Ninja Zombie Killers IV: A Horror, Comedy, Rock and Roll Odyssey

By Michael Cairns

‘What happens on tour, stays on tour...’
Tom arrives with four words to drag Dave out of his Charlotte-left-me funk.
Battle of the bands. What follows is a meeting with the fabulous Amelia, guitar player and geek extraordinaire, wearer of splendidly sexy clothes and, unfortunately, member of the only band who might challenge them to the top spot.
Dave, unburdened by his usually dubious morals, decides the only option is to kill one of the band members. He opts for the singer cos, you know, singers...
But the tour is only the beginning of their troubles. Tours are never simple things at the best of times and when the headline band are as mysterious and downright rock and roll as Lightning, you know something crazy is going to happen.
A number of crazy things do happen, not least Tom getting his end away with two rather enthusiastic groupies, another trip to Fae, in which Tom gets his end away with two rather enthusiastic Fae, Darren getting a girlfriend, and Dave getting not very much of anything.
And as if that wasn’t enough, Edward is still out there, as is the Blood King.
NZK VI is another whirlwind trip through crazyville with the kind of tour guides you’d cross the street to avoid. And Darren.

Click Buy Now to join the tour, hear the magic of Lightning, and maybe meet some groupies. Maybe.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michael Cairns
• Release date: Feb 22, 2016
• ISBN: 9781909699489

Michael Cairns

Michael Cairns was born at a young age and could write even before he could play the drums, but that was long ago, in the glory days - when he actually had hair. He loves chocolate, pineapple, playing gigs and outwitting his young daughter (the scores are about level but she's getting smarter every day). Michael is currently working hard on writing, getting enough sleep and keeping his hair. The first is going well, the other two...not so much. His current novels include: > Young adult, science fiction adventure series, 'A Game of War' 1. Childhood dreams 2. The end of innocence 3. Playing God 4. Breathing in space 5. Escape 6. Gateway to earth > Urban fantasy super-hero series, 'The Planets' 1. The spirit room 2. The story of Erie 3. The long way home >Paranormal horror post apocalyptic zombie series, 'Thirteen Roses' 1. Before (Books 2-6 due for release in spring)

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IV

By

Michael Cairns

Published by Cairns Publishing

Copyright © Michael Cairns (2015)

All rights reserved. No part of this publication

may be reproduced, distributed, or

transmitted in any form or by any means without the

prior written permission of the publisher.

1st Edition

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For Åine, Anjali, Tia, Harry, Hritik and Erik, a kick-arse band if ever there was one.

She’s Leaving Home

She wasn’t coming back.

He still didn’t want to believe it. In fact, he wasn’t going to. He would go and get another bottle of crappy dark rum and spend the day resolutely not believing it. It was easy to not believe things. He didn’t believe the world was under constant threat from zombies, vampires, and all other manners of crazy evil shit. He didn’t believe one of his friends was in a wheelchair because of said evil crazy shit. He didn’t believe that out there was a man so crazy he’d made a deal with something that would, upon reaching Earth, almost certainly kill him along with every other person on the planet.

But most of all, he didn’t believe Charlotte wasn’t coming back. It was a perfectly nice flat. She’d gone on holiday. It had been two months, though… Dave swallowed and rubbed his forehead. Two months since the kiss and though the guys in the band did their best to make sure he didn’t forget it, surely she had. It was a good time for a holiday.

Except you don’t take your toaster on holiday, and he’d seen it poking from one of the boxes she’d loaded into her car. There had been quite a lot of boxes, come to think of it, possibly more than one needed for a week on a Spanish beach. Maybe she was travelling.

He needed rum.

He spent a minute or two shoving the off licence door before realising it was half seven in the morning. He probably wasn’t safe to drive, so he stumbled into Ealing to the express supermarket. White shutters, like a jail perimeter fence, covered the booze section.

The world hated him. The trouble was, he couldn’t really blame it. He wandered into the cafe opposite. They knew him in here. They didn’t hate him.

He ordered his hot chocolate whilst trying not to breathe on the man behind the counter, then counted his money over and over again. By the time the drink came, he was no closer to knowing how much was there, so he handed it all over and waited whilst the man patiently took what he needed and handed the rest back.

The man paused as he dropped the money into Dave’s hand, forehead furrowing. ‘Hey, aren’t you the guy who tried to make out with a lesbian?’

Dave took the hot chocolate and shuffled away from the counter, mumbling under his breath. He had his spell book. He always had his spell book. He could do something horrible to this guy. He could invade the shop with demons, or throw balls of fire at his cake stands. He could do it, just like that.

