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Downtown
was as busy as it normally was on a Friday afternoon. Telly’s Comics stood,
nestled between Hayden’s Ice Cream Shoppe and Langley’s Loans. Families stepped
out of Hayden’s happily holding large ice cream cones while people came from
Langley’s with mixed reactions – some getting loans, some turned down. At
Telly’s, customers came and went in its usual amount of traffic. Inside, a customer
approached the counter.
“How can
I help you?” Telly, the owner of this fine establishment, asked.
He was
white, bald, and husky with an air of cool. Like his employees, he wore a
Telly’s Comics staff t-shirt.
“I called
about the Limited Edition Crazy Banana Legs bust.” She said, retrieving her
wallet from her purse.
The
soccer mom looked around with a smirk having never been in before.
“Of
course. We gotcha right here.”
He turned
around, reached up, and grabbed a bust of a banana with legs, shorts and
sneakers. She was pleased seeing her child’s favorite character. The woman paid.
He placed the bust in a box, the box in a bag, and handed it over.
“Thank
you. My kid’s gonna love it.” She left with a smile, just like Telly likes.
Some workers
stocked shelves with the latest issues while others put the sale tags on the
older trade paperbacks. Various customers, if one could call them such, stood
around, reading books off the racks. Some of them sat on the floor, reading.
Would they actually be making a purchase? Who knows?
Towards
the back, a group of guys sat at a table playing a fantasy card game.
“No, man,
you couldn’t have played the Yeti card because I had already played the Snow
Wizard.” One of them said with an exasperated shrug. “Duh.”
Within
the group sat Jeremy, a young metalhead who would come to Telly’s to pass the time
in such fantasy games. Most of the kids he played with/against were strangers,
though there were some regulars. The young man was of a heavier build with
glasses and a goatee. A notification on Jeremy’s phone dinged.
“Hold up,
guys.” He looked down at his phone, shocked. “What!? No way!” He held his hands
out, interrupting the game. “Guys, I gotta go.”
“Aww
man.” The collective of geeks groaned in unison.
Jeremy
left the table, making a call, while the others threw their cards down as if in
a grueling poker game.
“Hey.”
Chris answered.
“Hey, you
at work?” Jeremy asked, leaving Telly’s.
“No, I’m
off.”
“Good.
Meet me at Buy’em N’ Bag’em.” He hung up and moved on.
Outside
the grocery store, Buy’em N’ Bag’em, customers entered and left. Some workers
brought groceries out to customers’ cars while others brought carts back in. Inside,
Galen stood at the end of a checkout line, bagging groceries.
“Here you
are. Have a nice day.” He told a young woman with a smile.
Jeremy
entered, followed by Chris. Galen saw them and met them to the side.
“What’s
up, guys?” He asked them while making sure his smock was tight and right.
“Okay, so
what’s the big deal?” Chris asked.
Jeremy
could hardly contain his excitement.
“Guys,
they’re coming! Extra-Terrestrial Death
Strike are finally coming to the Midwest!”
“How did
you-?” Galen’s question was cut off.
“Look!”
Jeremy
held his phone up to the two of them, showing the banner ad for the tour,
complete with the band’s logo and mascot, an alien skeleton holding a guitar.
Using his thumb, he scrolled down to show them the tour listing just below the
banner.
Chris and
Galen joined Jeremy’s excitement.
“Holy
crap!” Chris exclaimed.
“All hail
the kings of rock!” Galen threw up Devil horns as elderly customers passed by,
confused.
Galen’s
boss appeared, seemingly, out of nowhere.
“Hey!
You’re on the clock!”
“Whoop,
gotta go!” Galen left to return to bagging.
“I better
go. I still got stuff to do. I’ll catch up with you guys later.” Chris left.
Jeremy
started dialing, “I’ll call you later. I’m calling for tickets right NOW.”
Extra-Terrestrial
Death Strike’s tour bus hurled down the road with their logo on its otherwise
silver and black exterior. The image of the alien skeleton holding a guitar was
sharp and bold with “ETDS” over it in a toxic green.
