Knight of the Dead (Book 4): Realm

by Smorynski, Ron

  The charred abomination was still huge and looked to be crushing Randall under its massive mound.

  Dad tried hacking at it.

  "Save him!" yelled Nick.

  Randall wasn't crying out anymore as he was being smothered by the many black limbs.

  "Pull this out!" Dad yelled, bending over. Nick wasn't sure what he was saying or doing. "Pull it out!" Dad yelled, tiring quickly as he was squatting and bent forward.

  Stu rushed up and pulled the claymore out. "Here! I got it! I got it!"

  Dad stood up and grabbed it from Stu, pushing him violently away.

  Stu and Nick stumbled off. "What the hell?" they turned surprised that Ronan just pushed them off like that.

  But then they saw the blade, the huge blade as it twirled around.

  10. Warrior-Savior

  Dad swung the giant blade around several times, feeling the weight and motion of it. He had practiced before and knew to awaken his muscles, to set the electrical sparks that lit up and lined every required muscle at every required moment.

  The others stepped back. Ray smacked them to focus on the other zombies crawling over the fence. But in that moment, they let the weak ones nibble on their armor as they stared at Ronan's mighty swings.

  Dad hacked and hewed, cutting away at the tangle of weak limbs. It had many charred bits. Most of its faces were blackened and burnt, with seared eyelids and lips. Teeth shown but they were not moving or clenching at anything. The claymore cut through dozens of limbs, all twirling off like black butterflies. Dad swung in large swathes and nothing seemed to stop the massive arc. Everything mowed off and fell away.

  The beast split off whole hemispheres of charred parts. Dad swung again and again as the beast was reduced to exposed slices.

  "Gagggghh!! Oh gagghh!!" Randall suddenly burst out from the depths of scraping black flesh.

  Dad held the large sword up as he yanked many parts. The beast fell away in sections.

  Stu came in, helping to clear the tangled mess. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

  "Shut up," Dad said, just above the zombie moans. "Get him!" Dad pointed at Randall. Knowing this mangled thing was on its death throes and pretty ineffective, he had no time to remain with more zombies amassing outside the fencing. "And take care of my sword!" Dad dropped the claymore on top of a car. It was too big to rush about with, at least now. He had to train and adjust his gear to get used to it.

  Stu, feeling guilty, continued pulling stuff off Randall and working hard to make amends for his mistake. Randall stood up, checked himself and shook off more goo. He knew it wasn’t over yet, and stepped near Ray and Nick to quickly work on the other zombies. He motioned for Stu to focus on the zombies too.

  Suddenly, it seemed as if they remembered their training as their swings worked. Arms and heads came off.

  Dad had turned back to the gate. He had to get over. He rolled onto the hood and got up. It was hard in his armor and with his stiffening ankles.

  There was a crowd of zombies forming outside the fence but Dad could easily bowl over the small gathering. He grabbed the fence and rolled onto it and the zombies. He realized how stupid that was. His momentum wasn't right and he got stuck. The zombies immediately grabbed at him. He felt trapped by all the swarming limbs.

  Ray and Nick figured out what he was trying to do. Dad saw their blades suddenly poke through the fence at skulls and necks of the surrounding zombies. He felt the grips give. He rolled over onto all fours and pushed off, getting up and charging down. He used the massing of zombies for his benefit, slamming into them and bowling them over. His ankles were still not fully recovered. He knew for sure they would swell if he didn't get ice. There was no ice. He'd be taking a lot of ibuprofen then. Elevation. Elevation. He shook out of his thoughts.

  He pushed back and forth with each charge, high stepping and cutting away at ones grabbing at him from below. He got to his bike. He cut up more and more as they surrounded him. Screw it, he had to risk it. He sheathed his sword quickly and lifted the bike as zombies grabbed him. He got on and focused. His weight kept him balanced. The zombies were like weak children.

  Ray, Nick, Stu, and Randall yelled just loud enough, getting zombies to scramble back to the fencing, keeping the ones on Dad limited to a few crowded rows. Dad got the bike started and accelerated, dragging a dozen with him, yanking over the rest.

  "Back off slowly," Randall said, knowing what Ronan was doing. He was a mess of foul zombie blood but was alive and well. "Come on."

