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

  Dad helped by placing his foot on it and pushing. The body tumbled off Steve who gasped and rolled over, coughing out phlegm and grunting angrily.

  "You can't let yourself fall like that," Dad said.

  His comment did not help. Steve stared angrily, with red eyes and a swollen face inside his hockey helm. Amanda and his wife helped him up.

  Dad composed himself and went up to Steve. "Sorry, you okay?"

  Steve paused and nodded. Both patted each other.

  Dad headed into the classroom first. Stu and Cory knew to help, going in, finding crawlers and finishing them. Dad felt good that he had warriors with him, to his left and right, taking care of things.

  The windows were still blocked by a ton of the dead, all squashed and crushed. Lots of the barricaded windows were bent or broken and wretched flesh oozed in.

  The floor was slippery with foul blood. It was dark in there, as was most of the school. The sun was able to get a few beams through but only enough, making it look eerie and misty.

  The women used smart phones, turning the lights on. This helped Stu and Cory see any mangled bodies that were still moving. The place looked like some blood ridden cave from hell.

  Dad carefully stepped through. Bodies and blood filled the floor. He got to the window where they climbed through to the roof. He had to pull out some bodies that had crawled in and got stuck. Steve helped. Both cut and hacked at them. They became a little frantic as Dad did not hear Charlotte or the other kids up there.

  Beth came up. "Carl? Maggy?" she yelled.

  Dad hushed her.

  "Why we gotta be quiet?" Stu asked. "Shouldn't we be loud?"

  "Carl! Maggy!" Beth called out again.

  Dad didn't hear anything.

  "Get Randall. Someone get Randall," she cried.

  "He's watching the back side with the others," his wife answered.

  Dad focused on his task. He pulled the dead through, bashing any that gurgled. He yanked enough out to step up and squeeze through. Weak zombies grabbed at him, dangling from the mash up. There was a spread of dead upon the roof. Amidst it were the discombobulated zombies.

  He grabbed the broken ladder. He stepped up not caring that it rocked and creaked.

  "Why didn't Amador fix this when you all first came down?"

  "He did," Steve answered. "I think the pile did it. It seemed all dead these last few days. Nothing moved till now."

  Dad realized the pile was so dense that nothing moved till they began clearing them from the ground. They were climbing past this the last few days not realizing the potential for live ones within.

  He turned and focused. He stepped up and grabbed the roof top railing, bent in many parts. He thought of his Charlotte. He loved her. She knew love. She knew her father loved her. Most importantly, she knew Jesus. He was okay with whatever God had chosen for her.

  He pulled his heavy steel weight up. He looked through his helm, searching the roof. It had quite a few dead upon it. He couldn't remember if they cleared them out these past few days or if these were the new ones that came up. Where were the kids? After all these victories, during the clean-up, had they foolishly sacrificed the kids? He hung on the ladder, paralyzed by the realization.

  Then he saw them at one end. Charlotte was there with Carl and Maggy. They were struggling against a zombie, fighting desperately at the edge of the roof.

  Dad leapt as fast and hard as he could. He stumbled over, knowing he pulled something going too fast. He felt a stabbing pain in his leg. He didn't care.

  Who was bitten? All three were together, struggling as limbs and claws flailed and fell. He stomped over, exhausted and gasping.

  "Yoh Dad!" Charlotte suddenly burst out, turning to see him.

  Dad stopped and peered, looking through his helm's holes, trying to understand their calm stances. "You okay?"

  They peered at each other, shrugging. "Yeah?"

  "What's going on up here? You attacked?"

  "No, we're cleaning," Charlotte sighed, shaking off her little gauntlet hands.

  They had small blades and axes. He realized half the roof was cleared up. The other half had bodies that still needed to be hacked up and thrown over.

  "You weren't attacked?"

  "Yoh, everything okay up here!?" Steve called from the ladder.

  "Hey, don't shout!" Charlotte yelled back. She cupped her mouth.

  "Aren't you cleaning the bottom?" Carl asked, hacking up a zombie arm and tossing it off the roof.

