Knight of the Dead (Book 3): Fortress

by Smorynski, Ron

  Outside, in the courtyard, he could smell the burning of zombie flesh. It was foul. But with all the smells and foulness he had experienced, burning zombie deterrent was one of the better ones. The air around them wasn't as bad as one might think. There was the sun and the blue sky. Yet he could see westward, the darker plumes of smoke rising from where they came the day before. He would look and assess the situation on the roof soon enough. Right now the pitter-patter of training, Lena's soft voice coaching, and a few giggles and chuckles gave him peace.

  Each had their own version of a dust mask. Whether it was an actual scarf found from some teacher's desk or a kids sleeve cut from a lost and found sweater, they all had various coverings. Some were using them. Some were not. It depended on the breeze and where the smoke was drifting. All the fires were on the perimeter, so within the courtyard and building it wasn't bad.

  He watched as Cory, Eddie, Jerry and the Fairfax boys were practicing. They wanted him to show them his sword skills. Lena protected him, seeing him at peace. She ushered them back to focus on their training. “You'll see him in action soon enough.”

  He saw Robert, Ellie, and Julianne working on the gardens, the farming plots. He walked over and said nothing as they paused a moment to look up at him. They were pulling weeds and plucking tiny bugs from every leaf and stalk. It wasn't like they had anything else to do. Dad was impressed at the growth, a few inches already in a week or so. Beth had started it, and there the plants were growing.

  He noticed they were planting all over the place, in all the open plots and boxed planters. If this got going, it could definitely be some amazing Garden of Eden. The potential looked exciting and uplifting.

  “We need fresh food in our system, not just all that packaged stuff. I mean, thankfully we got it. But this stuff, this fresh stuff, will be like nutritious vitamins,” Jerry said to Dad, coming over with his practice sword in hand. “Hopefully, it'll grow in the winter, a mild SoCal winter,” he mused.

  Robert avoided looking at him but tended each mound of soil around each young plant. Their garden was a descent size, across a pool size grass area, surrounded by concrete in the courtyard. The other planter boxes were the size of kiddy pools. They just turned over the soil and planted seeds in those. It seemed a fair amount.

  “We got some clear plastic. Might cover these up if it gets too cold,” Jerry mumbled. “We might even make a greenhouse kind of thing.”

  Dad nodded at Jerry. “Keep it up.”

  “Yes sir,” Jerry said, wiping his sweaty brow.

  He saw Tom and Nick. They came in from the back gate. They were in full armor with swords. Not full armor like his but good enough. They were out feeding the small smoldering barbecue grills they had set up along the perimeter. Tom walked with a different gait. He was more sure of himself, more macho in a sense. He was looking like a ruffian and not effeminate, Dad realized.

  They came walking through the courtyard. Nick came up to Dad. “You should come see what I did.”

  Dad followed behind as both of them walked through the cafeteria. Dad quickly topped off his joyful coffee again. Tom and Nick grabbed some too.

  They went through the main hall to the other side where the parking lot was. They went outside. Next to the parking lot was a large steel storage unit, one of those massive 18-wheeler trailer hauls. Many public schools had them. Dad felt like they could hide in there if The Horde ever came. He couldn't see them breaking that open. But the stifling madness, the epic banging and possible suffocation brought sudden violent images of their demise to his mind and he let it pass.

  Nick had other plans. Inside, a couple of car batteries were there, attached with wires with cables running out. “It's our power storage. I got the solar panels charging through the battery charger, which then charges these, so we can use them at night. And we can use them for the power tools. It's not all working. Need to get more batteries. Plenty of those are about. Got the inverter from the house across the street, but could use more cables. Still, we'll have some power all the time.”

  “Wow.” Dad sipped his coffee. He looked at Nick and Tom. They were looking for appreciation. Dad smiled mildly. Nick and Tom shared a glance.

  Dad stepped out, looking across the parking lot, at the slowly simmering grills, excessive smoke billowing from each. It was nice to see it, but as he focused on the scene, the blurred shapes of zombies beyond became apparent. There were many.

