Dawn of the Zombie Knights
Once upon a time there was a boy called Adam,
Who liked writing books, to be sure.
He wrote his first children’s book in 1999,
And then wrote a whole heap more.
Now he’s written about a million different books,
Although it might be a little bit less.
But it’s a lot, I’ll tell you that right now,
Maybe 999 999 … at a guess.
Adam Wallace loves writing books,
But doesn’t like eating his words.
He likes smelling musk lifesavers,
But doesn’t like smelling dog … messes.
He loves taking siestas and afternoon naps,
But there are two things that freak him out.
When the moon and sun are both up together,
And fax machines, of course. What are they about?
But all that aside, here are the facts,
The things that you need to know.
He’s 39 years old, 178 cm tall,
And has a 6 cm big toe!
Adam has many other books apart from Pete McGee: Dawn of the Zombie Knights. He even wrote some of them. Check it out!
The first Pete McGee book by Adam Wallace
The Incredible Journey of Pete McGee
The most grossest book by Adam Wallace
Better Out Than In
Picture books by Adam Wallace
The Share-a-not
Mac O’Beasty
The Negatees
Adam’s website is:
www.adam-wallace-books.com
If you email Adam, he will do his very best to write back to you. His email address is:
wally@adam-wallace-books.com
A message from the narrator
Chapter: 1 Dear Diary
Chapter: 2 Fourteen
Chapter: 3 The evil dead
Chapter: 4 Starry, starry knights
Chapter: 5 Feeling testy
Chapter: 6 Black as knight
Chapter: 7 Seemingly insurmountable
Chapter: 8 It got worse
Chapter: 9 Training day 2: the sequel
Chapter: 10 Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes
Chapter: 11 The only way is up
Chapter: 12 It begins … again … sort of … it’s a new beginning okay?!?!
Chapter: 13 Wax on, wax off
Chapter: 14 Fifteen
Chapter: 15 Reunion
Chapter: 16 When zombies attack
Chapter: 17 Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!
Chapter: 18 Return to sender
Chapter: 19 The moment has arrived
Chapter: 20 A fair fight
Chapter: 21 It’s black, it’s white
Chapter: 22 Awwwwwww
For everyone who gets up and fights on, no matter how many times they are knocked down.
reetings readers and listeners. For those of you who didn’t have the pleasure of reading The Incredible Journey of Pete McGee, please allow me to introduce myself. I am the narrator, the teller of stories, the words on these pages creating pictures in your mind. For those of you who did read The Incredible Journey of Pete McGee, you just had to read the exact same thing you read at the start of that book. I would like to say I’m sorry, but I’m not. You see, as a narrator I get paid per word, so even if I repeat stuff from the first Pete McGee book, it’s just extra dollaroonies in this little black duck’s pocket!
Anyway …
I suppose we should get into it.
What you are about to read will blow your mind. It will change your world. It will affect you in ways that only the best fortune teller in the world could predict, and then only on a Tuesday. It will take your mind, mush it up like mashed potato, sculpt it into a statue of the Eiffel Tower, mess it all up again, make it back into a brain and then put it back in your head.
That’s right, after reading this book you will never be the same again.
And that’s brilliant … well, aside from your brain looking like an Eiffel Tower made of mashed potato. But everything else? That’s why we read. That’s what the best books do. They change us. They inspire us to be better or they make us laugh or they make us ring our mum more often or they make us want to bash our heads against a wall. Okay, that last one you would probably do after reading a really crappy and frustrating book, but you get what I mean.
A great story gets inside you. It becomes part of you, and you feel like you’re a part of it, a part of the journey. It feels like you know the characters, like you’re in their world, they’re your friends, they’re your enemies.
So get inside this book. Use all your senses. Imagine what it would feel like to be right there with Pete McGee. Smell the smells, see the colours, rejoice in the good times and feel like clipping Larson Smithers over the ear.
Can you do that?
For me?
Good. You ready then? Okay. Get comfy and let’s go.
Ahem hem …
LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! WELCOME TO THE NEXT INSTALLMENT IN THE JOURNEY THAT IS THE LIFE OF PETE McGEE. IT’S A STORY OF BRAVERY, PERSISTENCE, HONOUR, BULLIES AND, WAIT FOR IT … ZOMBIE KNIGHTS! SO PUT ON YOUR SEATBELTS, TIGHTEN UP THAT HELMET, ADJUST YOUR KNEE AND ELBOW PADS, AND ENJOY … PETE McGEE: DAWN OF THE ZOMBIE KNIGHTS.
Well go on then, these pages aren’t going to turn themselves!
hat you are about to read is an extract from the diary of Arlyle Motain, a warlock from times gone by. The date of the entry has been blurred over the years, but it was made a number of centuries before Pete McGee even came on the scene.
What you are about to read has never been revealed to the public before.
What you are about to read describes the origin of the Wilderene Flower, its long-time guard Dazene, and also the secondary protection that its creator provided.
What you are about to read has been put into a normal font, because Arlyle Motain wrote like a doctor: you could barely read it.
What you are about to read is something that would have come in very handy for Pete McGee, but he never even saw it.
