Knights of the Apocalypse (A Duck & Cover Adventure Post-Apocalyptic Series Book 2)

by Benjamin Wallace

  Symbols were important.

  But Elias knew the throne had been a terrible idea.

  It rose fifteen feet in the air and filled a third of the chamber. The blades of a thousand shovels, the points of a thousand pickaxes and the pointy ends of several post-hole diggers had been twisted by fire and force to seat the king. Rended steel and twisted iron had been collected and reformed for no other purpose than to keep his majesty off the ground. It was massive. It was ominous. And, it hurt.

  Most of the pain was focused on the right side of his rear end. King Elias shifted to the left cheek knowing full well he hadn’t given it time to recover from an earlier readjustment. He grunted as his weight set upon it. He had always heard heavy is the head that wears the crown, but Shakespeare never warned that pointy is the seat upon which his ass is placed.

  The king leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. This posture of power was not meant to threaten those before him. He could not lean back. In creating the symbolic throne, the artist had failed to consider little besides its aesthetics. He never bothered to measure the height of the room and offered a flippant, “It’ll fit,” whenever the question arose. It did fit, but leaning back would force the king to strike his head on the ceiling. And, since it was all but impossible to look regal with your head cocked to one side or shoved into an acoustic ceiling tile, he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees.

  Elias shifted again, shuffling his large frame six inches to the right to avoid the pointy end of an iron pick. Had that bastard of an artist not even sat in this thing? How could a king conduct the kingdom’s business with a shovel handle up his ass?

  It was his own fault for employing an artist instead of a recliner designer. Surely an engineer from La-Z-Boy had survived the apocalypse. That’s who he should have hired. That person would at least have some appreciation for the shape of the human ass.

  It was too late now. The throne quickly became a symbol of his kingdom, his power and his rule. Rumors stretched beyond the borders of his kingdom into the realms of his enemies and inspired fear. People knew only a hard man could sit on such a hard throne. It commanded respect by his allies. It drove fear into his enemies. Maybe he could get a seat cushion.

  Elias shifted once more, found the point of a jackhammer bit and decided that he was done ruling for the day. This wedding was over. He cursed the throne maker, blessed the bride and dismissed the royal court.

  The crowd cheered and someone kissed someone else but Elias didn’t see it. Careful not to snag his robe, he moved quickly with practiced steps down the twisted rail ties that formed the throne’s staircase. He reached the ground with a sigh of relief and moved across the room, resisting the urge to rub his butt.

  A small man in a cloak far too large rushed through the wedding party and came to the king’s side. He moved with his elbows out to hold up the extra fabric and prevent tripping. The king’s Hand matched the monarch’s pace,. “A beautiful ceremony, Your Majesty.”

  Elias nodded to his Hand and asked, “What did the man from the Watch say?”

  “He says he didn’t see anything, sire.”

  The pair reached the wall and stood before a tapestry depicting the king’s rise to power. Elias looked majestic with the sun behind him, a sword in his hand and an enemy beneath his boot. The Hand grabbed a corner of the tapestry and pulled it aside to reveal a doorway. He let the king pass through and followed behind.

  The tapestry closed behind them and the king sighed before rubbing his upper butt. “That damn throne.”

  “Yes, sire.”

  Elias leaned his shoulders back and bowed his spine, half hoping to hear something pop back into place and half hoping nothing popped at all. This was middle age. Nothing popped and he took a clipboard from the Hand. It was a list of his concerns. The workers in the mine were planning a revolt, winter was settling in and now his daughter-in-law had been abducted. He twisted again. How could he concentrate on being a king with a sore back? He handed the board back to the Hand. “Here’s what you’re going to do.”

  The small man reached into the cavernous cloak and retrieved a pencil. He scratched down the king’s words exactly as they were spoken.

  “I need you to find the guy that built the throne. What was his name? Randall? Randy? Find him and have him build a torture device.”

  “A torture device, sire?”

  “Yes. I want it big. I want it brutal. I want it to fill the town square. I want spikes, pikes and some kind of screw thing that makes things worse so I can walk by and give it a spin if I feel like it. I want cables and ropes. I want it to stretch things, pull things, push things, cram things together until you don’t know what those things were to begin with. Did you get all that?”

  “Yes, sire.” The pencil moved furiously.

  Elias tapped the page. “Make sure you got the part about the spikes.”

  “I’ll underline it, sire.”

  “Good, have him build it. And then put him in it.”

  “The guard from the Watch?”

  “The artist from the throne. It was Randy, right? It was Randy or something like that?”

  “R8nsom, sire.”

  “Ransom?”

  “Yes, sir. But he spelled it with an eight.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, sir. He insisted everyone pronounce the eight.”

  “Reighntsome?”

  “I think so, sire.”

  The king tapped the notepad again. “Add some rats. Put some rats in there, too.”

  The Hand made the note.

  “Hungry rats.” The pencil scratched notes on the pad as Elias looked on. “Put them around the crotch area.”

  “Of course, sire.”

  “Good.” The king twisted his back and heard a pop. It was the good kind. “Should I sign that?”

