by Joe Zito
Paul Stanley yelled into the mic, “It looks like we’re gonna have a rock and roll party Indiana style tonight! Ahhyyeeah!”
The crowd went crazy and Kiss broke into Hotter than Hell. I noticed about halfway through the song that some sort of fight or scuffle had broken out a few feet in front of me and Tim. Then I saw two security guys in yellow jackets rush through the crowd. When the crowd parted to make way for security, we all kind of gasped and shrieked at what we saw. It wasn’t a fight. It was two seventeen year old girls locked together on the floor biting one another’s faces off. The rock and roll massacre of ’76 had begun.
A security guy grabbed one girl by her shirt and pulled her up hard. She was acting crazy, kicking her arms and legs out like she was rabid. Everyone made a ‘ahhh’ sound and some covered their eyes at what they saw. In her mouth was the other girl’s nose. She began shaking it violently back and forth like a diseased animal. “What the fuck!” I yelled. Tim covered his mouth as if to puke. He didn’t though. That girl’s eyes were full of hate as she kept clawing at the crowd around her. She finally freed herself from the security guards hold on her. She ran around in circles really fast but then came to a sudden stop. No one dared tried to subdue her. Not even the security guard whose forehead was now layered with sweat. The girl held her head down with her hair covering her eyes. But after a few seconds she raised her head to the arena ceiling and began screaming like mad. She raked her fingernails across her chest slicing through her Kiss t-shirt until she reached skin. She kept violently and rapidly scratching at herself, shredding her skin and screaming until her chest was a scratched up nightmare of blood, skin and cotton.
I looked up into the bleachers and saw Kristen. She was holding her hands up giving me this ‘what’s going on’ gesture. I waved my hands wildly at her motioning for her to come down. But she gave me a ‘whooo’ No Kristen, I’m not rocking out. Something is wrong, very wrong. I cupped my hands to my mouth and yelled at her. It was no use. She shrugged and returned her attention to the blistering rock show on stage. For Kristen and everyone else sitting in the bleachers it looked like your standard rock concert fight going on, but what they didn’t know was that the same thing was happening three rows behind them. I yelled again at Kristen but just then I saw an arm come flying out from the bleachers a little higher up from where she was. It landed right in the row in front of her. She covered her mouth in horror and then she and Phil turned around and saw this guy leap frogging really fast over the seats right at them. Kristen put her arms around Phil and they just barely got out of the way as the maniac scraped past them. He jumped down onto the main floor and was growling at everyone. He took off in the darkness of the arena, probably in search of another arm to snack on.
Pretty soon there were pockets of pcp induced slayings and violence all around the arena and Kiss played on, unaware of what was going on in the audience. That was until of course some pcp jacked blonde headed girl ran on stage, foaming at the mouth and running straight towards Paul Stanley. The stage became a sea of security as they tackled the girl. Kiss was quickly informed of what was happening. They were quickly ushered off stage. Our heroes were unharmed.
As things became more and more crazy and out of hand I kept wondering why no one had turned on the house lights yet. I found out later that the security guard in charge of watching the house lights had been attacked by three fifteen year old kids under the possession of the deadly devils nightmare pcp. They had ripped his stomach wide open and then feasted on his innards.
I yelled to Tim, “What the hell is happening?”
“I don’t know man but I’m shittin’ bricks!” He said.
“We gotta get to Kristen, c’mon!”
We made our way towards the bleachers. People were running all around the arena trying to get out. Everyone was frantic. That fear I had of getting trampled or crushed came back with a vengeance. I knew I had to get to Kristen and fast. I could see her and Phil running down the steps from up in the bleachers. Carrie and Greg were behind them.
“Kristen!” I yelled as loud as I could through the manic crowd. People were starting to panic. They were running into each other and falling down and screaming and crying. And these were just normal people; the ones without the devils nightmare attacking their brains.
Tim and I finally made it to Kristen and Phil. She was trembling with a terrible look of horror in her eyes. I hated seeing that because she was usually never scared of anything and was always smiling or laughing.
“What the hell is going on?” She asked me in scared, shaky voice.
I said, “I don’t know. It’s like everyone has gone crazy or something.”