  They backed away from the parking lot. Stu got Ronan's two-handed claymore. "I ain't forgetting this, no way!"

  They had to deal with a few that got over the fencing as they got to the inner gate. It was fixed up enough to close, so they sealed the area off. Some of it was bent over but not as bad as the outer fencing. These zombies were weak and slow and would probably get stuck at this one.

  "Just keep watch here, nice and calm. Kill them slowly," Randall said to Stu and Nick.

  Both nodded, knowing the drill. They kept a low stance as to not draw in more. They slowly and calmly pierced through the fencing and dropped zombies. More were coming, but if they remained calm, the rest would be drawn away to Ronan and his motorcycle.

  Randall and Ray marched slowly down the back ramp that led to the playground. They knew to keep watch there.

  "Is he pissed at Stu?" Ray asked.

  "He's pissed at us all," Randall figured.

  He checked the roof. At first he didn't see her, but then realized Charlotte had her M-4 aimed at him. Maggie and Carl were crying. He waved he was fine. "I didn't get bit!" He knew to risk it and yell up.

  Charlotte raised her M-4 -- slightly.

  He looked terrible, covered in black wretched ooze. Maggie waved back slowly and unsure. Jake and Trish were there, watching but keeping low and saying encouraging things to the kids. Charlotte kept her M-4 ready but not directly on him.

  Randall had a chill go up his spine. "I'm fine. Seriously," he said, making his voice heard just below a yell.

  She kept it level, ready -- just in case.

  Dad made it to the gate. He drove slowly the whole time, not wanting to make any more noise than necessary. A few zombies attacked but nothing he couldn't plow through or drag along.

  Howie put the Hummer in drive and waited as Ronan drove slowly past him with a trail of zombies in tow. Howie drove forward meeting them head on, nice and easy. He slammed, knocked under and crushed them with the Hummer's souped up apocalyptic Road Warrior bumper.

  "Here we go. Nice," Howie hummed to himself and Duanne.

  They did that several times. Howie casually drove through. Duanne jabbed at one that managed to grab onto the open side window. Howie liked the windows open for air. It wasn't a problem when you had Duanne Henderson in the back with an awesome jabbing spear.

  "You know, I prefer Lisa and Lena to you. Their spear jabbing is way more accurate," Howie said calmly, driving around, crushing zombies.

  "Hey, give it some time. I'm training with them. Practice makes perfect," Duanne responded, jabbing at another lucky zombie.

  Howie sang some classical rock song; Duanne joined in, quiet like.

  It finally ended. Howie parked and waited. Dad drove out to the street, more shuffling his feet along the bike as he glided than any sort of racing around.

  Randall thought about getting his bike but saw Dad was doing just fine. He kept an eye on the school grounds up above, the courtyard and the back side. He knew, as they agreed, that someone should always stay back to watch the rear. He glanced up.

  Charlotte was in a more relaxed position, but her gun was still resting and ready by her. He smiled coy inside his black greasy motorcycle helmet and gave her a thumbs up. A zombie wouldn't give a thumbs up. She just watched him.

  Dad cruised out on the street amongst cars and dead zombies. The street was decently open. His old home was there, burnt to a shell, as were the two houses next to them. It was where he 'defeated' the first Horde tha
t attacked his family. The whole area was open. He drove up and down, but no zombies came.

  He drove back in. Tom and Amador came out of hiding and quietly closed the gate.

  "Get the smoke going again," Dad reminded them. "I think we lapsed on that."

  Amador saluted awkwardly. Tom shrugged agreement. The fires were still smoldering but thinner. No one was feeding them. They got too comfortable as they were working on the barricades.

  "Tom, you need to keep them going. You and Stu be in charge of this. Day and night. Figure it out."

  Tom nodded.

  Dad came back to Howie and Duanne who got out and gave a stretch. Howie poked off zombie guts from the bumper and attachments.

  “Hey, oh man, I remember now... your armor. I kept feeling like I've seen this stuff before. I was thinking... a movie or something, but nooo! It's that place! In Beverly Hills... uh, uh... Greystone Castle man! You remember?" Duanne nodded to Howie.

  Howie scrunched his face.

