Knight of the Dead (Bok 2): Cavalry

  A Knight and his horse.

  Knight

  of the

  Dead II

  Cavalry

  A medieval re-enactor's fight for Lord and family, in a zombie apocalypse.

  By Ron Smorynski

  Ephesians 6: 12 For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places. 13 Wherefore take unto you the whole armour of God

  “Knight of the Dead” Volume Series

  Knight of the Dead

  Knight of the Dead 2: Cavalry

  Knight of the Dead 3: Fortress (coming soon)

  Text Copyright

  First Edition 2018

  Edited by Tammi Smorynski

  Cover Art: Gleb Kos

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system, without the permission in writing from the author, unless you are reviewing and/or promoting it.

  This is a work of fiction. It is a work of fantasy. While real people have influenced this work, it is in no way to be construed as representations but as imaginary fiction for the purposes of entertainment and a sense of moral righteous fury.

  Find more info @storytellingron on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram

  www.storytellingron.com

  Table of Contents

  1. Follow Me 1

  2. Return 13

  3. A Knight and His Horse 26

  4. Chores 37

  5. Less Than 43

  6. Alpha 55

  7. Beta 62

  8. Bivouac 71

  9. Training 79

  10. Return to Hell 88

  11. Gun Rights 99

  12. Training 109

  13. Frenzy 115

  14. Deliberately 123

  15. Home, Family 129

  16. Things To Do 136

  17. Men-at-Arms 142

  18. Warriors 151

  19. Sessions 156

  20. Dogfood 160

  21. Riders 165

  22. Frustrated 176

  23. Calvary 186

  24. Cavalry 194

  25. Diary 203

  1. Follow Me

  A father and his wife pushed a shopping cart as quietly as they could. They had wrapped themselves in layers of clothing. The father had a hammer and a butcher's knife. The mother pushed the cart with her young daughter and a younger son inside, crowded with their belongings. They were trying to be very quiet. A wheel on the shopping cart began to squeak. He nervously and haphazardly poured gobs of vegetable oil on it.

  They looked around in the early morning mist. The city was quiet and cold, perhaps the best time to do what they were doing. Their plan could work. They were heading to the grocery store down the street past towering apartments and jammed cars. The girl was anxious, swaddled in protective clothing. The boy was on the verge of tears, the suspense wearing on him.

  The cars on the street were jam packed, dusty and silent. It was a snapshot of chaos and panic from many, many days ago. They quietly pushed the cart down the street. The space between cars was narrow. They were using the cars as cover. The father hurried ahead, peering over and under the cars. He was strong looking, though gaunt.

  There were decayed bodies, mummy parts littering the streets. The children spotted each one and held muffled cries. The mother tried to comfort them as she pushed the cart.

  “Don't worry. They're gone. It's okay. Daddy is watching,” she spoke ever so softly.

  The boy saw a mummified woman strapped in the driver's seat of a car. It gazed at him with cloudy marble eyes. He stared at the horrific nightmare. As they passed, the mouth opened and the banshee convulsed through the greasy window. He stood up from the packed cart reaching near hysterics for his mother. She saw his panic and grabbed him quickly. She released the cart only for a moment. But on an incline, it raced down scraping and crashing between two cars. Her daughter stared wide eyed at her mother as she banged within the cart.

  The father turned and peered. It was the death knell of sounds that echoed: the scraping, the cantankerous metal of a shopping cart, the asphalt grind, the sharp echo of a rear view mirror cracking and the impact against cars. In a silent morning where no sound contested theirs, it echoed across the city for a distance. And it was met by the hollow screech of them.

  The father let out a breath of regret. The wife nodded weakly as her sorrow stared from son to cart to husband to daughter. They have seen what the crazies do. They have hidden for so long knowing. And now the screams echoed from all sides as they converged.

  The father motioned for them to run. All sense of being silent was gone. “Leave it!”

  They left the cart. The daughter, crying, shaking, crawled out of the cart. The wife carried her small son and pulled her daughter's hand. They scrambled through the cars. The father must meet a fast zombie as it leapt over cars and growled loudly to alert the others of its prize. The man jerked awkwardly to prepare his hammer and knife. His movements were stilted and uncoordinated. He jittered about trying to feel ready for the oncoming charge. He swung and missed as the zombie lurched. His swings deflected the snapping bite and grabbing. Fortunately for him, the zombie only had one good hand. The other was a bone exposed splinter.

  He swung the hammer on the zombie, breaking its shoulder. He huffed to puff himself up in his panicked rage. He swung again and again, too many times, breaking the zombie but not killing it. He tired quickly. More zombies were approaching.

  “Go! Back to home! Hurry!”

  “Come on Maggy! Come!”

  “Daddy come too!”

  “Go!” He breathed heavily, not aware that with each swing he held his breath and tightened his body. He didn't kill the zombie nor slow it down but it was unable to grab him with a broken shoulder and a mangled arm. It contorted to bite, extending its neck from a broken body. The dad was finally able to slam the hammer into the head and drop it. He was exhausted as more were coming. He turned to run as his wife and children ran up the street.