Inside,
the four band members hung out and talked about the show. Dave, the guitarist;
long red hair and a clean shave. Freddie, the singer; short black hair and a
mustache. Lee, the bassist; long dark hair, a soul patch, and glasses. Mike,
the drummer; long dark hair, a long goatee, and stocky while the other three
were thin.
“Pipes
good to go?” Dave asked.
Freddie
belted out in a falsetto, “YEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!”
“Alright!
Sounds like it!” Lee nodded.
Mike came
from the back looking rough.
“Oh man,
what the hell was that? That was so sharp it’s piercing into my mind.” The
drummer said, holding his head.
Freddie’s
head cocked back. Dave and Lee joined the look.
“Hey,
fuck off; I hit those notes just right!”
“Nah,
man, it’s my head. I feel like I caught something.” Mike looked sick as a dog.
“I told
ya not to be messin’ around with them groupies.” Dave shook his head.
“Don’t
gimme any of that Happily Married Man crap.” Mike was getting irritated.
“I’m just
sayin’, you either get the good one all
the time or you get some okay ones some
of the time.” Dave shrugged, nursing his beer.
“Eh,
whatever.” Mike continued to hold his head with one hand and his stomach with
the other.
“Dude,
you gotta be able to play tonight. This is a special gig. We’ve never played
out here before.” The bassist said.
“Yeah,
man, how are we supposed to take over the world? We gotta hit everywhere.” The
singer declared.
“I can do
it. I’ll be fine.” Mike nodded, his stomach visibly and audibly rumbling.
“Can you
eat anything?” Freddie asked upon seeing and hearing it.
“Eh, I
feel like I’m starving but I’m so sick at the same time. I’ll just lay down a
bit.” Mike left to the back.
“All
right, try that.” Lee said, covering his nose and mouth in hopes that he didn’t
catch it in the course of the conversation.
“All right
guys, I’m thinking we should do an album where, instead of being backed by an
orchestra like a lot of other bands, we can do one backed by a school marching
band.” Dave proposed, excited.
“That
would be dope!” Freddie exclaimed. “It could be a concept album!”
“Totally!”
Lee agreed.
The music
on the radio was becoming more audible to them.
“Bro turn
it up! This is my favorite part!” Dave yelled.
The
speakers in the bus blasted as the three yelled and headbanged to it.
Mike held
his head in his bed, “AAAAGGHH!”
Jeremy’s
room was covered in the Extra-Terrestrial Death Strike posters. His CD shelf
was loaded with the band’s albums including live albums, rarities, and
bootlegs. On top of his dresser, there were figurines of the four band members
in rock poses. A stack of vinyl albums sat on a desk. Jeremy stood there while
the other two just looked around at everything.
“Just
trying to think of what to take to have them sign.” Jeremy thought aloud.
“…If only
you had something of the band’s, eh?” Chris quipped.
“Check it
out!”
Galen
pointed to a t-shirt hung up – the same shirt he was wearing. Chris and Jeremy looked
down, wearing ETDS shirts as well.
Galen
looked through the vinyl, “Man, you have the coolest set of ETDS I’ve ever
seen.”
“Thanks,
man.” Jeremy said, sitting amongst his collection. “Yeah, I got two sets of the
vinyl each. So there’s one still in shrink wrap and the others I get to keep
listening to. I have the CDs too but I like the way the records sound more. The
CDs are just too compressed.”
“Whoa.”
Chris pointed to an album in the stack Galen was looking through.
“I know,
right?” Galen was like a kid in a candy story.
“That’s
what I can’t wait to see – him play THAT live!” Jeremy pointed at a poster on
the wall with guitarist, Dave, holding his signature ax. “Man, what I’d give to
play that guitar…”
“Does he
play it on all the albums?” Chris
asked.
“Except
for the demos before the first album.” Jeremy smiled, holding up bootleg demo
cassette tapes. A majority of the posters on the wall featured the band playing
live. “Once it got picked up and they started recording their self-titled
debut, he spent everything he had on it.”
“I read
between both his guitar and his amp being hot-rodded out, he has the loudest
setup in rock today.” Galen noted.
“I
believe it.” Jeremy laughed, pulling a record out of its sleeve.
