Sean was also into the garage and the bikes. He spent a lot of time training and getting the hang of fighting on a bike.
Randall spent time with Beth. Both played with the children. Beth wanted Carl and Maggy to be comfortable around him. It all was somewhat forced and the timing a bit soon, but the life everyone was leading now was intense, each day felt like a huge moment of one's life.
Randall trained with Sean too, to get used to swinging. They talked a lot about driving and zombie behavior and routes.
Dad noticed Steve and Tom were having a strange tension. They weren't together much. Dad did not want to interfere. He noticed Tom seemed more virile or manly, more upright and broad shouldered than he recalled. It was this life, this fight for survival he figured. Tom was becoming his own. Dad wasn't sure how that would play out with Steve's macho ego. He was not one to interfere in a man on man relationship.
Katrina, being so concerned about her looks, was still 'single'. It was odd. She was nice to everyone and showed no real attentive behavior to any man. Dad saw Nick trying to socialize a bit with her but Nick noticed everyone noticing and he seemed to back away. Dad wasn't sure how to encourage it.
Katrina just went off to help the next person. She spent a lot of time with Sofia, brushing her hair and singing old melodious Slavic songs. Dad was not sure still if she was Russian or Ukrainian. He hadn't bothered to ask.
The main thing he wanted them to grasp about the guns was how ineffective they actually were against zombies. If they could shoot the legs, getting them to drop or limp, that might be even better than trying to go for the head.
All across America, people knew how to use guns. The Right to Bear Arms was essential, not for sport or hunting, but for a free republic. Where the government is more afraid of the people, than the people are afraid of the government, that is what it was all about. It also had the inherent right of man to protect himself. Guns were the great equalizer, for the weak against the strong. And for home, it was especially true for women and the elderly, just having an afternoon lesson, would give any frail woman an equal ability to defend herself with deadly force against any sicko man.
The Founding Fathers saw the Right to Bear Arms as essential to freedom, essential if the government turned into a tyranny. After all, the U.S. Constitution was about limiting government, and so was the Bill of Rights. They just never anticipated the enemy to be abhorrent undead zombies.
Americans had this skill and ability. Sadly, ironically, it was not effective against zombies. All across America, armed resistance was futile. Shooting zombies scrambling at one was woefully ineffective.
Based on what Dad heard with Benjamin on the radios, it sounded like most urban areas, most cities were lost. And the military failed trying to retake them. They drove in for a few blocks, but once The Horde rose up, even smaller swarms, over took the soldiers firing their guns. Military vehicles and tanks were only effective a bit longer. Zombies swarmed their exhausts with torn up flesh and choked them, stalling their engines, and surrounding them. Rescues turned into tragedies. Military vehicles, even with metal tracks, couldn't get far in due to all the traffic jams.
Inevitably, it was an utter retreat into remote areas. They were devising, planning, strategizing air strikes and decoys. With winter coming on, most were hoping the freezing cold would do its job, especially the positions held in the North. Dad hoped they were right, but he wasn't too sure, and they weren't in the North.
Dad shook out of his thoughts. He had gathered them all in a room to show them an important aspect of their new favorite toys. Each got to work on their aiming, lining the two sights of the gun while closing their non-dominant eye. They aimed at a stick with a paper plate attached to it and a silly drawing of a zombie face on it, growling at them. Dad ran forth with it. They had to keep the aim on the plate, pulling the trigger when they felt like it. It was a dry run, not live fire.
Dad used to do 'dry runs' in the house, late at night, 2am, 4am, waking up and getting his gun and walking about the dark house, aiming it. He wanted to get the feel of the place at night, understanding how to fire on intruders, where to get cover, all while drowsy. He was a dad, who did dry runs to protect his family.
When Dad reached them, bobbing the plate up and down merely by his hobbling jog, he asked, "Do you feel like you hit it in the head?"
Each gave a confident NO. Oh no. Not even. No way. Nope.
He repeated this with all of them as they all sensed the growing dread of such a false hope.
"You can not rely on your gun to hit these things, not when they are charging crazy at you and more and more are coming right behind'em."