Dear Diary,
It becomes worse. They are everywhere. Those that seek my flower. Those that seek to use it for their own gain and not in the manner for which it was created.
The Wilderene Flower. Still I do not know why I named it thus; I know only that it sounds pleasant to my ears.
The sounds of the masses are not so pleasant.
I am not crazy.
They bray all day. They bray all night. No matter what words they say, although I have told no-one of its existence, all I hear is their desire to take my flower. All I see is their desire to abuse its gifts.
I know that those who knock on my door seek the flower when it is hidden in my trunk.
I know that the fools who bump me in the street seek the flower when it is hidden beneath my cloak.
I know that every sweet, delicious apple pie I purchase has obvious and poorly hidden poisoned apples, designed to be rid of me, the only protection the Wilderene Flower has.
The town drunkard, screeching that he will kill me and then take my flower and have a bottle of whiskey … methinks he seeks my flower also.
My flower.
My creation.
Its pollen, if swallowed, cures any illness and prevents further illnesses from entering the body. This is to ensure humankind continues to evolve and become stronger.
Its scent, if smelt, will grant the one who smells it one wish, whatever his heart desires. This is to ensure humankind’s dreams are fulfilled.
Its thorns, if they touch blood, will kill dead the owner of that blood, and not in a manner pleasant for any who either experience or observe it. This is to ensure that the flower is treated with care, and not grabbed h
arshly, or attempted to be torn apart, or eaten.
I am not crazy.
They seek my flower.
Could it be? Could that which I have created with love and honesty to preserve man’s future bring about its downfall? In the wrong hands, could this flower grant immortality to those who wish power and world domination?
I have no reason to believe this isn’t true and so I must protect the flower.
I have set in motion the steps required to do this.
I attended a castle luncheon in the company of knights of the realm. Having aided the King many times in the past, gaining an invitation was simple indeed. I know the knights wel, both personally and their deeds, and thus I had the Order of Starry, Starry Knights in mind for my mission.
Brave.
Honourable.
Strong.
Loyal.
Determined.
Twelve knights.
A drop of potion in the drink of each.
A drop of potion imbued with magic. They will pass from this world into death, as we all must when the time arrives, but they will not do so in the manner of normal men. These twelve knights will rest underground until they are required.
I will place the flower at the base of the great oak, where I shall guard it myself. If it so happens I am overcome and the flower is removed, the twelve knights will rise from their tombs. From that point on it shall be their duty, their honour, their life’s purpose, to return the flower to the base of the oak, and to defend and protect it with their, wel, not their lives, for they are already dead, so I imagine it would be to defend the Wilderene Flower with their honour and what remains of their partial lives.
One has been informed of my plan. The others shall discover it only when they are required to perform their duty. Sir Fing will take care of that.
I shall transform myself into a creature I shall call Dazene. Again, a pleasant enough sounding name to my ears. As Dazene, I shall protect the flower. I shall be immune to the passing of time, ageless. I shall appear as the greatest fear of those who pursue my flower, for if they are to have its gifts they must overcome such fears and prove they are worthy.
Evil will not be able to overcome this, for evil relies on the fear of others to make itself strong.
This, now, shall be my final entry.
This shall also be the final time I appear on this earth as a human being. As I lower my nib, I shall drink of the potion that will transform me into Dazene.
The future of the flower is assured.
Pity those who attempt to take it for their own.
Fare thee well.
Wow! So there you go. Well, we all know what happened to Dazene in the last book; defeated by Pete McGee, he is no more. Pete got the flower too and used it to bring his mother back from the dead. Everything seemed hunky dory. But now it looks as though there are going to be some sort of zombie knights coming out of the ground to get the flower back. I guess ‘uh oh’ would sum up what that means. Zombie knights, man! Zombies are full on enough, but if they’re knights as well? That is intense.
Let’s return now to Pete McGee, because it’s his time to shine. A year has passed since he returned with the Wilderene Flower. It has been a quiet year, but that is all about to change.
Read on.
PS I’ve blabbed on a lot already. Twice now, and the book has just started. So you won’t hear from me for a while.
PPS I hope you enjoy the story.
PPPS Okay, this is the last thing I will say for a while. I love zombies, so I’m very excited that they’re in the book!
Okay. That’s me done. I’ll be back later.
PPPPS There is no PPPPS!
ete McGee was excited. He was so excited that the sun had barely risen and he had already completed his chores for the day. This hadn’t made it easy for anyone else in the house to sleep, but he wasn’t too fussed about that. Normally, if it was early, he would creep around and do everything quietly, but today was different. Today of all days he didn’t care one bit about making noise. He actually couldn’t understand why no-one else was up. What was wrong with them? Didn’t they know what day it was?
The McGee household had changed a lot in the year since Pete had returned with the Wilderene Flower. For one thing, his mum was back and she wasn’t sick and confined to bed, unable to do anything let alone have fun. She was like the mum Pete remembered from when he was young, a mum he had almost forgotten existed through the hard times of her illness.
She was back now though, and the place had picked up her energy.
