Dead and Dead Again: Kansas City Quarantine

by Dalton Wolf

  “If that doesn’t work, there is still your boobs,” Scooter laughed, trying with little success to stare luridly at her breasts and still run without falling on his face.

  The excited couple raced past artists booths, renaissance performers and wide-eyed visitors, both trying to ignore the gawking of dozens of men and an equal number of glares from jealous wives they passed along the way. Calvin marched up to the Armorer and casually explained exactly what they would need.

  “You want what?” the heavyset man looked down at the pair in absolute incredulity, rubbing a callused hand on his blue leather apron, bushy red beard splayed out in every direction and half-made chain mail coif dangling uselessly from the other beefy mitt as he sized them up.

  “All of it. Everything you have. And yours too!” Calvin yelled at the weapon smith in the booth on the opposite side of the narrow walking path. “Along with my axes and that backpack your friend is finishing for me. I’ll need it expedited.”

  “Sure,” the Weaponsmith smiled condescendingly. “You want it gift-wrapped?”

  “No, I’ll be wearing it out, thank you,” he replied. The honest, deadpan expression on his face made the man actually doubt his own sanity for moment.

  Scooter turned back to the Armorer. “And I’ll want to wear that titanium chain mail I tried on earlier, and she’ll take that smaller one there—”

  “—you know those are over three thousand dollars each, right?”

  “And we’ll both need a pair of those armored boots there and coifs to protect our heads and—.”

  “—and how are you planning on paying for all of this?” the man asked, glaring at them sideways in suspicion.

  “How about a grand in cash and take the rest from these?” Athena flashed the cards.

  The Armorer’s eyes lit as he recognized at least two cards with no limits. He ran the six thousand through immediately and checked her id. When it came back cleared, his heart skipped a beat. “Holy shit…you’re serious…”

  “We’re absolutely serious,” Athena matched him blank stare for blank stare.

  “Mind if I ask why?” He asked.

  “First, do we have a sale?”

  “Of course.”

  “We’ll want to wear our stuff now, of course, and have the rest put in the vehicle…speaking of which…do either of you happen to have a big vehicle we can pack this much equipment in and take it with us?”

  “Ungh…” the Armorer breathed. “I have a military issue M-997, but…”

  “Ooh, the Battle Ambulance?” Calvin asked.

  The big man nodded, his red beard quivering from the oddness of the situation.

  “Yeah, with a big iron brush guard and a few other modifications.”

  “Snorkels for the intake?”

  “And exhaust,” the big man grinned.

  “That’ll work.”

  “Boys,” Athena shook her head.

  “But I’m not gonna just let you take it.”

  “How about if we buy it?” Athena asked.

  “Not for sale.”

  “You could come with us.”

  “I got my booth to run.”

  “Not really. We’ve just bought you out. You could consider this a courtesy to your best customers ever.”

  “Yeah…that…that’s true,” he rubbed his beard to stop it from quivering, and in an attempt to stall while he thought of a way out of this strange dilemma.

  “You got any family?” Scooter asked after a sidelong look from Athena.

  “Got a daughter up in Washington. She don’t really like me much. No one else to speak of….”

  “Ok, then,” Scooter leaned forward and stood on his tippy toes, speaking quietly up to the larger man so no one else would hear. “What if we told you the world is coming to an end today and we’re going to need all of this and more to survive?”

  “I’d probably say you’re a nutcase.”

  “It’s all true,” Scooter crossed his heart. “We have to go downtown and fight through a pack of zombies to help a friend, but after that we have a place to go and if you let us use your vehicle, we’ll let you come with us.”

  “I’m not a big fan of sports, either, but I’d hardly call those people zombies,” the big man muttered.

  “I love sports. I’m saying people have been turned into zombies and are killing other people.”

  The man stepped back. He wanted nothing more to do with these two wackos…but he sure did want their money. With a deep breath, he once again sized them up. They looked so normal, but this was without doubt the most ridiculous conversation he’d ever had…but that straight-forward look of doom these kids were sending his way caused a cold shudder to skitter up and down his spine doing a special kind of clog-dance. These two were either totally serious or bat-shit crazy, or maybe both…but crazy people didn’t have no-limit Platinum cards, did they?

