All were emaciated and skinny, fragile looking. They were scared, timid, almost zombie like. Lena, Lisa, Cory, and Marcus showed them moves, sword swings, and training exercises. The newcomers tried, but there was no robust effort. Their moves were zombie like. They had lost a lot of weight and muscle and courage, if they ever even had any, all these months.
Marcus was not impressed. "Put some swing into it. Use your hips. Do it again."
A wiry kid swung again. It was weak, no hip, just a movement.
"Did you hear me? Hips... like this. Move and let the hips bring the rest around." Marcus easily torqued and flung his practice sword. It whacked the target with a strong firm hit. The kid flinched. Marcus motioned for him to try again. Marcus looked like a giant next to this kid. Even Stu, having a smaller physique to the kid, at least had muscles. This boy had atrophied and probably didn't have much to begin with when it started.
The kid turned his hips, stopped, then swung weakly.
"Wow."
"Just keep working with them Marcus, just keep them swinging," Lena said, looking at them, then at her dad.
Dad was at the outside cafeteria tables nearby. The cafeteria itself was pretty demolished but there were row after row of exterior tables. These were all steel and rusty, placed under a steel roofing. Dad had his armor out and his fancy new sword.
His wife was sewing some final fixes. She had a large carry box of tools. She liked coming out to get some bright sunlight and outdoor air while fixing up small things. She sat at the edge where the sun shone on her tanned skin. She sewed and fixed his leather armor parts, checking buckles and straps. She wanted her man to return to her.
Duanne was there, talking it up. Howie was at his Hummer, checking fluid levels, cleaning off dried zombie bits. Amador went around it tightening the screws that secured the armor. It had spikes and gratings. It looked like a Road Warrior vehicle from hell.
Randall was getting his armor fixed up too. Beth was checking it, over and over, asking Dad's wife about this or that, sewing extra reinforcements.
"So what's the plan again?" Duanne asked, having a nervous tick that kept him flexing and readjusting. He sat uncomfortably on a diminutive school lunch bench. "I mean, you told me I wasn't ready and this sounds pretty friggin like hardcore, this plan."
"It is," Dad said, shifting proudly in his armor, like a knight, or king, readying for battle. "It's epic."
"You can do it," Melany said, bringing more materials for Dad's wife. She winked at Dad, who glanced at his wife, who was looking straight up at him. He shifted his stance as she stuck her needle through his padding.
Melany set the materials down and looked at Duanne. "A famous actor is in our midst. Aren't you that go get'em fighting hero type?" She shimmied a cutesy fighter pose.
Duanne did his best million dollar smile. It was definitely worth millions, at least before.
Melany giggled. Eva came up, completely demoralized, looking at the hot blonde. Eva looked down at her own body and realized she was not a plump middle class woman anymore. She was just as emaciated and cut as Melany, as any vegan organic shopping-hippy guru. So why didn't she look as attractive as Melany? She scowled a little. No one noticed.
Eva set down some helmet options and new shivs. Duanne picked one up without even glancing at her with any sense of appreciation. He twirled the shiv in his hand, feeling its weight and form.
"Oh, I'm an actor. I was just a really well paid successful actor. Never had to fight for real."
"However, you were trained in all that we're doing. And you were trained by the best," Randall reminded. "Special forces, martial arts, everything you needed to get the job done."
"Acting wise," Duanne reminded. "Like Ronan said, I'm not ready. I screwed up out there, just in that little mess we did rescuing people by the dumpsters."
Dad turned around to look at Duanne fully. His wife, a bit annoyed, had to adjust her sewing position. But she understood why he turned to face Duanne. She kept working diligently. Melany bent down to see what she was sewing. Dad tried to focus on the men, glancing to and fro.
Duanne repositioned himself again, "Look, Steve told me. You sent him out, fighting a... ah... ah... little bit at a time. You didn't just throw him into the gauntlet. You didn't throw him into something epic. He mentioned the whole uh... nerves thing, getting shut down and having to, yuh know, mentally build up. All I'm saying is, I don't think I'm there. I'm definitely not there, not yet. I want to fight, but... I'm not there." He glanced at them all. Randall and Dad looked at him knowing.
