by Goforth, Jim
Fun time was over and potential terror and carnage was imminent if shit went bad.
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT-BLACKWATER PARK
When the sultry female manager of the Kathaarian business referred to a death metal extravaganza in occurrence in Blackwater Park, she wasn’t elaborating or fabricating the size of it in the slightest.
Seth was expecting something along the lines of the show played by Undead Fleshcrave in Armada, a full house in a large venue like the upstairs of the Quo Vadis Bar, maybe a slightly larger place, but at very least something remarkably similar.
He was wrong. Even though both Scarlett and Black managed to locate where this alleged death metal extravaganza was due to take place, Seth hadn’t really taken into account that when the sleazy Tre of Biblebashers infamy stated the concert would literally be taking place in Blackwater Park, he meant actually in Blackwater Park itself, the place which the entire town took its name from.
Right in the very centre of town, you can’t miss it, Tre stated blithely when Scarlett subtly worked conversation around to that without tipping any information the way of the lunkheaded death metal freaks.
Seth noticed that Scarlett hadn’t pressed for any exact venue name, and neither had he, merely filing away the exchange in the back of his mind for later reference, certain there must be an applicable location, a bar, a stadium, something sizeable enough to act as a venue to suit a loud death metal concert which was in the dead middle of the city, something they would automatically know. Besides, hosts of potential concert goers should be relatively easy to spot, pretty conspicuous. Or would have been, had the town not been loaded with people who may or may not be possible metal aficionados.
As it turned out, the death metal extravaganza was in fact something of a festival. It wasn’t an indoor thing, there were no bars, concert halls, or potential venues present. As Tre affirmed, the show would be taking place right in Blackwater Park.
Whether Black was aware of this previously, Seth didn’t know, but he and those he’d gone out with the night before also learned of the location.
Seth sure as fuck wasn’t expecting this. Giant tents, makeshift stages, all kinds of things set up in the Blackwater Park in preparation for a death metal festival, the ideal location for such an event, bound to draw the hordes in like flies. Whether they were diehard fans or casual observers, mildly interested onlookers or rainy day metal followers, Blackwater Park itself was a masterstroke on behalf of Global Death.
As proclaimed, Blackwater Park was in the middle of the city, the metropolis sprawling out into residential and industrial areas of commerce all around it. Surrounded by towering wrought iron fences, with massive spike tipped gates, stone pylons adorned with ornate patternings, the Park was a large, open plan entity hosting all manner of gardens, play areas, seating, walkways, and paths along with woodsy areas thoroughly choked with trees. Various constructions, stone statues, fountains, and man-made water features existed in the place too.
Right now, the serenity or relaxed atmosphere the park might conjure up during the daytime was instead supplanted by a boisterous bluster of heavy metal music, a raucous beer soaked party vibe, where the folk who usually emerged at night to crawl the streets were instead appearing in sunlit hours, keen to be part of this death metal extravaganza, which by all accounts was intended to stretch from late afternoon long into the night.
With Black not chancing bringing the Tundra to the region on the off chance it would be spotted and recognised by any of the Sentinels who’d witnessed it racing to try and cut off the truck down on the blood-soaked beach at Noumena, the whole lot of them left the vehicle in the Kathaarian car park and walked to the Blackwater Park.
“What. The. Fuck?” Was Dax’s reaction as they arrived, observing from a distance that while music pumping forth from the giant location was not live yet, it was powered out of enormous stereo systems and speakers assembled, and the area swarming with people. Many were clearly death metal fans, as evidenced by familiar band T-shirts, the same uniforms chosen by all those witnessed at many a concert, but still others were just the type of people all of them witnessed parading around the city streets previous nights. Folks in droves were already flocking here to check out this event, and it was evident that this was no simple one off concert in a closed in venue aimed at morphing all the death heads inside into undead fleshcravers.
