by M. D. Massey
I nodded and pulled out my water bottle to take a swig. “Alright, I think we’re clear. But let’s stick to hand signals and use speech only when necessary. We have no idea what we’re going to find out here so let’s stay focused and aware. Gabby, you’re on point with… Ghost. Keep that .22 handy and take any small game you see.”
Gabby nodded and headed off while Bobby waited for orders. “Bobby, you take up the rear guard and make sure no one’s on our tail.” I stood up and let Gabby take the lead.
Bobby saluted me with mock seriousness, and I ignored him and headed after Gabby. Within a quarter mile, she’d bagged two squirrels and a rabbit, which would be enough meat to feed us all with some left over for the mutt. Deciding we’d better eat while we had the chance, I had them stop near a shallow depression with plenty of foliage for smoke dispersal, and made a small fire while Gabby cleaned and dressed the game.
An hour later we were tucking into roasted squirrel and rabbit when someone shouted from the ridgeline above us. “Stop, in the name of Dame Sweetlove! You are poaching game on royal land, and any attempt to escape or resist will result in your demise!”
I looked up and found us surrounded by a bunch of pimply-faced kids in full Ren fest regalia. I estimated their ages between fourteen and seventeen, tops. Most were carrying what appeared to be handmade longbows, as well as either long swords, short swords, or axes on their hips. As I took in their strange appearance, I didn’t know whether to laugh or applaud them for getting the drop on us. One thing I did know was that they could’ve attacked us from concealment, but they didn’t. So, they weren’t slavers. They posed no real threat to us, since Bobby could go through the lot of them without even breaking a sweat. I decided to play along and see what they were all about.
The dog began growling, and one of them made to draw and aim his bow at Ghost. I whispered to Gabby, low enough so only she and Bobby could hear. “Gabby, settle him down. Bobby, don’t do anything rash. I don’t think we’re in danger here, so let’s see where this leads.”
Bobby looked at me doubtfully and snorted while stuffing the last bits of his meal down his gullet. “Boss, whatever you say. But if one of these punks tries to stick me with one of those toothpicks, I’m going to teach them the meaning of medieval.”
“Noted, but let’s cooperate for now.” I raised my voice to a suitable volume for human ears and raised my hands at the same time. “We mean no harm, and had no idea we were encroaching on someone’s land. We’ve been on the run for days and just escaped a large deader herd on the other side of the river. So, we stopped to hunt something to eat.”
An older boy stepped up out of the trees. “Nothing comes through here on two legs but the odd dead one or the slavers. I see not the look of death on your visage; you must be slavers.” He motioned to three of the younger boys. “Squires Darren, Valiant, and Pip: take their weapons. But be gentle with yon lass, as she is likely their captive.” He walked up to Gabby and took a more or less graceful bow in front of her. “Never fear, milady, you shall not be harmed.”
Gabby smirked and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well don’t hurt my dog either, or we’re going to have words.”
The young man smiled as he stood upright. “On my honor, milady.”
Bobby snorted loudly, which drew some angry looks from their group. “Bobby, stow it,” I whispered under my breath. “They could be useful.”
He smirked and gave me a “What, me?” look, then zipped his lips and tossed the imaginary key. Once the boys had taken all our weapons, they led us off into the trees. Unfortunately, one of them was having issues with the gear bag containing the Stoner and the Light .50, which gave Bobby no small amount of amusement.
Bobby reached a hand out to him. “Hey, sport, you want me to carry that for you? Wouldn’t want you to strain your jousting arm, you know.”
The leader called back to him. “Speak not to the prisoners, Squire! They may be planning mischief or worse.” Their leader sent another “squire” back to help the first with our gear.
Bobby shrugged. “Suit yourself, then.”
Before long the group had walked us roughly two miles to the edge of another upscale residential area, mostly sticking to deer trails and doing a decent job of leaving no sign of their passage. I was impressed. Anyone who could sneak up on all three of us might be worth getting to know. And, I had a sneaking suspicion that these people weren’t going to be friendly with the Corridor werewolf pack, so I figured they’d at least be good for some intel, or maybe even some assistance on the chance they didn’t try to kill us.