Beth and his wife focused on their work. Beth was fixing up one of Randall's gauntlets on the table. It was actually an armored motorcycle glove. Dad's wife was fixing the padding on Dad's legs and hips, just below the armor, where the armor was digging into his flesh. She could tell by the flesh marks on his legs. She was adept at poking the needle through without stabbing her husband. Eva stood with her arms crossed, waiting for them to ask her for something else to get from upstairs.
Melany was giddy to be around Dad and his wife, and somewhat listening. Dad wondered for a moment if she had brain damage, from all the suffering and starvation. Perhaps she was mental before, some Hollywood therapy pagan whatever and now it was manifesting itself. Perhaps all this fear and horror delighted her ennui, her boredom. Many exotic thoughts raced through his mind. He caught his wife looking up at him.
He turned his attention to Duanne. "We have to go. You will be in the Hummer with Howie. Your mission isn't to fight, but to fend off, until Sean gets everyone stuffed in that Hummer. You sat in it before, and fought from it when you got here. You can do it."
Duanne nodded, giving a glum look. "So you're gonna open up the street, drive as many past that place as you can?"
"Correct. The Horde will make chase, giving Howie room to drive that Hummer through. Randall will be with you. He will be the back-up decoy. He'll follow you and if it gets heavy handed after I've left, he'll drive around and lure more away. When he does that, you stay low in the Hummer. Let him draw any new ones. There shouldn't be a lot after I lead the Horde away."
"How do you know the Horde or whatever will follow you?" Duanne asked, still with the nervous tick.
"Oh, they love him," Randall interjected.
Everyone chortled.
Beth tested the armored glove, putting it on and splaying out her hand, swinging it about, then bashing the table. It made everything on it and everyone jump.
"Oh sorry," she shrugged coy.
Nick brought out Dad's new Harley bike. "This is badass!" He had filled, charged, checked and cleaned it. He wanted Dad ready. "I attached a scabbard and blade to the side! You got another sword ready for action."
Dad looked down. "Oh yeah, that's way cool. Thanks." He shook and hugged Nick, who hugged back.
"Is your claymore good?"
Dad tugged at the scabbard on his back, "Oh yeah."
"Go get'em, man," Nick huffed.
"We should definitely start customizing these bikes with medieval shit!" Cory howled, checking it out.
Dad turned to Cory, to Lena his daughter, to the younger group. "You guys hold the gates, keep it clear and be ready for when we return."
Lena, Lisa, Cory, Marcus, Stu and Tom knew their mission. No telling how many would come after them here or there.
Jake and the kids came running down from the roof. "Sean's ready. They're waiting."
Charlotte and his wife were hugging each other. Dad came up to them and eyed them both. He hugged them. Lena came in.
Oddly, Marcus came in to hug as well. "Family."
They all chuckled with him, and added him into their circle.
The wife teared. "That's right! You're joining with Lena."
Then Lisa came up and hugged. Lena opened up for her.
"Come on sis!"
Everyone 'Ahhh'ed'.
Then Cory came and Stu and all the rest couldn't help but join in. It became a large circle of hugging.
"F
amily!" they all chortled and sang. "Family, family, family!"
"Okay okay, enough family," Dad finally cracked, in the center standing tall and tugging free.
Everyone smiled. It was all the able and fighters, not the new people, who stood out and looked in, feeble physically and mentally. Dad noticed. The elders, with Robert and Ellie under the roofing, along the walkway, in wheelchairs and with canes seemed like zombies. A dozen of them were there. Why they were saved, Dad did not know. But he knew he had to save anyone they could. That was his charge.
And there was that odd couple he rescued. They weren't together and the girl was with the kids. The man was cowardly. That seemed to be the defining factor of these new survivors. None of them tried to go out or do anything. They just hid and wasted away. Some became belligerent and impatient once a savior came. Dad knew that confrontation would come soon.