This was a calculated masterplan, the culmination of Global Death’s first strike on unleashing the zombie apocalypse, and though all the targets assembling here weren’t going to be immediately susceptible to the insidious Zombie Trigger, all those that weren’t were going to provide free-range meat for the roaming fiends once the Trigger was switched on.
“Jesus Motherfucking Christ,” Mark said in a hushed utterance. “How the hell are we going to work this?”
Blackwater Park may have been a rough city, a metropolis where unsavoury characters and hardened souls might feel they didn’t need to worry much about recriminations for various actions, or where they could happily hide out without thought of anyone tracking them there, but there was no shortage of security on hand for this extravaganza.
The region was choked with security, big beefed up brutes packed full of muscles and menacing auras, stern faces on giant shoulders and very short necks, most of them clad in plain black T-shirts emblazoned with white lettering plainly stating which part of the festival they belonged to.
Seth didn’t see any of the Sentinels around, nor did he see any sign of Undead Fleshcrave, nor the buses or vehicles he expected they might be arriving in. That didn’t meant they weren’t there; Blackwater Park was a big ass place and they could be anywhere. However, he was willing to bet Undead Fleshcrave was one of the headlining acts―if not, the headliner―so that would mean their set would be played much later on, most likely late in the evening.
Gazing with some trepidation at the horde of security thronging around a series of turnstiles which obviously weren’t always present at the Park, but obviously temporarily installed for the purpose of today’s shenanigans, Seth was struck with a paralysing thought. An unwelcome one. Something that obviously hadn’t occurred to any of his companions.
“What are the chances…” he slowly enunciated his dreadful thoughts, and eyes went to him. “…of this being a massive set up? A trap.”
“What do you mean?” Tempest asked him, dark eyes narrowing. “Of course it’s a trap. Our trap. Only motherfucking Undead Fleshcrave aren’t going to know about it until it’s too late. That’s the point.”
“No,” Seth shook his head vehemently. “No. Not what we’re planning to do. This whole thing. A death metal festival right here, at this particular time. When all up and down the coast all metal fans are being targeted as being the ones responsible for the undead outbreaks in all those towns?”
Some of the others in the group belatedly cottoned on to what Seth was implying, and a collection of worried expressions darted across visages, predominantly Mark, Miranda, and Heather.
Tempest’s eyes narrowed even further and he exchanged a glance with Black, who raised an eyebrow up in a curious triangle.
“You know, that did not once cross my mind. I don’t think it’s the case at all, more a case of Blackwater Park not walking the same straight line as all these other places. I’d be betting this festival has been a while in the making, in order to coincide with the tour Undead have been spruiking. Seems highly unlikely there would have been enough time to throw it all together just in order to have a giant barrel of death metal fish to shoot, all ready to roll. The time frames don’t gel. It’s a good thing you’re always thinking, Seth, but some of the shit you conjure up, is overthinking. It’s not possible that this is solely created as a means of catching a shitload of ‘perceived zombie threats’ all in one place and trying to eradicate them all at once.”
“Point taken,” Seth realised that was probably true. Quite some organization had gone into the assembly, creation and set up of this thing
here, so for it to be a trap as he proposed, those responsible for pulling it together would have to be mind readers or possessed prior knowledge death metal music was about to unleash an undead apocalypse. However…
“Still, if some of those radicals, cowboys, and self-appointed witch hunters get wind of a big death metal shindig happening here in Blackwater Park…”
That disturbing statement went down like a lead balloon, engendering more panic and alarm in some. The last thing they wanted was to be ensnared inside a throbbing mass of humanity, a packed out park of rabid death metal fans where immediate escape from the vicinity was liable to be impossible, if a host of whackjobs, nutters, gun-toting idiots, even police and authorities of the same mindset, turned up, surrounding the Park.