“Honestly,
I can’t wait to see the drum solo for the night.” Galen said, miming playing
drums. A video on Jeremy’s computer showed Mike going crazy on his solo. “He
does a different one every show and they’re all incredible! I’ve watched them
all online.”
“Man,
that 4/4 to 5/8 to 11/8 to 5/4 time change in ‘The Dragon’s Cranium’ is wicked!
I hope they play it!” Jeremy said, stoked. “It’s one thing to hear it on the
record but to see them pull off all the time changes on stage is gonna blow my
mind!”
“What
about the bass solo in ‘A Door to Forever’?” Chris asked, miming bass playing.
The three
fans were animated, “OH MY GAAAAAAHHH!”
A
lunchbox was opened revealing some pre-rolled joints.
“Marathon
listen?” Galen asked, eyeing his friends.
“Yup,
Death Strike binge.” Jeremy said matter-of-factly.
“We gotta
do it, man.” Chris turned off the light.
Galen sat
down in a beanbag while Chris sat in Jeremy’s computer chair. Jeremy manned the
record player.
“We
haven’t done this in forever.” Jeremy shook his head.
“I don’t
care. Drop the needle.” Galen commanded.
“Alright.
First album coming up.” Jeremy set the record.
The
albums were all spread out, a string of heavy metal art that would excite any
artist. The three guys were as high as kites in the room’s cloud while the
tunes blasted from the record player.
Back with
the band…
Mike was
still sick, and growing sicker, back in his bunk while the rest of the group
talked.
“The
money, the girls, the music; best of the three. Go.” Dave threw out.
“Girls.
Definitely the girls.” Freddie nodded.
“Money,
hands down.” Lee said symbolizing money with rubbing his fingers.
The
singer was confused, “Really? Money over broads?”
“Yeah,
money. That way, I can always buy more broads.” The bassist joked. They all
laughed.
“You guys
are horrible.” Dave chuckled.
Freddie
looked to Dave, “Jealous, married man?”
“Nope.
It’s great from my end. Watching you guys is like watching reality TV.” The
guitarist laughed.
“What
about you? The music?” Lee asked.
“Of
course. It’s always about the music; the look, the sound, the art, all of it.”
Dave explained.
“We’d ask
him but I’m sure all three options
would be covered in vomit by now.” Freddie laughed, motioning to the back.
“I think
you’ve got a point, though, because without the art there is no money and no
girls.” Lee thought aloud.
“Very
true indeed.” Freddie nodded.
Mike
emerged from the back with the movement of a decrepit old man. He instantly
vomited.
“Guys,
I’m not doing so good.” He looked up from his puke with his stomach rumbling
loud. “Ugh. So. Hungry.”
The
drummer vomited some more with straining heaves. The three jumped back, looking
at him, disgusted.
“Well, we
still have a bit. Take some more medicine and go back to bed.” Freddie
suggested.
Mike turned
back to return to the bunks.
“Yeah, man,
get your rest.” Dave said.
“Don’t
die, dude!” Lee told him.
“Shut
up!” Mike said exiting. The three laughed.
“Suck ass
dude.” Freddie chuckled.
The bus
continued down the highway.
Chris
called his boss on the phone, “Uh, Mr. Whitaker sir? I’m not gonna be able to
come in for the weekend shift this week… Yeah, see, my grandma’s real ill and
my parents volunteered me to help her around… Okay, great. I’ll see you next
week.”
Galen
called his boss as well, “Hey,
Angela, I’m not gonna be able to make it in… My grandma’s real ill and…”
Angela
wasn’t happy on the other end, “Your grandmother has died three times since
you’ve started working here. Your grandfather died twice. You even killed off
your sister to go to a kegger. Bottom line, show up when you’re scheduled or
you’ll be fired.”
Galen
thought of two images: rocking out in the crowd at the band’s show and him
bagging groceries.
“Oh,
okay. I quit.” He said with a shrug.
“What?”
Angela asked, unheard.
Galen
hung up the phone. Chris and Jeremy were shocked.
“You just
quit your job?” Jeremy asked.
“Yeah,
she’s not keeping me from seeing Extra-Terrestrial Death Strike.” Galen
scoffed.
The other
two looked at Jeremy.