Dad shouldn't have such harsh thoughts about them. He would have to make them into warriors eventually. He looked around at all the immediate family, the men and women, the young adults, the children, ready to fight. He saw Duanne above the group. He was his size if not a bit taller. His face was close. Both smiled aggressively at each other.
"You can do it Duanne," Dad finally said.
Duanne's smiling visage broke and an emotional attachment suddenly sprang. Was it acting? Didn't feel like it. Duanne grabbed Dad's shoulder firmly. The folks parted and both had room to hug and slap each other in bravado and encouragement.
"Let's do this man," Randall sang.
"Let's save some people," Howie added, the bravest old guy there.
"Let us pray!"
32. Dad Rides Again
They started within the confines of the neighborhood streets, back away from the main boulevards. Tom and Stu pushed open the dumpster. Dad was first. He pushed out the Harley. He didn't want to start it till he felt they cleared the gateway and positioned the dumpster back.
He pushed his mount along quietly. A few zombies turned and rambled over as everyone kept a low profile and Dad moved slowly. He knew to draw them in but not excite them or they'd bark their alarm. He stood calmly as they rambled over sensing something.
He sliced and punctured quickly. Two fell headless, one with its brain skewered. Howie saluted, then drove his heavy metal Hummer out the gate. It barely fit. Some of its metal armor scraped along the parked cars. It made loud scraping sounds.
"Crap," Dad leapt on his Harley as the barks ensued.
"Shit, shit, sorry," Howie huffed.
"Not good," Duanne tensed, shaking his head. He literally said, "I got a bad feeling about this," with his expressive head shake as he glared at Howie.
Tom and Nick cringed. They gave each other a look, like they should've known better.
"Just go!" Randall said, waving Howie on and following behind on his bike.
Howie drove ahead. He had some space to drive in the area with a few blocks up to Hollywood and a few blocks down to Sunset. But the main course down to where Sean was had not been opened yet. That was Dad's job.
Dad waved to Howie to stop. "Just wait," Dad huffed in his helm.
Howie waved back innocently.
"I'll lead them. I'll open it up. You wait! Stay down," Dad reminded. He drove forward, swerving in and out of traffic quite adroitly in his new big Harley. It felt good and solid. He felt like he could ram a wall of cars with it. The engine had that low Harley rumble. Dad felt like a real knight, no, a real king on this one, his new warhorse.
He scraped a side mirror off a car, but it did not affect him with his steel armor on a heavy mount. He throttled the engine and his ride bellowed a low rumble. The zombies leapt after him as he swerved through the remains of traffic and cars where this was once a live and bustling city.
He was still on a side street. The apartment buildings towered on each side and cars blocked the smaller neighborhood roads but the sidewalks were for the most part open. He could see the path ahead. Some piles of dead matter, trash and crashed cars were evident but he could weave his way along the sidewalk and many driveways.
The driveways led to underground parking lots and walkways, giving him room to maneuver. He kept an eye out for larger ones. It was hard to discern zombies' sizes or capabilities even normally, but more so in his helm, racing along, swerving in and out, past flickering shadows of apartments, trees, and palm foliage. He wasn't going to get clothes lined by some big muscle bound beast again.
There was greenery and growth after the rains. The plants were surviving in the potted landscapes around the apartments. The buildings gave the shrubbery a shield from the otherwise hot desert sun. It was winter too, a chilly morning, a promise of a sunny day, and the smell of a light rain. It was the perfect place for zombies to flourish.
Dad gunned the gas, racing ahead. He got to the next intersection and found a tight path through the cars. He realized he needed to slow down and let the gathering zombies catch up and collect behind him. He looked back as he turned the beast of a bike to and fro to get through. He saw zombies rambling through, but they were scattered and not massing -- at least not yet.
One was close and leapt on him, bouncing off his weight and armor. It flailed and fell. Something on it broke as it limped back. Whatever had broken finally failed more and the zombie tottered. Dad smirked unseen as he found the next sidewalk thoroughfare and drove on.