  “Name’s Niall Quinn,” he held out a giant, callused palm that Calvin took and shook enthusiastically. “I think you’re both either crazy or having fun with us, but as long as you’re paying, I’ll go along. I prefer to be called Niall, but everyone calls me Quinn. I don’t know why.”

  “Nice to meet you, Quinn.” Calvin said.

  The big man sighed.

  “Since you’re buying me out, I have nothing else to do today. I’ll take you where you wanna go. I’m kind of curious to see how this ends.” And at least I can be there to end it if you’re gonna try to hurt innocent people, he added silently.

  “Sweet. I’m Calvin Hobbes—”

  “—Scooter.” Athena interrupted. “His name is Scooter.”

  Now it was Calvin’s turn to sigh in practiced resignation.

  “And this is my girlfriend, Athena. Rosenthal,” he glared at her. “Unfortunately she doesn’t have a nickname I can say in public.”

  “You might want you arm yourself, too,” Athena cautioned the armor smith, nodding at a long-handled mace with spikes leaning on the man’s anvil.

  “Ah, yes. That’s Gwendaline. William made her for me a few years back,” he nodded across the way at the other smith. “Traded a set of armor for the pair of these,” he pulled out another from the other side of the anvil, where it had been within his immediate grasp the entire time. Each weapon had about a three foot handle and the heads were slightly larger than a softball. She didn’t think she’d even be able to lift one of them, but he turned and picked one up with relish and swung it around a few times as if it were made of aluminum. “And her mate here is Gwenivere. Marcus!” he shouted.

  A stocky young lad of about fifteen with dark black hair, pale skin and a slight acne outbreak scampered over from a nearby stall where he’d clearly been flirting with a buxom red-haired wench nearly twice his age.

  “What’s up, Mr. Quinn?”

  “Help us load everything into the ambulance. William’s weapons as well.”’

  “Which ones?” the kid asked, perplexed.

  “All of them.”

  “What? We done for this year?”

  “These nice people are buying it all.”

  “They work for a movie studio or something?”

  “No. Apparently the world is coming to an end,” Quinn explained matter-of-factly, with a blank stare befitting the situation.

  The lad just laughed. “Right, well, mom always said there’d be days like that.”

  Athena leaned over and whispered to Scooter. “Shouldn’t we tell everyone?”

  Somehow the sharp-eared Quinn overheard her. “You’re welcome to try,” he whispered. Then added, “But I don’t think very many people will believe you. I don’t believe you and I’ve been preparing for something like this for decades.”

  “Well, just so you know,” Scooter warned. “If what my friend says is true, you’re going to be driving us right into the heart of Armageddon, instead of away and to safety.”

  “You seem fairly calm for someone whose friend is in mortal peril.”

  “They’re protected in a veri
table fortress for now. He told us to load up with whatever weapons we could find first. Seemed to think that was very important. And they have guns already, stole them from the police station—“

  “—great. That sounds promising.”

  “Right, so I’m thinking he feels he doesn’t have enough. If we get down there and find what he says is waiting…is waiting, then we won’t regret this side-trip at all.”

  “Well, I guess there won’t be any doubt after we get there, will there? One way or another?”

  The couple shook their heads in response.

  “C’mon, you kids should help load this on the wagon so we can get to your friend faster,” the big man pointed them to a large flatbed Marcus pulled over from behind the shop and started piling armor upon the thick wooden planks.

  “We need to get our protection on first,” Scooter held the man off with a gesture.

  “Fair enough. More than enough work to go around. In fact, now that I think about it. You’re the customer, so you really don’t have to help any at all.”

  “Whatever makes it go faster,” Athena said, sliding the blue-tinged armor over her head.