  Dad looked at Tom and Nick as they came out. Nick closed the storage unit, just enough for the cables to come out of a crack, and tied the handle with some wire.

  “We don't need luxury right now,” he finally said. It seemed to hit Nick and Tom in the gut. “Look, I hope we do, but right now, we have a beast to contend with. And food to get. Something is happening. Something is growing. The horde is all around us.”

  Dad sipped the last bit of his coffee. He looked down at the empty mug, then at them. Both were forlorn, like kids who wanted a supportive gesture from the leader, for winning something, but their 'dad' merely began coaching them for the next challenging game.

  Dad shrugged and marched away. He stopped and turned, going back to them, putting his hands on their shoulders. “Hey, I am relying on you two. I am finding you two to be innovative. But that innovation is going to be challenged very soon, in the most violent battle. They're coming. Understand?”

  “But the smoke, we have the smoke...” Tom whimpered.

  “It won't last. They will find a way,” Dad said.

  Nick shrugged, “Find a way?” He backed from Dad's comforting hand. Dad could tell Nick was angry. He didn't want to hear it. When they finally felt they had a chance to start a new life, dad was taking them back to a dark place. All they had to do was keep the fires burning... smoldering.

  Dad stood taller. He turned and went back, to go inside. He stopped and looked up. He saw Charlotte looking down. She waved for him.

  He sighed, setting his empty coffee cup on a bench. He then clambered up the stairwell, through the classroom, onto the auditorium, then up to the roof.

  He hugged her first, for a while. Both hugged each other quietly. She was only ten. He felt his small daughter. She was alive. He was grateful. He cherished this moment. They released.

  She held up her rifle. Dad immediately noticed the kids all around, hiding in their shanty covering of tarps and school banners. There was a small perimeter wall and plenty of rooftop air units to give them places for cover. They had made their own little shanty town. The kids new to stay low, crawling slowly from spot to spot.

  Charlotte had her own little look out gang and they were fully armed. “Now that you're awake, we're gonna do some shooting, thin the crowd. We aim for the crazy ones, the fast ones.”

  Dad looked around. Up here, he could see the spread of zombies. It was getting worse. “There's gonna be some big battle between us and The Horde.”

  “I know,” Charlotte said. She quickly wiped a tear.

  “They're coming. And the big ones too, the scary ones, the ones that know.”

  “I know.”

  “You aim for those sons of bitches,” Dad said.

  “Okay.”

  Dad gulped, holding in a sob.

  “Dad, burn them all to hell. Get more barbecue things. Burn them all,” Charlotte said.

  “Okay, I will,” Dad said, focusing, thinking. “You pray to Jesus.”

  “Always,” she replied.

  He looked beyond their small white plumes of languishing fires, sitting tight in barbecue grills. They'd have to be fed every few hours, but it was manageable. He looked beyond and saw the black plumes from their Fairfax rescue. The fires were burning across the west side. He wasn't sure how long it would last. Maybe it would burn the whole city down?

  The vast black stacks of smoke went up straight for awhile. Then the beach air pushed it inland. At least it wasn't windy. He looked around the sky. Above them it was clear and sunny, as best as that could be with the smoke around. He was looki
ng for clouds, maybe some coming from the west, from the ocean. There were plenty off in the distance.

  It was the season for rain, so hopefully it would come soon. The days felt like weeks or months but it wasn't that long ago that all this happened. Was it a month? Two? He wasn't sure. Benjamin with his plethora of phones would know. He kept all that in his room, the information about the world.

  Dad wasn't thinking about the world, just about his fortress, this fortress, and its very survival. It was under siege.

  25. Impending

  The days were getting shorter and more hectic. It was getting closer to winter. The mornings were cloudy but the sun permeated them by noon, showing through the rest of the day. Dad saw fires in different spots to the west, where they had rescued the boys at Fairfax. It was spreading. No telling how many lots were on fire and burning. The smoke was billowing from several areas and cut a thick trunk of blackness separating the horizon. Dad hoped it would rain soon, to end its spread. Could the whole city burn down?