"Is that why the military is falling back?" Sean asked sadly. "Why this city, well, we could be the only ones for a hundred miles, with millions of zombies, we could be it? I mean, who else can fight like you, train like you?"
Dad paused a moment unsure how to answer. "You each have a handgun. But the truth is you won't need them against zombies. Really, it's only useful against each other."
"Ah come on, we aren't going to shoot each other," Nick quipped.
"We got an amazing thing here," Randall added.
Steve and Tom nodded agreement.
"If you don't think we should have them, I'm fine with it," Steve added.
Everyone became silent.
"I don't know if there are others out there that can hurt you, like others hidden somewhere. I was shot by that hooligan guy in that hellhole apartment just across the street. It was turned into some demonic drug den or something. I don't know if there are others out there like that. I think you should have a gun, just in case," Dad said.
They all relaxed.
"But minimal. Keep it on the low. Keep it minimal. Don't wave it around. Maybe have it in your desk or bed, or holstered nice and tight under your armor, concealed. Figure it out, do dry runs, see how it feels. It's only a last resort thing anyway. Okay?"
They all agreed.
"In case we come up against more of those giant zombies," Steve added.
"Yep, that for sure," Dad replied. "I'm giving the smaller caliber to the women, just cuz it feels right in their hands. And Tom and Nick..."
"Ohhh!!!" a bit of a laughter came out.
"Yeah yeah, I'm small!" Nick shrugged.
Tom put his hands on his hips. "Well, I never!"
Steve tried getting closer to Tom, chuckling. But there was a tension there. Dad did his best to ignore it.
4. Studies
At Bible study, in the library, his wife and Charlotte were teaching the kids a Bible story. Lena and Lisa were there. Katrina and Beth were there too, surprisingly. The gathering was a bit awkward, but it was nice. Dad stood at the door, watching just a bit but obviously about to close the door and leave. Randall came and stood next to Dad, catching Beth's eye within. The men watched a bit, but didn’t enter as the study was for the children.
"We doing a men's study?" Randall asked.
"Sure," Dad said.
It was Dad, Randall, Sean and Nick. Sean and Nick were a bit more agnostic but both felt, maybe it was time. What else was there to do? That was fine by Dad. They first discussed their own backgrounds.
Benjamin popped his head in, "Are you doing the Old Testament?"
"Not right now, just talking about our upbringing, what influences we may have had," Dad said.
Benjamin thought about it a bit -- at the door. He looked odd at nothing, thinking. He realized he was intrusive and slowly retracted. "Lemme know if you do Moses or Abraham."
"Sure Benjamin, you got it," Randall said, smiling warmly.
The door closed on their small group in the principal's office. It had a big desk and a nice table, four decently nice chairs and a couch. Its windows looked out over the playground but had been covered with construction paper and other school poster boards. They had one Bible and two faint smartphone lights on. The ambiance was kind of mystic and religious.
"So Randall, what's with you and Beth,
huh?" Sean asked, keeping his voice low.
"I thought this was a Bible study," Randall responded.
"Actually, we should talk about that. And probably in Bible study for men, seeing how we need to keep watch on our brothers," Dad said.
Randall gulped.
"It’s okay. We need couples. We're going to need children. I'm old. Thankfully, you guys are young. But we still need the next generation."
"In this world?" Nick sighed.
"Yes, even in this world," Dad said. "Trust me, before you know it, you'll be old. And if you haven't invested in that fifteen to eighteen years it takes to raise children to adults, who can carry on, you are totally screwed. Especially in this world."
They raised their eyebrows.
"You don't want to be thirty or forty when you're raising young ones, especially now. You want to do it now," Dad jabbed his pointer finger on the table. "We don't have hospitals. We don't have firemen or medicine or help. Our only help, as time goes on, will be our children." He teared.
"Aren't we gonna be saved? By someone? This is just a wait it out thing?"
"No Nick, it's not," Dad said.
They all teared, breathed, and repositioned themselves in their seats.