“Calm the fuck down!” Tempest advised. “Don’t you people hold too much stock in what that Jazmyn girl said at Kathaarian? This town ain’t like any of the rest we’ve been in. We’ve seen plenty of police presence around here, but ain’t none of them, or nobody else, looking to take potshots at potential metalheads because they’re afraid any second one of them is about to go full zombie and start munching faces off. So, first things first, forget all that bullshit and let’s get our asses inside the Park. Find Undead Fleshcrave. Kill Undead Fleshcrave. That’s the whole mission. That’s all we have to do.”
Before a riot of responses could come flying from those with further wild theories about an assortment of things, stemming from Seth’s original proposition, Black held up a hand for silence.
“Okay. The band goes in first. The rest of us will come in at a later stage. That’s you, Seth, Mark, Dax, Scarlett, and Miranda, do you want to be part of the band?”
“I can’t play an instrument. Or sing! Or anything like that!” Miranda wailed. “How can I be in the band? What am I going to be, some kind of metal cheerleader?”
“For fucks sake,” Tempest shook his head. “You don’t actually have to play any goddamn instruments. We aren’t here to play anything. We’ve been over this, just this morning. The way to get closest to Undead is for some to pose as a band on this bill. Since those motherfuckers and the Sentinels have seen us in Noumena, the gig will be up immediately if it’s us claiming to be a band on the same show. Which is why it’s now Seth, Mark and Dax. The reasoning for you being part of it too is so you don’t have to split up with your loverboy. Caught the plotline yet?”
Miranda bestowed a scowl upon him, but accompanied it with a nod.
“Yes. I get it. So we go in as the band? And then what? Wait for you guys to come in.”
“Pretty much. Wander round, enjoy the festival. Act like a band who is going to be sharing the stage with the other bands. Mingle. If possible, locate Undead Fleshcrave. Don’t do anything, just keep an eye on them, find out their set time, et cetera, et cetera, shit like that. It’s not rocket science. We’ll be in there before long to take over at that point. Don’t worry about playing any damn music on stage because that isn’t what you’re here to do.”
“Well, what if they put us on stage before you get in or something?”
“You aren’t even on the damn bill, technically. How is that going to happen?”
“Aren’t we bluffing our way in as a band? What if they actually want us to play? Then our cover’s pretty fucking blown isn’t it?” Mark said.
“Look, if they don’t buy the band shit, that doesn’t really matter now. We were all expecting this thing to be in a fucking actual venue, not some mammoth outdoors festival, so the whole notion of arriving as a late addition to the bill is a little blown out of the water anyway.” Black said. “You five go first, if you manage to get inside then good, if not, we’ll figure something else out. The bottom line is that Undead Fleshcrave will be playing here. What we need to do now is find out exactly where and when that is going to happen. If they manage to switch the Trigger on here, it is going to be a fucking calamity, mark my fucking words.”
Inevitably, it was a fucking calamity. Though it was through none of the perceived threats or possibilities dreamed up by any of them that things unravelled.
***
Attaining access to the festival was so simple it was almost ridiculous for the quintet designated as the mock band. Initially, there was opposition as security thronged around and the stern faced no-nonsense woman manning the turnstile they opted to go through pointed out the name they’d provided as a performing act was not listed anywhere, on either the multitude of flyers and posters visible all over the place, nor on her clipboard.
They decided to run with the name Scarlett created the night prior, Seth already loved the name as a band moniker regardless of who was responsible for it, and the others didn’t have anything to pull off the top of their heads, so Plaguewielder it was. That brought about the one and only stumbling block for them obtaining entry. Only temporarily though.
Seth found himself as spokesperson, not through any choice of his, but merely because neither Mark nor Miranda wanted to, and letting Dax take charge would have surely fucked things for them all from the get-go. Scarlett joined him in being the voices of the mythical outfit Plaguewielder, and their comeback to the stern scowling bitch was that they were a new addition to the bill, an out of town act tacked on at the last minute.
Just when shit was starting to look dire and it seemed as though they were about to be tripped up before getting a foot in the door, another staffer drifted over their direction.
“What’s the issue?”
“Band here says they just got put on the bill. From out of town. Name’s not on the list anywhere, I haven’t been made aware of squat.”