  Dad lifted his visor. A cool breeze came into his helm. He sighed relief and motioned for all three of them to hug him. Even in steel, he wanted, needed their hug. All three rolled their eyes but obliged. They hugged and giggled.

  "You thought we were being attacked?" Charlotte asked.

  "Yeah, that pile still has some live ones," Dad motioned back.

  "Ohhh, shoot! Need me to snipe'em?" Charlotte offered.

  "No, no, we're good. We're good," Dad responded.

  "We could use more help," Maggy said. "It's so, so, soooo messy up here."

  "Sure, I'll get Jake up here," Dad suddenly sobbed. He bent over and just sobbed on them.

  The three, including his own Charlotte, cringed. Dad saw that they saw him sobbing like a baby. His sobbing was mixed with giggling. It was neurotic and confusing. It was joyful to him. He never felt so much joy in sobbing and giggling. The fear of losing them, the joy in finding them, and the joy of knowing he had moments with his Charlotte were just overwhelming and wonderful. No matter what was in store for them, he would cherish this moment, all the moments.

  "Oh, Dad came to save us!" Charlotte spoke in a deep tone. "Okay, it's cool."

  "Just do what I say and be careful. Those things can still bite," Dad grunted through his sobbing chuckle. He took some deep breaths.

  Carl raised his little gauntlet covered hand and his axe. "That's why we got these."

  "Just!.. Don't!.. Cut yourselves," Dad huffed. He looked around. "Where's Julio? Juanita?"

  "They're keeping watch," Charlotte replied, nodding to a small covered tent area.

  Dad looked to see them with 22s, chilling inside and peering at him. They looked serious but curious at his odd behavior. He waved. They waved back.

  "Gotta always have someone watch our back, Dad," Charlotte reminded.

  Dad nodded slowly.

  "They're okay," Steve said noticing all that had transpired from the ladder. He looked back to Jake below as he stepped back down. "Gotta secure this ladder."

  Jake shrugged relief.

  "God damn it! I mean gosh darn it!" Stu hissed from within, swinging and hacking at something.

  Dad returned back to the ladder, looking down. "Hey Jake, you stay up here and help them, alright?"

  "Yep, yep, sure thing," Jake said. He gave a 'phew' sign. "Glad they're okay."

  "Damn things must have just fallen down and into the classroom," Dad replied. "None got up." He stepped around and reversed down the rickety ladder. "They couldn't get up to the roof."

  As Dad stepped fully on to the ladder, it broke off the wall and he fell backward.

  "Dad!"

  "Oh shit!!!"

  Dad fell back, squashing hard against dead zombies. It took the breath out of him.

  Charlotte came to the roof and looked down to see him laying atop a pile of dead oozing zombies. "Language Dad."

  "Ugggghhhh..."

  3. Nights

  At night in the school corridors, Dad continued to train everyone on sword work. Everyone joined in, the women and the kids.

  Dad reminded all the kids, “Death is quick and before you know it, you're with Christ. So chin up, be brave, follow Charlotte's orders! Fight the good fight! Got it!?”

  "Less you become a zombie," Maggie huffed.

  "Yeah well, you're dead then too!" Dad reached out and gave each kid a high five. He raised his hand too high for Amy, but she leapt up and got it. "Yes!"

  “Now go do all the boring stuff while we have f
un!”

  “Ahhhhh...”

  “Go on! And we'll train you next!”

  Dad had the kids keeping watch along the roof and upper classrooms. Even Amy, the youngest at five, was helping.

  Dad had Jake and Trish keep track of them. They watched what area they were in and which ones came down to train. Trish reminded Dad of those Christian youth leaders. She was like a camp leader, who encouraged the kids, getting them excited to try to spot any creeping zombies.

  Jake was more the silent protector, handling the rifles when the kids got tired or were doing something else.

  Dad felt a sense of security building within them, of teamwork. He thought of Nick, Ray, and Tom who were handling where the dumpsters were parked. Several areas still had bent and broken fencing since the siege.

  They had them strategically placed. There were eight of them, used by the school, and they worked great, even better than the barbecue grills. The dumpsters would smolder all night, keeping what few zombies there were at bay. As a result, it was pretty smokey outside, so most activity was kept inside.