“All
right, it’s up to you now.” Galen told him.
“What. I
don’t have a job.” Jeremy shrugged.
“But you
paid for the tickets.” Galen said with uncertainty.
“Yeah,
after my mom died, I got a buttload of money.” Jeremy clarified nonchalantly.
“Oh.”
Jeremy
looked at Galen like he was nuts, “You didn’t know?”
“Nah, I
just assumed you were…” Galen struggled to find the words.
“That I
was what? Dude, we hang out all the time.” Jeremy shrugged.
Galen
looked at Chris, “Did you know?”
“Of
course.”
Galen
threw his arms up, “How am I the asshole friend all of a sudden?”
“It’s
cool, bro. You’re always the asshole friend.” Jeremy said with a hand on Galen’s
shoulder. The three laughed.
The tour
bus arrived at the venue.
“All
right! Let’s do this!” Freddie yelled.
The stage
crew were setting up, constructing the stage. Roadies lugged the band’s gear
around. Techs prepped the instruments. The opening band, The Cogless - a
three-piece punk group – hung out backstage. ETDS entered the area, greeting
them.
“Hey
guys!” Billy, The Cogless’ singer-guitarist, said.
“What’s
up, man?” Lee greeted.
Dave and Billy
high-fived.
“You guys
ready to rock this joint?” Dave asked, excited.
“Hell
yeah, man. We’re gonna tear it down!” Billy declared.
The Cogless’
drummer, Tommy, looked around.
“Where’s
Mike?”
“He’s
back in the other room, puking his guts out.” Freddie said.
“He’ll be
out there.” Lee nodded.
“All
right, dudes, we’re gonna head back and get ready.” Dave told them.
“See you
out there.” Freddie patted Billy on the shoulder.
“Knock
‘em dead!” Lee yelled. ETDS exited.
In their
dressing room, the band sat in their respective makeup chairs in front of
mirrors, dressed in their rock attire with girls applying makeup.
“So, you
girls coming to the aftershow?” Lee asked them.
“Ohhh, I
gotta pick up my kids.” The girl frowned.
“Booo!”
Freddie blurted.
“I know.
I know. But Janet will be, though.” The makeup girl stated.
“Hell
yeah, I will.” The second makeup girl said, proud and excited.
“I like
that.” Lee nodded. “Bring your friends.”
Down the
line, a third makeup girl was trying her hardest to apply makeup to Mike,
looking even sicker.
“Uhhh, I
don’t…” She was disgusted. “I can’t… Uh, ew.”
The three
super fans parked at a gas station to get fuel. They noticed some rather
attractive ladies passing by.
“Hey,
check it out.” Galen nudged the others. The ladies took notice of them.
“So, what
are you guys doing?” One of the girls asked, approaching them.
“We’re on
our way to the ETDS show.” Jeremy answered.
The girls
stopped and looked at each other, put off.
“Eww, you
guys listen to that?” They asked and looked at the three’s shirts. “Later…”
The girls
left. The guys got back in the car and started it.
“Aww
man.” Chris was bummed they got snubbed.
“Who
cares?” Galen scoffed. “They’re finally playing here for the first time!”
“WOOHOO!”
Jeremy yelled.
They got
over the rejection in no time. The car cruised down the road with purpose.
“This is
gonna be amazing!” Jeremy could barely contain his excitement.
“I tried
to find the setlist online but they’re kept secret.” Chris informed them.
Jeremy
drove, Galen was in the passenger seat, and Chris sat in the back.
“Okay,
what’s the one you hope they do? Like, your must-have.” Jeremy asked.
“Ooo,
mine would have to be ‘The Fading Life’.” Chris said.
“Good
one.” Galen fist-bumped Chris. “Mine is ‘Skulls & Horns’.”
Jeremy
chuckled, “Yeah, but dude they haven’t played that live since ’95. It’s a thirty
minute song.”
“Hey,
it’s just one I WANT to be played.” Galen shrugged. “Other than that, I’ll pick
the instrumental, ‘Mutual Matadors’. What about you?”
Jeremy
motioned to the song on the stereo and turned it up, “This one right here, ‘The
Deaf & The Dead’!”
