APOCALYCIOUS: Satire of the Dead

by K Helms

  Chapter 23 – Target Practice

  Parkersburg, West Virginia

  Hito watched silently from his rooftop vantage point, his eye peering through the scope of his sniper rifle. He was surprised at how well the small group of nut jobs fared against the relentless swarm of undead. They were dressed in armor that was highly polished and shone in the sun like beacons. Light flashed from their long blades in places where clots of rotted flesh had slid off. He heard one voice booming even from this distance, Hito couldn’t tell which one it was but he figured that it was the tallest of them.

  “Yes, lads, you wield your steel like true knights!”

  Hito wasn’t sure how historical knights wielded steel, but the four of them had managed to cut down about thirty of the corpses in the past eight minutes. Most impressive to him was the fact that they didn’t have to take the time to reload. They just kept swinging. The shortest one, who wore a football helmet instead of the gleaming, steel of the others, cleaved another head from its torso and did some crazy victory dance.

  They were amusing to watch and he almost didn’t want to kill them, but he had a job to do. It wasn’t anything personal; it was just business. He wanted to rid this world of the pestilence called man, and then there wouldn’t be anyone left to betray him again.

  He thumbed the safety off and focused on the knight furthest from him. He always took the hardest shot first. He exhaled, held his breath and slowly squeezed his index finger. The loud crack echoed through the city even as one the knights crumpled to the ground, knocking his helm off and revealing a mane of blonde hair. Zombies immediately converged upon him, tearing at his armor, chewing through the leather straps that held the steel plate in place and ripping flesh from bone in bloody chunks. They were ravenous and strong and desperately needed to feed and to spread their infection.

  Hito pulled the bolt back ejecting his spent brass and slammed it forward chambering another round. A knight that had long black dreads spilling from beneath his helm rushed to his fallen comrade’s side and began to slice at the zombies that were gnawing ravenously on his friend. Hito again took aim.

  Crack. The Samaritan with the dreadlocks went down atop the pile and another group of zombies piled on top of him. Hito heard screams, but he felt nothing. He chambered another round and took aim.

  Crack. The dancing knight with the football helmet spun sideways with the impact, dropping his sword, then his knees buckled beneath him and he collapsed onto the pavement. For a moment, the remaining knight, who was head and shoulders taller than the rest, seemed to stare right at his rooftop position, but with the visor down Hito couldn’t be sure. He heard the final knight scream in rage and began a frantic slaughter of the undead, sometimes felling two with each strike. Hito watched, impressed, but he did so as he chambered another round. He peered through the scope and set his cross hairs on the knight’s torso, as his finger began to squeeze he heard something behind him. Too many shots from one position, he said to himself. The sound had drawn the company of his unaware allies. A pack of about twelve of them had found their way through the maze of the building, and lumbered at him, much faster than he would have expected.

  The knight below finished off the remaining swarm and cursed into the air, waving his sword. He sheathed it and unafraid, began to drag his brothers-in-arms to the sidewalk, where he removed their armor and decapitated them. He did not hide his sobs and apparent grief, as he ensured that they could not transform into the same blasphemy that they had defeated. The knight saluted them with his sword hilt to his forehead, then gathered their weapons and armor and hauled them away, leaving his brothers for the crows.

  Hito dropped the rifle beside him and drew out his side arms and fired from both hands. “Next time...” Hito muttered as he fired at the approaching dead; it was only business.

  Chapter 24 - Here There Be Giants

  Parkersburg, West Virginia

  Mick was anxious to get back to the mine with their truckload of supplies so he could relax. He was unrecognizable with his battle gear on. Every square inch of his flesh was unexposed; his father had taught them a common sense approach before he had died.

  Dressed in black and covered in military armor, he wielded the razor sharp machete with deadly accuracy as decomposed arms flailed at him through the doorway. The dead heaped in a decapitated pile in front of him and reinforced his cover as more undead bodies and severed limbs hit the floor.

  “Mickey, we are going to be late for dinner if you don’t stop playing,” Mia said in her soft, feminine voice. She sat in the room behind him sharpening her fingernails to deadly little points with a nail file. She believed that everything about her should have a purpose even if the odds of using them were slim to none, including, but not limited to the oriental hair pins that held her hair in place. They were ten inch surgical steel hair pins. She had never had to use them, but it was good to have a well-rounded arsenal, just in case. She had been helping him eliminate the dead, but as the bodies started stacking up at the end of the narrow hallway that led to the large, open room where Mick fought, she found that there was really only room for one.

  “Well, maybe if you would give me a hand…” Mick’s voice trailed off with a grunt as he loped off another head and it rolled down the pile and into the hallway, its glazed eyes locked on him in unrestrained hatred. He kept swinging, and even though it was a chilly July morning he was overheating in all his black covering.

  Mia seemed completely unconcerned, she knew that Mick, or Mickey, as she liked to call him, was more than capable of managing a handful of the dead that were bottle necked in the doorway. “I’ve been thinking….”

