Knight of the Dead (Book 4): Realm

by Smorynski, Ron

  He drove around the open space, doing a little dance with his mount, rocking side to side and swerving the bike. For a massive beast, it had great control and great balance. It wasn't one of those Harley choppers. It had a tighter frame and narrow handle bars, but it had a large engine and bulky gas tank. He was summoning The Horde with his new warhorse circling.

  He turned to see the dumb zombies stuck between the cars, stuck in the passageway he just took to get through the tunnel. His jaw would've dropped if it could have in his chin strap. He's trying to gather a force of zombies to clear the way and they're stuck, jamming each other in the narrow opening.

  He throttled his gas, roaring for them to try harder. Eventually, they broke and came pouring through. He saw more coming from the East. Toward his home, near the school, they had already cleared that area, having drawn them to the school and Howie running them over.

  He liked what he saw from the other directions. Hundreds were coming, bobbing up and down along the cars and the opening along Sunset. It still wasn't The Horde, but it was a start.

  He turned the bike in a sharp circle, ignoring the half dozen zombies grabbing at him. He accelerated and headed through the traffic. It was a straight shot down to the shopping center where Sean was hiding. There were only a few major intersections left to get to them. This should be easy, but where was The Horde?

  33. The Horde

  As he went from spot to spot, finding narrow openings, slowing to walk through some, he got closer and closer to the shopping area around the Target store complex.

  There was a wall of cars before him. They must have come through at some point. He was never in this area. Maybe he was a few blocks away, racing by? He could not remember. Every harrowing race felt like a lifetime ago.

  He wasn't feeling too good about this. He was able to stop and take a turn, giving him room to look back. Hundreds were following him, but not thousands, not a massive amount. Maybe this was a good thing? Maybe The Horde was no longer? Maybe there was a thinning of the zombies? Maybe the cold and time and their rotting flesh were dropping them and all that was left -- were those like him, rebuilding the world?

  He had to move. A large group was surrounding him. He raced through, feeling them pummel against him and fly off. His bike shifted to and fro, feeling impacts and riding over rotted flesh. He moved. He scraped along cars and had to slow, careful not to rip his armor or himself off. He zigzagged making sure he found enough space to squeeze through.

  Passing under a bus and through the wall of cars, he came upon The Horde.

  It was a stadium like crowding at the wide intersection and walkways throughout the shopping center. Somehow, they were stuck behind this wall of cars and buses, isolated from whence he came.

  Dad hit up against a wall of zombies standing and milling about. No wonder Sean could not leave, he had written "Surrounded by Horde". Dad assumed he just meant zombies everywhere in general, not, The Horde. He couldn't turn. Their heads, hundreds to thousands, turned to gaze at him. Sitting, he was just at eye level, so the first twenty rows or so saw him. The rest saw the tip of his helm. Their grumbling and growls began rising. He knew the chasing zombies were not far behind. The fast ones would come under the upturned bus any moment, reaching his rear.

  He had no choice but to hit the throttle. He went left, along the edge and drove through them. He was looking for another way out, along the wall of cars pushed up against buildings giving this sleeping Horde its space. But it was now awakening, and in waves, like busy bees, the shivering alarm of hunger spread. He collided over zombies and skidded along the cars as best he could, avoiding a complete fall to either side. His rear view mirrors on both sides were bent from the wall of cars or crowded zombies.

  He didn't pull out his sword but held strong to the handlebars and kept going. He was being bashed constantly by the zombies on his right. They were pressing against him and scraping his steel with their rotted flesh.

  He kept punching the gas. It was suddenly stifling, for he sat with his head at their height or bit lower and seemed to be in darkness as The Horde began to move in unison. Layers of them leapt atop each other to move toward him as the first row fell forward. All were grabbing toward his movement and sounds. They were crushing each other as they woke.

  He couldn't see an end to the wall of cars, an opening to burst free from the crowd. As The Horde awoke there was confusion in their midst. The entirety had not immediately fixated on him, but only followed the previous grouping of zombies flailing that he had bashed and squeezed path.