He slumped onto a seat at the back and stared at the square of watery light crawling in through the front window. Traffic was bad again. Dave rested his head on his hands and let out a long breath. It was a breath that carried with it the sadness of a failed nation, or the loser at a four act talent show. His eyes closed and he dreamed.

It was possibly a nice dream. Lilith was wearing something scandalous and, at some point, Charlotte joined her. But the moment the two of them started touching one another, they turned and left the room. Dave sat on the sofa alone, wondering where all the elephants were coming from.

‘Dave? Oh, Daaave?’

‘It’s no good. Try something drastic.’

‘Dave, wake up, the world’s ending.’

‘Bloody hell, he’s bad this morning. Make it really drastic.’

‘Dave, your hot chocolate’s getting cold.’

‘Wha, huh, who?’ He sat up, rubbing his eyes. The back of his hand came away wet and he sniffled as he rubbed them again. His hot chocolate was already cold. He bit back the tears. ‘Bugger me and leave off alone.’

Tom plumped himself in the seat opposite and pressed both hands flat to the table. ‘As much as I’d love to leave your miserable arse right here, sans buggery, we have work to do.’

Dave stared through the haze at his best friend. The four parallel scars that ran across his right cheek looked fierce today. ‘Have you been scratching?’

Tom absently ran his nails over his cheek and shook his head. ‘Nah, it’s the weather.’

‘There’s weather?’

Tom patted his head and chuckled. ‘There’s always weather, I’d have thought you’d have noticed that by now.’

‘Yeah.’

‘What’s wrong?’

‘She’s gone.’

Tom used his own sigh, which was less ‘end of the world’ and more, ‘can I get through the next five minutes without twatting this guy?’ and leant across the table. ‘She’s gone to stay with a mate. She’s not actually gone anywhere, she just needed to get out of the flat. She’s doing okay, which means she’s a bit of a wreck and can’t talk about anything but you. Happy?’

Dave sat up and stared at Tom. It was like he was actually being nice. He blinked, looked at his cold hot chocolate, and burst into tears.

‘Oh for Christ’s sake. Mate, get over it, we’ve got work to do.’

Nice, apparently, didn’t last very long. Darren appeared, bearing new, steaming hot chocolate which he placed reverentially before Dave. The singer gave his other best friend a weak, but pathetically grateful smile.

‘Thanks.’

Darren shrugged and looked mournfully at his own hot chocolate. ‘Right, here’s a question for you. Why do they stop serving coolers in the winter? I mean, you can still buy ice cream, right?’

‘Yeah, but only weirdos eat it.’

Dave sat back, happy for Tom to field this life-changing question.

‘I eat it and I’m not a weirdo.’ Darren said.

‘Nah,’ Tom shook his head, ‘you’re just a ninja who plays drums and fights zombies. Not weird at all.’

‘It’s just not fair. I want a cooler.’

‘And want doesn’t get, young man.’ Tom snapped. He flushed and shook his head. ‘Sorry, flashback. Right.’ He sipped his coffee and winced as it burnt his lips, ‘we have work to do.’

Darren shook his head and apologised to Dave. ‘Sorry, he’s been saying that since he dragged me out of bed.’

Dave’s world began to spin. He sipped some hot chocolate in the hope it would bring things back level, but nothing doing. ‘Sorry, did you just say Tom dragged you out of bed?’

‘Well, not exactly. He dragged me up from my yoga mat, but that’s near enough.’

Dave wiped his forehead clean of the sweat beginning to bead there and started to breathe. ‘Okay, that I can handle.’ He turned to Tom. ‘Work?’

Tom nodded, eyes twinkling. Tom’s eyes rarely twinkled and, when they did, it was usually because of the copious amount of beer he’d drunk. But they were definitely twinkling.

‘Did you guys happen to notice if I did a bunch of drugs last night?’ Dave asked.

‘We haven’t seen you in over a week, so not a bloody clue. Right, listen.’

He leant forwards, drawing the others in. ‘I’ve got four words for you. Battle of the Bands.’

‘Ooh, cool.’ Darren said.

‘What?’ Dave said.

‘Yeah. But this isn’t any normal battle of the bands. You know that band, Lightning?’

‘Weren’t they around in like, the 80s?’

‘Yeah, more 90s, though, really. They did that metal concept album.’

‘That about three people bought?’