  “Thinking that you should maybe give me a hand here?” Mick shouted over his shoulder.

  “No silly boy. I’ve been thinking that we should have a baby,” she said with a smile dancing upon her full red lips.

  “Are you kidding me?” he shouted back as he hacked a zombie’s shoulder that shot puss all over his chest. “You want to have a baby with a veritable apocalypse going on?”

  “Mickey, this has been going on for months and we seem to be doing fine. Besides, you’ve been my boyfriend since we were in the third grade. I think it’s about time.”

  “What? We were like eight years old. I didn’t even like you back then,” he said, as the last zombie hit the pile. Mick wiped the gore from the wide blade with one Kevlar gloved hand and sheathed it. He walked over to Mia.

  She looked up at him and smiled, “Deny it all you want, but we were destined to be together. You have goo on your shirt.”

  Mick gave a long suffering sigh and shook his head. “C’mon, Mia, we need to get home and check on Nan.” he said, offering her his hand. She slid hers in his and he hoisted her to her feet with ease. Even with her armor on she still didn’t weigh more than a hundred pounds. She had always been the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on and even if he didn’t admit it he had always loved her. “No babies.”

  “We’ll see,” she said, as they walked to the other door that led outside. Mick unsheathed the 12 gauge from his back and cocked back both its exposed hammers. Mia pulled her facemask down leaving only her eyes exposed. Mick noticed that even that much of her exposed was enough to make his heart skip a beat. She jacked a shell into the chamber of her Mossberg pump .12 gauge.

  That’s my girl, Mick thought.

  The front doors were clear, but they always exited a building with each covering the other. The sky was crystal clear with only a couple wisps of clouds that drifted in the vibrant blue. They made their way to the truck. It was such a beautiful morning that they forgot themselves for a moment and marveled at the quiet beauty. From behind they heard a rasping scream. They spun on their heels raising their weapons, but it was too late. They watched as the zombie that had snuck up on them was cleaved in half before their eyes. Both halves collapsed upon themselves, spilling long, tangled ropes of entrails with a wet smack as it hit the asphalt of the parking lot. Mick and Mia l
ooked at each other in disbelief. Standing behind the carnage of the halved zombie was a huge man in gleaming, steel armor, still brandishing his sword.

  “The name good sir and M’Lady is Regeliel. Sir Regeliel, if you please.” The knight in shining armor stuck out a gauntlet to Mick. Mick, somewhat in a state of shock, slowly raised his hand and shook it politely as Mia removed her black ski mask. Then Sir Regeliel knelt down and took one of Mia’s delicate killing weapons. He raised his visor exposing a ruddy complexion above a full red beard, and a long jagged scar ran from the top of his right eye across the bridge of his nose and ended beneath the whiskers of his mustache, he kissed the top of her hand lightly and said. “I am your humble servant.” Mia looked back at Mick. He recognized that even with her battle armor, she still presented a striking silhouette, her body curving in perfect athletic lines.

  “Oh my,” she managed to say as her face flushed subtly in shades of red against her caramel colored skin that only enhanced her beautiful face.

  Sir Regeliel stood again and looked proudly upon his blade as the putrid juices dripped down its edge. “I happened upon the two of you as you first entered the building. I was curious to see if you were military or not. Even though you look the part and are skilled in weaponry, I do not believe that to be the case.”

  “Yeah, we’re not military,” said Mick suspiciously.

  “Excellent,” Regeliel exclaimed. “Then from where do ye hail?”

  Mick narrowed his eyes “Not from this town.”

  “Parkersburg is not my hamlet of origin either, but I have survived here for some time now. I see that you have helped yourselves to supplies,” he said gesturing toward their truck.

  Mick felt his body tense. “That’s right,” he felt Mia lightly touch his forearm. She wanted to take it from here.

  Mia removed the pins from her hair and shook her long black hair out of its bun. Mick saw Regeliel’s face pale and his pupils dilate.

  “Sir Regeliel, we didn’t come here to offend you or to steal from you, we only wanted to re-supply on ammunition, and a few other things,” she said placating, her voice pleasant and sweet.

  “M’Lady, I was not implying that you were stealing. On the contrary, I had but hoped to go with you, as I am alone and in desperate need of companionship.”

  And psychiatric help, thought Mick.

  Regeliel continued. “My knights have all been killed and I have been left to defend myself against these rotting hordes while remaining hidden from the military. It seems that my armor is no match for large caliber weapons. Please…I beseech you to allow me the privilege to be of service to your clan.”

  Mick rolled his eyes, and then looked at Mia with an expression of disdain.

  “We would be honored to have you join us,” Mia said, as she looked at Mick with a raised eyebrow. Mick didn’t like it, but he had learned to trust his wife’s instincts.

  Sir Regeliel looked as if he was going to burst into tears. Instead, he removed his helmet and chain mail coif, revealing a cascade of long red locks that matched his beard; he raised his sword to the sky and in a thunderous voice yelled. “By the God of All Heavens I swear my allegiance to …” he stopped suddenly then he lowered an arm and whispered to them, “What were your names again?” Mia noticed that a huge, discolored hematoma about the size of a golf ball graced the side of the knight’s head.

