GP
“I was at the dojo when it happened. We’d all heard the news. The attacks in Idaho. The spread of a virus. Countries going under quarantine. But we had it under control. At least that’s what we were being told. Every night new images and a new talking head talking about it being another ‘isolated event’ and ‘nothing to worry about.’” The big man looks up as the memory fills his mind. “I was teaching a class of little kids. Four and five-year-olds. I always had fun with them.” He stops for a moment, takes a deep breath, and continues, “We were going over our Kenpo when the car crashed outside. One car swerved to avoid someone in the street, cut across the lane into oncoming traffic, and was hit by the oncoming SUV which slammed the first car into a parked car. We heard the sound of glass shattering and metal bending in the class. A couple of parents ran out to see if they could help. I told my assistant, Tommy, to keep the kids calm and away from the windows and I ran out. There was a guy in the street just covered in blood. I watched as Mark, one of the dads, ran over to check on him. This guy reached out, grabbed Mark, pulled him, and tore a chunk out of his neck. Blood spurt into the air like in one of those Tarantino movies. I heard screaming behind me. The kids had gotten to the window and saw what happened, Tommy was trying to wrangle them away but it was too late. I turned around and watched as the color drained from Mark’s face. His eyes clouded over and he lunged at another one of the dads biting the guy on the arm. The first guy had bitten two more people. People were screaming. Some were still trying to help. Others started running. A car accident turned into complete chaos in a matter of moments.” He looks down at his hands, “Mark was coming at me. This is a guy whose kid is been teaching for two years. I saw him multiple times a week. He was coming at me arms outstretched and mouth open like a wild animal. I punched him in the nose as hard as I could. It was an uppercut. I made full contact. He fell right to the ground, I heard his head hit with a wet ‘thunk.’ Blood poured out of his nose, or what was left of his nose. I ran back to the dojo. I had to help those kids.”
———-
The class had started, and 20 four and five-year-olds were excitedly going over their stretches and warm-up. Happy giggles filled the air as parents looked on from the side. The lead Sensei and his assistant began alternating between serious karate class and fun games meant to build the kids' confidence and coordination.
“Okay. Nice job. Now we’re gonna do our Kenpo.” The kids quickly took their spots on the padded floor, little pieces of tape reminding them where to stand. “Let’s see your best Horse Stance.” The kids jumped into horse stances, or what they thought their Sensei meant. “Excellent.” He smiles at his students. “Here we go, Kenpo one.” The toddlers shouted “Kenpo one!”
CRASH!
The sounds of bending metal and breaking glass got everyone’s attention. Several parents ran outside to check out the commotion. “Holy... Tommy, watch the kids. Keep them from the window.” Sensei Greg followed. A car had crossed the center line and crashed into a tree right in front of the dojo. Another car had smashed into it from the opposite direction. There was a man covered in blood standing in the middle of the street. One of the parents, Mark, ran over to check on him when the blood-covered brute grabbed him and tore a chunk out of his neck. Blood spurt into the air like a fountain. “Mark!”
Screaming from behind drew Greg’s attention away for a split second. His little ones were at the window watching the terror unfold. Tommy was trying his best to get them back from the window. A couple of other parents were trying to help. He saw several grab their kids and run to their cars. He turned around in time to watch as the color drained from Mark’s face and his eyes clouded over. The first victim had attacked two more good samaritans trying to help.
A simple car accident had turned into absolute bedlam.
Mark was making his way toward Greg. Arms outstretched. Lips pulled back and he was snarling like a rabid beast. This was the father of a kid he’d been teaching for two years. They spoke at the beginning and end of every class. “Mark!?” Greg took a step back. His body falling into position. “Stay back, Mark.” He lunged. Sensei Greg landed a solid blow to Mark’s nose. He fell with a thunk as the back of his head slammed into the asphalt. Red blood poured from his nose turning into a sickly black ooze before stopping in a matter of seconds. Someone grabbed his arm, he turned to swing, and stopped short. It was one of the moms, Claire, “We’ve gotta get off the street.” She turned and ran back to the dojo. Greg followed. He pulled the door shut and threw the bolt. Children were crying while Tommy and the few other parents there trying to console them. Of the 20 kids that had been in class 14 remained. There were parents for eight. Three had been dropped off while their parents went for coffee, the rest were outside. Tommy looked up and pulled him to the side, “What the fuck is going on out there?”
“Shhh. Lower your voice. We’ve gotta keep it together.” He pulled him towards a back corner, “I have no damn idea what’s happening but it’s not good.”
“Do you just punch Mark?”
“Yeah”
“What the hell, man?”
The screaming immediately grabbed their attention. Mark and several other people were relentlessly banging on the large windows. They started to crack. “Get the kids in the office now!” Tommy and the parents grabbed the kids and ran them to the cramped back office. “Tommy close the blinds.” Sensei Greg grabbed a sword off the weapons display in the main area. Most were dull training weapons; Butterfly Swords, Tai Chi Swords, Sai, and more. But several pieces were “battle worthy” katana, at least that’s what the website selling them claimed. Tommy ran next to him with Marcus the father of little Allie. He trained with them on Thursday nights in Iaido. They each grabbed a sword. The pounding continued. The glass gave way.
The blood-soaked monsters climbed through the shattered glass, skin tearing, without so much as a flinch. They went straight for the sword-wielding trio.
