Dead and Dead Again: Kansas City Quarantine

by Dalton Wolf

  “Perhaps. But when I finished, I knew they should go together. Especially when I saw the changes on the backpack my wife had made. She’s the Leatherworker. We had fun designing that carrier. When she added the knife slots, I knew exactly what to make with the extra materials. I’ve rarely enjoyed a project more, Mr. Hobbes.”

  “Call me Calvin, please,” Calvin asked.

  “Have I ever?”

  “It’s Scooter!” Athena shouted from the wagon about ten yards away.

  Both men ignored her.

  “The Labrys is not very good for anything other than chopping pumpkins and watermelons with. It’s too unwieldy to actually use in battle, for any but the largest of individuals, anyway. And even then, there are better weapons, like your battle axes, which will do as much damage with less energy exerted.

  “I know about DPS and fatigue, William,” Calvin said, putting a hand up to stall the other man. “You explained all of that to me last time. This is what I ordered, and you did a magnificent job, as usual.”

  “Your pictures were a great help. I especially enjoyed the golden inlay design work. It took me several tries to get them right. I love a good challenge.”

  “Part of it is my family crest and some added history. My family comes from England and can be traced back to before William of Normandy landed. One of my ancestors was a king. Not a big king, but one of many kings back then.”

  “That’s…actually pretty awesome,” the Smith nodded, truly impressed. “I haven’t checked my own heritage beyond my grandparents,” he explained with a grimace.

  “I wouldn’t have either, but when my parents died I met all of these people I didn’t know I was related to and learned that half of my family is from England. They’re all into finding out how close they are to the throne over there. So I used their work and followed it further back. I’m afraid I got a little obsessed dealing with the loss.”

  “I’m sorry about your parents,” the big smith said.

  “It was a long time ago now,” Calvin waved him off.

  “How close are you to the throne?” the big man asked, changing the subject to avoid an awkward silence.

  “I’m about three-hundredth in line, I think…I’ve got a Duke cousin who is actually on the charts that they post for the public.”

  “Nice.”

  “But I am a direct line from that earlier king. His name was Calvin, too…or something close to Calvin, anyway—can I pull the Labrys out with both of the others still sheathed?” he segued.

  “You sure can.”

  Calvin pulled the large axe out of the carrying sheath on his back and, with a slight grunt of effort, gave it a few swings. It was incredibly hard to guide or change direction with unless he waited until it was at the apex of its arc or the end of the swing.

  “Take a few more swings with it,” the smith encouraged him to whack some of the targets he had lined out next to his shop, then he grabbed another armload of weapons and carried them to the wagon. When he returned to the shop, Athena was there trying to get her arms around a huge bundle of spears and swords. He rushed forward to the other end and showed her how to grab the blanket beneath them and they picked it up like a hammock from both ends.

  “So, what is going on, if you don’t mind my asking?” William asked Athena while they each side-shuffled with half of the stack of heavy weapons between them.

  “Zombies have taken over downtown. We’re going to save some friends from them and then head somewhere safe,” she replied calmly. “Ooh, do you have any of these with a pearl handle, or diamonds, anything studded with real diamonds?” she begged, holding up a dagger and ignoring the look of incredulity on the man’s face.

  “I’ll...what…I will see what I can do. I’ll make you a dozen, half price.”

  “Oh…I doubt there’s time for that,” she replied in a forlorn mutter. “What with the impending apocalypse and all.”

  “I’m sorry, but did you say zombies?”

  “Yes. Apparently there was a plane crash at the parade downtown and there’s a virus and lots of people running around eating each other.”

  William dropped his end of the stack on the wagon and moved in close to help her put her end down.

  “Real Zombies?” he blurted in astonishment.

  She nodded.

  “Come with me, please,” he whispered and marched off to his stall, long legs taking strides twice what Athena could manage. She had to run to keep pace with the man, but only slipped twice in the straw-packed mud. When they reached the wooden shop the smith bent down to a flat bench that seemed to have been carved out of a tree. There was a lock inset within the edge of the top and he produced a golden key from a chain hidden somewhere within the folds of his leather tunic.