Marloynne and Ashlyn also lived with the McGees. Pete and Ashlyn had become instant friends from the moment Pete stood up to King Cyril the Dead-and-Buried’s guards. The friendship had grown, and was solidified when Pete saved Marloynne from the King and reunited him with his true love, Ashlyn.
Both Marloynne and Ashlyn had worked in the castle. With the death of King Cyril the Exploding-Head, a new King had been inaugurated. His name was King Rayon, which Pete thought was extremely kingly sounding, a much better name for a king than Cyril.
King Rayon had reinstated Ashlyn and Marloynne to the castle. The jobs didn’t pay much, but with Mrs McGee also back to full health and able to pick up some work here and there, it meant more money than the McGees had seen in a long, long time. The extra hands around the house also meant that the crops they tended flourished, the house was cleaner, they had healthier animals and were even able to get another chicken.
Things were good.
Things were, in fact, AWESOME! It was the day of Pete McGee’s fourteenth birthday. This was the age that young men were eligible to train with a mentor, to learn and to grow so that they may one day become a great knight. This was, and had always been, Pete’s dream. Sir Pete McGee. Imagine. Sir Pete McGee. He dreamed it for himself and he dreamed it for his mother, who had always told him he could be anything, that he would show the world just how great a man with one arm could be. He wanted to prove her right again and again.
Not that he thought about it a lot anymore, but at times like this it struck home … he only had one arm. No other knight had any disability of any kind. They were like the perfect humans. Tall, strong, muscular, skilful. They had it all. Perfect hair. Perfect stance. They even all had that chiselled jaw that made them look like their parents hadn’t had a baby the normal way, but had got a huge rock, chiselled away at it for nine months, and made a rock baby that grew into a looked-like-he-was-carved-out-of-rock man.
Pete didn’t look like he had been carved out of rock. If he had been, his parents mustn’t have been great stone masons. There was his missing arm, for starters, which made it look like they’d begun chiselling too close to the edge.
He was skinny too, although extra money meant extra food, and Pete was starting to bulk up a little. Only a little though, and he still looked like he would blow away in a strong wind.
His hair was messy, like they had gotten bored with chiselling, and it was also a little long, probably because there had been some spare rock at the top.
In a small way it bothered Pete, being who he was. Mainly though, he just wanted to be a knight. His mum believed in him, he knew that, and that was what had seen him through his last quest. So knights were usually big and strong and broad-shouldered and chisel-jawed … so what? No-one had ever gotten the Wilderene Flower either, and he did that, so ner!
That’s what he thought … so ner. Yes, sometimes Pete McGee could be as mature (not!) as anyone else.
But now he was fourteen. He had a chance to become a knight by name. He knew there were rules, things he should have already done, certain families he should have been born into. He knew these things stood in his way, but he was determined to overcome them. He knew he could overcome them. His mum always told him to abide by rules, but come on! These rules were like three hundred years old and rules could be bent and King Rayon was kind of cool and Pete was sure … he stopped thinking about all of that. He would deal with the rules when it was time.
Right now, even though he was fourteen and aimed to be a great knight, there was still plenty of time to be a normal kid. This meant he needed to wake up his mum, Ashlyn and Marloynne. It was present time!
King Rayon stood in his chambers. He was not an overly tall man, yet he seemed tall. It was in the way he carried himself, his aura. His broad shoulders looked as though they could support any weight placed upon them, although his skinny little legs looked as though they could be snapped like a toothpick.
The King walked around his room, his thoughts turning to the events of the day. A speech; a meeting with rich people who wanted lower taxes so they could have more money; lunch; another meeting with the same rich people who, along with wanting the lower taxes, also wanted better roads.
After that was what King Rayon looked forward to. Meeting the future knights of the realm and attaching them to the knight who would train them. This really was a great day. Any lad who had turned fourteen during the past twelve months could apply, although, even as he thought this, he knew it wasn’t true.
There were limited spots for new trainee knights. Those who had served as a page in a lord’s castle; those who had money; they were the ones who were chosen.
He would not even see many of the down-and-outers, for they knew how things worked. They knew which boys would be selected.
King Rayon knew something of down-and-outers. Not that he hadn’t been born into a rich family, for he had. In fact, his family had been so rich that their horses slept in their own rooms. That’s right, the horses had their own section of the house! No stables for them.
Rayon and his family ate caviar and other rich-sounding food for breakfast, and their servants rode around on prancing horses. Not just outside either, but even when delivering food from the kitchen to the dining area.
Clothes would not be washed. A new outfit would simply be bought once a speck of dirt appeared on the old clothes.
So they were rich. Not filthy rich, because they just kept buying clothes, but they were rich all the same.
Rayon, at age seven, received the opposite in tuition to that of a future knight. He was not sent to work for a lord. He was, in fact, sent to work as a farm boy for one of the poorer families in the district. This was part of his parents’ plan to let him experience all sides of life. They knew that he was seventh in line for the royal throne, and they wanted him to be able to relate not only to the upper class, but also the middle, lower, and lowest-of-the-low classes. That was what they believed would make a great king, and so Rayon was sent off to experience all that being a peasant could offer.