Undead Fleshcrave: The Zombie Trigger Read Online Free PDF

air.          
    Seth could still see no sign of either Eric Baron and his cronies, or Buck and the girls.
He wondered whether they were somewhere down there in that swarm of bodies, worked into a frenzy by the brutal barrage of death metal by the Undead fivesome.          
    SamEdi gripped his microphone like he wanted to choke it to death, growling like a feral beast, his face a blood splattered and green-gooped mess in a grimacing snarl. His bandmates windmilled without missing a beat, drummer Grinder a furious dervish with legs and arms moving so rapidly they were a blur.          
    Seth gazed in consternation at the crush at the barricade, thankful Julietta had the good sense to stay out of that.          
    And this was only the first track from the band; it was only going to get crazier from here on out.           And crazier it did get, much messier too.          
    Three tracks in and the ferocious five piece decided interaction with the baying crowd was a must.           The Deadwalker and FaceGnawer temporarily exited the stage as SkinCarver regaled the moshing mass with an insane display of soloing, peeling out a crescendo of squealing notes over a pummelling drum line, and then the duo returned, both carrying big metal buckets which they deposited at the front of the stage.          
    The bassist picked up his instrument and chimed in with the rhythm of Grinder, but the other guitarist and SamEdi proceeded to plunge their hands into the buckets, withdrawing them packed with what looked suspiciously like dripping entrails.          
    "Jesus..." Mark hissed as SamEdi ripped into a section with his teeth and then sprayed a mouthful out into the crowd. "Is that...?"          
    The Deadwalker didn't waste any time or effort biting at the offal, he just flung it out into the mass of people, splattering the gruesome titbits against faces in the crowd. A mixed reaction came from those who were the recipients of this, ranging from shocked to overjoyed.          
    "Fuck, is that real?" Lincoln wanted to know, though a rancorous putrid odour souring an atmosphere already heavy with alcohol, perspiration, and smoky smells seemed to suggest that indeed the band might actually be hurling real innards from some as yet unidentified source into the congregation of heaving metal fans.          
    "I think so," Seth murmured, staring in morbid fascination.          
    "That's disgusting," Miranda declared. "I hope Callie and the others are smart enough to get their butts out of there if they are down there."          
    "Ha-ha, sucked in, if they are," Lincoln declared. "That'll learn them. Guts to the face."          
    "You idiot," Miranda scowled. "That's just rank. Damn death metal bands."          
    "Hey, what about the black metal bands with pigs’ blood and that kind of thing?"          
    "I'd rather get a face full of pigs’ blood than a big fat pile of pigs’ guts in my mouth."          
    "Who says it’s pigs' guts?" Lincoln said with a mock creepy tone to his voice, trying to inject a suitably gruesome chuckle in as well.          
    "Lincoln, I wish one of those handfuls of ....stuff would land in your face."          
    "Not going to happen," Lincoln grinned smugly.          
    Seth just continued to stare as the duo dealing out the grotesque offerings continued to fling the gunk into the thrashing pit, splattering pieces against people, bits flying off onto the floor while the octet of burly security guards didn’t do a single thing about it.          
    They remained like Royal Guards, faces impassive, arms folded across their enormous chests.           Surely this wasn't in the performance contract? The venue couldn't be overjoyed by this sort of activity. The liability could be massive if somebody