  "We had that party there! The premiere party after Titans!"

  Howie's eyes widened, his brows raised. "Oh yeah."

  "Yeah, they had all kinds of suits of armor in there! Authentic stuff man! Not fake! The docent kept telling us!"

  "Not historical authentic, but a collector's like collection. Got it historically accurate. But all new and shiny and real cool!" Howie recalled.

  "The guide said.."

  "Docent..."

  "Yeah, docent... guide, he said, the collector fought in it, a sport, jousting, something... and it is all usable man!" Duanne recalled.

  "Just don't touch it!" Howie cajoled.

  "And you did, rotten bastard!" Duanne shot back. Both chuckled.

  Dad looked unsure at these two.

  "Anyway," Duanne added. "We gotta go get that armor! Get those suits man! It ain't far!"

  “Oh yeah, in Beverly Hills? A castle?” Dad asked.

  “Yeah. No one knows about it, cuz you know, just rich elite folks like me know about it!" Duanne said with a brow dance.

  Howie hooted. "It was some tycoon, Greystone, made a castle there, old Hollywood stuff. But now it's a, ah, tourist or cultural thing. You can get a tour or whatever. No one knows about it though..."

  "Look man, it's way cool. It's just down Sunset, up, up, up, shit that road right when it curves, right when you enter Beverly Hills from the Strip!"

  "Yeah, I know where you're talking about," Dad realized.

  "Yeah that street, just shoot up there into the woods and hills, bam! Right there. It's gated and huge, the plot. In the castle part, they got displays of armor, medieval! Man it's this!" Duanne pointed at Dad's armor. "A ton of it in there."

  "All in rows, displayed," Howie added.

  Dad quivered a little.

  “Sounds like a quest,” Howie bemused.

  “A knightly quest! Huh? Yeah?” Duanne enthused.

  Dad shrugged. “Greystone Castle? A quest? Definitely.”

  “Oh, oughtta be pretty sparse with the zombies I reckon, just mansions and gated communities, no mass crowding going on in there. Could be plenty of survivors too, rich dudes holed up with plenty of stash, guns, families. No doubt,” Duanne figured.

  “Doubt they'd be welcoming,” Dad said.

  “Still, so worth it. Not like anyone is going for that. Be a bitchin' trip,” Duanne added. “Bitchin' armor.”

  “Let's get this place secure and you all trained, save some people,” Dad answered. "But first," he looked back to Randall and up where Stu and Nick were, "I need to find out what the hell happened."

  He drove up the ramp, stopping by Randall and Ray.

  "Stu dropped a hood. He forgot," Randall said. "It slammed."

  "He wasn't watching," Ray added.

  "He was, just shouldn't have helped. Nick got him to," Randall gulped, not wanting to blame anyone.

  "It wasn't my fault. I was just doing my work," Ray said, looking at Randall, then wincing.

  Dad couldn't see Randall's expression in his bike helm,

  Dad sat on his bike. He looked menacing in his helm, bloodied and deadly. He nodded and drove past them.

  "He ain't gonna kill'em, is he?" Ray asked.

  "Him? Us?" Randall replied, their shoulders slumped. "I hope not."

  Dad drove up and saw Stu and Nick at the inner gate sitting against a wall. They stood up as if caught slacking off. Dad rode up and looked at them. They couldn't read his expression through his medieval helm. Their faces were covered but not like his. They had on sports helms with grills. They had scarves tucked under, to pull up if it got too smokey. They gulped and walked up to him.

  "Sorry man," Nick said. He then raised his weapons slightly, fearful Ronan would strike him.

  "I did it. I'm sorry. It was my fault," Stu said, realizing he was shaking more now than against zombies.

  "It's okay. Dropping a hood like that, I've done it. Not with zombies around but I forgot. But both of you, stick – to – the - rules. Anyone guarding does not help. Got it?"

  "Yes sir!" both answered relieved.

  "I made him do it. I'm sorry, never ever again," Nick said, seeing Ronan's helmet nod.

  Dad moved the motorcycle handlebars suddenly and both flinched. Ronan didn't notice as he turned the bike around and drove it back to the classroom.

  Dad and his wife spent a day in their room. Dad drank some wine, and had some beef jerky and packaged cheese. It was like they were on some exotic vacation.

