Knight of the Dead (Book 1): Knight of the Dead

by Smorynski, Ron

“It's better than staying here. It's close. We have to bring in others and save them. We have to move from our home. That should be your goal right now.”

  “I know. I'm just scared of moving, going out there. I'm scared of being right in the middle of the street with you and the girls and not ready. “

  “Then let's be ready. Let's think it through, plan out our move. You should go over there. We can watch from the roof and shoot if need be. You can open it up, take some stuff over, and we can come when there's a clear path and a way to close it. Can we use our padlocks?”

  “Yeah, they have a chain & padlock on the big gate. I'll have to break it somehow and put ours on. It's the big gate where they drive cars into sometimes.”

  “Then open the school and figure out how to close it again. Then we'll go in.”

  “Best I find keys. Based on the first attack, when I got Lena from her school, the principal and others with keys were in there. So Ms. Arita, or the janitor, they have the keys. They would have been there that morning this all started.”

  Lena comes down. “Dad I recharged my iPhone but can't get any service.”

  Dad and the wife look at each other. Dad hugs Lena. “Honey, there's no service because everything is gone. The companies that ran the service, the electricity to run things, it's all gone.”

  “But I was able to recharge it.”

  “Yeah, but the places where they run the internet or whatever are down. I'm sorry Lena. There's no service.”

  “Is there any way we can, I dunno, watch or listen to the radio to see if anyone is out there?”

  “Ahhh, yeah, there is,” Dad realizes he still has an alarm clock radio. He never used it as such, just as a charging dock station for his iPhone. He brings that upstairs. They all sit to listen as he slowly goes through the numbers on AM.

  They are surprised. They hear many voices, many calling out emergencies in different areas. The news informs them of the worldly demise and the attempt by the American military to retake areas and create safety zones. The news is daunting to listen to. At first, they are thrilled to hear civilization again, other sane voices not screaming in utter horrific terror. Yet, the voices speak of a losing war, of retreating to remote areas in the mountains, away from the cities. And if anyone can make it to these remote areas, none of which Dad is familiar with, then they can rejoin what is left of America.

  They hear of the army trying to retake Kansas City. The sparse population wasn't that affected and they were able to gather a large force there, including tanks. But then they hear how the army had major losses in the city fighting. Dad is curious as to how an army with tanks couldn't retake a city to save the people. The speakers do not elaborate. And if they couldn't take Kansas City back, they surely weren't coming into Los Angeles and the surrounding city sprawl. In Hollywood, they were easily fifty miles in any direction surrounded by dense city populations. That's twenty or more million zombies.

  He searches the channels for anything more local, but all they hear is a lot of static. All the local talk radio channels he listened to previously in his car are down. It isn't long before Dad decides to turn it off. There could be made an argument that they should keep listening, but Dad doesn't want to, doesn't feel far away battles are of concern to them right now. Perhaps tomorrow, they'll listen again.

  As the sun sets, so does their electricity. The blu-ray player and their iPad and iPhones are now charged, so they have a few more hours in the evening of something lit to stare at. His wife becomes more and more focused on her work. Her new routine is set, and she hunkers down, using light from her iPhone to work into the evening. She sips at a small glass of wine.

  Dad realizes he must put the school plan into action.

  The last of each night is spent reading the Bible by electricity or by candle. Dad makes sure the end times in Zachariah, Daniel, and Revelations are read often.

  “Dad, aren't we believers? How come we haven’t been taken up?”

  “I don't know Charlotte.”

  “But we ARE believers. We love Jesus.”

  “I know Charlotte. I don't know why, or maybe it hasn't happened yet. I don't know.”

  Charlotte, her hair being softly petted by her mother, lays in the darkness.

  “But no matter what Charlotte, its God's Will. So always love Jesus. Never be afraid. Okay?”

  Charlotte nods as her mother hugs her more.

  24. The Schoolyard

  It's a new day. The horizon is misty. An ocean mist has come in. It's a bit damp and chilly. The fall season has arrived. They have a breakfast of microwaved oatmeal. There's no milk, but there is some honey and butter. Dad is impressed that on this hazy cool day that the solar panels still generate electricity, enough to run the microwave.