  “No need, sire. I’ve got it.”

  Elias took the notepad and pencil from the man. “It feels more official if I sign it.” He scratched his name across the bottom of the page and finished with a wide swipe that left the page and concluded in the air. “There. Now it’s a decree.” Elias smiled and walked off.

  The Hand hurried after him. “But, sire, what about the man from the Watch?”

  Elias stopped and shrugged. “I don’t know. We don’t have time to wait for the new torture machine.” The king stroked his red beard for a moment. “Maybe we just keep punching him until he talks?”

  “You want him treated as a suspect?”

  “Everyone is a suspect: the guards, the prince, the knights, the peasants, you, me. Wait. Not me. I got carried away.”

  “Of course, sire.”

  The king tapped the page. “Write that down.”

  “Write what down, sire?”

  “That I’m not a suspect.”

  “But, sire. We would never …” A stern glance from the king silenced the man and he scratched the note down on the pad.

  “Let me sign it.” Elias took the notepad and signed the page with a flourish that forced the Hand to duck. “There. Decreed.” He handed the pad back. “Everyone not on that list is a suspect.”

  “This list?” He pointed to the pad. “This list of just your name?”

  “Precisely.” He put his arm around the Hand. “The princess has been stolen from us. Captured from within our very walls. My sovereignty has been challenged. And her dad is going to be so pissed at me. Not to mention, where are we going to get another princess?” The king opened a door leading to the street behind the former town hall. He stepped into the winter air and took a deep breath. The large man exhaled and watched his breath dance. “There aren’t enough kingdoms. Everyone is either still trying to give democracy a chance or accepted the anarchy of the wasteland.”

  “There’s rumors of a kingdom in the west that …”

  “A real kingdom?” the king asked. “Or is it some lunatic that set a pot on his head and called himself king? There’s no shortage of that. Crazy is everywhere. I’m talking a real
kingdom like mine. Wealth. Commerce. Power. Security. For the most part, loyal subjects. There’s nothing like that besides Rodney’s kingdom and you know it. We have to find his daughter. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go see the prince. You should probably go start punching that guy now.”

  “Yes, sire.” The Hand bowed, turned and went back inside the building.

  The tower bells rang to celebrate the newlyweds as they left the courthouse. Elias smiled and walked quickly down the side of the building. He watched from the alley as the happy couple burst from the front doors into a throng of people cheering them on.

  Weddings were a big deal in the kingdom. Elias insisted on it. Who else left in the world had the authority to marry people? No one. Only a king. Or maybe a ship’s captain. Regardless, it was one of the duties he enjoyed performing most. It made people happy. It made him happy.

  The kingdom roared as the couple dashed through the crowd. The bride and groom ducked and weaved as they passed through a tunnel of loved ones. Rice and birdseed were scarce in the post-apocalyptic world so the crowd threw nothing. A royal decree mandated that soap be used for cleaning only so no bubbles were blown. But, if the bombs proved anything it was that traditions were harder to kill than ninety-nine percent of the population. If people were getting married, you had to try and hit them with something. It was only right. Rocks were out, so people spit. It was a nice spit. A loving spit. More of a misting than anything from deep within the sinuses, though there was undoubtedly a scorned lover or two that probably took his time and aimed for the groom as the couple raced by.

  Regardless of the color or consistency, everyone decided to call the spit good luck. It was a blessing for the new couple. May their marriage be showered with blessings, they said. The happy couple always smiled as they ran through the shower and laughed, all the while secretly wishing someone would just grow some damn birdseed.

  Elias smiled and turned down Elias Street and began to walk. His palace was a block away down the street. On most days he enjoyed the stroll. On most days his subjects filled the streets and smiled as he greeted them. On most days ruling was nothing more than smiling back. But today he walked slower and looked for people to talk to. He desperately wanted a page or some court official to come bounding from one of the buildings on Elias Street calling after him with official business. Something to sign. Something to decide. Anything. Was it too much to ask for a sudden blizzard?

  Dragging his feet bought him only a few minutes and he sighed as he stepped up the sidewalk to the palace. A pair of guards opened the doors of the former hotel and Elias looked up to the second floor. The prince’s chamber was up there and he could only picture the wreck of a man that dwelled within them.

  “Is the prince in his chambers?” Elias asked.

  “Yes, sire,” the knight said. “He has not come out all day.”

  “Poor thing.” Elias remembered when he lost his own wife. It had been heartbreaking. He mourned for weeks. He still wasn’t over her loss. But this was different. His wife had been attacked by a mountain lion; the princess had been taken. She could still be saved. There was hope. But her sudden disappearance would still be a shock. “He must feel so lonely.”

  “Miss Richards is with him, sir.”

  “What a sweetheart. She must be helping him grieve.”

  “I’d say so, sire. It sounds like they’ve grieved a couple of times today.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Nothing, sire.”

  Elias looked across the lobby to the staircase and sighed again before crossing and climbing the long flight. Consoling was his least favorite part of being a ruler.

  The guard outside the prince’s door looked like he’d rather be somewhere else even if that place wasn’t that far away. The king greeted him and the man snapped to attention while casting a wary eye on the prince’s door.