As I considered what my options would be if they proved to be hostile, we marched another mile or so into the neighborhood, which mostly consisted of rather sizable homes along the river. Along the way I noted several barricades that had been erected between the houses, mostly out of abandoned cars, trash cans, and lengths of wooden fence, reinforced with brick and stonework. It was crude, but good enough to keep stray deaders out. Before long we ended up at the driveway of a huge mansion that was, unsurprisingly, built in the style of a castle.
Bobby whistled softly. “Holy crap, boss. Wonders never cease. Which do you think came first, the castle or the nerds?”
One of the boys shoved Bobby from behind. “Quiet! You are about to enter the court of the Lady, Dame Sweetlove. Show some respect.”
Bobby looked back over his shoulder with an amused expression. “Yeah, about that Sweetlove thing—”
I cut him off before he could make the situation any worse. “Bobby, I said stow it!”
He waved a hand in the air and spoke back to me over his shoulder. “Whatever you say, boss, but you gotta wonder—”
“Later Bobby. Please, let’s show our hosts some respect.”
Gabby snickered and muttered under her breath. “If you say so, but if one of these pendejos hurts Ghost, I’m going to clobber him.”
SIX
WALLS
We were marched inside the large, castle-like home, through a foyer into an entryway with a rather impressive grand staircase, and then down a hallway into another room. I guessed it had once been a home theater to rival any small town movie house for size and splendor. There were some homemade flags hung on the wall at the other end, along with a small makeshift dais. And there on a rather throne-like easy chair reclined a young lady in her mid-to-late twenties, wearing a formal evening dress that had been obviously modified to look like period wear from the fourteenth century.
In truth, she was rather stunning in an Anne Hathaway sort of way. She had a nice figure from what I could see, along with long wavy hair that she’d styled in a rather wispy and tastefully wind-blown manner. She had full lips, blue eyes, carefully plucked eyebrows, a pale complexion, and an amused expression that told me she wasn’t as into all this pomp and circumstance as the boys who had brought us here were. And, she was wearing a very serious looking Colt .44 Python on her hip.
On her left was a skinny middle-aged man, also dressed in period attire, but wearing more of the Merlin look than the Robin Hood get-ups the boys were in. On her right stood a rather serious-looking giant of a man. He was wearing a chainmail shirt and buckskin breeches, with a steel great helm tucked under one arm and an equally serious-looking longsword at his hip. I got the impression that both the armor and the sword weren’t just for show.
Without a doubt, the whole situation was weird as hell. But in eight years of surviving the apocalypse, I’d seen things that were a hell of a lot weirder. Crazy cults, slavers who worked for Them, inbred Nazi rednecks—even cannibals. You name it, I’d seen it. These people were acting kooky, but they seemed to be more or less harmless. As far as the adults were concerned, I suspected that it was all just an act. But even if it wasn’t, in a paranormal apocalypse you had to take whatever friends you could find, kookiness be damned.
The older boy who was the apparent leader of the group who had brought us in knelt in front of the young lady’s “throne.” He spoke wh
ile looking down at the carpet, like any good vassal would in times of yore.
He cleared his throat and spoke up. “Milady, we found these folk poaching game on your lands. We suspect them to be slavers, although I also think that the young lady is their captive. I promised her that no harm would come to her.”
She nodded and rubbed her chin with one hand, brooding in momentary silence. Then she waved him away. “Sir Matthew, you and your men may leave us. Chancellor Tuck will record your bravery in the annals, rest assured.”
He nodded and stood. “As you wish, Milady.” He turned sharply and motioned for the remainder of the boys to follow him out. The tubby one who’d been carrying my bag of goodies looked around, confused for a moment, then he simply dumped it on the ground and ran out after the rest. I supposed he was tired of lugging it around. Frankly, I felt surprised he’d even made it back.
After they’d left and shut the door behind them, the young lady stood up. I noticed that the man-at-arms moved his hand closer to his sword, but the good Lady Sweetlove seemed unperturbed at our presence.