They
continued down the road with music blasting. The three sang along while playing
their air instruments. When they approached the venue, they saw the crowd, huge
and growing.
“Here we
go, boys!” Jeremy said, pulling in.
The crowd
went crazy, cheering, “WOOOO!”
A group
of stoners convened.
“All
right, man, we got enough to keep us high all night.” The man said, pointing
his finger with a pulse.
“Far
out!” The woman beside him said.
One of
the many security guards threw some teenagers out.
“I told you
before: No ticket, no show!” He pointed out at them. “If I catch you kids
trying to sneak in again, I’m callin’ the cops!”
The
Cogless took to the stage with their banner suspended up behind them.
“How you
guys doin’ tonight!?” Billy asked the already hyped crowd. “Ready to get this
party started!?”
The crowd
erupted. Jeremy, Chris, and Galen were with the rest of their brethren.
“I got
their first album. Pretty good stuff.” Jeremy told the other two.
Billy
returned to the mic, more animated, “1, 2, 3, GO!”
The
three-piece burst into their opening song, full of energy. The audience loved
it, jumping and moshing.
Among the
moshpits and various headbangers, two guys were crowd surfing across.
“Didn’t I
see you guys surf a couple of shows back?” A woman beneath them asked.
“We’ve
surfed every show on this tour!” The first man answered.
“We
finally get to surf the Midwest!” The second added.
“Right
on!” The woman said as the two men were moved on in the waves.
The band
continued to play, ripping through fast punk-infused rock tunes. They finished
the last song of their set as the singer held his arms up to the crowd.
“Thank
you for coming, guys! We love you! Rock on!” He told them to a large applause.
Backstage,
Freddie stood at the door, “C’mon, boys, let’s goooo!”
The two
bands passed each other in the hallway.
“Great
show, man!” Freddie said.
“Thanks,
guys! Good luck!” Billy said.
“Have a
good one!” The Cogless’ bassist, Jones, said.
“Knock
‘em dead!” Tommy yelled, pumping his fist.
Two of
the young band members turned into their room, leaving their bassist out in the
hall.
“I’ll be
in, in a minute.” He said, noticing Mike lagging behind. “Hey, man, you don’t
wanna be late! You okay?”
Mike,
looking as if he were in the throes of the flu, stumbled forward and bit Jones.
“Ah! You
son of a bitch!”
His arm
bled from the small chunk now missing. Mike, zoned-out, walked off while the
bassist tried to stop the bleeding.
“Someone
get me a medic, man!”
Extra-Terrestrial
Death Strike emerged onstage to roaring cheers. Their arms shot up, greeting
everyone. The audience went crazy. Howls, whistles, and guttural screams came
from the crowd. Tops came up almost as quickly as the band arrived.
With
their arms still up, Dave leaned over to Freddie, “Where’s Mike?”
The
sickened drummer stumbled onto the stage.
“Oh,
there he is.” Dave said in a sigh of relief.
The
crowd’s cheering echoed sharply. Mike covered his ears and screamed, going
unheard. Women continued to flash the band but the drummer had no interest at
the moment. The band armed themselves with their instruments, still not
noticing the drummer’s dissent into illness. Freddie stepped up to the mic.
“It’s our
first time here and it’s an honor to be here! Thank you, the fans, so much!
You’re the reason we do what we do! We love you guys! You’re worth all the
blood, sweat, and tears put into it!” The singer said throwing Devil horns up
to the sky, greeted by thunderous applause.
Mike
stumbled forward and bit Freddie’s shoulder, spraying blood across the stage.
“AHHH!
What the hell are you doing!?” Freddie pulled back, grabbing his shoulder.
Blood was
everywhere and continued to flow from the singer.
“Awesome
stage show!” One audience member exclaimed.
The other
three tried to intervene but Mike flailed, biting and scratching at them. More
blood spilled. The stage was a mess and even the crowd was getting sprayed.
Jeremy,
Chris, and Galen watched the show next to blood-covered viewers.
“Dude,
this is unreal!” Galen yelled, not being able to take his eyes off of the
crimson stage.
Between
the band and the crowd, security guards saw the mayhem while trying to keep an
eye on the massive audience.
