
