  They, all five of them, pray for the food and for their blessings. There is an unspoken sadness. The mother chokes up. They hug each other. In these times of horror, the mother is wrought with joy and pain. Joy that her daughters are here and that Lisa is here; but pain knowing the evil and horror all around them, that the blessing is only temporary. The Will of God surrounds them or is it his Wrath? But will she, will her husband, be able to bear it when God comes for them? When he comes for her daughters? She hugs them.

  Lena is nearly twice her mom's size. She is half a head taller, bigger, and thicker in the legs. Her small mother hugs her firmly. Lisa hugs with them. Charlotte hugs her father. She is the size of a small human with a towering bear. He is burly with long hair and no need for much shaving or haircuts. It wasn't like he kept himself pristine before all Hell was unleashed. Before all this began, he sported a medieval re-enactors goatee, mustache and a dark brown mane of hair. If some National Guard were to see him out in the ruins, they might think he was a crazed lunatic, shooting first, asking questions later.

  On the back porch, quietly, Dad puts on his armor. The older girls, Lena and Lisa, help each other. The wife tries to help and direct as the girls are busy tightening and buckling and fitting their pieces on each other. The wife helps her husband instead. Charlotte pets Rondo. Her 22s and AR-15 are fully loaded and ready to go.

  Dad checks their armor. He pulls and tugs in various places on their armor. Sometimes he tugs fiercely, making them tussle and giggle. He's impressed with his wife's work. He gives her the thumbs up. She knows she's a pro. An amalgam of old and new armor, Lisa is in her samurai-style lamellar-plated armor with sports pads. Lena is in her over-sized plastic armor. Much of that is covered by sports wrappings, velcro, and additional padding. Dad is in his dented and crusty heavy steel armor. Underneath is a customized outfit of sporty underwear and thick sports pads.

  For weapons, Lisa has a spear made by Dad, a rattan stick with one of the oriental curved blades as the head. It fits in with her armor quite well. She has Dad's smaller metal shield and another oriental curved short sword. That blade can be used to leg zombies. She and Lena have the routine down of bracing for a zombie attack with their shield, then slicing down across the leg tendons to disable it. They can retreat if needed or finish it off.

  Lena has similar gear, and the only usable naginata Dad got from the store. It looks fresh. She uses the smaller plastic shield, which is lighter and difficult to brace against an attack but not as tiring to hold. With her strength, she will be able to brace it while making rapid fire swings at a zombie's legs. Her blade is the gladius short sword, the perfect balance between weight and power. They plan on using the polearms first, per Dad's strategy, then drop them and go to sword and shield if overwhelmed.

  Dad has a bag of tools to use: a crowbar, a hammer, a padlock, and a bottle of water. He holsters his .45 Ruger handgun with extra mags.

  Charlotte gets to her position on the roof. She has a decent view of the school across the street. Up the street, to her left, is the parking lot for teachers. Directly in front of her is the expanse of the playground. She has all of her magazines, the extra 22, the boxes of 22 ammo, and the more powerful AR-15.

  The wife carries
the 12 gauge shotgun and follows behind the squad of medieval warriors as they clunk their way down the driveway to the gate. There are no zombies in the misty morning, at least not yet.

  Dad, Lena and Lisa open the gate and one by one head down the driveway. On the street is their favorite pickup truck, emptied of all the dog food and water. Dad plans on using it very soon for more stock runs. Since The Horde passing, the street has a cleared path. Dad shivers remembering it.

  He walks down to the end of the driveway. On his left are the vine hedges covering the front of his house. They're beginning to dry. The vines have provided good cover for the house. He guesses his wife is now thankful that he wasn’t good at keeping them pruned back. With the rains coming, his vines may survive. On his right, are the neighbor's desert plants and succulents; some are as big as a bush. They are still green and well.... succulent.