‘I was one of the three.’ Tom muttered under his breath. ‘Anyway, point is, they’re back. They’ve got a new album, which is being hailed as a masterpiece of blues rock and they need a support band to go on tour with them.’

‘Right.’

‘But they want a covers band. They want a band who can play all the rock songs from the 80s and 90s.’

‘So like half our set, then?’

‘Exactly. So to choose their support band, they’re doing this battle of the bands thing.’

He sat back, grinning smugly, and sipped his coffee. Dave stared for a moment, before retreating into his own drink. Darren was almost bouncing up and down in his seat. Then his face fell. ‘Battle of the bands means we’re competing against other people, right?’

‘Yeah, isn’t it great?’

‘Music’s not about competition.’

Dave’s head hit the table and their voices lowered.

‘Is he alright?’ Darren asked, sotto vocé.

‘Charlotte moved out a week ago.’

‘Oh. That’s great, isn’t it? I mean, you can go and sleep in your bed instead of the van.’

Dave stared at the table a while before raising his head. Darren did have a point. He could sleep without waking surrounded by the smell of petrol. He could shower in the morning without… actually, he could just shower in the morning. He could plug his guitar into an amplifier when he practiced.

He downed his hot chocolate and stared at the others. Tom grinned wryly at him, waiting. The bastard knew him far too well. There were people in the world who, when faced with a fate worse than death, smiled at it and continued anyway. Then there were those who succumbed and gave up all hope. Dave sat somewhere in the middle. He would get up and keep going but, given half a chance, he’d bitch and moan about it to anyone within earshot.

‘She’s coming back? Are you sure?’

Tom nodded. ‘It’s a ‘temporary thing’. Apparently, she knows she still loves you and needs to get away from all the bad stuff in the flat and remember why. So she could be gone a while.’

Dave swatted him but Tom leant out of range, chuckling at his own comedy genius. Dave looked to Darren and the drummer didn’t disappoint. ‘She loves you. You know that. She’s just really angry and why shouldn’t she be? I mean, after all, you did try to make out with one of her friends.’

‘They aren’t friends.’

‘Where do you think Tom’s getting all his info from?’

‘She’s moved in with Lilith? But she’s gay.’

‘So?’ Tom frowned, setting his coffee on the table. Dave opened his mouth, but for some miraculous reason, his brain got in the way. He’d been about to say, ‘what if she seduced Charlotte and his dream came true?’ He wasn’t sure he didn’t really think that, but he had the strongest feeling it wasn’t a cool thing to say.

‘I just mean, how do you know they aren’t, you know?’

Darren’s forehead creased and he shook his head. He clearly didn’t know. Tom looked like he wished he didn’t know. ‘Are you really this mentally dysfunctional? Lilith is gay, Charlotte isn’t. It is possible for two women to live in the same house and not start having sex.’

Dave swallowed the upsurge of disappointment and nodded vigorously. ‘Of course, I know that. I just…’

Tom sighed and rose from his chair. ‘Anyone need sugar? I have a sudden craving for sugar.’

The others grunted as he wandered to the counter. They watched him return and sit, then tear the top off a packet of sugar and empty the contents into his mouth. Darren winced but Dave quailed and ducked. He’d seen Tom like this before, when they were at Uni.

There was a girl in which he had an unhealthy obsession. He’d spent a good couple of months inventing wonderful schemes to woo her and, despite his continued lack of success, had maintained a frightening intensity about it. He’d eaten sugar then as well. The mini bursts of depression he’d experienced daily as a result of the sugar crashes had been precursors to the real deal which had come when the girl finally let him down.

Dave remembered the weeks of living with a bedridden, whisky-swilling monster all too well. He shook his head. Not this time. He couldn’t face it. And besides, maybe a tour was what he needed. Lots of alcohol, lots of music, and no time to think about Charlotte. Did Lightning have groupies?

‘You’re right. It’s good that she moved out. She’ll hang with Lilith and they can talk about me and work out why she loves me…’ he trailed off, staring at the others. The sob that threatened to break free caught in his throat and he swallowed it down. ‘There is, of course, a good chance she’ll end up hating me, but then we wouldn’t want to get married if th—’

He cut himself off as he realised what he’d said. His band mates were staring at him with huge smiles and Tom leant across the table and thumped him on the arm. ‘Nice one. I mean, if she says yes, which she won’t, but still, nice one anyway.’

‘Thanks. I think.’

Darren stood and Dave realised he was coming in for a hug. Refusing a hug from Darren was like telling an emo their music was just goth for pussies then laughing at them as they cried, so he got up and they hugged. It wasn’t altogether unpleasant and letting go proved tougher than it should have been.

