Dead and Dead Again: Kansas City Quarantine (16 page)

“There were materials left over
from the axes. I had to make something,” the big man said proudly.

“They are perfect.”

“No additional charge.”

“You probably could have sold these
for the same price I’m paying for the axes.”

“Perhaps. But when I finished, I
knew they should go together. Especially when I saw the changes on the backpack
my wife had made. She’s the Leatherworker. We had fun designing that carrier.
When she added the knife slots, I knew exactly what to make with the extra
materials. I’ve rarely enjoyed a project more, Mr. Hobbes.”

“Call me Calvin, please,” Calvin
asked.

“Have I ever?”

“It’s Scooter!” Athena shouted from
the wagon about ten yards away.

Both men ignored her.

“The Labrys is not very good for
anything other than chopping pumpkins and watermelons with. It’s too unwieldy
to actually use in battle, for any but the largest of individuals, anyway. And
even then, there are better weapons, like your battle axes, which will do as
much damage with less energy exerted.

“I know about DPS and fatigue,
William,” Calvin said, putting a hand up to stall the other man. “You explained
all of that to me last time. This is what I ordered, and you did a magnificent
job, as usual.”

“Your pictures were a great help. I
especially enjoyed the golden inlay design work. It took me several tries to
get them right. I love a good challenge.”

“Part of it is my family crest and
some added history. My family comes from England and can be traced back to
before William of Normandy landed. One of my ancestors was a king. Not a big
king, but one of many kings back then.”

“That’s…actually pretty awesome,” the
Smith nodded, truly impressed. “I haven’t checked my own heritage beyond my
grandparents,” he explained with a grimace.

“I wouldn’t have either, but when
my parents died I met all of these people I didn’t know I was related to and learned
that half of my family is from England. They’re all into finding out how close
they are to the throne over there. So I used their work and followed it further
back. I’m afraid I got a little obsessed dealing with the loss.”

“I’m sorry about your parents,” the
big smith said.

“It was a long time ago now,”
Calvin waved him off.

“How close are you to the throne?”
the big man asked, changing the subject to avoid an awkward silence.

“I’m about three-hundredth in line,
I think…I’ve got a Duke cousin who is actually on the charts that they post for
the public.”

“Nice.”

“But I
am
a direct line from
that earlier king. His name was Calvin, too…or something close to Calvin,
anyway—can I pull the Labrys out with both of the others still sheathed?” he
segued.

“You sure can.”

Calvin pulled the large axe out of
the carrying sheath on his back and, with a slight grunt of effort, gave it a
few swings. It was incredibly hard to guide or change direction with unless he
waited until it was at the apex of its arc or the end of the swing.

“Take a few more swings with it,”
the smith encouraged him to whack some of the targets he had lined out next to
his shop, then he grabbed another armload of weapons and carried them to the
wagon. When he returned to the shop, Athena was there trying to get her arms
around a huge bundle of spears and swords. He rushed forward to the other end
and showed her how to grab the blanket beneath them and they picked it up like
a hammock from both ends.

“So, what is going on, if you don’t
mind my asking?” William asked Athena while they each side-shuffled with half
of the stack of heavy weapons between them.

“Zombies have taken over downtown.
We’re going to save some friends from them and then head somewhere safe,” she
replied calmly. “Ooh, do you have any of these with a pearl handle, or
diamonds, anything studded with
real
diamonds?” she begged, holding up a
dagger and ignoring the look of incredulity on the man’s face.

“I’ll...what…I will see what I can
do. I’ll make you a dozen, half price.”

“Oh…I doubt there’s time for that,”
she replied in a forlorn mutter. “What with the impending apocalypse and all.”

“I’m sorry, but did you say
zombies?”

“Yes. Apparently there was a plane
crash at the parade downtown and there’s a virus and lots of people running
around eating each other.”

William dropped his end of the
stack on the wagon and moved in close to help her put her end down.

“Real Zombies?” he blurted in
astonishment.

She nodded.