“We need to get the hell out of here,” Phil said.
And then we heard someone screaming from behind us. It was Carrie. She was being attacked by some guy in a leather jacket with long black hair. He was on her back and was gnawing at her head. Both Phil and Greg ran to her and started beating the guy, pulling his hair until he finally was off of her back. He ran off on all fours like a twisted animal hellbent on blood. Carrie had a few bite marks on her head but she was ok; just a crying, hysterical mess.
People were running past me and I couldn’t tell if they were sane or not. Then a man was on the stage. He spoke into the mic trying to calm everyone down. It was useless. It was mayhem. Music started to play over the pa and I looked over at the sound console and rabid, pcp fiends were jumping all over it and destroying it. They were ripping apart one of the sound engineers. They had ripped his head off. A pcp freak had their face buried in the man’s open neck. They must have hit the intermission music by accident because Space Truckin’ by Deep Purple began playing.
“Ok listen up,” Phil said to everyone. “I want everyone to grab hands. Kristen and I are going to be in front. Doug, you and you’re buddy stay in the middle and Carrie and Greg will be in the back.”
“What are we going to do?” I yelled.
“We’re going to make a train and bust right out of here.” He said it with complete confidence.
People were still running around and screaming as Phil laid out the plan. He was very calm.
“See that exit over there.” He waved his hand in that direction. “That’s where we’re headed. C’mon, everybody hold tight because we’re gonna walk really fast.”
Kristen gripped my hand and gave me a worried look. Her hand felt clammy. I’ve never seen my sister that scared before. I was always the chickenshit about everything and she was always looking out for me. Now I felt like it was my turn. I just prayed we would get out alive.
So do you remember that little kid, the one in the Ace Frehley costume that came hurdling at me with my arm in his sight? Well, somehow this kid had spotted me from where he was all the way up in the bleachers. Why he chose me I’ll never know. And the creepy thing was is that he was staring at me from up in the bleachers with deadly intent. He started jumping over the seats getting closer. He was on a mission and I was his target. We were all holding hands tight with the exit sign getting closer. I saw the kid jump down onto the main floor. He was walking fast like a mall walker right at me.
“Hey Phil,” I said with my eyes on the rabid kid.
“Just keep walking kid,” Phil said without looking at me, oblivious to the killer Ace Frehley on my heels.
“Uh, Kristen,” I said nervously. We were walking so fast.
“We can’t stop Doug,” she said.
“Uh, uh guys.” I pleaded as I was drug along by our fast moving human train. The kid was getting really close by now.
“Shit, shit!” I yelled.
Then the little fucker broke out into a full blown fucking gallop on all fours straight at me. His beady little eyes full of rage and his brain broken by pcp.
“Oh shit, oh shit. Phil. Oh shit!” I screamed.
“Almost there kid,” He reassured me.
“Shitshitshitshit, GUYS!” I screamed but it was too late. The kid pounced on me and we both hit the arena flo
or. He had me on my back and he was spitting and growling like a dog, but he wasn’t a dog, he was this little kid. He clawed at my face. I put my arms up to defend myself but he scratched my left arm, thus leaving a nasty red scar on it. I still have it today but now it’s only a faded pink line. I was lucky to still have my arm. It could have been a lot worse. Both Phil and Kristen somehow wrestled the kid off of me. Phil grabbed him by his homemade Ace Frehley costume and threw him as hard as he could. The kid landed hard on his side but it was like nothing happened because he got right up and galloped away on all fours.
“Are you all right kid?” Phil asked as he helped me up off the floor.
“Yeah, I think so. It’s just my arm. I’ll live. Let’s get out of here.”
“Good idea. Ok everyone. Grab hands, we’re almost outta here,” Phil said.
