Knight of the Dead (Book 4): Realm Read online

  Knight

  of the

  Dead IV

  REALM

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

  By Ron Smorynski

  Knight of the Dead Volume Series:

  Knight of the Dead 1

  Knight of the Dead 2: Cavalry

  Knight of the Dead 3: Fortress

  Knight of the Dead 4: Realm

  Text Copyright

  First Edition 2019

  Edited by Tammi Smorynski

  Cover Art Ron Smorynski, 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

  Or at www.storytellingron.com/kotd (I have hidden my adulty stuff from the family friendly stuff on my site.)

  Psalm 33.16

  The King is not saved by a mighty army;

  A Warrior is not delivered by great strength.

  Behold, the eye of the Lord is on those who fear Him,

  On those who hope for His loving kindness.

  To deliver their soul from death...

  1. Post Victory

  Tom pulled at the massive pile causing limbs and bodies to roll down the horrendous hill of the undead. The vast pile of tangled and crushed limbs reached up thirty feet to the school's rooftop. There were still plenty alive but they were crushed and tangled. A river of toxic goo exuded from the pile with thick black blood oozing down like fetid lava flowing across the school grounds.

  Cory and Stu backed off, shaking with jitters. Cory couldn't stop howling like a Native American warrior, albeit tired and annoyed.

  "Not so loud!" Dad huffed, coming up. He gritted his teeth as he raised his helmet and shoved it back on.

  The others wondered. The pile of dead began to rise. Zombies, stuck and crushed in there since the siege began, were able to crawl out.

  "Demons from hell," Dad voiced in his helm. Most did not understand what he said or even meant.

  Stu, the short skinny black high school running back, moved as such, jumping around to avoid the squirming and plopping limbs. “Oh God! Oh God! Oh man!”

  “No blaspheming,” Dad grunted, tucking the strap of his helm under his chin. He couldn't help but think of a young Kevin Hart. This was Hollywood.

  “What? What? Pft... really? They're alive!” Stu spat.

  “No blaspheming the very God you pray to,” Dad added, turning to face him, fully armored, sword raised. He looked menacing, even with the squish and moans of the dead rising near them.

  “Al-righ!” Stu stopped, noticing Charlotte far above on the rooftop staring down with her M-4 ready and aimed at the mass. “Fine!” Stu shivered as he sidestepped much of the gory goo and creepy crawlers. "Ain't no big thing."

  "Then don't do it," Dad said.

  The bodies, dozens upon dozens, rose. It was hard to tell which were alive and which were being pushed aside. Dad began thrusting as several crawled to his feet. He jabbed into their mushy skulls.

  "This isn't over," he hissed, twirling to face the others, then turning back to jab at more of the crushed crawlers.

  The others woke out of their exhaustion and delirium from clearing out day after day. They lined up and began hacking and poking away.

  "You and you!" Dad ordered, quickly pointing with his sword. "Rest, wait! Get back," he said curt then jabbed at the crawlers oozing out of the pile. The grotesque ones that could walk were stumbling over limbs, bodies and each other. They were mangled and crushed in various ways. Their walking was stilted, their festering bodies horrendously bashed and grotesque. They were so drenched in blood that they appeared as red-washed fleshy things.

  "No! No! No!" Stu jabbed away prancing ridiculously.

  Dad, Stu, and Tom were assigned the hacking as Steve, Cory, Marcus and Duanne stood back, waiting in the flanks.

  "Calm down man," Duanne sighed.

  Dad noticed they were tense. "Just watch our backs, rest!!" He flicked a settle down motion.

  He turned back to Stu and Tom. "Do this!" He showed them what to do. The attack was slow and tedious, giving them time to deal with a few at a time. Most were on the ground squirming and pulling themselves forward. A wave of stiff ones was tumbling over and wriggling to stand up. They were so mutilated it was easy to handle if one stayed calm.