  “Technically, you have bought everything in my shop. While I never put this on the list, I now believe it is truly yours.”

  “Ooh, what is it?” Athena asked in wonder.

  “This is my own Damascus version of a Philippine Panabas. It is a more modern example of a colonial Philippine weapon. As you can see it is a mix between axe and sword with a two-foot handle, and a one-and-a-half-foot boomerang-shaped, single-edged blade. Narrower but thicker at the hilt and much wider towards the end of the blade, it gains power in the swing and, thanks to its shape, lends the wielder a special kind of leverage, requiring only a slight tug in the right direction to remove it from a target.

  He nodded over to where Calvin was taking swipes at a wooden post with the great Labrys. “Like your boyfriend’s axes, I forged this one from over two hundred layers of thirty-six of the lightest, strongest, and purest ores I’ve ever found. I wanted them to be special. I didn’t know why until now.” He handed it to her with both hands shaking and she nearly fell backwards as she over-prepared for its surprising lightness. Her dark eyes squinted as she tried to read the writing along haft and blade.

  “I don’t recognize this language…”

  “Because so many versions of this weapon resemble the blades used by the Elves defending Helm’s Deep in the Peter Jackson films, or vice versa as the case must be, the runes along the blade were translated and written down for me by a friend from official Tolkien Elvish. It might not mean anything to someone not well versed in Tolkien.”

  “I’ve been force-fed LoTR and D&D since my fourth date with Calvin.”

  “Well, the inscription reads: ‘Slayer of the Dead’ and has several words of power added in there. There are thirty layers of silver mixed in for vampires and werewolves.”

  She squinted as if he were crazy.

  “Don’t laugh. You just told me you are going zombie-hunting. And your boyfriend’s axes are called “Headsplitter” and “Brainslicer” and the Labrys, the double-bladed one as wide as he is? It’s called “Zombie’s Bane”. The Labrys is garbage as an actual weapon in battle, but is perfectly suited for taking heads from those who aren’t swinging a blade back at you. Hell, as I forged it, I pictured a fully armored warrior alone atop a hill surrounded by a mob of a thousand Undead, the man swinging the blade in continuous arcs around himself until his strength failed him.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding,” she half-scoffed.

  “It’s not really something you would pull out for any normal fighting because even with the materials from which it is made it is still too heavy to change direction easily. You have to wait until it reaches an exact point in the arc and that is simply too inefficient to adjust on each swing. I’ve never met anyone who actually liked using one.”

  “Oh, Calvin has a dozen of them at home that he practices with all the time. But…you actually made weapons for slaying the dead?” Athena asked.

  “Hey, look now, missy. I wasn’t exactly expecting anyone to ever actually be killing Zombies with it. No more than I believe you two are actually going out to do that now. But I am a Master Weaponsmith. There is always an air of the fantastical in this field in modern times. I design my elite weapons for a specific purpose, and that’s what the purpo
se of these weapons is.” He nodded for her to heft the weapon again.

  “I make no apology for what I do, because I love it.”

  “You are a master, sir,” she complimented the big blonde man.

  Surprisingly light, Athena swung it with ease into the compressed leather-bound hay ball the man pointed her to. It chunked heartily and drove easily through the lump, sending two halves to the floor separately, cleanly sliced.

  “The Panabas ranks as my ultimate weapon for smaller soldiers dispatching larger opponents with a single chopping blow to the head or extremities, especially those opponents who aren’t well armored. Designed and forged for warriors of slighter build, it can be carried in anything from this designed scabbard to something as basic as a heavy cloth sling and can defend against swords, which many spears cannot.”

  “Thank you very much, William. Are you sure you don’t want to come with us? We’ve bought you out, too.”

  “No. Although I do think I’ll leave for the rest of the day and take my family down to the farm,” he said with a hearty smile.

  “Well, be careful.”