She tapped her foot in impatience and nodded at us. “You don’t look like slavers.”
I scratched my chin, which admittedly was overdue for a good shave. “We’re not. I’m a hunter from the safe zone to the west, and these are my apprentices.”
She laughed, a loud, tinkling laugh. “There are no safe zones.”
I shrugged. “Well, there was one out there until a few days ago. Then the Corridor werewolf pack came through and either killed or kidnapped almost everyone I care about. I’m here to get whoever’s still alive back.”
She seemed to consider that for a moment. “Your people, you mean.”
I nodded. “Yes, the people I was supposed to protect.”
“A suicide mission, no doubt.”
I tilted my head. “Could be. But I have plans to even the odds.”
She leaned over to confer with the older man, who was apparently her advisor. They whispered softly together for a few moments, and then she spoke up. “We are not in the habit of killing our own kind. And, I for one would love to see the ranks of the Corridor pack thinned. In the past we maintained an uneasy truce with them, but lately they’ve been getting more and more aggressive.”
I cocked an eyebrow at that last bit. “A truce, with the werewolves? I didn’t think that to be possible.”
She grimaced. “Believe me, they weren’t my first choice for neighbors. However, we scavenge widely and barter with them frequently. So, they find us useful and up until recently they’ve left us alone.”
“Alive in the shadow of evil. Doesn’t sound like much of an existence, living in constant fear of attack.”
She tilted her head slightly. “To an extent, they fear us as well. But I will admit, it is a delicate situation.” Then she seemed to perk up slightly, as if remembering where she left her car keys. “Oh, but where are my manners? I haven’t even gotten your names.”
“I’m Scratch Sullivan, and this is Gabby and Bobby.” Gabby elbowed me in the ribs. “And, um, Ghost the dog.”
The old man gasped slightly, then caught himself. He leaned over to Dame Sweetlove and began whispering furiously in her ear. She nodded and raised a hand to silence him. “I am, as you may have gathered, Dame Sweetlove. The knight to my right is my champion, Sir Reynard. And my advisor, Chancellor Tuck.” She gestured at each man in kind.
“We’re honored to meet you all.”
“The honor is ours, I’m sure. Now, let’s get the immediate business over with so we can enjoy ourselves while we are able. As you can imagine, a domain such as this one does not remain secure on idle threats alone. I have rules that must be followed, not only to keep my subjects in line, but also to maintain a certain reputation among our neighbors. If I allow trespassers to steal from my lands, I’ll be seen as a weak ruler, and likely something will attempt to unseat me.”
I smiled without humor. “You’re referring to the wild game we killed in the park.”
“In my park, Mr. Sullivan. And that is an infraction that I cannot ignore.”
I nodded. “I take full responsibility.”
She sat back down on the throne and steepled her fingers. “That’s good, because tomorrow at dawn you’ll face a trial by combat with Sir Reynard here. Staves and waisters only, of course, but there is still some risk of serious injury. Reynard here has killed dozens of vampires and untold legions of the undead. He has never been beaten.”
Bobby snickered and coughed into his hand. “Cough, bullshit,” is how it came out.
I winced slightly but kept a neutral expression on my face. “We’ll be happy to adhere to the laws of your domain during our stay here, and we thank you for your hospitality.”
She tilted her head regally. “Sir Reynard, Chancellor Tuck—please see that the young ones are fed and allowed to bathe. I wish to speak with Mr. Sullivan alone.”
Reynard immediately spoke out in protest. “Lady Sweetlove, I do not think that would be wise—”
She raised her hand to silence him. “Enough! I’ll not have you question me in my own court. Now, see to it that they are fed and allowed all the comforts we can offer, and then return to me after their needs have been met.”
Reynard bowed stiffly. “It shall be done.”
Tuck gave me a dirty look and followed after him.
Gabby leaned into me and grabbed my shirt. “Scratch, you’re not seriously thinking of going through with this, are you? I mean, that guy is wearing armor!”
I smiled and patted her shoulder. “Trust me, everything is going to be alright. Get something to eat, keep Bobby out of trouble, and I’ll find you two later on.”