Just as we started to walk quickly out of the arena in hell, I saw a 6’4 giant of a man slumbering through the frenzied crowd. He was decked out in a Gene Simmons costume, full makeup and all. His main accessory: a human arm which he was taking bites out of like a big turkey wing. It was madness. When we got a little closer to the exit I felt tremendous relief, but I was seeing some rather insane shit on the way out; things a sixteen year old kid or anyone else shouldn’t see. People were bashing their heads onto the floor over and over like it was nothing. Their faces were covered in bruises and blood but they just kept doing it. People were jumping off the edge of the bleacher seats, landing on the concrete floor on their heads and getting right back up and doing it again. Two guys were on all fours screaming and spitting at each other. One girl was pulling huge chunks of her hair out, not even screaming or feeling any pain. She had a bald spot on the side of her head. I didn’t understand what was going on. It was like a schizophrenic psycho house of rabid rock and roll zombies, except these weren’t zombies like the ones you see in the movies where they walk slowly. These animals were fast and vicious and deadly, and above all, bloodthirsty.
To get to the exit we had to go through the concession area. It was jam packed full of scared and panicking people. I was halfway in the concession area and halfway still inside the arena. I turned around and the last thing I saw from inside that hellish pit was a girl, maybe sixteen or seventeen, walking around in circles hitting her head hard with her fist. “Don’t look back Doug, we’re almost out of here,” Kristen said to me but I couldn’t stop staring at the girl. I don’t know why.
She suddenly stopped her frantic belting of her head. She saw me looking at her. She gazed at me with rabid, insane eyes and for a second I thought she was going to charge at me like that little fucker did. But she just stood still and lowered her head. Her hair covered her face. She brought her hands up to her hair smothered face. They were balled up in fists and then they opened up and her fingers stuck straight out. She slowly started scratching at her face and then faster and faster until her face was a bloody mess. She had scratched her face so hard that her left eyeball ball had come out of its socket. I tried to convince myself that she really didn’t scratch her own eyeball out but she did. She resumed her head thrashing and manic circling. Deep Purple was still playing over the pa, ‘C’mon, c’mon, let’s go space truckin’.
We finally reached the exit. Thank god. I could feel the air coming in from outside. Apparently people had busted through the exit door trying to get out. We staggered out into the parking lot. At the same time three black vans pulled up to the building. They were the swat team. One of them spoke into a hand held loudspeaker telling everyone to return to their vehicles and to leave immediately.
A news van was also sitting there in the parking lot. News travels freaking quick I guess. A news anchor woman with a mic in her hand spotted a girl stumbling around in the parking lot. She looked dazed. The anchor went to her and began asking her some questions about what was going on inside. The girl was hysterical and crying.
“Is everyone all right?” Phil asked.
We all nodded without saying anything. We were all in shock. I was just glad to be outside. Aside from some minor cuts we were ok physically. But mentally and emotionally we were not. We all kind of just stared at one another for a moment with terrified looks on our faces. We knew we had just witnessed and had been a part of some strange event that would take us years to get over.
“I think we’re parked over here,” Kristen said quietly.
We all started walking that way. I’m surprised Kristen could remember where we even parked. We were walking slowly and then Kristen stopped and it all hit her. She started crying, “What was all that?” She sounded terrified as tears rolled down her face.
We got to the Datsun and we’re all standing around looking dazed and horrified and then we heard a blast of gunfire from inside the Indiana Convention Center. Kristen jumped from the abrasive gun shots. She fell into Phil’s chest covering her ears as she screamed and then broke into another cry. The swat team that we saw jumping out of those black vans had begun taking out anyone that was relentlessly clawing at their face or had a limb hanging out of its mouth. Seventy five hundred people walked inside the Indiana Convention Center that night. One hundred and fifty two of them never made it out. They either died of a gunshot wound or death by one the devils nightmare crazies.
Phil embraced Kristen. It was strange seeing some guy we just met with his arms around my sister, comforting her. But I was glad he was there for her. Maybe he wasn’t just looking for a piece of ass that night. As he held Kristen he looked at me with hard and weary eyes. I could tell he was a wreck to.
Kristen let me drive home that night. That and seeing my first pair of boobs were the only two good things to happen that night. Well, make that three things. We got out of there alive.
Kristen and I never talked much about that night afterwards. I guess we turned out ok. We never turned to drugs or alcohol or had to see a shrink. I guess we dealt with it in our own ways.