  Marcus gaped in adolescent wonder as she nearly gave him a full view of what the bodice Calvin had bought her was designed to properly display as the metal chain slid down her chest, pulling the dress down slightly as it went. But Calvin stepped in between to block his vision with a wicked grin and continued adjusting his own chain mail jacket.

  “Marcus!” Quinn shouted. “Get to it, boy.” Blushing furiously, the lad grabbed a heavy stack and went to work loading the gear.

  “Ooh, this is light,” Athena cooed.

  “It’s one of the strongest metals I’ve ever seen,” the Armorer commented. “Bought it on a precious metals site from some private Greek-sounding company here in town. It’s nearly impossible to roll and cut. Had to heat it for three days and—”

  “—right, I get it,” she waved a dismissive hand. “It’s very hard to work with and that’s why it costs so much. Yada, yada, yada. You’ve already made the sale, Master Armorer. You don’t have to feed us the lines anymore,” she gave him an evil grin and he laughed, a great friendly bellow that came from deep inside his large belly under two layers of armor.

  “It’s not a line, miss. It’s true. I want you to feel confident that it will protect you from any kind of physical attack. It should protect you from Zombies unless their blood gets in your mouth. Can’t do much about that.”

  “Right, I guess we’ve seen the same movies. So if this thing is real, we’ll need some kind of masks,” Athena noted casually, brows scrunched in thought. “Can you make anything that will offer that kind of protection?”

  “I can’t think of anything,” the big man shook his head. “No, you’ve already bought these helmets. They should work for the most part. But you might want to look into a plastic protective face shield. You need some kind of clear protection for the eyes, and you still have to be able to breathe.”

  “Right. Festus should have a bunch of face shields at his shop,” Scooter cut in. “If not, he’s got the 3-D printers. Maybe we can design something.”

  “Festus?” the giant armorer asked.

  “A friend. His name is Hephaestus. He’s kind of a wizard of building things, mostly with metal, like yourself.”

  “That’s very fitting,” the man commented.

  “What do you mean?” Scooter asked, cocking an eye up at the larger man, who stopped putting armor on the wagon long enough to squint at Scooter and train a questioning glance on Athena.

  “Public education,” Athena apologized for her boyfriend.

  “Hey, I went to college,” he argued.

  “It’s kind of funny he’d be married to a goddess and not know one of his friends is a god,” Quinn countered, as he continued loading the flatbed.

  “Hey! First, we’re not married. Second, I know she’s a goddess. No one has to tell me that. Third, what does that have to do with Hephaestus?”

  “Hephaestus, Greek god of smiths and craftsmen and a bunch of other things.”

  “Okay…” Calvin hinted for more.

  “And Athena is the Goddess of wisdom.”

  “Right. Of course she is. She’s the wisest person I’ve ever met…other than myself, of course,” he breathed on his fingernails and buffed them on his chest.

  “No, Athena is actually the name of a Greek goddess, the goddess of wisdom, law and justice, courage, mathematics, civilization, war strategy and several other things.”

  “Oh…I…knew Athena was on Battlestar Galactica. I didn’t know she was a goddess too. I guess I was only up on the Roman gods. I think it would take ten or twelve gods and goddesses to cover all of that in the Roman pantheon. But lucky me, I’ve got it all in one woman,” he schmoozed and leaned over to kiss his honey before she pulled the helmet over her head.

  “You can probably wait on the helmet, sweetie,” he suggested.

  “Until when, right before we need them?”

  “Yes.”

  “And when will that be?”

  “Good point.”

  “I want to get used to wearing it, anyway.”

  “Another good point.”

  “See,” he turned back to the Armorer and pointed to Athena.

  “Yes, she is wise,” the big red-head nodded and rolled his eyes at Athena behind Calvin’s back as he slung another stack of leather and chain armor onto the wagon. “Though now I’m wondering what she’s doing with you.”