  “Ok, we are ready now,” Quinn informed them from the cart. “Everyone grab one of the pull handles. We’ve never tried to move so much at once before. We’re going to that entrance,” he pointed to what looked like new privacy fence artistically painted to accurately resemble a stone wall. It took Athena a minute to spy out the hinges on the sides and a handle in the middle signifying that it was actually a gate.

  Calvin, Athena and the three craftsmen were unable to move the large cart, but three large drunk festival-goers stumbled over to help, thinking it was some kind of game and, after much grunting, sweating and more than a little cursing, the group was eventually able to move the cart close enough to the gate to suit the two craftsmen. The drunks were not too disappointed about losing out on a prize after Athena pointed out to them that the world might be coming to an end and that they would not have had too long to enjoy whatever the prize would have been anyway. She also pretended not to notice them staring at her cleavage through the armor links for almost a full minute before she shooed them away. The three men wandered off in good spirits, although slightly confused. Contributing their confusion to a drop in their alcohol/blood content, the inebriated trio promptly ordered two large mugs of Black & Tan each from the nearest serving wench and stumbled off to find some turkey legs to munch on.

  Marcus and Quinn each stepped to one of the handles for the double-gate and pulled them apart with a groaning creak to reveal Quinn’s vehicle, a jet-black Army Humvee M997 Ambulance. Calvin did a quick run around it. No red cross, but it did have the snorkels on the front for intake and rear for exhaust, a large wench bolted to a heavy iron brush guard on the front bumper. A large air conditioning system sat just above the cab and could re-circulate the air within the air-tight interior.

  “Everything should fit in here. We will need to find some place to store it all if you plan on using this vehicle in the future, however,” Quinn warned as Marcus and Trip both jumped into the back and started taking weapons and armor from the other three.

  “So, you planning to hang around with us after all?” Calvin asked.

  “A deal is a deal,” the big smith replied solemnly.

  It took them another fifteen minutes of ear-numbing clanging of metal on metal to load the equipment. Even with all of the additional weight, there was little noticeable drop in the vehicle clearance. With a wave to William and the apprentice, the three were off, driving carefully through the pitted gravel driveway, Calvin in the passenger seat and Athena in a jump seat right behind and between the two front over-sized bucket seats.

  “It’s got a beefed up suspension for running extremely rugged terrain with a fully-loaded bed,” explained the flaming haired smith as he splashed through a deep, three foot diameter puddle without pausing.

  “Wait! Turn in here,” Athena exclaimed.

  “We need to go, Athena,” Scooter warned her.

  “Just a sec.We need to follow your own rules, Calvin.”

  “Oh. Oh, yeah. Sorry, I didn’t even think about it,” he agreed.

  “What?” Quinn asked gruffly.

  “Our emergency kits,” Calvin explained with a shy grimace. “I always keep at least one in the back of my car.”

  “If you’ve got something in there for this disaster, you really know how to plan,” The big man laughed heartily.

  They pointed out Calvin’s silver SUV and when the smith turned around and backed up to the car, the two jumped out and pulled three big red, rugged-appearing suitcases from the deep storage area and ran them over to the bed of the big ambulance. When both had once again buckled up, Athena reached two fingers into her helm and kissed them, then rubbed them on Calvin’s cheek, thereby giving him a ‘kiss’

  “There, now we’re compliant with Scooter’s Doomsday Survival Manual.”

  “I hope everyone followed the prep chapters.”

  “Sure they did,” Athena lied. Her own parents loved Calvin, but they had set his handbook aside as a crazy hobby gone slightly out of control. It had done nothing but collect dust on one of her dad’s den shelves for years.

  “Don’t patronize me,” he snapped.

  “I wasn’t patronizing you; I was contributing to your delusion. There’s a difference.”

  “Fair enough,” he returned her unorthodox ‘kiss’.

