The sun was relentless, baking the sidewalks and shimmering off the hood of the giant black tour bus like a mirage. Inside the den, it was cool and dim — until Thane pulled back the curtain and narrowed his eyes at the hundreds of fans still camped out on the street, some with handmade signs, others with parasols and folding chairs, and all of them glistening with sweat but still stubbornly smiling.

“They’re still here,” he muttered.

Cassie leaned in behind him. “You think they’re expecting another porch performance?”

“They’ve earned something more than that,” Thane said, already pulling out his phone. “We should give them merch. All of them.”

Cassie grinned. “And water! If someone faints in our front yard, we’ll trend for all the wrong reasons.”

Thane gave her a look. “Good point.”

Five minutes later, he was on the phone with a local bottled water distributor. “Yeah, full pallet. Today. Right now. Just drop the whole thing in front of my house and I’ll make it worth your while.”
They didn’t even hesitate.

Next, he dialed Rudy’s Bar-B-Q — the smell of their brisket alone could start a stampede. “Can you cater a couple hundred barbecue sandwiches and picnic sides? Today? I’ll cut you a check for $20,000 when you get here.”

The guy on the other end nearly dropped the phone with excitement. “We’re on it!”

Thane hung up, turned back to the room, and raised an eyebrow. “We’ve got about an hour. Let’s make this happen.”

The den exploded into action.

Jonah and Emily started boxing up spare merch from the closet under the stairs. Shirts, stickers, wristbands, a few signed posters — if it had the band’s logo, it was going outside. Mark grabbed his work tablet and started quietly coordinating the crowd logistics like he was running a battlefield.

Cassie commandeered the band’s socials. “Block party happening now! Free food. Free water. Free merch. Because we love you weirdos. Bring sunscreen.”

Thane, meanwhile, was trying to convince the HOA president that this wasn’t technically a “gathering” because the crowd was already there before they started giving things away.

But Gabriel?

Gabriel had other plans.

He grabbed Rico and Cassie, a couple small battery-powered amps, and the mini PA system they used for promo appearances. The trio slipped around the side of the house and appeared on the driveway like street performers. Gabriel didn’t even speak — he just slung on a guitar, plugged it in, and started playing a smooth, stripped-down instrumental version of one of Feral Eclipse’s most beloved hits.

By the third note, the entire crowd surged toward the yard like moths to flame.

Cassie picked up the mic and grinned. “Hey Edmond! Y’all look hot out there. Guess what? You’re about to get fed, hydrated, and spoiled.”

Cheers erupted.

“And it’s all free. Because this — ” she gestured to the mass of fans, now whooping like they’d won the lottery, “ — is what family looks like.”

As if summoned by a spell, the water distributor’s box truck came rattling around the corner, narrowly avoiding the tour bus and skimming the neighbor’s flowerbed. Behind it, Rudy’s catering van screeched in like the cavalry, trailing the scent of brisket, pulled pork, and smoked sausage like a dream.

Fans parted to make room, and volunteers leapt from the crowd to help unload the water bottles and picnic setups.

Then the real chaos began.

One table after another filled the driveway, the lawn, and most of the street. Giant trays of sandwiches and slaw. Piles of merch bags. Boxes of water bottles stacked higher than Mark’s patience level. The air filled with music, smoke, and the scent of barbecue sauce as the sun dipped low and social media went nuclear.

Hashtags trended in every state.

#FeralFeast
#BlockPartyOfTheCentury
#GabrielPlaysBBQ
#OklahomaEatsGoodTonight
#FeralEclipseDidWhat

Thane stood off to the side, arms folded, surveying the sea of happiness spilling across his entire front yard. Kids were dancing. Fans were crying again. The Rudy’s guy asked for three autographs and a photo with Cassie. And not a single drone got taken out of the sky this time.

Gabriel bounded over, eyes wide, cheeks puffed out from yet another brisket sandwich. “We should do this every week.”

Thane snorted. “We’d go broke in a year.”

“We’re already broke. Emotionally.” Gabriel grinned. “But worth it.”

And as dusk settled over Edmond, the den behind them glowed like the heart of something powerful and wild and good.

Just a band. Just a pack.

Just another backyard party that set the internet on fire.