  “I’m here to see the prince,” Elias said.

  “Of course, sire.” The guard made no move to the door.

  “Well.” The king gestured to the door. “Announce me.”

  “Umm, of course, sire.” The guard turned and drew back his hand and hesitated. He turned back to the king. “What if he’s not … decent?”

  Elias laughed. “The prince is never decent.” Elias waved the man aside and knocked on the door.

  The voice from the other side of the door shot back. “I told you to go away, Eddie!”

  “It’s not Eddie. It’s the king. And don’t you talk to Eddie that way. It’s his job to stand outside this door and keep you safe.”

  There was shuffling inside the room. Elias definitely heard scrambling. Someone said, “Hand me my bra.” Elias hoped it wasn’t the prince. The door opened a crack a moment later and the prince’s face appeared. The boy was handsome like a prince should be. “I’m quite safe, Your Majesty.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Fine,” the prince said. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “That’s my boy. Hiding beneath bravado. I just wanted to see how you were holding up and let you know that we’re doing everything to get your wife back.”

  “Oh. Right. Why?”

  Elias threw Eddie the guard an uncomfortable smile and forced his way into the room. A half-dressed woman disappeared into the bathroom. Prince Robert jumped back and scrambled to find a shirt. “You can’t just come in here!”

  Elias closed the door behind him. “Shut up.” He pointed to the bathroom. “And get her out of here.”

  Robert shrugged and rapped on the bathroom door. “Kay? You should go now, Kay.”

  There was a whispered response that Elias couldn’t hear.

  “I don’t see how that’s my problem,” the prince said. “I don’t even have boobs.”

  The whispering continued and was still unintelligible but grew more intense and shrieking. It was like a banshee sharing a secret.

  “I’ll look for it, okay? Just get out of here and don’t run down the stairs too fast. They’ll be fine.”

  The bathroom door opened and Miss Richards shuffled out with a quick curtsy to the king. “Hello, sire.”

  Elias smiled. “Kay, it’s nice to see you. On your way out would you please tell Eddie that it’s time for his break?”

  The girl nodded, stepped quickly out the door and closed it behind her.

  Elias turned back to the prince. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  He smiled. “Nothing.”

  “Your princess is missing and you’re up here in your room playing hide the scepter with Miss Richards.”

  “She’s a really good player.”

  Elias sighed and sat on the bed.

  Robert pulled his shirt on and threw up his arms. “You told me you were looking for her. What more do you want from me?”

  “What more do I want? I want you to grieve, express concern. I need you to be the worried husband. The concerned prince.”

  Robert shrugged.

  “Do you have any idea what happens if we don’t get her back?”

  “I get a new wife?”

  Elias placed his face in his hands.

  “Can I pick her this time? Because I’d like one with more boobs and less attitude.”

  Elias sprang from the bed and slapped Robert across the face. “You spoiled little brat.”

  Robert rolled with the strike and spun to face the king. “I don’t think either of those things is too much to ask. Anna wasn’t my type and you know it.”

  “It doesn’t matter what type she is. She’s a princess. You’re a prince. That’s all that matters.”

  “This is your stupid fantasy, Greg. Not mine.”

  Elias roared. “You don’t want to be the prince?”

  “I’m not saying that.”

  “You don’t want to have everyone at your beck and call? You don’t want to live the most privileged life this side of the apocalypse?” Elias stepped across the room and tore the drapes from the wall. “Do you want to be out there? In the wasteland? Scraping by
, scavenging for every meal, wearing rags and fighting to keep the crap you have?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Of course not. You want the mines. You want the gold. The subjects. The power. And you can’t do that without a princess. If her father finds out that she’s been taken, it will be war. A war I’m not sure we can win right now.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, for one, our prince is a pussy and it’s his job to lead the troops.”

  “I’m not a pussy.”

  “Yes. You are. But that’s my fault. I’ve kept you sheltered your entire life. You don’t know what it’s like to struggle. Since the time you were a kid you’ve lived behind these gates. You don’t know how cruel it can all be.”

  “Fine. I’ll act all sad now and happy when she gets back.”

  Elias shook his head. “No. That’s not enough. You’re going after her.”

  “What? Send the knights!”

  “I can’t send knights, you moron. If we march with an army, it will be war!”

  “Then what do you want me to do, Greg?”

  Elias stood and grabbed Robert by the collar of his freshly buttoned shirt. He punched the prince in the stomach. He punched hard. He felt something shift under his fist. It could have been a spleen. It dawned on him at that moment that he had no idea where a person’s spleen was.

  Robert doubled over coughing.

  “It’s Elias. Or Your Majesty. Or sire. You owe me everything, you little shit.” Elias helped him up and sat him on the bed. “But I’ll tell you what you’re going to do. You’re going on a secret mission. You’re going to find your wife and bring her back, or else.”

  FIVE

  The Durango-Silverton Narrow Gauge railroad had been constructed more than a hundred years before the world fell apart. For the majority of its existence, it hauled supplies to the mining towns that had formed in the mountains and returned with gold and silver from the mines.