“But, Scratch—”
I gently pushed her in the direction of the doors. “Go, I said. It’ll be fine.”
Bobby was already making a beeline to the door. “Is this going to be some kind of Medieval Times meal, with roasted chicken and all that? I went to the one in Dallas once, and that food sucked. But hey, I’ll roll with it. Beggars can’t be choosers, right?”
He strolled off down the hall following Reynard and Tuck, with Gabby and Ghost not far behind. She gave me one last look of concern, then headed down the hall after them.
SEVEN
GOLD
Once everyone else had left the grand hall/media room, Dame Sweetlove rolled her eyes at me and stood up. “Oh for heaven’s sakes, finally I can get some decent conversation.” She sat down on the edge of the dais and patted a space next to her. “Please, sit.”
I walked over and sat down on the dais, a respectful distance apart. She made a face and stuck her tongue out at me. “Well, you’re no fun. Don’t tell me—big bad wolves stole your girl?”
“Yep, guessed it in one.” My girlfriend Kara had been abducted by the Corridor werewolf pack, along with the entire population of the settlement where we’d lived. Over the last few weeks, I’d been sidetracked on my quest to rescue them by everything from slavers to a rogue militia, to getting bitten by a deader. But I was close now, and nothing was going to stand in the way of getting Kara back safely. “Now, my turn. You were what—a school teacher? Fencing coach? Scout leader? Or something to these boys before the shit hit the fan.”
She rolled her neck out and shrugged. “What do you want me to say? I was running a LARPing group for my little brother and his friends. You know, something fun to do between doing cosplay at cons and Ren fests. Plus, it gave me a way to bond with my little bro. Then, the whole world went to hell, and I happened to have the boys with me when things went sideways. We were out in Plantersville at the fairgrounds when it happened, the night the bombs fell.”
She looked down and rubbed a fold of her dress between her fingers. “Austin and Houston were both a hot mess, so we waited it out at the hotel. Once the dead starting showing up, I got us the hell out of there in the van we’d rented, and we hid at a farmhouse with a retired couple. They were nice. But when the zombies sta
rted showing up there, they didn’t last long.”
“And your brother?”
She looked off at the wall. “He was one of the first that we lost.”
I shook my head in sympathy. “I’m very sorry to hear that. I lost some people during those first few days as well.”
She wiped a tear from her eye and smiled. “Yeah, well, I imagine we all did. At least I got to spend some fun times with him right before it happened. Besides, this world—” she gestured around her, “it just wasn’t meant for children.”
I leaned over to pat her hand. “Yeah, but I gotta say, you seem to be doing a heck of a job keeping these kids alive.”
She looked at me and blew her nose in a scarf that she’d pulled from her dress somewhere. “Sorry, seasonal allergies. Plus, I always cry when I talk about Brian; that is, when I’m not being Dame Sweetlove.” She wiped her nose and tucked the scarf away under her leg. “So, what’s your story?”
“Well, I was a Ranger in the Army. Went to Afghanistan, got hurt, and came home. I was still living the war in my head, so I built a cabin out in the sticks on the family ranch to just get away from everything and get my head right. Just when I started feeling better, the world went to shit. Lost my parents in the initial surge. Upside is, got no time for PTSD when there are zombies to kill. And it turns out Uncle Sam’s money wasn’t wasted on me after all. I guess I’m sort of made for this shit.”
She frowned and nodded. “You probably think it’s stupid, right? The whole make-believe thing? But how else was I supposed to keep these kids from freaking out, but by pretending it was all just a game?”
I squinted and shook my head. “I don’t think it’s stupid at all. In fact, I would say that you’re damned smart to play it the way you did. People need something to believe in to keep them going in tough times, kids especially. In the battalions it was believing that the guy next to you had your back, and that completing the mission was all that mattered. I can’t imagine what it must have taken to keep these kids together and keep them alive. Besides that, from what I’ve seen they’ve picked up some pretty decent survival skills. They didn’t get those from playing make-believe.”