  Athena laughed a light trill. Calvin harrumphed, slammed the helm down on his head, fastened the clamps and pulled up the visor, mostly ignoring Quinn’s remark. Turning his head left and right to test the fit—it felt perfect. The design of the helmet fit flawlessly with the placement of the clamps, allowing both sections to give a little for better lateral and vertical movement. Satisfied, he reached out and grabbed an armload of armor to take over to the cart. Instead he nearly broke his back as the stack contained far more than he could carry. Pulling his arms from the pile and hoping no one saw, he readjusted, taking fewer, lighter-looking items. Another giggle indicated Athena had seen the whole thing, but as with the big blacksmith’s joke, he simply moved on.

  William the Blacksmith joined them halfway through the loading after receiving the OK on the twenty-thousand-plus bill, bringing a pile of his best weapons and the paperwork.

  “Here are your receipts, your majesty,” William hesitantly handed her the papers. “I did take twenty percent off for the bulk purchase,” he winked. “I didn’t even know it was possible to charge that much on a credit card.”

  “That’s nothing,” Scooter waved a dismissive hand at the muscular blonde Smith. “Once a friend’s car broke down in East St Louis and we were stuck on the side of the road. Couldn’t get a tow truck to come and help us. Athena joked that it might be easier to call a car dealership and buy a new car with her credit card and have it delivered.”

  The big men laughed.

  “Yeah, we laughed too. It stopped being funny when the dealership guys showed up a half hour later with the paperwork and keys and towed my friend’s car back to Kansas City for free,” he shrugged.

  Marcus, Quinn and William each stopped to reassess the lady before them and nod in appreciation.

  “Yeah, I know,” Scooter nodded sagely. “You all wish you were me now. Just remember, you’re not.”

  “Just as well; don’t think I could handle the height adjustment,” the crimson-topped armorer joked.

  Athena laughed while Calvin feigned hurt.

  The loading continued. The Armorer’s shop was mostly empty. They left the young apprentice to grab the remaining pieces and load them up while the rest of the group teamed up to empty the weapon shop, which was larger and held many more items.

  “Here are your axes, Mr. Hobbes,” the Smith laid out his weapons and the leather back-pack-sheath combo he’d made for them.

  Calvin had gone full-geek when ordering the weapons s
everal weeks before. Two of the axes were smaller, much like Gimli’s pair from the Lord of the Rings trilogy, only with two-foot hafts welded to an eight inch half-moon blade, balanced for throwing. Both axes had outside pouches on the wide backpack, reinforced sheaths designed so that he could reach them with a quick grab over each shoulder. Each axe was affixed with a heavy-duty nylon band he could quickly slide over his wrist. He held one up to the smith with a question in his eyes.

  William shrugged.

  “I like the nylon better than leather for this. Leather soaks up moisture and gets slippery. It also cuts the wrists, wears out faster and stinks like ass after it soaks up too much sweat. These nylon straps are softer, even more pliable and water-resistant.

  “I guess sometimes innovation gets it right over tradition,” Scooter noted sagely.

  “Occasionally,” the blonde man nodded.

  The larger axe, called a Labrys, had a two-and-a-half foot handle that met a double-headed axe head fully as wide as his upper torso. When he slammed it into the pack the handle stuck up straight over his head several inches. The great blades rested within the pack in hardened-leather-bound, titanium reinforced sheaths.

  “We worked with a skilled Leatherworker to get this done,” William explained.

  “It looks awesome,” Calvin replied happily. “All I asked for and more.”

  There was still room for food, a water bladder, first-aid kit and some other items. The three artisans had also included padded sheaths for six throwing knives that could rest just behind his shoulder blades. Noticing Calvin fingering the sheaths, the big smith produced a purple velvet rolled pack half the length of his forearm and unwound the golden drawstring. It reminded Calvin of a Crown Royal pouch. Untying the string, he opened the package, which unrolled like a scroll. Six immaculately designed silvery throwing dart-knives sparkled bluish in the morning sunshine, golden runes and lines running from point to butt. Calvin nodded in appreciation.

  “There were materials left over from the axes. I had to make something,” the big man said proudly.

  “They are perfect.”

  “No additional charge.”

  “You probably could have sold these for the same price I’m paying for the axes.”