He passed many driveways and several side streets, ever heading toward the main thoroughfare. He zipped in and out. The shadows and rays of the early morning danced around him. He held tight, half expecting one of the big ones to leap out. He felt ready if one did. He felt heavy set and strong, steady and engaged.
Coming out of a side street, he got to La Brea Avenue. He expected to see a mass of zombies nearby. He was only a block or so from the massive tourist area of Hollywood Boulevard. There were zombies in the warming sun, but not a mass, not yet.
He knew they'd come. He just had to hit the clutch, throttle the gas, and let his mount roar to all evil beasts that this knight was on the march and ready to fight. He released the clutch and engaged the engine. His mount almost reared as it took off running tight circles around the jammed up cars.
There were pockets of cars smashed together and there were open areas to drive through, all inter-mixed on the streets and sidewalks and driveways. This was La Brea. The area was full of business shops and stores, and gated entrances to offices and small parking lots.
Everything had a snapshot damning story of panic and terror on that first fateful day when this all happened. Dad could see the ramming and yelling, the open car doors and bashed in windows, the washed blood stains, bits of torn cloth and smashed phones scattered. Rain had modified it all. He saw it all even through his helm, through the steel holes, as he handled his mount.
It was like a thousand little stories of hell dotted the area. He could sense each one, in a split moment, what had happened, who was there, how they tried whatever maddening, crazed, impatient, horrified, or just plain in disbelief reaction.
There were piles of cars stacked up, some on their sides, and some smashed together and up against a building or barricade. He had driven through here before, but not strictly up and down the avenue. He had crisscrossed it, in and out, passing through. Some horde must have come through here, skidding cars up against each other chasing him.
He got room to move about. He tested the turning angle and balance. He felt the tug of the throttle as he accelerated. He swung at zombies coming in, a few here and there. He drove into one. He wanted to get a feel for it. It folded under as the bike drove over it.
The bike almost wobbled but the soft rotting flesh of the zombie gave and the wheels scraped along the splattering flesh. Dad worked out the balance, the change of pull from a bump to a slip. It was split seconds of feel, handling the bars, the throttle, the balance, all while holding a sword. He sheathed his main sword while turning, then pulled out the bike's sword from its scabbard. It was shorter and nice. It worked well. Ni
ck had the right idea.
His armor made it a bit harder to reach but that was just a little adjustment. He swung at a zombie nearby, severing its head. More were circling with him, in the jammed up area, but it wasn't enough to become The Horde.
Where was The Horde? Just when Dad wanted it, it was no where to be found. Just his luck, Dad figured. He drove out of the crowding circle, easily knocking a few zombies out of the way. His bike held solid and continued on.
He drove down La Brea. He kept his head up so he could see well through his helm and get a feel for the openings ahead. The traffic jams here showed the hysteria and panic were pretty heavy. Delivery trucks, buses, and cars were piled up on each side.
There were areas of five or six cars and trucks all smashed together. One could easily get on top and run fifty yards without having to step off a car. A lot of them were smashed up against each other, then smashed up against curb sides, short walls, or store fronts.
This intersection was also cleared up by The Horde when they came after his family months ago. He remembered that and shivered. Did he really want to call out The Horde now? He realized he did. He had to, after all it was Charlotte's idea. He felt confident he could lead it away, drawing it down La Brea to Sean's and clear the road for them. But in that confidence, Dad shuddered because he knew. It was in pride that God would allow failure. Dad hoped for his family that he was not getting too cocky. Please God, thank you for my life, my wife, and my family.
He drove through a tunnel, a canyon of cars pushed up from a previous Horde, and came out to the opening along Sunset and La Brea. The path led back to the school along Sunset. He saw that way a few blocks. It was a half mile to the grocery store, then beyond was his block. It was like a river snaked through and on each side was a vast junkyard of salvage.
Knight of the Dead (Book 4): Realm Page 20