Excerpt from UNDEAD FLESHCRAVE: THE ZOMBIE TRIGGER

Posted: December 22, 2013 in Uncategorized
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Excerpt from UNDEAD FLESHCRAVE: THE ZOMBIE TRIGGER

As I said a little time ago I would post an unedited bit of the other novel I’m currently working on (simultaneous with the Carnival/Festival) so here it goes. Like my novel Plebs, this too was meant to be a short story, in fact part of a collection of short stories I planned to write, horror tales revolving around extreme metal genre clashes. Instead it is going to be spanned out into a full length book, my first foray into the universe of zombies, with a prevalence of death and black metal involvement, which keeps that initial metal genre thing intact.
I may or may not persist with the original anthology idea but I have some other ideas for anthologies buzzing around my head at the moment, so I think I will try and complete these two full lengths first before deviating off track into any more shorts just yet.

Check it out. An unedited excerpt from Undead Fleshcrave: The Zombie Trigger

With the locked door barrier to their escape succumbing to the combined force of the Subversion trio, and crashing open, Seth Tanner, his friends and the group who’d come unexpectedly to their rescue inside the walls of the ill-fated Undead Fleshcrave show, all poured out the egress.
They found they were in an alley, a towering wall looming up before them, the side of a skyscraper building easily triple the height of the venue they had just absconded from.
At this time in the evening it was dark and threatening in the alley, but scant light from the opened exit route in the Quo Vadis building afforded them a little illumination.
The alley smelled worse than the public restroom hall, mixed more pungently with odours of the rubbish and litter that was scattered profusely through it.
Garbage bins lined the bordering walls, yellowing newspapers, empty drink cans, condom wrappers, beer bottles, ripped posters, food containers and all manner of junk lay in random patterns of mess all over the alley.
Further up, beyond the rows of dented refuse units were other dark, hunched unidentifiable shapes, things that lay beyond the span of light, and looked ominous in their shadowy forms.
To their left, the mouth of the alley poured some radiance in courtesy of the streetlights on out there, but to the right, up past those hulking dark shadowshapes there was very little light showing.
Going left into the more illuminated areas might have seemed like a wise choice, but it also meant they would be angling back out in front of the venue.
It was more than a slim possibility that the bunch of security had split into two separate factions with one of these heading out the front doors to cut off any escape via this very alley.
So blundering into the dark through the cluster of shadows crowding the alley loomed as a larger chance of bona fide escape.
Seth wasn’t overjoyed about that prospect.
On any other evening following a gig at this very venue, or merely after just having a couple of drinks here with the guys, and he would have had no qualms about cutting through the alley, down past the back of the bar and out if their destination so called for that avenue of travel but that was before.
Before one terrifying stomach churning evil laden song filled with nausea inducing bizarre instrumentation and a mantra of brain mangling lyrics had mutated ordinary death metal fans into voracious flesh desiring undead hordes.
Before the security that should have been standing vigilantly over the event, instead let it all unfold in a vortex of bloodsplattering horror, turned into disciples of the unholy band responsible for this cataclysm and chased survivors, intent on ensuring there was no escape for them.
Before Lincoln had his dick bitten off and his guts ripped out by a bloated hungry zombie bitch in a very appropriate Waking The Cadaver top.
Before the big strong man of their gang Buck, his sister Adrianna and Callie went AWOL amidst the sea of carnage.
Now absolutely everything and everywhere was malevolent, sinister and buzzing with potential menace.
And everyone too…
As the lot of them spilled into the alley, some looking to go left in the obvious direction, others gazing into the murk of the alley the other way, Dax lurched on down into the shadows.
The quartet of women headed up to halt the progress of Mark and Miranda, both who had instantly assumed racing out into the light on the street in front of the bar was the option.
Dax had already made the choice which was obviously the right one Black and his cronies were intending for them to make, but as he did, one of the lumpy shapes against the giant building complex neighbouring the bar suddenly broke from it’s companion shadows.
A hunched disheveled figure staggered into his path and outstretched hands reached.
On instinct, a panicked yell was ripped from the throat of Dax, and he struck out with a vengeance, hammering with his spiked armbands, punching their wicked points at the lurching perceived aggressor.
A highpitched squeal, unlike the horrible guttural throaty sounds the bestial undead freaks had been making in the performance room of death issued, but in his fright and surging adrenalin fuelled hysteria, Dax didn’t make that connection.
All he saw was a shambling zombie monster emerging from a thick patch of darkness, with murderous designs on gnawing off his genitals, dining on his brains, scooping out his entrails with hooked claw fingers and he attacked with a furious energy.

©2013 Jamie Goforth

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