  As they came, Dad palmed their weak heads or dangling limbs with his gauntlet, or let them stumble before him, then he placed his sword tip on their skull, eye socket, or ear and pushed in. His blade went in quick and easy.

  The others saw and followed suit. Each had small shields, protective gloves or the rare gauntlet to do it safely.

  “Oh God... I mean oh gosh! Oh gosh!” Stu exhorted, doing his job and controlling his breathing.

  “Better,” Dad huffed, jabbing again and again.

  After awhile and an ever expanding killing circle, the next group took over, giving Dad, Stu and Tom a break. Steve lead, making sure everyone paced themselves, no Indian howling, no bravado. There were still, it seemed, hundreds to kill. It was controlled, steady, and wearisome.

  Finally, the younger ones looked about the massive pile for anything still alive while Steve and Dad sat nearby getting some late morning sun. They had their swords drawn but were resting. They were the ultimate warriors. Both were sizable. Steve was a trainer before this all happened and once had large toned muscles. Now, like Dad, both were less sculpted and had more survival tough muscles with hard sunken lines. Dad had lost most of his comfort fat. Food snacks and luxury eating were not part of their life anymore. Warrior like features, rough edges, gaunt tough limbs and scruffy hair gave them the Dark Ages look.

  Steve's armor was lighter, more modern looking with pads and sports gear that Dad's wife had assembled. While Dad's, of course, was the medieval re-enactor's steel plate and brigandine armor. Dad's legs, armor and helmet were all steel. His cuirass or breastplate was a brig, which has steel plates riveted to a thick black leather coat. It had plenty of his wife's modern upgrades added in since the first days of this zombie apocalypse, but it kept its medieval charm.

  Dad stood, stretched and looked beyond the massive pile. Down in the playground area of the school, Nick and Ray were fixing up the perimeter with various smoking cauldrons. The bigger ones were dumpsters, and the smaller ones were a lot of barbecue grills. There were still zombies spread out beyond, across Hollywood, but no massive pile up or crowding. And the fast ones were gone. It was a spread of the slower injured ones.

  Dad had led The Horde away in a school bus a few days back. The fast ones charged after him and were killed, or stayed and were crushed in the school siege. All that was left in their area were the slow ones, and not a massive gathering of these either. They were still dangerous and still prevalent, but the chance of a sudden surge, at least for now, was minimal.

  Amador cut up with his machete and tossed with his homemade meat hook limb after limb into the nearest dumpster. There were plenty of dead everywhere. He seemed to be enjoying his work. The dumpsters were mobile furnaces, burning the putrid masses in metal containers.

  Nick and Ray pushed a dumpster smoldering with flame and smoke into a new area of the school grounds. The sound of
the moving dumpster made Dad cringe. The smoke repelled the zombies crowding along the barricades. Once placed, the zombies calmed like crazy bees to smoke.

  Nick and Ray were surveying where to setup the dumpsters and barbecue grills next. Their minds were also on fortifying the school. They were excited about it, Dad could tell. He sighed relief amidst the stench and smoke. There was hope in the air, even in this incredibly foul air.

  Ray and his wife Cherry came with the movie folks when Dad was driving the school bus away, luring The Horde of zombies. Ray was some director or producer, but his background was prop and set design. So he and handyman Nick were getting along well, drumming up ideas for defenses.

  Rondo ran to and fro, looking healthy. He found crawling zombies that were missed, barking casually since he'd done it a few dozen times already. Stu and Cory were taking a liking to him for his assistance. They went up and killed the weird clumps of living dead. It gave Dad a smile as he saw that.

  "Get out!" he heard from within the school, up on the second floor. It was a frantic order. He heard the women screaming, warning, calling. He immediately got up, shoving his helmet on again and grabbing his sword. Steve didn't hear the call, but followed suit. They had cleared out the floors before, but the frantic shouts said otherwise. His wife and the kids were there.