“Come with me, please,” he whispered
and marched off to his stall, long legs taking strides twice what Athena could
manage. She had to run to keep pace with the man, but only slipped twice in the
straw-packed mud. When they reached the wooden shop the smith bent down to a
flat bench that seemed to have been carved out of a tree. There was a lock
inset within the edge of the top and he produced a golden key from a chain
hidden somewhere within the folds of his leather tunic.

“Technically, you have bought
everything in my shop. While I never put this on the list, I now believe it is
truly yours.”

“Ooh, what is it?” Athena asked in
wonder.

 “This is my own Damascus version
of a Philippine Panabas. It is a more modern example of a colonial Philippine
weapon. As you can see it is a mix between axe and sword with a two-foot
handle, and a one-and-a-half-foot boomerang-shaped, single-edged blade.
Narrower but thicker at the hilt and much wider towards the end of the blade, it
gains power in the swing and, thanks to its shape, lends the wielder a special
kind of leverage, requiring only a slight tug in the right direction to remove it
from a target.

He nodded over to where Calvin was
taking swipes at a wooden post with the great Labrys. “Like your boyfriend’s
axes, I forged this one from over two hundred layers of thirty-six of the
lightest, strongest, and purest ores I’ve ever found. I wanted them to be
special. I didn’t know why until now.” He handed it to her with both hands
shaking and she nearly fell backwards as she over-prepared for its surprising
lightness. Her dark eyes squinted as she tried to read the writing along haft
and blade.

“I don’t recognize this language…”

“Because so many versions of this
weapon resemble the blades used by the Elves defending Helm’s Deep in the Peter
Jackson films, or vice versa as the case must be, the runes along the blade
were translated and written down for me by a friend from official Tolkien
Elvish. It might not mean anything to someone not well versed in Tolkien.”

“I’ve been force-fed LoTR and
D&D since my fourth date with Calvin.”

“Well, the inscription reads:
‘Slayer of the Dead’ and has several words of power added in there. There are thirty
layers of silver mixed in for vampires and werewolves.”

She squinted as if he were crazy.

“Don’t laugh. You just told me you
are going zombie-hunting. And your boyfriend’s axes are called “Headsplitter”
and “Brainslicer” and the Labrys, the double-bladed one as wide as he is? It’s
called “Zombie’s Bane”. The Labrys is garbage as an actual weapon in battle,
but is perfectly suited for taking heads from those who aren’t swinging a blade
back at you. Hell, as I forged it, I pictured a fully armored warrior alone
atop a hill surrounded by a mob of a thousand Undead, the man swinging the
blade in continuous arcs around himself until his strength failed him.”

“You’ve got to be kidding,” she
half-scoffed.

“It’s not really something you
would pull out for any normal fighting because even with the materials from
which it is made it is still too heavy to change direction easily. You have to
wait until it reaches an exact point in the arc and that is simply too
inefficient to adjust on each swing. I’ve never met anyone who actually liked
using one.”

 “Oh, Calvin has a dozen of them at
home that he practices with all the time. But…you actually made weapons for
slaying the dead?” Athena asked.

“Hey, look now, missy. I wasn’t exactly
expecting anyone to ever actually be killing Zombies with it. No more than I
believe you two are actually going out to do that now. But I am a Master
Weaponsmith. There is always an air of the fantastical in this field in modern
times. I design my elite weapons for a specific purpose, and that’s what the
purpose of these weapons is.” He nodded for her to heft the weapon again.

“I make no apology for what I do,
because I love it.”

“You are a master, sir,” she
complimented the big blonde man.

Surprisingly light, Athena swung it
with ease into the compressed leather-bound hay ball the man pointed her to. It
chunked heartily and drove easily through the lump, sending two halves to the floor
separately, cleanly sliced.

“The Panabas ranks as my ultimate
weapon for smaller soldiers dispatching larger opponents with a single chopping
blow to the head or extremities, especially those opponents who aren’t well armored.
Designed and forged for warriors of slighter build, it can be carried in
anything from this designed scabbard to something as basic as a heavy cloth sling
and can defend against swords, which many spears cannot.”