  The mother carried her son, exhausted. “Carl, can you run? Can you run?”

  The boy, panicked in her arms, screamed and squeezed tighter, choking her. She tried to put him down but couldn't. She could barely breathe but as any mother, found a way: for the love of him, for the inevitable pain of it all.

  “Hurry!” the father shouted hoarsely from behind.

  “We're all going to make it! Please!”

  As they ran up, they were met by more. The mother froze and realized what she said wasn't possible. The boy frantically covered his face and hugged her tighter, sobbing within. The daughter looked up pleading, crying, so scared, trying to deny what was about to happen.

  The father came up heaving. He saw the path back to the door. It was past the creatures. “You go! Go!” He leaned against a car, coughing.

  The mother was barely able to limp along with her son in her arms. She had to pull her daughter as well.

  The father cried as he veered away from his wife and children to the group of feral cannibals. He raised his meek weapons as spittle and snot trickled from his emotionally puffed face. They rushed at him. He tried to step back and swing but each movement was unfocused and awkward. He lost balance and swung wildly. They grabbed and bit down on his wrapped arms. He screamed in wretched panic. “No! No!”

  He tried to swing at them, to push them away. He cried, “Stop! Stop it! Just leave us alone!!!”

  His wife turned to see as his cries for the crazies to stop were meaningless. Her face was an emotional vacuum, a sud
den loss of everything. Her daughter heard the screams of her father but looked only up at her mother as tears streamed and small weak fingers clutched.

  “No! Aaagh! Stop!” the father begged. He pushed some away as others leapt from behind. He flailed wildly in circles. His clothe wrappings were ripped and torn away. Blood was already visible from his shaking limbs. His exhaustion was taking over more than the pain and sorrow. He looked at his wife and children. The zombies were attracted to him and his loud screams and so for a moment, his wife and children were unseen.

  “Go...” he gasped, as the zombies converged on him and he went under. “Please... my wife... my chil...”

  His wife stood tall, emotionless, breathing, as she saw her love go down, gone forever. The sounds of his screams and the crunching of flesh made her blink, in a dazed fashion.

  Her son cried aloud in her bosom, not witnessing but somehow knowing. Zombies turned to look up and see her. She held her son and daughter and merely walked the other way. More zombies came, some fast, others limping along.

  She carried her son and pulled her daughter forward, methodically up the street. She didn't know where she was going nor cared. The children cried in utter shock at the inevitable, for children knew. She stared blankly ahead as the horde of zombies came.

  As she reached the crest of the street, a metal giant stood with sword and shield. She stared past him as if it wasn't real, just a prop or statue passing her vision of a grey prison. She blinked as if to refocus her eyes. The giant was real. It stood there, towering in steel and sword. It was not a beast or monster but some sort of knight, robot guardian, some sort of civilization, a man who was a warrior? It was clean and its lines and form were determined and powerful. Perhaps that was what angels looked like.

  Her daughter saw him and stopped crying yet held her mother's side tighter. The woman stopped walking and looked at the steel giant. What? Who? Where? Why? How?

  The steel giant tilted his knightly helm, glancing to his left. He stepped to a car. He opened the passenger door and waved his sword at her. She didn't hesitate, and with motherly strength rushed forward, yanking her daughter off her feet. The daughter seemed to be floating in air, in a dream as she was yanked along. She stared up at the steel giant as she was thrown into the car. She saw his eyes through the holes. They were a father's eyes. She knew those eyes. The car door suddenly slammed shut and she was in an enclosure, a muffled explosion of growls and crunching blasted her senses. She looked up through the dirty window, over her mother's body.

  A fast motion of the sword, something she never really said or thought about, that word seemed to tickle her mind, SWORD. It flashed and flew across her view. It seemed like a more powerful monster than the monsters of her nightmares, of her world. It leapt and bounded across the window as she saw monsters split in two and thrown. The steel giant went back and forth across the car windows. She saw him like a giant meeting small monsters. It met them like a rock meets bugs. It was a giant rock.

  It ran right at the crazies, charging with its full body. They flew back and before they flew out of her view, the sword flashed and the smaller monsters were split apart. The giant suddenly turned and lifted up its shield making another bug fly off but the giant doesn't just let it fly off. The giant swung its sword and the bug splattered. Round and round the giant danced against the bugs as they were sliced over and over.

  The mother finally breathed loudly. She rolled to one side to avoid crushing her son as they lay on the back seats. The daughter was squeezed painfully on the floor between the back and front seats. She was too stunned to feel the strain. She was staring up at the giant who killed monsters. A monster hit the window like a bug splat. The mother looked up and gasped. The daughter merely smiled through her crazed tears.

  A giant metal hand and shield, bigger and far more powerful than the monster, scooped it off the window and cut its head off as it twirled. She was not afraid of the monsters anymore.