  He looks both ways. It seems clear. He steps out, as if one step were into another world. Behind him, nervously, are two spear men or spear girls, with polearms up, shields flung on their backs.

  They walk quickly to the other side of the street, where a twelve foot high chain link fence surrounds the school. The large gate has a chain and padlock. Dad tries every tool and his largest pliers but it won't break. He is sweating and the girls are getting antsy looking around.

  “I'm gonna have to use the gun. You two go back to the house.”

  “No Dad, we stay with you. We're ready.”

  “Okay, as soon as I get it open. We go in, lock it, and wait.”

  “Okay.”

  Dad pulls out his .45 Ruger and uses the crowbar to stretch and brace the chain. He aims for the chain nearest the thicker set padlock. The girls stand back.

  He nods at them. They nod back.

  He fires. The sound, in a silent city, is like a vast siren calling for attention. It echoes off buildings, expanding in all directions with no other sound waves to hinder it. The link is cut. He is able to pry it the rest of the way.

  He quickly unlooses it and opens the gate. The girls hustle in. He pulls out his own padlock, goes in, and locks it from the inside. He pulls out the Off can of spray and sprays himself and the girls. They stand at the gate waiting.

  Mom sits with Charlotte on the roof, watching them across the street, hidden in their sniper like perch, with softly fluttering sheets.

  A distant bark can be heard, a zombie or two or three or four. It takes a while, but they run in, scanning, and meandering. They are convulsing in excited motions. First appear runners and then come the stragglers, stumbling along. It's just a few zombies. Is the pain and suffering over? Has the worst of it passed?

  They wait patiently, quietly, still as statues, something they have worked at. The girls were given lessons on the zombies' behavior. They know standing still in covered armor won't attract them. They stand calmly and see Dad was right.

  Charlotte waits till they have calmed down. The zombies have come due to the loud noise, but come and find nothing that keeps up their rage. They slow down and meander, waiting for the next alarm.

  Charlotte fires one shot, a loud crack. The first, the fastest zombie, flinches its wretched head and drops. The others get excited again but can't pinpoint their rage. She fires again. Another twitches its neck, spins but still hobbles along. She fires again. It drops. She fires again and another drops. She fires one aimed shot at a time. Quietly, her mother hands her the second 22. She finishes them off.

  Dad gives the thumbs up. He is about to head out but looks and sees a late comer hobbling down the street. He sighs and waits. He motions to Charlotte, one more, that way, coming. She nods and waits. It finally hobbles into sight. She fires. The little 22 round penetrates its skull and bounces around inside.

  Finally, Dad, Lena and Lisa trot backwards, then turn and head up through the playground and into the courtyard, the center of the school.

  This is now beyond Charlotte's view and Dad sighs. Relief or sadness, he’s not sure. It is strange that no zombies came down to the gate. Perhaps there are no zombies in the school? Dad never recalled seeing any come out. Or perhaps there's another opening and all the zombies exited. What if Dad and the girls have to deal with horrific children zombies?

  As they get up to the inner schoolyard, a courtyard surrounded by buildings and the exit ramp to the playground, Dad recognizes small rotted mounds. They have sat or laid around for all this time, infected and in this state, decaying and rotting. He sees their small limbs slowly rising from the mounds. Hopefully, it was not the entire school of children on the day it happened. The traffic must have hindered many parents from getting their kids to school. Sad to think on that day, children met their fate here at school and their parents never returned to get them. Dad slashes at them as they approach. Most are slow and rotted. What little flesh they have, does not carry them forward in any threatening way. The girls barely attack, standing behind Dad with their spears, keeping the sad things at bay.

  Dad gets a glimpse of Lena and Lisa and knows why. They are emotionally wrought with pain. They are crying in their helmets and merely pushing the children away so Dad can finish them off. It is like pushing a child away who only wants you, but with dead eyes and barely audible groans.

  There must be forty or so teachers as well. Only two teachers are in the lunch courtyard. Dad dispenses with them quickly.