“Let them in. We had a band drop off this morning. Biblebasher pulled out of the eight pm tonight. Guess these guys are replacements. Cheers for filling in on such short notice. From out of town too? That’s dedication.”
Seth shrugged modestly as if he and his band of merry souls were in the habit of coming from miles away to cover the shortcomings of others every other day. His heart rate gradually calmed down now, the earlier obstacle now shifting.
SternBitch had another question for them before she was about to merely take their word for it.
“What are you guys? Do you play black metal? Or death metal?” Her eyes narrowed as she posed that question and Seth didn’t miss how she cast an eye over their various attires, never mind all the obviously BM oriented stickers adorning the guitar cases. He knew what she was aiming at and stepped in quickly before Dax could hamstring the operation.
“We play a bit of both,” he erred on the safer side of caution, since ruling out black metal entirely wouldn’t have flown. Hoisting the Subversion gear, as part of the ruse indicated they were, at least partially, enamoured by black metal.
“No black metal,” SternBitch admonished immediately, her voice cracking at them like a whip. “Death metal only. If you’ve been put on this bill, you know its death metal exclusive.”
Dax started to speak and Seth knew something of a smart ass protest was coming. He quelled that by acquiescing with the command, hoping Dax didn’t persist in spitting out whatever he’d planned to. He couldn’t say for sure whether his friend would intentionally set out to jeopardise the entire plan, merely out of spite, and his reasons for doing that were simple.
Of all those who eventually returned from their various jaunts outside the walls of Kathaarian, Dax was one of those who chose to stay in the suite where Seth and Scarlett spent the better part of the evening entangled in each other’s naked bodies, and while they were in their own bedroom, sleeping soundly by the time anybody arrived, their door locked to alert the latecomers that the room was claimed and occupied, there was no mistaking the looks on various visages of others also in the suite in the morning when he and Scarlett exited together. They didn’t attempt to hide it, or come out at different times, feign innocence, or any such bullshit that nobody would be buying.
Knowing that Dax was unsuccessfully trying to hit on Scarlett from day one, Seth was under no illusions
as to how his friend viewed the emerging of him and Scarlett together from a bedroom they’d obviously been exclusive members of all night. It was written all over his face, and discovering later from Mark that Dax’s own pursuits to find ‘love’ out on the town were unsuccessful only added to the guy’s conglomeration of feelings, which seemed to run the gamut from angered, to betrayed, to shocked, and disbelieving, before segueing back through.
So having Dax fuck things up as some form of twisted payback to Seth, and probably Scarlett too for her constant polite rebuffs, wouldn’t have surprised Seth at all.
This time he didn’t, he just pasted on a scowl to match SternBitch’s and then they were allowed to enter, Seth hauling Black’s case, Mark with Tempest’s, and Scarlett carrying the bass guitar case containing Blizzard’s instrument. In fact, there were a whole lot more than just the musical instruments and this partly contributed to Seth’s apprehension as they sought to enter the Park. Of course, the lethal Blizzard Beast, The Funeral/Freezing Moons and the deadly beauty, Mother North, were ensconced in there, visible to the unknowing unsuspecting eye as nothing any more than guitars and perhaps custom cymbals, but so too were the firearms and ammunition lifted from the service station and the police. At least the guns belonging to Seth, Dax, and Scarlett. Two pistols, a shotgun.
Realising that there was every chance they could be searched, or run over with metal detectors, or at least assuming that it was a possibility, those taking firearms in elected to place them inside the instrument cases. Those not part of the faux band kept theirs on them. Just how they were going to get them in was yet to be ascertained, but that was for them to work out. Seth was remarkably surprised to find there were no metal detectors or things of that nature, nor were instrument cases made to be opened up to reveal any contraband. It put him acutely in mind of another concert. The Undead Fleshcrave show in Armada. Quo Vadis Bar. Just about devoid of security checks altogether, letting guys waltz in with full cases of beer in glass bottles.