  Most of the school doors were closed and areas blocked off for safety. The cafeteria was off limits with its wall of glass destroyed. It was practically an outside area now. They moved all the food supplies to an upper classroom, out of the sun. It became the new eating area. It was definitely safer though it was a bit dour. They were retreating into a smaller and more confined space.

  Everyone stayed in the main building, the upper floor for now. The east wing that ran by the courtyard was still pretty secure but it felt too open considering their perimeter wasn't truly secure. No one wanted to be out and exposed or too far from help. The fear of the siege still rattled them.

  The main building had all the security and stronger doors. It hid them so there would be no surprises. If zombies got in, they felt they had a chance. Their only chance was to get to the roof and die there. Everyone accepted that as the last place. They wanted to die seeing the sky one last time, night or day. The school, the corridors and classrooms, for the most part, stunk. It was dank and filthy. It would take a long while for them to clear and clean it out.

  Hundreds of zombies had oozed and poured through the windows from the siege pile that once towered outside. They rambled or crawled through the corridors leaving trails of rotted blood. It took awhile to clear out the moving ones, then the dead ones, and now the blobs and stains. Beth had to ration out buckets of cleaning water. They got dirty real quick. The women begged for more cleaning water. A meeting was held. Risks were taken. No one told Dad, not even his wife.

  Dad eyed the women. What were they talking about? At least they were mopping.

  Amador, Nick, and Ray spent time together, walking about in the evening, figuring out how to secure the doors and windows better. They could see the wall of zombies piled against several classroom windows on the west side. They still had a ton of zombies to clear. Many were oozing against cracked windows and metal screens. Those classrooms were closed up for now. There was a horrific stench of oozing blood and bile seeping in. It was still pretty bad.

  Everyone was anxious to get that pile moved and burned off.

  On the first floor, the windows were still intact with their metal screens. They covered the windows up so the crushed zombies and future zombies couldn't see in and be alerted.

  On the second floor, they were going to use all the cabinets and steel doors to barricade up the windows, leaving some slits to fight through. The survivors could poke through, cutting away at zombies that might be building another siege mound.

  “Use the steel and nothing flammable!” Dad reminded, having to raise his voice above the gurgling moaning mounds of stuck zombies. “We may use flame again, to burn them, so I don't want any of our defenses flammable.”

  “Man this is a lot of work,” Ray sighed.

  Overhearing Ray's comment as he trained with a sword, Duanne said with his actor's smile, “Hey, 'bout same as any movie production, right?”

  “Not like we got anything else to do,” Nick added.

  Duanne made some flashy sword moves, showing off his physique, power and endurance. Everyone else paused to see and hear him. The more they watched, the more theatrical he became.

  “Hey, hey, a bit loud," Dad said, waving for Duanne to stop smacking the practice pells so hard.

  They made pells out of blankets and jackets wrapped around coat wracks, tying them to student desks for more stability. The cloth material was great in muffling their strikes. But Duanne's flamboyant powerful swings smacked the material with a loud echo.

  Duanne stopped and gave Dad a slight condescending look.

  "Oh oh, here we go," Steve snickered to Randall.

  Everyone heard and looked.

  "So I can see you have sword training,” Dad humphed.

  Both stared for awhile but couldn't control their gruff laughs. “Yes, yes, I did a lot for show, for show! When I did 'Titans' and 'Roggo the Conqueror'...”

  “'Roggo' was great! 'Titans' sucked,” Dad said.

  Duanne gave that tired smile.

  Dad realized Duanne had heard it all a thousand times before. Dad straightened up. “Your swings are too showy I guess. Watch Cory. Look at how quick and easy he swings, then effortlessly circles back and out again.”

  Duanned looked at Cory who gave a pleasant smile, jerking his own swing awkwardly.

  “'Roggo... the Conquerer'....” Cory said with a fizzle.

  “Continue Cory, show him,” Dad said.

  Cory nodded, then focused and swung again.

  “Easier,” Dad commented. "Stop looking at the movie star."