  Each area he drove through was too late for them to react. He would burst over bodies, always favoring his left, bashing along the cars to keep upright. He nearly caught his handlebar against the cars which could have flipped him under. He pushed hard to steady it then veered too much to the right and drove into the mass of zombies. This new grouping awoke from the confusion to grab at him or anything. He ducked and pushed further, driving into the confusion. They careened and flipped or fell under as the bike tottered to and fro and burst forth.

  Dad wasn't sure which way the bike would fall. He kept pounding against turning zombies, left, right, and going under his wheels. Many flipped over but had no control to grab him as their bones splintered and their flesh ripped.

  The splattering of claws and teeth through his helm kept repeating as he drove through. Where was the end of this mass? He only saw heads and shapes of them, no cars or city, just him zipping through row after row of turning zombies. At some point, the mass would catch up to him. The alarm would electrify their adrenaline to his pace and they'd be more aware. They'd be crashing down upon him.

  He saw many fly out of windows and upper level walkways at the shopping center.

  Seeing the walkway and Target sign fixed his point, and he knew where he was, in the midst of a massive swarm. He turned hard and drove through them toward the store. He had no idea what else to do. He screamed and frothed in his helm, as bodies constantly hit his armor, his helm, and his arms, wobbling his bike.

  His arms were getting tired, constantly fighting the jumps and skids. He saw the wide steps rise above the sea of heads. It led to the upper walkway cutting over the shopping center's outdoor food court. There were a few on it but not many. He drove to it. He remembered it circling around the upper level and coming down the other side. It might give him some room.

  He didn't care. He couldn't see anything else close by. He saw Sean's apartment, rising up from across the street. He passed a mound of cars that were more like a fortress wall than something he could ride into or through.

  His felt like his mount was tiring, gasping as it neighed, the motorcycle's engine sputtered. Was it weakening, choking on all the flesh and goo? Was he burning it by constantly thrusting the throttle? The bike's engine sounded different. He wasn't sure as everything was drowned out by an incredible groan of zombies.

  The amount of flesh and goo splattering and them being stuck within this mass, it surely wasn't getting the air intake it needed. He was tiring too. Somehow, he knew he couldn't keep this up.

  He hit the stairs and suddenly went up. He had to gas it to keep the momentum going, which tore at his arms. He realized a zombie was dangling across him. His arms flailed to stay steady as he drove up the stairs, as the weight of a flailing broken body was splayed across his arms and the bike. He let go of one arm, holding the bars steady, and let it drop. The damn zombie finally fell that way and got caught under the wheels and ripped off.

  It took energy from him to hold steady, bumping the steps and racing up against gravity. Once he cleared the stairs and steadied the bike, he lost his strength and crashed against the railing of the upper walkway, skidding and falling. It was a split second action. He fell and rolled over and over in his heavy armor as the bike fell on its side and skidded, pushing up against him.

  He had to get up quickly. He felt heavy and exhausted riding rip shod through The Horde. He felt their presence swarming up the steps. He grabbed
the bars and lifted it. The bike had stalled already. It was like a limp heavy horse. He tried to balance it but his exertion and exhaustion made it fall the other way. He nearly fell over with it. In frustration he let go of the handle bars and let it fall away. The strain zapped across his lower back. He stood up for a moment, grateful the pain passed.

  Dozens of zombies reached the top of the walkway to come at him. More were scrambling behind. He quickly stepped to the other side to grab the bike handles. He lurched, pulling it up awkwardly and desperately. The zombies were upon him. They slammed into him as he up-righted the bike and tried to get his leg over. Their bodies pushed against him, nearly knocking him down. Luckily, the railing was behind him and braced him, but he couldn't get his leg over as more came leaping upon him.

  He had no choice but hit the starter button. He wasn't sure in that split moment if he or a zombie pushed his grip as he turned the throttle and the bike raced out. He held on, sliding crazily with it, his legs dangling under grasping zombies.