‘Thanks, guys. I didn’t tell you just cos I haven’t asked her yet.’

‘Yeah, well, no time for that now.’ Tom came out of his seat like a particularly energetic and obnoxious rabbit, and Dave felt the sudden urge to climb back into the van with the rum he still hadn’t managed to buy.

‘Battle of the bands. Are we in?’

Darren nodded and Dave groaned, rubbed his face and nodded as well. ‘Suppose so. I’ll need to sober up.’

‘And shower.’

‘Thanks, Darren. When is it?’

‘Tomorrow.’

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake.’

Let The Battle Commence

Dave felt old. Since when were covers band dominated by kids barely out of nappies? Everywhere he looked he saw dodgily dyed hair combed tight across foreheads, and jeans you couldn’t fit a normal pair of legs into. Although, there were far more women here than he remembered at these sorts of things.

He and Tom had played original music once, way back in the day, when Ryan drummed and wrote lyrics. They hadn’t sucked entirely and they’d attempted a couple of competitions. Of course, the moment someone told them they could actually get paid for playing music, everything changed. When they told them they could play AC/DC songs and get paid, original music became a mournful figure rapidly disappearing in the rear view mirror.

Most of the bands here were in the deluded, original music phase of their careers, so as he settled himself in one of the many empty seats in the huge auditorium, he wondered what exactly they were going to see. The place was filled with kids, a handful of older rockers sprinkled amongst them. Based on the red cheeks and shaking hands, he reckoned they were homeless guys who’d come in for the warmth.

The first band emerged and nervously announced themselves as the day after JFK got shot. They launched into a cover of All The Small Things, which they did pretty well. The next song they didn’t introduce and Dave didn’t recognise it. When the song ended, the singer giggled into the mic.

‘That was one of ours, actually. So, like, if you want to hear more of our stuff, say YEAH!’

Two girls sat right at the front screamed and shouted. The guy at the mixing desk, who could be a member of Lightning, but could just as easily be Lemmy’s half brother, glanced at Dave with his eyebrows raised. Dave shrugged and the guy nodded in return.

‘NEXT!’

The band sloped off stage and the next group came on. They were called Bung. They were fronted by a girl who, as they blasted through something he thought might be Paramore, but sounded a little like Kate Bush on speed, didn’t have a bad voice. The second song was less familiar and he chuckled as Lemmy’s alter ego put his head in his hands.

The pattern repeated itself. Everything’s fucking Ruined played a pretty good rendition of Enter Sandman, and followed it up with some sludgy attempt that had them booted off the stage halfway through their number. After them came There’s no excuse for a bad haircut and who cut your hair anyway. They played something by Fall Out Boy, then something else that could also have been by Fall Out Boy, though Dave had a sneaking suspicion it wasn’t.

Tom dragged him from his seat just as his eyelids were closing and they nipped down to the side of stage door. Stepping through it was like walking into the toilets at school. Dave couldn’t really remember the toilets at school and, too be fair, no one was having their head shoved down one of the loos, but it still took him back.

Half of the boys were running around with their t-shirts off, whilst the other half huddled in corners, glaring suspiciously as anyone who came near. But despite the age difference and the slight, but ever-increasing feeling that Ninja Zombie Killers were the dads who’d just crashed the party, it felt friendly.

Dave could see Metallica t-shirts and not the crap ones since Load, either. For every kid in skinny jeans, there was another wearing flares or black everything with a Slayer top. He lounged in the corner, tuning his guitar and watching the chaos. It was his kind of chaos. And it was the first time in two months he hadn’t thought about Charlotte.

‘NINJA ZOMBIE KILLERS’ boomed through the PA so they headed for the stage. More than one of the other bands wished them luck and told them how good their name was, so by the time Dave stepped up to the mic, he felt not quite so utterly shite. He opened his mouth then stopped and turned away from the mic.

‘Guys, what are we playing?’

Tom burst out laughing, then spoke into his own mic. ‘Hi, folks, thanks for having us. This one’s called Highway to Hell.’

Dave was halfway through the solo when he caught sight of Lemmy at the desk. He was nodding his head and grinning like a madman, which he quite possibly was. They finished to cheers and applause and Dave scanned the front row. There were more girls there, every one of them looking half his age. He wasn’t that old, surely? Although, they’d all been singing along, so at least they had good taste.

‘Thanks, really, you’re too kind. We thought we’d play one of our own, now.’ He paused for a beat, just long enough for Lemmy to start scowling. ‘Nah, just kidding. This is Fat Lip by Sum 41.’