“Man,
these guys are hardcore.” One guard said to the other.
“No
joke.”
In their
crazed state, the band lunged forward and bit the two security guards. The
flesh tore and their blood splattered beyond the barricade.
“AAAAAAGGHH!!”
They screamed in agony, with their light blue uniforms being drenched with dark
red.
“Dudes, I
think this is getting a little TOO real!” Jeremy told his friends.
The
celebrated band climbed down from the stage and crossed the barricade. The
security guards joined them. Some concert goers continued to love the show.
Fear came over others. ETDS started biting and scratching random crowd members.
Blood slung around, covering everyone near. The bitten were changing at a fast
rate.
Dave
grabbed a woman’s hand, pulled her in, and stuck it in his mouth. Her
excitement died down when he chomped down and pulled it off of the wrist.
“IT’S NOT
A SHOW! IT’S REAL!” She screamed, holding up the bloody stump at the end of her
arm.
“RUN TO
THE HILLS!” A man yelled running from the horde.
“RUN FOR
YOUR LIVES!” Another hollered, running in the same direction.
“What is
going on?” Jeremy looked around, concerned.
“We’re
all blocked in!” The crowd panicked.
“All
right now! Back it on up!” More armed security guards were eaten upon trying to
keep peace.
“Grab
their guns!” It became a riot.
“Guys,
you can tell if they’re really zombies if you shoot ‘em in the head and they
die!” Another stated.
The other
rioters stopped, dumbfounded.
“Okay,
don’t give him a gun!” It was decided.
More
zombies, the bands and security guards alike, ravaged and infected the
audience.
Across
the venue, the infected tore people limb from limb, eating them when not
infecting others. More people turned. Blood splattered and guts were thrown.
The group
with enough to keep them high all night were approached by zombies. They shook,
scared, before taking a hit and blowing it out at the living dead. They
stopped, looking relaxed.
“Feelin’
better, man?” The stoner asked. The zombies’ stomachs rumbled loudly. “Uh oh…”
The
hungry ghouls rushed them.
“Watch
out for the munchies!” He yelled before being torn apart with the rest of his
crew. Their nappy dreadlocks mixed with the intestines in piles on the ground.
Across
the sea of people, body parts were thrown around and caught to be eaten.
Zombies with full, bloody mouths stuffed their faces.
“We can’t
get out!” Jeremy yelled as the three guys looked at the entrance, blocked with
rioting fans.
“HELP
ME!” A woman screamed.
She
turned to the three and they saw she was missing her arm; a bloody, scraggly
stump pumping more liquid. The guys freaked.
“Wrong
way! Try that way!” Chris pointed to the side.
“AAAAAHHHH!!”
A woman, just flashing earlier, had her shirt off and her breasts had been
bitten off.
Another
viewer’s skin was being peeled off of his skull. Legs were ripped off of
screaming fans. ETDS crouched down to eat the guts out of concert goers. The
horde of blood-soaked zombies continued their chaotic meal. Faces and heads
alike were ripped off. Bones were even crunched on after being picked clean. Piles
upon piles of the dead weren’t turned, just devoured.
More and
more in the crowd changed. Their eyes whited out and skin became a cold, pale
leathery texture. Corpses rose up with the hunger. The arena’s zombie capacity
was exceeding. Jeremy, Chris, and Galen looked around, alert, with the green
stench of death visible around them.
“Dude, I
can’t believe this is happening!” Jeremy yelled out.
“Don’t
let ‘em touch you!” Chris pulled the other two back.
“This
isn’t as cool as in the movies! It smells so bad!” Galen covered his nose.
Their
eyes stung from the fumes and rubbed them accordingly.
“Well, at
least we got to see the opening band…” Jeremy shrugged.
“Yeah, I
can see them right now!” Chris pointed.
The
Cogless reeked mayhem, zombified.
The girls
who snubbed them at the gas station turned their noses up at everyone around
them.
“I knew
this was gonna be lame.” One said in her snobbish tone.
“Totes.”
Her girlfriend agreed.
They
didn’t get far before The Cogless tore them to shreds. Their skinny bodies
didn’t stand a chance, ripped apart with the greatest of ease. Upon being
eaten, the zombie punk band spit out the meat, disgusted with what they tasted.