  The Target Super Store had upper walkway entrances with glass doors. A few were already broken through. There must have been a siege here that didn't last long. His bike chose an intact door to crash through. The glass exploded in shatters as he gunned the gas. The heavy Harley ripped along. He couldn't hold and fell, sliding through the entrance onto the slick gooey floor. Zombies lost their grip, many getting shredded at the entrance doorway or ripped apart due to their weakened ligaments.

  Dad felt so weak and delirious. The bike hit against a blockade of shopping carts which wasn't solid by any means. It fell over again as carts dropped around it. He grabbed the attacking zombies to pull himself up. They gnawed on him. He didn't care. He bashed them away as he stumbled toward the bike.

  Zombies crashed through the doorways, slipping and falling over each other. He got to the bike lifting it up quicker than he expected. His adrenaline was now on hyper drive. He mounted it quickly this time.

  The zombies were upon him, grabbing and flailing. He motioned to the on switch. A hand grabbed and slapped at it. It almost grabbed the key. He slammed the hand down hard, stopping it, realizing in that moment it was a ghoul scowling at him with a demonic smile. It was stuffed within the circle of zombies surrounding him. He saw it just a moment as he instinctively elbowed its face, crushing its features. It fell away into the clambering crowd.

  He hit ignition, flipping and turning everything needed to start the engine, keeping the gear as is, engaging the clutch, throttling the beast and going. He took off within the Target lobby, in a tight circle, this time taking the turns where he needed, ignoring the zombies as they slammed against him. They couldn't converge in large masses as they tripped and blocked each other across the carts and customer service desks.

  He raced out from the crowd through the shopping aisles. Lamp shades and clothing racks flew in the air as he blasted across modern day consumer products.

  Zombies made chase, racing and stumbling through the myriad of scattered items across the floor.

  Dad saw the escalator up ahead, going down... or up? He laughed crazily in his helm. He felt good on the bike, feeling re-energized. He felt the stale air refreshing. The mount found its gallop and raced free from the masses of choking zombies.

  It was getting darker as he drove in, away from the glass entrance ways and windows. But he could discern the escalator sides. He just fit on his bike. He immediately dropped, bumping down. He raised up a little on his wobbly knees as the bike careened down, bumping the sides of the escalator and going down into the darkness of the first floor. He had left Target and was now at the entrance to a Best Buy on the first floor.

  Light shown through its glass entrance doors. Zombies were down there, but were trying to go elsewhere when he came down. He immediately turned the bike, breaking hard which jolted the wheels as he pivoted it. He knew where he was. He used to come here a lot back in the day, buying computer stuff, games and movies, years ago before download and streaming came onto the scene. He felt a little giddy as he turned the bike around. He saw the next set of escalators going down to the underground parking.

  He whipped up his mount, throttling as he shifted his weight, as he used his boot to pivot, and raced to the next escalator. Zombies tried turning and going in after him but he was quick now, feeling the crazy momentum of his bike in tight up and down situations.

  Zombies fell, rolled, and tumbled, coming from the floor above, crashing down the escalator and slamming into their own coming in from the street.

  Dad raced again as his bike bumped and rocked down the final escalator. It was more stable but still going. He kept a good pace this time, breaking nice and easy to control the downward spiral. He hit the bottom floor, slamming into a ticket pay kiosk. It fell over and gave him the bracing to turn the bike.

  He raced into the darkened underground parking structure. He could see the shapes and silhouettes of parked vehicles as the sun's ambient light emanated from the entrances. It wasn't very full since the apocalypse time stamp was early morning before these shops opened. He remembered the rear exit that lead to a smaller street opposite the crowded intersection.

  He zipped along the parking aisles, turning and going at a great speed now. He was free of the massive crowding. Dark shadows of zombies were in there, but he ignored them. They seemed like the rotted limping kind. He drove to the ramp, easily avoiding the entrance bars and drove out into the sun.

  It was a rear loading dock area with a parking entrance. It came out to the back street, leading around to the front. He was clear of the mass, but he wasn't clear of his job. He realized, even after freeing himself from such an exhausting harrowing situation that he hadn't yet cleared the way for Howie to drive down. Damnit!