  Smoke permeated the school grounds, not just from the vast wall to the west, but their own grills and piles smoldering to keep out the crowding zombies. They wore their various dust masks, scarves and coverings more regularly. There was a growing dread of the fires coming their way.

  They had to train in the corridors, creating various pells out of coat racks and furniture, and hanging clothes on an open door to hit. Lena and Lisa led most of the training. They knew they had to get them up-to-speed on the basics in a matter of days.

  Marcus, Darryl and Stu were gaining their high school athletic strength back quickly, but they were too anxious, too antsy. Dad had to remind them to slow down, pace their swings. He could tell that if they fought, they'd exert themselves on a few zombies, then a few more would come in and take them. Youthful aggression would be their downfall if they did not control themselves.

  Their attitude was great. They really wanted to learn and know how to fight. They wanted to impress Dad or perhaps his girls. Dad figured they wanted to impress him, since they took his commands with reserved humility, actually listening and slowing down. Without the constant drum beat of society, social apps, they seemed quite focused.

  Cory the Cherokee hit it off with them, all of them taking turns with the pell. Dad did not know if he was Cherokee, it was just what he said in his mind to stereotype him. He kept it to himself. Maybe he should just ask him? Dad looked at Cory, who gave him a youthful sneer. Dad smiled back uncomfortably.

  “Do fifty swings, casual, calmly. The blade will cut effectively. Pace yourself, then switch… Do that on this side, ten rounds each, then switch to the other side. Have Lena or Lisa show you each swing movement. Got it?” Dad said.

  They nodded. Dad nodded and walked on.

  Jake, who helped the kids, and his sister, Trish, were working on a coat rack, using plastic swords and a broken umbrella. That was fine, anything to get the motion down. Jake was a natural and was making sure Trish did the work. He spoke calmly and directly. Dad nodded and walked on.

  Amanda and Eva took turns practicing too. They were incredibly timid. Dad stood with them for awhile, showing them how to swing. They giggled and he said stop it. They giggled some more and he stopped them, stared at them, and told them to stop giggling.

  “This isn't some fucking game.”

  That angered them. Dad did care. He did. He wanted to break them and make them angry so they’d stop giggling. They finally focused, but it took awhile. He made them swing and swing, even as they teared. Lena came over to try to get him to ease up. He told Lena to back off. She knew better than to push it, and turned, going back to help the guys.

  “Keep swinging,” Dad said. “I don't care if you're crying. If you stop swinging, you're dead. You're one of them, and I will kill you immediately, before you even turn.”

  Amanda froze a moment, looking at the children practicing their spear work. She returned and swung her practice sword, over and over. She tried to hit harder.

  “Not harder Amanda, just work on the motion,” Dad said, this time gentler. “Get the motion down. Strength will come naturally. You must know how to swing at the beasts, at the monsters, to just swing and cut their damn head off.”

  She nodded and focused, with no giggling, no smiling. Eva waited her turn.

  Dad nodded then walked on.

  Ginger seemed to be coming out of her shell. She was practicing spear work. Lena showed her how. It wasn't like sword work. It wasn't as complicated. One just needed to hold it steady, to get the muscle memory for accuracy when jabbing forward, let it slide a bit through the less dominate hand, and retract it, then repeat the process, quickly, efficiently, and steadily. Well it was still complicated, perhaps more so, but it was very effective, especially if trained in weaker hands. No time for that level of skill work, but at least she was doing something.

  The kids practiced. Charlotte had them work on spear work, jabbing up at faces, which were just cut out circles on the school wall. There were plenty of brooms and mops sticks to use for practice.

  “Remember muscles!” Charlotte barked an order to the kids.

  “Muscle memory!” Dad corrected.

  “Oh!” Charlotte giggled. The kids started to giggle too but saw Dad's stern look and refocused.

  “Muscle memory!” Charlotte continued.

  His wife had Trek and Eddie upstairs, fitting them with various pieces of plastic protection. Dad wouldn't call it armor, but it's all they had. Dad wanted them protected quickly. He could sense something building. It wasn't hard to tell looking outside. His wife knew to hurry, to get everyone something so they could fight and have protection against any quick bites.