They moved on, leaving the annoyances dead in a pile.
The three
Extra-Terrestrial Death Strike mega-fans looked all around them, surrounded by
the living dead on all sides. Zombies marched forward with their arms out and
hands grasping. Their mouths, still ready to eat. The three looked back and
forth to each other with bugged eyes.
Jeremy’s
breathing escalated, “Dude, we’re caught in a…”
“ZOMBIE
MOSH!” The three yelled out together.
Meanwhile,
outside, the security guard and the youngsters he’d kicked out looked at the
blocked door, hearing the screams of bloody murder coming from inside.
“Still
bummed out you couldn’t get in?” The guard asked.
“Hell
no.”
Inside,
the mayhem continued. A man and wife, covered in ETDS tattoos and merchandise,
stopped in front of their favorite band.
“We’re
your biggest fans! We worship you!” They said, bowing to them.
Dave,
Freddie, Lee, and Mike all looked at each other with dead eyes and shrugged.
They leapt onto their biggest fans and ate them like someone having a first
meal after being stranded on a desert island for so long.
The two
crowd surfers were still riding high as the chaos beneath them raged higher.
“These
waves are getting’ harsh, bro!” One said to the other before the two were
pulled down and torn apart.
A woman
ran by, blushing and bleeding.
“I can’t
believe ETDS just bit me! O-M-G! This is better than an autograph!” As the last
word exited her mouth, she made the painful change.
Jeremy,
Chris, and Galen huddled up.
“Okay, we
gotta figure something out!” Galen said.
“We don’t
even have anything to defend ourselves!” Chris shook his head.
“Wait!”
It hit Jeremy. “Guys! Remember the ETDS album ‘Too Loud for the Grave’!?”
“Yeah!”
The other two got it.
They all
pointed to each other, “THE HIDDEN TRACK!”
“We gotta
get to that stage!” Jeremy pointed forward.
Chris
reached down and picked up a leg and shrugged. He taunted a group of zombies
with the bloody limb before throwing it with the ghouls following suit.
Zombies
fell over other zombies.
“A little
closer!” Jeremy yelled on their trek to the stage.
“Zombie
stairway!” Galen pointed to the functioning dead pile.
The three
ran over to the mound, running up and over the pile with jaws snapping up at
them.
The guys
walked the guardrail like a tightrope with infected hands reaching up at their
feet. They made it to the bloody stage and turned back to see the venue a sea
of chaos. Dead bodies everywhere. Zombies eating everything and everyone, even other
zombies. The visible fumes of death. Mike stood, looking up at the stage before
his bandmates turned and ate him. The three shook their heads after taking in
the sight.
They
looked to each other.
“All
right guys, you know what to do!” Jeremy threw up the Devil horns. The others
replied.
Dave’s
famous guitar was on its stand. Jeremy looked to it with light shining down
upon it from the heavens.
Chris
took to the mic, “Here’s your chance, dude!” He turned out to the audience,
“Everyone cover your ears!”
Galen
cranked up the volumes on the custom amps.
And then
it happened - Jeremy played a riff on the long-admired guitar, fulfilling his
dream. The soundwaves shrieked through the air in the sonic volume. The zombies
stopped eating and instantly grabbed their ears, freaking out. He kept playing
while the other two covered their ears. The creatures screeched. Their heads
exploded.
Throughout
the arena, more zombie heads burst. Surviving humans ducked and covered their
ears as they were splattered with zombie goo. The guys on stage looked out,
confused and concerned. The bloody survivors standing amongst the many dead
zombies looked up at the stage at the three young fans.
A moment
passed and the crowd began applauding. The three were overwhelmed and happily
looked at each other before looking back out into the crowd. They raised their
arms to the roaring crowd. Everything and everyone was covered in blood and
zombie pulp.
Piles and
piles of zombies and assorted corpses littered the ground. The crowd cheered
and the guys jumped up in victory.
“Yeah!”
Jeremy pumped his fist in the air.
The
applause was through the roof.
The guard
and the teenagers stood outside, hearing the turnaround.
“Aww,
man, we missed it!”
The End.