  2. Frantic

  Dad hurried up the stairs, sword drawn. Going upstairs in his armor was immediately exhausting. He breathed hard, fearing the worst. After a massive win, had some lone zombie crawled in and bit his wife on the ankle? Or bit someone on the wrist? He thought of Jesus, of Charlotte, when she resisted, but would that happen again? Was it luck? Was it her faith? Did Dad even have faith? Faith about this? In this hell?

  Dad realized he had more faith in zombie rules and movies and books, then he did in seeing with his own eyes his daughter saved by Christ against a zombie bite.

  He got to the top floor, hyperventilating in his constricting helm. He saw fast movements, knowing they were frantic.

  "Ronan yoh! Damn zombies spilled through the windows! We got a big one in there!" Jake yelled.

  Thank God for Jake, Dad thought. He wished Lena, Lisa, and Marcus were up here, but they were watching the backside of the school where the older ones, Robert and Ellie, were clearing out dead bodies. He always wanted a crew watching every side. His wife, Cherry, and Trish had little Amy and Sofia. They stood in the corridor, huffing and puffing. They must have just got out of the room in time.

  Amanda, Eva, and Katrina came out of another room where they were cleaning out the dead. Brave Amy and Katrina's daughter Sofia were scared having just made it from the room. Jake and Trish were with them.

  "They're on... they're on the roof!" Amy shuddered. "Charlotte, Carl, Maggy and Amador's kids."

  Charlotte could handle a rifle and Maggy and Carl shot the 22s, but Juilo and Juanita just ran messages around. Could they handle defending themselves as zombies climbed up? These thoughts flashed in split pounding seconds in Dad's head. He envisioned the pile opening up and zombies getting freed, climbing up and outnumbering Charlotte and the others up there.

  He didn't hear any gunfire. But could he? The roof above was blocked by the pile. The only way to it was through that closed door, where Jake was holding them off.

  "They poured in from the roof! We we're trying to clear the room when they started just rolling down, the ones underneath that weren't dead-dead! They just came out," Jake said, holding the handle to the door, hoping the zombies wouldn’t figure out to pull on it. They could hear and feel the banging on the door.

  "Through there," Dad asked, motioning to the room, "are they going up to the roof?"

  "I don't know!" Jake shook, sweating profusely. "I had some of the kids. I had to bring'em back this way. I'm sorry. It all happened so quickly."

  Dad felt the demonic anger beginning to rage in him. He took a breath, thought of the end with Christ, and let it pass.

  He thought about the classroom, which windows they walked out on to be on the auditorium roof, then from there, they ascended a ladder to the top roof. It was where the final fight was in the last siege, and where Charlotte and other kids were now.

  "I just saw them rolling off."

  "We were pulling it apart from below," Dad gritted.

  "A big one man, a big one came out!" Jake huffed. "Must have been stuck there all this time, just smashed together!"

  "Could they get up to the roof? Without the pile up?" Dad asked, pacing and imagining there was some other way up there.

  Jake shivered unsure. "Wait, you can get up through the other classroom, your room?"

  "Not without a damn ladder," Dad knew, too heavy in his armor. "And we still gotta fight these ones!"

  His wife, Amanda, and Beth returned, all armed and ready. The other women, Katrina and Eva, took the children into the small room where Benjamin and Ruth stayed. It's door was solid and kept them hidden in that corner.

  Maria came forth, tearing and hugging herself. His wife beckoned her to go back. "We will save your children! We love Julio and Juanita, okay? Get back! Be safe!"

  Maria quivered. She sobbed, "Please, please my children, please!" She had already lost one child to the demons and now felt fear rise about the others. She did not train well and was useless with a weapon but was a hard worker.

  Dad knew what to do with her. "Maria, watch our window, in there. If they climb down, yell out for us, okay?"

  Maria looked to their room. The windows there led onto the east wing where one could climb up to the roof if there was a ladder. But there was no ladder. It was something proactive for her to do. She nodded and went.

