by M. D. Massey
Cole makes sure to sit next to me at breakfast. When everyone is busy talking and eating, he leans over toward me and whispers.
“Watch your back with Clayton. If he thinks it was just a mistake then you’re good, but if he thinks you know more than he does, he’ll go out of his way to put you in your place.”
I frown and glance around the room. “Thanks for the warning.”
I decide right then that I will start wearing my holsters with my knives all the time. If someone doesn’t like it, oh well. I don’t plan to let any danger from the outside or the inner circle hurt me or my baby.
My backpack is on and filled with extras for Pierce, and hidden in the front pocket is my gun and an extra clip, just in case. Since I’m with ‘family,’ I decide that I’ll only put the outside knives in the holsters. If the zombies get past the perimeter guard, then I’ll need more than a knife, but for a walk up the mountain it should be more than sufficient.
Nana and Kathryn are waiting out by the golf cart that will carry us up the mountain.
Pierce is changed and fed, content in the sling as he cuddles into my chest, leaving my arms free in case I need them.
Kathryn sits on the back so that I won’t have to hold on as much with Pierce. Nana’s the driver, and even eighties, she’s not afraid to drive fast.
I can see a few little cabins in a clearing about a half mile up the dirt road. There’s a small one that could be on one of those tiny house show. There’s a larger barracks type building that has lots of bunks, and a larger cabin that holds several individual rooms, plus a kitchen to feed those that are sleeping in the bunkhouse.
Nana pulls up in front of the tiny house and stops.
My dad opens the door as we pull up. He eyes baby Pierce warily as I walk up.
“She’s had a bad morning so I’m not sure how she’s going to react, but come in, and let’s find out.” He holds the door open. “I’m Neil. Wait, didn’t we meet at their wedding?”
“Yes, but it’s been a few years now,” Kathryn graciously answers.
“Mom, I’ve got a special someone for you. Pierce, here’s your grandma.” I work to take him out of the sling as the others came into the room with my mom sitting in the rocking chair.
“You brought the baby?” She sits up, alert and anxious.
“Your grandson, Pierce.” Unsure if I should let her have him, I go with my gut and place him in her arms.
“He’s so little.” She starts to rock him gently for a few minutes, while the rest of us sit or stand in the small space, watching her.
He starts to fuss just a little and squirm, but that’s enough for my mom.
“Emma, can you take the baby for a while? I’m really tired, and I think I need to go take a nap.” She gets up so suddenly, that if I hadn’t been standing there, she would have dropped him to the floor.
“I’ll go make sure that she’s okay. If you’ll excuse me.” My dad leaves the small living room and goes through the one door leading to the bedroom.
“Well, that wasn’t exactly what I had expected, but I guess it went okay.” I try to play off the strangeness of my mother’s behavior.
“Oh, sweetie, you don’t have to apologize. She’s not the first person to have a few problems, and not be quite right afterward,” Nana assures me.
Kathryn holds the door open for us as we walk out onto the small porch.
When we get to the golf cart, I get in the passenger’s seat and begin to rearrange Pierce as the seat dips under Kathryn’s weight next to me.
I look up, confused.
“I’ll see you and Kathryn later, dear.” Nana pats me on the back and begins down the path toward her home.
“What? You’re not coming to see Granny Earlene with us?” I ask, not understanding what’s going on.
“Hell no. That woman has hates my guts since I took her son away from her.” Nana pauses at the fork that leads up the trail, back to her house.
Shock covers my face as I try to process Nana’s anger. “Haven’t you always lived on Jackson Mountain since you and Pop got married?”
“Exactly. That woman,” Nana points up the hill, “has always lived less than a mile from us, but I took her son away from her. I’m too old to put up with her nonsense these days. So when I don’t have to see her, I don’t.” With that, Nana turns on her heel and marches down the mountain, away from Granny Earlene’s.
“Well, this morning is just full of surprises,” I exclaim, leaning back against the seat.
“Don’t get too comfortable yet. We need to talk about Haley,” Kathryn states as she takes the parking brake off and we start forward up the mountain.
“What about Haley?” I ask, not wanting to pick a side yet.
“You two looked really cozy when you got back last night.” Kathryn looks at me accusingly.
“I’m not sure I’m understanding the problem. She’s Dawson’s wife. We all went on a dangerous trip through which we got to know each other. Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do, get to know Brad’s family better?”
I’m going to make her say what she doesn’t like about Haley if I have to get out and walk up the hill to do it.
“Don’t you know what she did?” Kathryn asks, certain that I couldn’t possibly and still be friends with her.
“What did she do? Marry Dawson and become Andi’s stepmother?”
“She stole Dawson from Andi’s mother,” Kathryn informs me, almost gleeful in sharing her side of events.
“Really? So the fact that Carole was a lesbian and went to live with her lover had nothing to do with her leaving Dawson and Andi alone?” I know I should stay out of it, but I just can’t help put a busybody in her place, even if she is Brad’s mother.
“What?” Kathryn steps on the brakes and I’m almost thrown from the cart with Pierce.