  The Horde was just in front of the building he came out of. He had to get through them again, riled up, and racing back up the street.

  He was going to have to lead them back to Le Brea to get The Horde to clear the street of the traffic jams. It was back to home as well. He figured he could then lead them past the school to the freeway. That would work. That would keep them away from his home. It would work.

  34. Mistakes

  Howie looked at his watch. He didn't have one. He just did it out of habit. He tapped his hand quietly. He fidgeted in the driver seat of his armored Hummer. Randall slumped next to him on his bike. They sat quietly outside the dumpster gate, back in the quiet neighborhood.

  Howie glanced about and then at Duanne, sitting next to him and snoring. Howie tussled him. Duanne shifted in the passenger seat. Howie spotted a zombie through the window. It turned but did not come forward. It was fifty yards off or so, rambling along slowly. The sun was full in the sky, a late morning sun, nice and bright. During the winters, it went over in a more southward arc in shiny southern California. It afforded a cooler brisk day.

  Howie impatiently glanced about in the quiet moment. "Hey, Rand? How long we gotta wait?"

  Randall awoke from his slump or perhaps slumber. "Ah, till Stu sees a flag from the roof."

  Howie tried looking back, past the dumpster blockade and the apartments to the school. He wasn't sure if Tom or Stu or whoever else was back there could even see the school's roof. Most had returned to the school. He fidgeted some more, whistling silently.

  Duanne began to snore again.

  "Feel like your damn wife," Howie huffed, pushing Duanne again.

  Duanna woke, blinking out of his draining nap. He yawned and flexed. "How long?"

  "Been awhile, I don't know. Rand's waiting on a signal or something," Howie sighed.

  Randall looked up at them through the driver side window. "Just be ready."

  "Maybe you can go check, have a look?" Howie offered.

  Randall looked ahead, down the road of crowded cars, foliage, and a few leftover zombies left after Ronan drove through. He stretched a bit in his scrunching leathers. "I dunno. I wouldn't want..."

  "Hell, he's cleared it out for sure, just a matter of driving up, down
, there, getting a look," Howie figured, waving and pointing on.

  Randall's expression was hidden behind the dark visor of the motorcycle helm, but his posture and slow movements revealed his uncertainty.

  That was all the time Howie needed. "Hell, won't be hard to get there. Sunset's open too. I can easily drive that way. Anything left over after Ronan's ride, I can drive through. But look, see, if it gets bad, which I doubt, I'll drive back to the school and wipe them out in the playground. Just like before."

  Randall wasn't sure. He stared on.

  "We gotta do something! Not just sit here," Duanne said, moaning in boredom.

  "That's our plan. If it goes south, just drive back to the school yard with the leftovers, take'em out," Howie said, gently tapping his driver side door. "Gotta get started on this rescue man."

  Randall finally began nodding. "Sure, sure, alright. I'll drive and have a look. See if it's clear. I'll meet you at Sunset and La Brea, and we'll go down if it's clear! If it ain't, we get back to the school yard."

  "Yeah yeah, sounds like a plan," Howie nodded, hitting Duanne excitedly.

  "Let's get this party started," Duanne said, sitting up.

  Randall turned to Tom who was behind the dumpster, waiting. "We're going. Meet us at the school yard for our return, all hands on deck."

  Tom saluted.

  Stu asked, “You sure? That don't sound like the plan.”

  Randall didn't want to hear and discern Stu's reluctance. The rest had already gone back to the school. They would be fresh and ready at the school gate for sure. This was going to work alright.

  Randall drove forward. It was clear save a few slow zombies he strung along. He was feeling better about this new approach already. Best to get this done. Ronan and Sean probably forgot to give the signal from down there that it was all clear. They were probably wondering why they hadn't already come down.

  Howie started his rumbling Hummer and turned down a side street toward Sunset. He wanted to see how the Hummer did, driving down and rescuing others. He'd be the hero driving his heroic chariot of war along. He felt good about himself.