  Cory nodded again, hesitated, breathed, then started up again. This time he did it smoothly, using his body movements, doing it right.

  "Good focus."

  Cory focused.

  “You gotta go easy, control your breathing, keep a pace. It's an endurance and robotic thing, so you don't get exhausted, emotional, or showy out there,” Dad said.

  Duanne's eyebrow raised. He kept a humble actor's expression.

  “Or go crazy and panic,” Randall added.

  “Yeah, I swing like I'm posing for the camera, which is how I was trained,” Duanne said, posing with that million dollar smile.

  Dad nodded, then nodded for him to focus.

  Duanne got the swing down quickly, the controlled, efficient swing. He nodded appreciation and gave a wink to Cory, who blushed.

  Dad nodded, "Yeah good. You're a quick learner."

  "Hey man, I've trained with the best, paying for the best martial arts experts, special forces, best in the world."

  "Million dollar baby, that's Duanne," Howie, his old buddy commented.

  Duanne gave another big Hollywood smile.

  Dad wasn't sure whether to give an annoyed or appreciative look.

  "And now I'm learning from the best damn zombie killer out there, and that ain't no joke," Duanne said, nodding to Dad.

  Everyone gave smug appreciative looks. Dad smiled humbly.

  Everyone was training again. Dad wanted all of them to keep getting the feel of the swing, to have it ingrained in their psyche, to be instinctive, a muscle memory. He repeated it as he paced amongst them. "Go slow. Let the motion build up your endurance and strength. Get it to be instinctual. Keep going. Easy. Feel the circular motion. Use your hips. Swing at position 1, the neck. Position 2, an arm, if that's what your instincts spot. Do it and don't hesitate. Position 3, cut off that leg, slow them down, back off, more are coming. Stay calm. Bring the sword back, ready for the next and the next. Focus on what's in front of you and let your armor work for you. Don't flinch, don't hesitate, extinguish what is before you, reduce their effectiveness, quickly, efficiently, and controlled. Remember to breathe. Slow down if you are tiring, get your breathing right. If they bite, let your armor work for you. Get your motions right, increasing slowly, getting the right balance. Good, good, easy, good. Keep going."

  4. Barricades

>   Their fortress still did not feel secure with the vast mound of zombies piled high against several classroom windows. Some feared it would break apart, and the masses crushed within the mound would pour into the school and begin anew the nightmare. It would only be another day or two, and they should have the piles down and any live ones exposed.

  So till then, everyone was still sleeping close in the upper floor rooms opposite the wall of zombies on the westside. The mounds were still squirming and oozing. Most of it now was just the rotting, the methane gases and release of bubbling, oozing heat. They kept all the doors on that side shut and the cracks sealed.

  Amador barricaded his family inside the room with Benjamin and Ruth, drilling a few screws in to secure it each night. He'd unscrew it in the morning. Dad ignored it for now. Amador was a hard worker.

  Dad let his family and those he felt 'closest' to sleep in the classroom with him and his wife. Well, not 'closest' to him, but to his daughters, to Lena and Lisa. It was on the east side, just opposite the classroom they used to climb up to the top roof. They did manage to clear the auditorium rooftop of zombie dead.

  Dad, his wife, Charlotte, Lena and Lisa were in there. He reluctantly let Marcus, Stu, Cory, Amanda, and little Amy stay. The others slept with Beth and Randall and their family. He realized having them all there would be helpful anyway, in case there was a fight. His wife was happy for it. She prayed with them all. They did seem happier, calmer since they were together.

  He could see out of their side, the east side. Their windows looked out on the rooftop of the east wing's building and the courtyard. There were plenty of dark lifeless shapes of dead zombies strewn about on the east wing rooftop. It gave him chills. But those were dead-dead. They were just scattered lone figures, no mound of hidden ones ready to leap out.

  The next day, again, early in the cold morning, they went out around the school grounds, clearing more and more of the barely discernible. There were dozens and dozens, but they were slow and stiff, all badly crushed and mangled. Most did not have full bodies. An arm was missing, their legs were gone or they were just trails of shredded flesh, half the body crushed or gone.