Sean shook out of it. He didn't want to think about it, just about the here and now. "So what about Beth?" Sean nudged.
Randall huffed a smile through the overwhelming realization. They're future wasn't about retirement plans or social security, it wasn't about neighbors or government programs, it was now, just about them and children, and the horrors beyond.
"Just," Dad intervened, "make sure she is okay. She lost her husband only what, a few weeks ago?"
"Couple of weeks?" Nick pondered.
"We've only been here a couple of weeks," Sean said.
"That's it?" Dad glared, then looked at Randall. "So yeah, you gotta remember she's still in mourning."
"I know. We've talked about it," Randall said coyly.
"Wait, have you slept with her?"
"Yes..."
Dad sat up. Sean and Nick stared at Dad. He looked at them.
"We haven't had sex," Randall realized. "We... only when the kids slept in the library. She was scared, didn't want to be alone."
"You two told me he was with you," Dad said.
Randall looked from them to him. "You asked about me?"
"I am the leader. I ask."
"He mostly stayed with us. It was just a couple of times. A few times," Nick said. Sean looked down.
Dad sat back. "It's fine. It's fine. No sex! Get married. I'm not a douche bag but still, this situation. Again, she's still in shock."
"We all are," Sean said.
"Yes, well, I, I... you know, I want this all above board. Here's what I want from you," Dad sat up. "Talk to her, talk it over, figure out a time frame, and come to me with a proposal. Marriage or a living arrangement, well marriage! And make sure her kids can deal. I most definitely want marriage and couples and children with a father and mother. So, I guess we need to get started. But make sure she is fine, okay? Stable and ready."
"Got it," Randall said.
Nick looked up. "Hey, what about Lisa and Lena your daughter?"
"No fucking way. Let's do Bible study for crying out loud."
Dad came into Benjamin's room to see how he was doing. Ruth was sitting by herself, staring at a smartphone. She looked peaceful and senile. Behind her on a table were a bunch of them, some charging and some not. Wires and cables were everywhere. It was kind of neat to see them handling this.
There were several clipboards and a sign-up sheet. Dad couldn't help but smile at the situation. Benjamin walked in.
"Oh hey, where were you?" Dad asked nicely.
"I was pooping," Benjamin said.
It was Dad's shift to take out the poop pails. But he thought he'd procrastinate and swing by to see how they were doing. He looked at the whiteboard. It had lots of dates, state names, cities, and comments. Benjamin was notating what was going on. The military and communities were still retreating to remote areas. He had an old CD player and radio box. It appeared he liked sitting there and tinkering with it, listening to what was happening.
Dad thought maybe they should as well, but it was depressing. He stopped a while ago. He had to figure out what to do here first.
He realized Benjamin had one of those big blank calendar sheets pinned on the wall. Benjamin began working on the next year's calendar on a pad on a desk.
"What you doing?" Dad asked.
Benjamin turned and posed rather grandly. "I am the tribal scribe! I am recording history, keeping notes, keeping track of time."
"Ohhhh... wow... what time is it... or what day is it now?" Dad inquired. "Right after Lena's birthday... is that fall then, winter?"
"Yes, maybe... its Southern California! Thanksgiving is coming up," Benjamin chimed.
"Oh...?" Dad sighed.
"Will you celebrate it? Or Christmas?"
Dad thought about it. It felt sad to think about. He didn't want to get comfortable or celebratory. He had too much he felt he needed to do. He shrugged. "I don't know. To celebrate that, now, and bring back memories of then, to now... my God... I don't think I can handle it. Could they?"
5. Saves
Each day was a new day to accomplish something. Each day was a new day to go out, and see what was what. Just up the street, there were houses close by. Dad wanted to go in, gather up any supplies and return. In one of the houses lived a decent gardener. He remembered always admiring the front yard with all the herbs and vegetables when he walked Rondo. He figured there would be some gardening supplies there for Beth. He remembered a lemon tree there too. In this area, there were quite a few. He decided to start keeping a list of things they needed and put lemons as the first item. He wanted to get them soon, while they were in season, so they'd wouldn't get... scurvy.