  Some of the classroom doors are open, but many are locked. Dad knows there is one particular person he must find. He used to joke with her when he would bring his daughter to school. “You better be careful with those keys.” She managed the grounds and carried the mother of a key ring with the keys to all the doors. Was she there, he wondered?

  They enter the cafeteria. There are more children within, same condition, lots of dried blood and flesh parts. Many of the children are crawling, half eaten. A few teachers, with more flesh and mobility, awaken and charge. Not a single teacher in real life had the muscle or strength to fight Dad and they are worse off now. He hacks away at them easily. The girls are still throttled, defending themselves and pushing back.

  “Lena, Lisa, come on!”

  The girls shudder but intensify their focus. Their pole arm movement becomes more driven. They finish off the crawling children by poking or slicing into their small craniums. They whisper prayers as they go.

  Through the cafeteria, into the main hallway, to the main office, Dad looks for that particular old lady. He heads to her office door. It is locked. Through a small window, he can see inside. She is huddled on the floor with two children. They don't look like zombies but they are not moving either. Are they asleep?

  He uses his body to burst through the door. Doing it in steel is much easier than a bare body. He sees that she strangled the two small children and cut her own wrists. He's proud of her. She went out well. The smell, unfortunately, is of death and urine and feces. They must have been in there awhile before she realized her only choice. The key ring he is looking for sits right on the desk.

  There will be a lot of cleaning up required in this place. But a lot of people could live here, protected by this concrete building fortified with metal grills. The buildings are solid, the doors are metal and thick, and the windows are covered with very strong screens. This place was fortified against shooters, a modern day curse wrought by an un-Godly society. On the day it happened, the school was open, letting whomever in. They did not lock it up as they should have. Something went terribly wrong. Perhaps a child that was bitten, was brought in for safety, and began the chain reaction? He still wonders if this facility will be able to hold back The Horde.

  They move along the hallways finding the rest of the teachers and some more children wandering about. The girls use their polearms. They are determined and skilled. As a child hustles up to them, they wait for the right moment, then slash downward, cutting a big gaping wound. This would either drop or turn the zombie in a debilitating way, flopping and flailing. They would then repeat the up and down slashes at its neck or head to kill
it.

  Lena and Lisa get proficient at the swings. But the weight of such a gruesome task is wearing on them, especially knowing how these children once suffered.

  “You okay Lena? Lisa?”

  They nod, but Dad can tell. Hidden in their helmets, they are emotionally wracked with pain, sorrow, and frustration.

  “Lena, seriously, you gotta be okay. You gotta deal.”

  “It's okay, Dad. I just can't help thinking about them stuck here, about what happened to them. And, and, we were just right over there.”

  Dad chokes up too, but they can't see it in his helm. He finishes off another child. They look around some more, going upstairs. Dad bangs his shield. A few more come, struggling, crawling along the floor. Dad does most of the work. The girls stand together, waiting, holding their halberds out.

  It doesn't take long before all are dead, at least in the main areas. Dad decides to go to each room. He fumbles with the big key ring and all the keys. There's tape on some, but he can not figure out the system. It takes a while but eventually, he fits the right keys and leaves them in the doors as he opens them to look in.

  Instead of searching the room for zombies, he merely bangs on the door to call them forward. He can usually hear them banging or scratching on the other side. These doors are metal and strong. He knows these would hold back many many zombies. When he finds the right key and fits it in, he motions for the girls to come up. They do so reluctantly. He wants them to work on their halberds.

  “Dad, do we have to?”

  “Yes, this is it. This is what we have to deal with, all the time. Get up here. Get ready!”

  Dad opens the door and stands back. A teacher that Lena recognizes stumbles out and children with him, stiff and slow. She cries but slashes, and in anger, hacks off parts. Lisa follows suit. She did not go to this school for elementary, but still feels the frustration of this kind of butchery on children. Only a few rooms have zombies. Most are thankfully empty.

  He keeps the doors open. All the rooms are checked. Not a single survivor is found. They go back out. They stand in the courtyard. The dead bodies and parts, mostly of children, still get to them.