  A few more times this occurred. The giant moved about and the bugs got splatted. The mother touched her daughter's hair, pushing it away from her face. They looked at each other. Their faces were so close, lying as they were in the car. The sounds of fury outside were like a storm passing. They were safe within. The storm was blocked by a guardian, a steel giant.

  A brief smile passed between them. Both nodded knowing a new stage in their nightmare had occurred. There was the loss of the daughter's father, a loss of a husband. And yet, miraculously, there was a gain of a man with purpose, some powerful being.

  Their time since the beginning of this nightmare was one of enclosure, hiding from the world and in complete fear. Their apartment complex was more modern and had steel gates and hardened doors. Less than half of the residences were there when it began. Many left that first morning to get family members, but none ever came back.

  Soon after, a banging began in one of the residence. It would not stop. Someone was banging on a door, to get out. The family lived in constant fear of this banging. The father paced in frustration, not knowing what to do or how to fight. He held the butcher knife and his one handy designer hammer awkwardly. He practiced swinging, miming, thinking he could do it.

  After their small supply of food and water ran out, the father and mother would search out other apartments, careful to avoid the one banging. They met only a few others and arguments ensued. They almost killed another couple but the wives prevailed and supplies were evenly split. A few more residents were desperate. They decided to try the banging apartment, to see if they could fight the infected and take whatever was inside.

  Even though they swung hammers, knives and baseball bats, the lone zombie within bit many of them. The zombie was an old lady but the desire to bite any flesh was too fierce and too easy, especially when the men panicked and raised their arms in defense.

  Their situation deteriorated. The bitten retreated to their own apartments. The father and the other man he argued with had no strength or will to kill them. Fear took over. The other man killed himself and his wife. The father heard it and went to their place. He took their food supply. It helped them last a few more days. The other residences, infected, were on other floors. The infected had at least locked themselves in, as the family could now hear more doors being banged on by those inside.

  They had to go out to get food. They realized no one was coming to rescue them. It had been weeks since it all started. From their window, they witnessed many attacks. The crazies attacked people in cars, people in other apartment buildings. There were many who screamed from balconies which only brought more of them. An older apartment complex across the street was attacked literally floor to floor. They witnessed its total invasion over several hours, each door or barricade failing. They hid quietly and fearfully in their apartment as the siege took place. They couldn't call anyone or help in any way. They just heard scream after scream as each apartment was taken. The people within were noisy and desperate. The father knew to be quiet. The wife thought they should tell them, warn them to be quiet. But the father said no as it would alert the crazies to them.

  They then witnessed floods of the crazies passing below on their narrow street. They heard a motorcycle several times but never saw it. They were just two blocks up from the grocery store. They could see the rear parking lot from their balcony. They could move there. It was a big building where they could hide in the back and have access to food and water.

  After the massive swarming of zombies seemed obliterated by a fire a few blocks away, the father figured it was their chance to go out. It took him a few days and the last of the stale dry cereal to build up the courage. He could not leave the mother and children behind. There were too many noises on the other floors. Once they went down, no telling what would happen. He wanted them together. He devised thick clothes and wrapped several layers around their arms and body. He tried biting into it and figured it was good enough.

  He saw that in the cold morning just before the sun rose, there seemed to be
fewer zombies meandering about. The cold perhaps slowed them down.

  They could get food and hold up in the grocery store or a place closer to it. He practiced swinging his hammer and knife. He hit the kitchen counter and the weapons bounced off too hard. He then practiced against the couch, but unbeknownst to him, his hard swings were not that effective nor that accurate.

  “Let's go.”

  The girl looked up at the car windows. Though smudged and blurry, she could see the steel giant come up like a mountainous shadow rising. It seemed to look down at her, but then it turned slowly and faced away. It stood there a long time. She didn't know why. She began to feel the strain of being pinned behind the front seats. She pushed upward to get out from the pressure. Her mom scooted as best she could, hugging against the passenger seats and her son.

  The girl got halfway clear but stopped to listen. They could hear the moaning of the monsters. They seemed close. She looked up at the giant guardian. It stood there silent. Her mother held her arm. Her brother finally exposed his face to look up at the giant shadow outside the window.

  “Shhh...” the mother breathed.

  The daughter nodded and put her finger to her lip, looking at her little brother. He stared up.

  The moaning got louder. It sounded like a few more had come into the area. The family saw shadows come up to the window, more in a searching way than an attack. The steel giant suddenly moved as they blinked from the intensity of the moment and then tried to refocus. The moaning was gone, the shadows were gone and the steel giant returned to a motionless statue.

  They were unsure what to do. The daughter wanted to climb up on top of them to get a better view. The mother was reluctant. She tried to hold her down but the way they were lying made it difficult. The girl pushed up and raised her head, to get to the dirty window. She could see through the smudges. It took a while for her to focus but she saw them, dozens of them, meandering about. Her eyes widened. They did not attack the steel giant towering above her. They didn't seem to notice him as he just stood there.