  Everyone agreed that Dad needed time off, for saving them and defeating The Horde, not once, but twice, then all this other stuff as they were making mistakes. Okay, okay, he relented, especially after Katrina presented the box of wine and food.

  They listened to oldies-but-goodies music on some teacher's phone. Thankfully, a few phones had songs on them and didn't just have a music streaming service, where all that music was long gone.

  They made love, laughed and lay about, drinking, dancing, swinging swords in the nude, listening, praying, thanking, thinking and talking. A man and his wife, who God made as his helper, how long he would have her before God took her he did not know. For incomplete he would be without her. He held her, her small little body next to his, and loved, loved her so much. He thanked God for his wife, his life, his family.

  She saw the tears in his eyes and knew. They cried and loved together.

  11. Blockades

  As the place was becoming more secure, Ray had taken up a bottom classroom facing the courtyard. Beth, Robert and Ellie were out there, clearing up and salvaging the crops. Robert was standing on guard. Dad emphasized the rule, whenever anyone worked, one in the group could not work! He or she had to stand guard. They would get too focused on their peaceful farming, such that Dad could easily walk up on them. So Robert paced about, bored, wanting to help. Beth and Ellie smiled at him. He gave them comfort. Robert understood and guarded.

  It turned out Ray was a harder worker than he realized. He was becoming a focused, long hours Hollywood type once again, not just some Hollywood player. He was down in the trenches of the crew now, working all day with Amador, Nick and others, putting up, erecting the castle walls section by section. Then in the evenings, too excited, like the first years he was a prop and set designer, he'd work on drawings and concepts.

  He had set up a drawing and designing space, using a lot of kid materials. He had a ton of #2 pencils, crayons, coloring pads, the dry erase boards. He and Nick were working in the evenings, devising fantastical concepts to defend the fortress. Cherry made them light coffees and brought them dry meals.

  They had a bunch of silly drawings of cannons, flamethrowers, tower defenses, which Dad looked at and wanted to see them figure it out. Ray was quite the artist. Many of his drawings looked like they belonged in some Road Warrior post-apocalyptic film. Dad then realized, that's exactly what they were living in.

  “I think the easiest thing we could do right now is move the cars around,” Ray said.

  Everyone listened, peering
at the cool drawings. The younger guys got excited about defending from towers and swinging giant scythes or rolling spiked balls. Again, Ray drew a lot of fantastical stuff.

  “The cars?” Dad asked.

  “Yeah, they're jammed along the blocks. But we can easily put them in neutral and push them together, blocking off the streets around us. For now, uh... it won't stop 'alerted' zombies. They'll just climb over. But that's not the point. If we block off the streets, meandering zombies won't, you know, meander into our area, and won't alert zombies further out. We could block it so that there won't be wandering zombies all around us, give us some breathing room.”

  “Oh yeah, that's easy enough moving the cars, plenty all around,” Randall added.

  “Block off city blocks, further and further out,” Ray continued, "effectively shutting off their alarm system."

  “And we better do it now while there's still air in the tires,” Nick figured.

  Dad nodded with a smirking smile. “Let's do it.”

  The next day, Dad and Randall sat on their motorcycles just outside the gate. Dad peered beyond the cars at the zombies blocks away. There were plenty out there, not vast or crowded, but meandering in the area once again.

  "They just don't stop man," Randall sighed.

  "Ten million people in L.A, twenty million in the county, eventually they'll stop. Eventually."

  "You think there's any of those crazy ones nearby? The big ones or that thing stuck all together? I never see them just walking around. It's like we only see them when something is happening."

  "First, that tough one was hiding from us," Dad recalled.

  "No telling if a smarter and bigger one is out there, hiding, waiting," Randall sighed.

  It was a cold cloudy morning. The zombies were a bit dulled, cold and stiff.

  Tom and Stu were there. They were checking the fires and feeding the smoking bins. It was keeping the zombies away from the perimeter. They came by Dad and Randall.

  Dad asked them, "Is Lena, Lisa guarding the rear?"

  "Yes sir and Cory's watching the courtyard," Stu said, hacking up zombies and tossing them into the bins. "They got our backs."