  “I am Mia and this is my husband Mick,” she said with an amused giggle.

  Mick mumbled, “Oh brother,” under his breath to which Mia jabbed him in the ribs with an elbow.

  Regeliel seemed oblivious, as he again shouted to the heavens, “I swear my allegiance to the Lady Mia and her most fortunate husband Sir Mick…” Regeliel thought for a moment then continued, “Allow my steel to protect them against all enemies.” He slammed his sword into his sheath and looked at them. “My van is parked over there. I will follow you.”

  “That would be perfect,” said Mia trying not to laugh. The idea of a knight driving a van had simply struck her funny. Mick could tell that she loved this, her playful nature was one of the things he loved about her, and his annoyance at it was merely an act.

  They slid into their armored delivery truck. “Why do you hate me, Mia?” he asked, and she snuggled up to him and kissed his neck giggling.

  “I could never hate my Sir Mick, M’Lord.”

  “You’re retarded,” he said as he put the truck in gear. Sir Regeliel drove behind them in his powder blue, 1978 Chevy van, with its painted mural of a knight slaying a dragon on both sides of it, as they traveled the thirty-some odd miles back to the mine.

  Chapter 25 – Bit me baby, one more time

  Mine Hills, West Virginia

  Mick’s father had worked at the Rock Cave complex as a tour guide off and on for ten years before it had gone under in 2003. The state had simply not been able to afford to keep it open. It was a labyrinth of tunnels and large rooms.

  Foster had been killed in March during a resupplying excursion, but had turned the caves into a fortress with all the amenities and had nicknamed it ‘the mine’ before he had died. Foster had done so much for Mick and the girls, even officiating over Mick and Mia’s wedding. Mick wasn’t sure how legally binding the marriage was, but with a crumbled society, he doubted if legalities mattered.

  ‘The Mine’ had its own generator, hot and cold running water, a shower, electricity, security cameras, and a garage with plenty of extra vehicles, gasoline and oil. After six months of collecting they had a room for just about everything. There was a weight room, a kitchen with a stocked pantry, bedrooms, finely furnished and because it was underground they didn’t have to worry about the military using thermal imaging to find their home and take it for themselves.

  They pulled into the drive of the mine. The gate was closed and secure. Mick looked at the camera that nested, camouflaged, in one of the trees lining the drive. The mine was secluded even in the heavily forested West Virginia foothills. The more secluded the better. The military was renowned for its knack of taking civilians into captivity and turning the men into work slaves and the women into sex slaves. At least with zombies you knew that they only wanted to feed on you and spread their virus, people, on the other hand, were often perverse in their agendas.

  The chain link gate, that was interlaced with foliage helped disguise it and it opened on its small, rubber wheels and the two vehicles entered the drive. Mick watched in his side mirror as the gate clattered back into place behind them as they drove. They continued down the wooded lane for about a mile before reaching the main entrance of the mine tunnels. Mick put the truck in park, exited the vehicle, and walked to where a zombie wearing what remained of a catholic school girl uniform was chained to a tree. He grabbed a large cast iron skillet that hung from a nail on the tree and slammed it against the side of the female zombies head. He heard the skull crack and the zombie crumpled into the mud. He re-hung the skillet on its nail and climbed back into the truck. Mia looked at him in wonder. “Do you really think it’s necessary to mash Britney with a frying pan every time we come home?”

  Mick shrugged with a noticeable look of guilt on his face. “It’s part of my research, Mia, you know that.”

  Mia rolled her eyes and thumbed the PTT of her walkie-talkie. “We’re at the door, Nan.”

  “Gothcha sis,” said the voice at the other end. The heavy gauge steel door opened and they pulled in and parked beside the other vehicles. The door shut behind them with a metallic boom that echoed inside the large chamber. They exited their vehicles. Sir Regeliel was animated with amazement as he glanced around.

  “By the Sword of My Lord!” he exclaimed.

  Mick shook his head, unaware that he was doing so, as they walked past numerous armored vehicles. Foster had always made sure they had multiples of everything. Regeliel followed them to a heavy steel door with an intercom beside it.

  Mia pushed the talk button. “Open up Nan.” They heard the two inch thick, steel bar slide from the ot
her side before the door swung open.

  Candles lined the dark hallway. Mick reset the lock as they went down the hallway. Regeliel kept his head on a swivel as he took everything in. “’Tis a veritable bastion, M’Lady,” he said impressed.

  “Thank you, Sir Regeliel,” she replied, she wasn’t just humoring him; she liked quirky people and the weirder they were the better. It kept things from getting stale. They walked to the far end of the hallway and were met with an even heavier steel door that looked like it had come from a bank safe, which, indeed it had. Mia turned the combination lock, choosing the code with rapid dexterity. They entered the sanctuary and Nan ran to Mia and threw her arms around her sister’s neck. When they finished Mia introduced Nan to Sir Regeliel.