  Steve came up the stairs.

  "What's up?!"

  "We got dead, man, lots and a big one!" Jake said.

  "Open the door!" Dad growled, getting his breath back.

  "I dunno man," Jake worried.

  "Kids up there!" Dad huffed, readying his sword, gripping it and remembering the fights he had with the big ones. They're skin was like tough animal hide, and their muscles and flesh more like wood then rotting meat. He turned to his wife, Amanda, and Beth. "Kill off the smaller ones. Stay clear of me and the big one. Got it?"

  They growled ready. Dad was impressed.

  Jake pulled out his gun, ran up to Dad and yelled right up in his helm like a true soldier. "I'll try to get a head shot! Stay to the right of the big one!"

  Dad nodded.

  Jake went back and knew what to do. He turned the door latch and pushed it against the zombies. It only took a few slams and the zombies felt the opening. They immediately knew to grab and push through, whether smart, some distant memory of their former selves or just evil instinct. Jake back pedaled quickly and raised his gun.

  Steve got behind Dad, "Oh shit, oh shit!"

  Zombies poured out of the door, a good dozen mangled ones falling over, tumbling and scrambling. But they weren't viciously fast after having been smothered for a few days. They gurgled and oozed about.

  The big one stomped through out of the darkness. He was demonic looking, covered in dark fetid blood, mostly naked. He had been buried in the crushed mass of zombies. He stomped toward Dad.

  Dad yelled and waved. He backtracked hoping Jake would get a shot off from behind the door. Jake did, firing into the thing. He grazed the skull, and hit the upper shoulder and the neck. The crack-crack blast of the handgun echoed loudly in the dark school corridor.

  It was tough. The big thing stomped up and down so fast and just came at Dad.

  "Damn nine millimeter!" Jake growled.

  The giant swung at Dad, who thought it was going down. It knocked him to the side. He stumbled trying to keep his sword up without getting a swing off. Dad slipped on the bloodied floor. It then saw Steve right behind and charged forward.

  The women smartly avoided it. They ran past and swung at the creepy crawlies, poking and stabbing them. His wife new to lead them out a bit, wait for the right quick moment, then jab into their skull. Ama
nda tried to do the same. Beth was on the side. She slashed more, being decent at meeting their head or neck. She didn't severe but her first cut dropped one. The next swing was off but she knew to draw back.

  The wife helped Amanda take another down. One grabbed her, and Amanda quickly yanked its head back and jabbed fiercely into its face. She yelled something vile in Spanish.

  Jake hopped nervously through the other zombies and right up behind the big one. He fired again, hitting its upper body and its head. But it didn't stop. Steve fell back in utter fear, holding up his weapon yet unable to swing.

  "Oh my God!" Stu screamed from the stairwell.

  Cory bravely raced up in his light armor, like a brave Indian warrior, and charged.

  Dad knew they had no chance against this thing. Dad recovered and charged forth. Jake almost fired upon Dad, raising his gun at the last moment.

  Dad swung heavy against the back of this thing, near the neck. It bent over to grab Steve. Dad found the right moment, hacking down on it, again and again, holding his sword like a two handed executioner. The head finally came off and rolled onto Steve, bashing heavily. Then the body fell forward crushing him.

  "Oh my God! Oh my God!" Steve cried, shirking back and forth under its weight.

  The wife stabbed into several crawling forward as Amanda helped Beth in the back area. She couldn't finish it given her misplaced slashes. Amanda came up behind and grabbed its rotted hair, gashing fiercely into its face and head, screeching her dark Latin words.

  Dad stumbled away exhausted. He realized in that panicked moment he held his own breath, choking himself. It was an old bad habit. He stood up and breathed.

  Cory wanted to swing at the dead hulk coming up quickly like a deer. But realized he had to help Steve. He smartly stabbed into the body and pulled his weapon, yanking at the dead body.