“Carole was gay. She liked girls. Ask Andi, she knows about it as well.” I know by her reaction that it’s not something Dawson has talked about.
“Seriously? We always assumed that Haley was hitting on him because she was Andi’s babysitter, so Carole left because she’d had enough.” Kathryn takes a few deep breaths to steady herself.
“I think that it was a long time ago, and you might want to try getting to know Haley for who she is and not based on assumptions. The world could end tomorrow, and all those things don’t really matter anymore. She’s family, and Dawson loves her. He wants to be here, but he’ll leave if he thinks that the clan won’t take care of her.” I sway back and forth slightly to keep Pierce happy.
“Why didn’t they tell us?” Kathryn has a tear running down her face.
“They knew that people on the mountain weren’t progressive and didn’t want to have anyone cause problems.” I know this will take some time to process. “Just start by being nice to her and including her in things. If you do that, then the others will follow your lead.”
“Thank you for telling me. I just wish they had trusted us enough so we hadn’t wasted all these years being mad.” Kathryn wipes her eyes.
“Well, you kind of proved their point with how you treated her, so just show them that they can trust you now. They’ll tell you in their own time.”
She starts up the hill again, and we finally arrive at Granny Earlene’s cabin.
Cabin is a very generous term because while the logs on the cabin are still standing, the whole building tilts to the right, while the chimney leans in the other direction. It gives it a weird look that makes me tilt my head from side to side.
The first thing about Granny Earlene is the cackle that echoes from the darkened interior.
A small bundle of paisley covered cloth moves through the door and into the doorway.
“If it ain’t my Brad’s baby. You bring that child right up here and let me bless his little soul.” The crackly voice comes through a toothless mouth, surrounded by withered skin that seems to have grown loose around the bones, giving the flesh that I can see a flapping appearance.
At least I know Granny Earlene is alive since she’s talking to us as we gingerly walk up the steps. The porch’s boards are uneven as I make my way to the rocking chair where she’s sat down, motioning with a bony, almost skeletal hand, for me to join her.
“Hey, Kathryn. I see you got visitation duties this morning,” a voice from inside speaks as I pass by.
“Good morning, Pat,” Kathryn responds, following me to the chairs.
“Oh, it’s a wee little thing. You’ll have to hold him on my lap. I don’t trust myself to keep him from falling.” Granny cackles in delight at the baby boy in front of her.
I do as she asks and hold Pierce just off of her lap, which places the backs of my hands against her knobby knees.
Two other hands reach around me to touch Pierce’s head, as two voices begin the blessing.
“May your days be bright and long. May you be the fastest and the strongest of the clan. May they look to you as their leader and listen because you hear the voices that will help the clan survive.” Granny’s voice gives a shrill cackle, while the other two echo her words.
Pat is holding a little vial of something which Granny dips her finger in and wipes in the shape of a cross on his forehead.
I don’t want to offend them, but this is getting out of hand, so I lift Pierce from her lap and look over, hoping that Kathryn will get us out of there.
“He’s such a blessing. Can you see the light surrounding him?” Pat asks Granny Earlene.
“Surely can. That baby will save us and help his family so that we can stay on the mountain. There’s always one in every generation that has the special light. I won’t be around to see it, but mark my words, he’s special.” She points her finger at us to emphasize her words.
She suddenly flings her head back, like someone has placed her head wrong on her shoulders.
“What happened? Did she die?” I clutch Pierce close and back up.
“Oh no, she’s just fainted.” Pat picked up a vial and holds it under her nose to revive her.
“Kathryn, I think we need to head back home. Little man is going to need a diaper change, and his stuff is back at the house.” I almost run to the golf cart, not waiting to see if she follows.
Granny cracks an eye open. “Did it work? Did we scare her?”
“I believe you did. Now, I’ve got to ride down there and calm her down. Bye, Pat. Granny.”
Wide-eyed, I don’t say anything as we drive down the mountain. When she stops at the house, I get off, still holding Pierce tightly.
“I think I’ll go in now.” I turn and go inside without looking back.
I can only hope that Brad will come rescue me from the crazy part of his family because if this is a normal welcome for a baby, then I’m not sure we can stay here.
Before I finish changing Pierce’s diaper, there’s a knock on the door.
Kelly stands in the doorway with a smirk on her face.
“They want you in the family room.” Her tone sounds like I’m in trouble for something.
I use a wipe to clean my hands after changing his diaper and go out to face the music for whatever I’d done.
“Surprise!” The entire family, except for those on guard duty, are crowded into the room.
“Welcome to the family.” Nana grins.
“I’m not sure I understand. I got married to Brad over two years ago.” I look at all the smiling faces, but have no idea why they’re so happy.
“You passed the initiation. Granny Earlene always likes to “bless” the babies, and if the mothers don’t run screaming then we know they’re made of stern stuff and can survive anything,” Kathryn chimes in.
“So that wasn’t real?” I ask, feeling relieved that maybe the crazy genes only run on my side of the family.
