THE KNIGHTS FROM OLDEN MEDIEVAL DAYS

the army will drop bombs Daddy said and Mommy said crying we got to leave the city we'll be A-OK at Grandma's and catch fish and grow veggies in the garden and hide in trees but we couldn't drive no more cause sick people's bloody bodies stopping traffic biting at cars and tires twisted twitching bodies biting at people running from cars always biting 

why always biting

At an intersection leading to a causeway an undraped mannequin was sprawled out, its body covered with bite marks. The girl looked at the bricks and twisted metal that seemed to line a pathway. She looked forward — the sky was blue ahead — and there were spires bearing blustering golden-and-crimson flags.

A castle was on the horizon.

"Old-en Middy-Evil Days!" the girl exclaimed.

Mommy and Daddy surrounded and Daddy shouted RUN to the castle kids you'll be safe disappearing under sick biting people STOP SCREAMING STOP SCREAMING Billy grabbed Daddy's axe off ground Billy was so fast always so angry swinging Daddy's axe like his baseball bat in Little League shouting RUN for the castle I'll catch up I'll hold them off RUN for the castle I was scared but ran could see castle not far 

got chased got lost hide with fuzzy mice and creepy spiders all live together scared under big pile of rocks 

At the castle, bowmen emerged from behind crenellations, waving in broad arcs. The castle was surrounded by a makeshift cinderblock wall, with murder holes that revealed the glitter of chain-mailed guards. There was a gap in the wall, just wide enough for a horse, blocked by a pickup truck. Someone shouted ‘Clear!' and the pickup rolled forward. The riders trotted their steeds onto the green lining the front of the castle gate. Two boys ran over and took the reins of the horses. A young woman reached up toward the girl and helped her dismount.

Three guards stood by the gateway passage. They bumped fists with the knights, and opened the gate. Floodlights lit the passageway and from down the hall came the hum of generators. Midway down the passage was a room with a sign that read "RESERVATIONS ONLY" and Lancer, with the girl behind him, entered, as Jay continued down the hall.

A woman with punkish spiked hair sat at a table by an open window overlooking a courtyard. She was juggling tennis balls and (without dropping a ball) asked, "What up, Lance-man? Hey, brought back a friend — any others?"

Lancer removed his helmet and dreadlocks billowed out. "Just one this time, Abby."

"What's your name, dear?" Abby asked the girl.

"Sydney."

"Cool, reminds me of Australia — shrimp on the bar-bee, mate — you know… Shoot, I'd always wanted to go there," Abby replied.

Sydney pointed at a painting near the window and asked Lance, "Do you still joost like in the picture? We came here on my brother's birthday and you joosted."

Lancer smiled at Abby and turned to Sydney, "Sorry, no more jousts. We can't be pretend knights anymore."

Lancer looked out the window at a sturdily-built middle-aged woman thrusting a wooden sword at the duct-tape X in the middle of a punching bag.

"Hey, Myra, know where Phil's new page is?"

"He's probably with the other greenhorns knee-deep in shit in the stables, hon. Want me to go see?"

"Yeah, and bring him up if you find him. Thanks."

A few minutes passed and Myra entered the room followed by a wiry preteen boy wearing chainmail over a boiled leather tunic. He handed Myra his axe as Sydney rushed towards him.

Outside, the snapping riposte of flags heralded the winds of evening.