I was sixteen when the rock and roll massacre of ’76 happened. Today I’m forty six and I am the head of the narcotics division for the Indiana state police. I have two sons, both in their twenties. I’m a grandpa too which is hard to believe. My sister Kristen married Phil in 1978 and they’re still together. They have three girls.
I haven’t been to a concert since that horrible night in 1976. But I guess that will change tonight since I will be taking my grandkids to their first concert. I’m ok with it to, because it’s not every day that the Osmonds come to town.
In unison
Her pretty face burned red with embarrassment because she thought she had peed on her boyfriend as she dug her fingernails into his shoulders, pumping herself on top of him making herself feel good under the stars around midnight on the edge of Dyer’s Forest, but what she really had done was the thing some females do when they get overly excited down below in between their thighs. A thick lock of her blonde hair rested over her shoulder as she fanned her face and let out a breath of exhaustion still feeling that odd mix of arousal and embarrassment. She started again and pumped herself almost into a fit of sexual possession until she released a tremendous arc of wetness that sparkled like diamonds against the star cast sky. She let out a cry indicating her poor, female hormones were out of whack and when she screamed high and loud into the night air from her intense moment of pleasure the girl being chopped to pieces on the other side of Dyer’s Forest screamed along with her; though Miss pretty face fucked up hormones never heard a thing.
Bloodbound: The diary of Amy Smith
May 4th 1986-
It is with a led lock and a key of thorns that I shall use to protect these writings which have so dreadfully haunted my days and nights as of late. I’m only fourteen and have been experiencing some things lately that I don’t understand. I have these images in my mind. They feel as if they’re right in front of me. They are horrible and terribly frightening. I haven’t told anyone about these episodes, not even my grandparents. I know they would lock me up if I did. Recently I decided to write down some of t
hese terrible images plaguing by mind in this diary. I hope it will help. I have no idea where to begin with all of this. I guess it all started a couple of years ago. I wish I could go back in time and change things. I would have never gone into Sam’s Hardware store if I had known what was going to happen. I despise Red Brown for what he did. But a part of me can’t really blame him. It was all that girls fault anyway. I’m not sure if I can even write her name without feeling a sense of hate and yet dread at the same time. Angel. There I wrote it. Why did you kill my mom? And why can’t you stay out of my dreams. That day at Sam’s still shines bright in my memory even after two years. I remember grandma telling me I could get my ear’s pierced that day. I was so excited. I couldn’t wait. It never happened though and I suppose I’ll never get my ears pierced. It hasn’t really been on my list of things to do. It seems lately that Angel has taken up a lot of my time in my mind. She’s all I think about. But of course I think of my mom to and what it would’ve have been like to grow up around her. I do love my grandparents though and I guess Susan is kinda like my mom, but not really. They are really good to me and take care of me like good parent’s do I guess, but I know it’s not the same. I shouldn’t complain. It does hurt me though when my grandma accidently calls me Heather. I know she was her daughter and she misses her very much and wants her back but I don’t know if grandma knows how that makes me feel when she does that. I know she doesn’t do it on purpose, but still. I do look a lot like my mom I guess. She was beautiful. These nightmares that I’ve been having lately and these daydreams, I wonder if my mom had it to or if my real dad did. I never knew him. I don’t even remember one thing about him. I guess he left my mom when I was two. I just want this all to go away. No more Angel standing at my bedside in the middle of the night holding that bloody hatchet and no more hearing her scream I bathed in her blood like Red Brown told me that she did. I remember feeling so awful for throwing up on the floor that night after the incident at Sam’s. My grandma yelled at me and I felt so bad. She’s never yelled at me like that. But then she started to cry and then I cried with her. And I also remember that first nightmare later that night after everyone went to bed. It would be the first of many. I remember waking up screaming and the bed sheets were covered in my sweat and I was shaking and yelling out for my grandma. I can still hear her feet running across the wooden floor of the hallway and her coming through the door in her silk white night gown which I thought was a ghost, and as her footsteps got closer to my door I was almost certain that it would be Angel Larson all covered in my mother’s blood, busting through my door and her face rushing towards me screaming I bathed in her blood and then chop me to pieces with that hatchet and then drink all my blood from my body just like she did to my mom.