What a thought now, in this day, the fear of scurvy. But then again, with zombie apocalypse as the reality, they would have to manage like in medieval times. No telling what other challenges lay ahead for them.
They decided to use the front doors of the school. The houses were right across the street from them. The front doors were metal with wired windows. The windows were a bit larger than Dad liked but the steel wiring was strong. They found out the doors were solid that day the crazy guy brought the zombies. Nick and Tom could close them and they'd be instant barricades. Due to the small area, a large horde couldn't break them down easily.
Nick and Tom decided they were not the going out types. It was more Nick, and Tom decided to support him. Dad was good with that. He definitely wanted someone holding the doors and fighting from a position of defense. Dad had them make decent sized spears. They could poke those through. They did jabbing drills with Lena and Lisa to get the muscle memory down, to be able to thrust them out, as extensions of their arms, and then pull them back again.
It took a good day and then some, thrusting and seeing the corded threads of the muscles electrify and coordinate correctly, quickly. Their jabs went from shaky offbeat misses to steady, true, fast and fierce. Even they were getting the hang of medieval fighting. Dad liked that he had two men, however fearful, ready to fight to keep the gates accessible.
They opened the front doors as the troop of men and young ladies marched out. Quietly, they stomped up the street. Their stuff still clanked and clanged. Since they had come through here several times recently, any zombies nearby would have come out by now. Still, there were millions across the land that could migrate their way based on any sensory trigger, so they were cautious and ready.
Sean got his bike and sat on it waiting near the first house.
Dad motioned to the gardener's house. The garden was dry, weedy, with a few of the decorative fences shattered. He motioned for them to stop and keep watch. He'd clear it out first. He set his shield down and walked through the cluttered front yard. It was small with fences, trees, bushes, and planting areas. One tree had lemo
ns on it. He motioned for the others to notice them. Those would be essential.
He stepped through and went to the front door. It was broken yet seemed stuck. He pushed it. The wood creaked, the glass crackled, but it was still stuck. He then stepped back and kicked it, bearing the weight of himself and his armor on it.
It broke open, breaking in two and falling as boards and panels from weak nails and worn out glue. He stepped through, crackling the pieces more. It was dark inside. His vision slowly adjusted past the shiny dust. He stomped through the cluttered living room and realized it was set up something like a barricade. He looked down and used his knees to help push aside the couch. Just then a zombie came up and swung at him.
He couldn't get his sword up. He growled at his own stupidity. He heard the clang of metal and realized it was an axe that swung at him, a small hardware axe. His armor worked just as it was supposed to, and the axe swing was weak. He quickly swirled his arms in steel and yanked the axe from the weakling's grip as it scuttled in retreat.
He saw through the dancing shadows a gaunt man flail and run back into the house somewhere. Dad stopped and let the axe fall onto the couch.
"I'm sorry. I didn't know anyone was in here, still alive," Dad said. He actually sounded kind of scary, grunting through his helm. He waited in the silence. He heard soft gasping. "I will not enter any further, unless you allow me," he tried to say in a gentler voice.
He then saw not one, but two silhouettes of small hairy heads poke from beyond a doorway. They were not children, but old, though not very old for they seemed quite virile in that hesitant aware way. There was a sniffling and a gasp.
"I will not harm you. I'm sorry if I scared you," Dad said.
They both meekly stepped out, but kept their distance, a man and a woman, a husband and a wife. They were gaunt, perhaps his age or a bit older. The woman gasped. "Are you? Are you our knight in shining armor?" she sobbed.
The couple gathered all their gardening supplies into a quaint wheelbarrow and hauled it all over to the school. Their energy and vitality returned rapidly as they saw Dad, Steve, Lena, Lisa, Randall and Sean on the bike as a ready decoy. They became alive. It was somewhat amusing to see the wife order her husband around, getting things, critiquing and badgering him still... after and during this horrific apocalyptic nightmare. She looked like she was once beautiful, though still was, but older and forlorn.
Knight of the Dead (Book 3): Fortress Page 3