  The big man smiled. Maybe they were both crazy, but they were sweet. If this was some big joke, at least it promised some fun. The big black ambulance bounced down the bumpy gravel road out of the park with only a few cars ahead, but once they reached the main road and headed towards the highway, they found traffic stopped dead. Scooter craned his head out the window on the passenger side trying to get a look ahead. Smoky black tendrils drifted into the blue sky about a half-mile up the road.

  “Must be a crash,” he noted.

  “What’s going on, officer?” Quinn asked through the open slot in the thick window on the driver’s side. The policeman had just stepped from his bike to place orange cones behind their vehicle. He did a double-take at the odd vehicle and the fact that the occupants were dressed in armor, but he’d seen stranger things coming out of this area and was simply too distracted by his unsatisfying home life to care that much.

  “Metro Bus crash at the onramp about a mile up there,” the man explained dully, as if for the hundredth time. “Came up the ramp out of control and ran the stoplight. Smashed right into several cars. A bunch of injuries. Access will be down for a while. We’ll start turning all these cars around as soon as the emergency vehicles go through.”

  “Great. Thank you.”

  Several clear gunshots sounded in the distance.

  “What the hell…” the cop muttered, dropping the stack of cones and grabbing the mic from his chest.

  “Was that gunshots?” Quinn asked.

  “One-oh-four to point, what’s with the gunfire, over?”

  There was no reply.

  “One-oh-four to blockade, what’s going on up there?”

  More gunfire rang out.

  “Hey, anyone up there at the highway, what the hell is going on?”

  “Get us out of here,” Scooter muttered to Quinn.

  “We can’t, the cops have the road blocked,” the big man’s red beard shook back and forth as he looked for a clearing to all sides.

  “Take the shoulder.”

  “That’s illegal.”

  “You really think that matters now?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t you see?” Athena leaned over and pointed ahead.

  His green eyes saw nothing. He refocused, squinting a question at the couple.

  “It’s here,” she breathed. “That bus probably came from downtown. It’s infected and now it is spreading here.”

  “You can’t be serious,” Quinn replied dryly. Horns honked in the distance and now they could hear faint screaming.

 
“Look!” Athena still pointed.

  A crowd of people a half a mile ahead ran up the roadway. Police dashed from car to car shouting at those stuck in the jam and doors flew open to allow those inside to flee with the crowd to where the trio waited in disbelief. What looked like a mobile riot weaved in and out of cars and the report of gunshots came in regular intervals.

  “Back! Back! Take the shoulder. Don’t stop for anything!” Scooter shouted.

  Quinn was about to pull out, but just then two emergency vehicles screamed by on the shoulder, headed towards the accident. A half a mile up, the leading ambulance veered to the side to avoid something and clipped a tree, spinning out of control and flipping onto its side as the fire engine, following too closely, slammed into it with a horrifying crunch that echoed up the roadway.

  “What the hell is going on up there?” they heard the cop ask, before he started running forward to see for himself.

  “Turn around,” Athena shouted. “Get us out of here, Quinn!”

  “I don’t know any other way downtown or we could turn around and go north,” Scooter breathed in desperation.

  “Where are we going?” the big driver asked.

  “I think Ninth and Locust.”

  “Right. State, to 4th to Washington and cross the river back on i-70. That should get us there and bypass the parade if we come up that street by the Heart of America bridge. I think it’s the 6th or Oak exit.”

  “I…ok. Sure. Sounds great, Quinn, State to Washington…um, do that. Let’s go!”

  Quinn was unsure what really was happening, but he knew it was one hell of a coincidence that these two said zombies had hit downtown and now there was chaos flowing up the interstate like a tsunami heading right for their beach. Quickly checking the mirror for more emergency vehicles, he yanked the big ambulance in a turn off into the grass and then back onto the shoulder heading the other way. Horns blared and fingers flew from drivers who were pissed at their cheating out of line, but if what these two said was going down was what was actually happening, he could live with the guilt. Quinn finally began to wonder why they were going into the heart of the problem instead of fleeing for the outskirts of the city and safety. His honest mind could only produce one answer…a deal is a deal.