“Thank you very much, William. Are
you sure you don’t want to come with us? We’ve bought you out, too.”

“No. Although I do think I’ll leave
for the rest of the day and take my family down to the farm,” he said with a
hearty smile.

“Well, be careful.”

“Ok, we are ready now,” Quinn
informed them from the cart. “Everyone grab one of the pull handles. We’ve
never tried to move so much at once before. We’re going to that entrance,” he
pointed to what looked like new privacy fence artistically painted to
accurately resemble a stone wall. It took Athena a minute to spy out the hinges
on the sides and a handle in the middle signifying that it was actually a gate.

Calvin, Athena and the three
craftsmen were unable to move the large cart, but three large drunk
festival-goers stumbled over to help, thinking it was some kind of game and, after
much grunting, sweating and more than a little cursing, the group was
eventually able to move the cart close enough to the gate to suit the two
craftsmen. The drunks were not too disappointed about losing out on a prize
after Athena pointed out to them that the world might be coming to an end and
that they would not have had too long to enjoy whatever the prize would have
been anyway. She also pretended not to notice them staring at her cleavage
through the armor links for almost a full minute before she shooed them away.
The three men wandered off in good spirits, although slightly confused. Contributing
their confusion to a drop in their alcohol/blood content, the inebriated trio
promptly ordered two large mugs of Black & Tan each from the nearest
serving wench and stumbled off to find some turkey legs to munch on.

Marcus and Quinn each stepped to
one of the handles for the double-gate and pulled them apart with a groaning
creak to reveal Quinn’s vehicle, a jet-black Army Humvee M997 Ambulance. Calvin
did a quick run around it. No red cross, but it did have the snorkels on the
front for intake and rear for exhaust, a large wench bolted to a heavy iron
brush guard on the front bumper. A large air conditioning system sat just above
the cab and could re-circulate the air within the air-tight interior.

“Everything should fit in here. We
will need to find some place to store it all if you plan on using this vehicle
in the future, however,” Quinn warned as Marcus and Trip both jumped into the
back and started taking weapons and armor from the other three.

“So, you planning to hang around
with us after all?” Calvin asked.

“A deal is a deal,” the big smith
replied solemnly.

It took them another fifteen
minutes of ear-numbing clanging of metal on metal to load the equipment. Even with
all of the additional weight, there was little noticeable drop in the vehicle
clearance. With a wave to William and the apprentice, the three were off, driving
carefully through the pitted gravel driveway, Calvin in the passenger seat and
Athena in a jump seat right behind and between the two front over-sized bucket
seats.

“It’s got a beefed up suspension
for running extremely rugged terrain with a fully-loaded bed,” explained the
flaming haired smith as he splashed through a deep, three foot diameter puddle
without pausing.

“Wait! Turn in here,” Athena exclaimed.

“We need to go, Athena,” Scooter
warned her.

“Just a sec.We need to follow your
own rules, Calvin.”

“Oh. Oh, yeah. Sorry, I didn’t even
think about it,” he agreed.

“What?” Quinn asked gruffly.

“Our emergency kits,” Calvin
explained with a shy grimace. “I always keep at least one in the back of my car.”

“If you’ve got something in there
for this disaster, you really know how to plan,” The big man laughed heartily.

They pointed out Calvin’s silver
SUV and when the smith turned around and backed up to the car, the two jumped
out and pulled three big red, rugged-appearing suitcases from the deep storage
area and ran them over to the bed of the big ambulance. When both had once
again buckled up, Athena reached two fingers into her helm and kissed them,
then rubbed them on Calvin’s cheek, thereby giving him a ‘kiss’

“There, now we’re compliant with Scooter’s
Doomsday Survival Manual.”

“I hope everyone followed the prep
chapters.”

“Sure they did,” Athena lied. Her
own parents loved Calvin, but they had set his handbook aside as a crazy hobby
gone slightly out of control. It had done nothing but collect dust on one of
her dad’s den shelves for years.

“Don’t patronize me,” he snapped.

“I wasn’t patronizing you; I was
contributing to your delusion. There’s a difference.”