  As his wife, Katrina, Amanda, Eva, and even Beth worked on getting lots of armor pieces ready. It looked like a sweatshop when all of them were in there. Little Amy was helping them, doing whatever they asked. She was holding plastics together that were just glued. She had hope in her eyes as she looked at Dad. She looked so small. He had to look away.

  But then he remembered, looking away only hurt her, took away her hope. He went up to her, squatted to her eye level, and looked at her, smiling. He asked her what she was doing. She looked down at her little hands holding several plastic pieces together, as if it wasn't enough.

  He thanked her for being brave for all of them and helping in any way she could. He saw the future in her, in the kids. And he was going to do everything he could, fight every evil, so she and the kids could be the ones who built the future.

  She looked at him with a glorious smile. Though he did not cry for joy, she and him both knew. He patted her back a bit rough, jokingly, and she giggled. Warmth came to her, hope came to her. She shared a wonderful look with his wife, Katrina, Amanda, Eva and Beth as they gave Dad a wonderful look of thank you.

  “I better go before I cry!” Dad joked, as he stood up. They all laughed and giggled. Thank you Jesus, he thought.

  Dad headed out but stopped to see the older folks working like little elves. Though they kept an eye on the garden, with all the smoke, they decided to spend more time inside. And here they were, being industrious.

  Julianne and Ellie were crafting the spears and blades with better handles. At first they didn't seem into it, but Jerry and Robert helped, testing them out. Then they really got into it. They enjoyed getting attention, having a purpose. Dad was impressed at how far they made his run to the blade store last, but they also had a ton of kitchen and hardware salvage.

  Amador came in, having scrounged for nails, glue, tapes, whatever from the janitor's small office, all the classrooms and tool shed. He was busy pushing his cart around. His wife, still traumatized from the loss of her son, kept to herself, keeping her kids with her. Dad did not push it for now.

  Dad waved and winked one last time at Amy. “Make sure these ladies keep up the good work, alright?”

  Amy saluted, quickly grabbing the plastic glued parts again. “Oops!” She giggled bubbles through her teeth.

  Dad
, Steve, Nick, Randall, and Amador were heading to the classroom that lead out to the roofs. Charlotte followed.

  “What are you doing?” Dad asked.

  “What are you doing?” she replied.

  Dad motioned and she followed, her large M-4 cradled in her small capable arms. The other kids eventually came, knowing to be quiet and sneaky. Maggy and Carl had the 22s flung on their backs. Sofia carried packs of ammo and magazines.

  They climbed out of the classroom onto the auditorium roof. It was below the main building's two-story roof.

  Charlotte hurried past them and up the ladder to the main roof, covering her face with her dust mask. The smoke wafted around them, though it wasn't a total blanket. The other kids followed quite adroitly.

  Dad turned from watching them and looked about. The men stood on the auditorium roof, below the main building's roof. They could see the perimeter decently, and all the smoking grills and piles keeping the zombies at bay. Tom was out there on the street, covered from head to toe. He had a dust mask and some swimming mask for his eyes. That looked useful against the smoke. He was casually refueling any grill whose smoke was dwindling. He looked quite comfortable and able, an amazing transformation. He walked and moved like a man with a purpose.

  Rick Gomez was with him. He did not look comfortable. Tom led a blinded zombie to him. Rick swung at it terribly. Tom finished it and then corrected Rick’s form. He brought another. Rick did better.

  Dad was amused. Tom noticed them above and waved casually but kept alert, killing a zombie that came too close. It was instinctual and veteran like. Rick looked like he was about to flee, but Tom encouraged him back. Who knows if Rick would be brave or not.

  Dad looked from them to the gathering masses. It was still breathtaking, to see the swelling numbers filling the neighborhood streets. They were coming from miles around. It wasn't completely packed as they were spread out, as if each took a five foot radius, and just stood there. But it was many blocks deep, down to Sunset, up to Hollywood, and through the apartments and rich houses. The ones closer, repelled by the smoke, crowded each other, in lines five or six deep, in groups between cars and houses all around the perimeter.