“Nope. Even the feud between Granny and Nana was to test you. They have to know that you’ll stand up for the family, even if there are two sides to it.” As Pop explains, my eyes meet Kathryn’s in acknowledgement of which side I’m on in the Haley matter.
The entire family has to hug me and welcome me to the real family.
“Does this mean I get to know all the secret things the guys went out to get the other day?” I joke.
“We’ll give you the family tour later,” Cole promises.
I look around the room and realize that I already feel a part of the family. The only thing that will make my world better would be to have Brad by my side.
* * *
The End for now…to be continued in the next book.
About the Author
To learn more about author Alathia Paris Morgan, visit her at Website!
Since the Sirens
E.E. Isherwood
Copyright © 2015 E.E. Isherwood
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
ISBN: 1522774831
ISBN-13: 978-1522774839
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Fiction / Science Fiction / Apocalyptic & Post-Apocalyptic
For Gabriel and Katie, my little zombies.
Introduction
Introduction to the Sirens of the Zombie Apocalypse series.
* * *
I have plans to write nine books, or more, in this series. Come with my "everyday family" as they escape zombies, endure losses, share their strengths, and look for hope in a crumbling universe that refuses to let the lights go out.
The Sirens of the Zombie Apocalypse series is designed to start with the quiet dignity of a solitary woman in her kitchen and end with the ferocity of a planet-wide nuclear war. That's just a figure of speech, by the way, not a spoiler!
Each book forces that rotten door open a little wider, but this first one is very personal. It's dedicated to my grandmother. She was 104 when she passed away, and she's the basis for Marty Peters—the woman you'll meet in a few pages. Zombies don't discriminate based on age, but lucky for Marty she has a secret weapon. His name is Liam!
Welcome to Since the Sirens.
E.E. Isherwood
Prologue: World of Zombies
PROLOGUE: WORLD OF ZOMBIES
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At fifteen, a young man with Liam’s average size and weight wouldn’t attempt to double-wield shotguns. Most men twice his age, even those in the military, wouldn’t try it in battle. But they weren’t the hero. He was. A wild-haired, lanky, scholar-athlete wannabe who just happened to be good at this one thing.
“Lock and load. I’m going in.”
“Wait up,” JT cried out as he fiddled with his sniper rifle. “I can’t take this thing in there. They’ll be on top of me before I can use it.”
“I’d use the fifty-cal if I were you.” Liam couldn’t heft such a large weapon, but JT was built like a college linebacker, even if he acted more like the fifteen-year-old wimp he’d been before the world went to Hell.
“Nah. Not enough ammo. Used it all on the bridge. I’m going with these.”
Liam chuckled at his friend. The young man wore a get-up more commonly found in a biker bar—all black leather pants and jacket adorned with silver studs. His white t-shirt was as clean as when his mom set it out for him—Liam wasn't going to tell him how he knew that. Somehow, it all worked. The young man also dual-wielded his choice of weapons but with much more practical .357 Colt Pythons.
“I wish some of the other guys were here,” JT huffed as he broke down the rifle and prepped the revolvers.
Liam felt the same way, but Charlie and Jacob both fell in the fight to get them to the end of their mission. He had a few extra seconds to ponder their mistakes, so he could avoid ending up like them. He looked to the sky.
They're dead. Just lousy spectators, now, he thought.
JT finally gave him the go ahead. “I’m ready.”
Liam pulled at the door of
the secret government base they’d been searching for, though he stopped to consider his fortune. The cure to the plague was inside, as were the men and women responsible for creating the mess in the first place. With a little luck, they could take care of them both in one glorious battle. He briefly imagined the cheering crowds of survivors. The young women anxious to thank him. Fifteen or not, he'd be heralded for this.
“I said I'm ready,” JT repeated.
“I'm going!”
The expected white lab coats were there, but the people wearing them had already been infected with the Six-Sigma Virus—so named because it killed with ruthless efficiency. He didn’t dwell on the tantalizing beakers and vats of bubbling green liquid. The cure—if it existed—was useless in the moment. If they had it, why didn't the scientists use it? The answer was both grim and obvious, and now those ruined people had to die, just like all the others. The New World demanded blood, not a fabled cure.
“Let ‘em have it,” he shouted.
He selected his first target for the automatic combat shotguns. She was a brunette in the stereotypical white ensemble which reminded him more of a mad scientist than a CDC employee. He avoided looking directly at the smiling face on her ID badge affixed to her chest.
“Die, zombie scum!”
The trigger pulled easily on both his weapons. Together they more or less removed the woman’s rotting head from her shoulders, precisely the way he was supposed to do it. Of all the different types of zombies he’d read about and seen in movies, it was the one consistent piece of knowledge applicable to all of them. Remove the head, and you eliminate the threat.
JT’s .357’s began to sing just as something cut the power, throwing everything into total darkness. The flashes of the guns became the only source of illumination. The strobe effect led them both deeper into the dark vault. A fitting effect for the final challenge of their long quest.