They blasted into it and the audience went wild. They played their three and sauntered back into a more subdued dressing room. The other bands watched them with something like awe as they wandered through to put their instruments away. A kid with long hair and what he optimistically thought was a beard, approached them.

‘Man, that was fucking amazing. How long have you guys been playing?’

Dave shrugged. ‘A few years.’

‘How did you get so good?’

‘Practice?’ Dave tried.

‘Drunk lots?’ Tom threw out.

A mixture of zen meditation, mindfulness and fighting evil.’ Darren smiled to soften the blow. The kid frowned. ‘Oh. Right.’

He backed away, frown deepening, and Ninja Zombie Killers crept from the dressing room. The afternoon went much as predicted until Soup Kitchen Martyrs came on stage. There were two guys and two girls, all with guitars. One of them hit play on a drum machine and they blasted into a crazy, noise-nik version of Mrs Robinson that had everyone in the hall first looking at them funny, then tapping their feet, then getting up and dancing.

Dave nudged Tom in the ribs. ‘Nice harmonies.’

‘Yeah, helps when you’ve got two girls singing.’

‘But they’re clever, too.’

‘Too bloody clever.’

Dave sniffed. ‘You think any of them work for the dark side?’

‘You’re optimistic.’

Maybe he was, but they were going to beat NZK, so it was worth a look. Something about the way the lead singer moved had his back up. To most people, it just looked like one of those affected twats who fancied himself a bit too much. But many of those same people were actually zombies, for whom self-love was a thing of the past.

He slipped from his seat and wandered down to the front, pushing through the crowds of boogieing kids. The flush of pleasure that came over him when he spotted the sunken eyes was wrong. He knew it was wrong, but at some point during the course of the day, the need to win this competition had taken control of him. So finding out the only real competition had a zombie for a lead singer was just fantastic.

He slipped backstage and waited as they came off. The other bands were rapturous, applauding as they entered the dressing room. Dave joined in. They were good. In fact, they were bloody great. Unfortunately one of them was a zombie.

The lead singer went to a corner and made it clear he wasn’t to be spoken to. The two girls from the band were quite different, chatting to anyone who wanted to talk. Dave approached one, trying to keep his eyes off her low cut t-shirt and barely-there shorts. She was young, but not that young, and the van had felt very empty and very cold recently.

Lying in bed last night had been even worse. Charlotte hadn’t stripped the sheets before she left so it still smelled of her. He’d hugged the pillow and tried not to cry for a while, then got up and played Spot the real one on The Walking Dead.

‘Hey, you guys are good.’

She turned a seriously pretty smile on him. ‘Thanks. So are you. You like the classics, huh?’

‘I like pretty much everything, so long as it isn’t shit.’

She laughed. ‘How do you know if something’s shit?’

‘Easy. If I like it, it isn’t shit. If I don’t…’

‘Wow, I’m glad you liked us.’

‘Nice guitar by the way.’

‘Oh, hey, thanks.’ She hefted her Gibson onto her lap and gave him the run down. She’d changed almost everything about it and was geeky enough to want to talk about it. He caught himself five minutes in and swore inwardly. He could happily stay here and talk forever, but the last band had just taken the stage.

‘Hey, sorry, I need to go. No, hang on, I need to tell you something. Oh, crap, what’s your name?’

She flushed. ‘Amelia. You can call me Amy if you like.’

‘Thanks. I’m Dave.’

He’d thought about changing his name. Dave had about as much ring to it as a broken cymbal, but what was he going to call himself? As a teenager, he’d been tempted by Storm Denethor, but the older he got, the less convinced he was. Even Alvin was more rock and roll than Dave, though.

They shook hands in that awkward, we-should-have-done-this-ten-minutes-ago-because-now-it-should-maybe-be-a-hug way and Dave took a deep breath.

‘Look, I don’t know how to say this, and I find myself not wanting to, either, but your lead singer’s a zombie.’

‘Yeah, it’s cool. He eats rats.’

‘Rats? Exclusively.’

‘As far as I know.’

‘What does that mean?’

She huffed and set her guitar back on the stand. ‘It means I don’t follow him around and go through his crap, but he assures me he only eats rats, so I believe him.’

‘He’s a zombie. You do know that zombie’s are evil, right?’

‘What is evil? Is cancer evil? Because it killed my best friend, but I don’t think it’s evil. Cancer’s killed a fuck load more people than zombies and