Sirens of the Zombie Apocalypse (Book 2): Siren Songs

by Isherwood, E. E.

  The small group of people directly in front of Phil stopped, and a pretty woman with expensive hiking boots and large backpack seemed to speak for them all. He noticed the woman had a small rifle tucked inconspicuously behind her back.

  “What do we need protection from? Rapists like you two?”

  Liam mentally slapped his forehead.

  I look like a rapist?

  Phil, probably used to such charming banter from the public while on patrol, was nonplussed. He looked at the others in the group as he addressed them. “It's up to you guys. My friends and I live in this house and we're willing to provide you guys a place to crash for the night. On the lawn. We can give you some clean water and we'll defend you as best we can.”

  “Why can't we come inside? Why are you going to make us lay out on the grass, exposed to everything?”

  Phil still wasn't letting her get to him. “It's your call. We're going back inside. You are welcome to our front yard. If not, there are plenty behind you and we'll invite them.”

  Phil motioned to Liam and they turned around to walk back in the house. Liam expected the group to call them back but no one made a peep. They were inside the house before Phil spoke. “It'll be fine. Even if that woman doesn't plop down, the others were eying our yard with longing eyes. They'll override her if she's their leader.”

  Liam was less sure. He peeked through the curtains to see what would happen. They were already sprawled on the grass of the yard. “Wow, that was fast. It looks like you were right. They're already in our yard. Except the woman. She's standing in the middle of the street, looking lost.”

  “I pantsed her pretty hard; she was being unreasonable. She actually thought we were going to rape her.”

  Liam stood watching the woman for several minutes. Several other refugees had walked by her in the street, but she didn't drift off with them.

  “She still isn't doing anything.”

  Victoria moved into the room and looked out the window too. She had ditched her cocktail dress and was wearing a pair of jeans and a black tank top. He knew they were his mom's clothes but was surprised they fit. He was about to ask her where she'd gotten them, but she walked away just as quickly as she'd arrived.

  Phil still wasn't cutting the woman on the street any slack. “She's probably crying because she lost her group. Serves her right.”

  Liam watched for several more minutes, and tried to get a better look at the people sitting in his front yard. There were several older children—pre-teens—and two couples who looked like parents. There were a few older men and women, maybe in their fifties. None of them looked prepared to be out hiking. None save the woman.

  He focused his attention back on her and saw she was talking to Victoria.

  What the hell?

  Liam looked around the room. “Victoria is out there.”

  Phil returned his attention to the window. “What's she doing?”

  Grandma was sitting on the sofa listening to everything happening. “Liam, you should go out to her.”

  Liam looked at Phil, who was peering out the window. “I guess it would be better than me going out. I'll cover you in case anything happens.”

  He was out the front door in moments, and moved fast across the yard, avoiding the people now encamped there. He felt the pistol against his hip, aware he may need it but wondering if he could pull it in such a pathetic crowd.

  Liam couldn't hear what they were talking about as he walked up, but he got an earful as he found Victoria's side. “Let me guess. This is your boyfriend? You both look like you're thirteen. How are you in charge?”

  “In charge? I'm not—”

  Before Liam could get defensive, Victoria put her finger on her lips, indicating he should be silent.

  “This is my good friend Liam. He found me the day after the sirens sleeping under a tree down by the Arch. I was wearing a cocktail dress and he never touched me. He and his grandma helped me get out of the city. I'd be dead without them, several times over. Phil was the guy who talked to you earlier. He helped us get over a bridge and out of the city. We went to his house to get some weapons and ammo. He had plenty of opportunity to do us harm, but he never did. In fact, he lost his house to arsonists as he helped rescue us. These are good people.”

  “As I told you. I don't trust anyone. Maybe you guys don't realize it, but the world is full of bad people now. Maybe all of them. I worked at a shoe store in Arnold. When the sirens went off everyone raced for home, but I figured I'd stay at the store because it was next to a large supermarket and I'd have the place to myself. Much safer than my apartment complex with all those rednecks. I purchased a lot of food and gear and tucked it away in my store, content I could survive there a long time. My manager showed up the next day and decided to hole up with me. I couldn't tell him to get lost, but I should have realized right away where things would go. It wasn't even a day before he was putting moves on me—eventually overpowering me...”

  She looked around for a few moments. “I think he had dreams of being a big shot in the chaos. He thought I'd actually be grateful to end up with him. It didn't work out like he hoped.”

  The implication was clear to Liam. Victoria merely nodded.

  “I pulled him out the back door and left him in the alley like so much trash. He had this rifle and backpack, so I added them to my stockpile. For about ten minutes I felt I was back on easy street. It wasn't long before angry refugees started showing up at the strip mall—further ruining it for me. They smashed my windows and stormed the store, taking everything of value. Fortunately I saw what was happening and grabbed the rifle and backpack and blended in with the looters, even as I ransacked my own store. There was no hope of stopping them.”

  “I fell in with them as they moved through the town, and eventually found my way onto the highway where an even larger group was already walking. I can't tell you how many times horrible men came up to me with a malicious look in their eyes. I ran ahead in the crowd. A couple times I had to threaten them with my rifle—but that's been less and less effective. Now I just have bloody blisters in these piss-pour boots to show for my efforts. I'm unwilling to risk ever putting myself into that situation again.”

  Victoria stood looking at the woman for some time. “My name is Victoria. The only one you haven't met is Liam's grandma. She's a 104-year-old ball of energy. What's your name?”

  The woman was probably in her thirties or early forties. Fairly tall for a woman, and shapely. By almost any definition she was physically pretty. She had her long blonde hair in a tight pony tail. In addition to her boots, she was wearing khaki shorts and a too-large denim button-down short-sleeve shirt. Liam's first impression was “soccer mom.” Liam could understand why she'd be a target to unsavory characters.

  The woman thought on it for a short while. She was looking back and forth at Liam and Victoria, then the house and the people lying on the grass. Her last look was up and down the street at the many people wandering around.

  “My name is Melissa, but you can call me Mel. I still don't trust you,” then, with less hostility than anything she'd said so far, “maybe I'll never trust anyone again—but I'll accept your hospitality for the night. Thanks I guess.”

  “You're welcome.” Victoria said that as she grabbed Liam's arm to move him back to the house.

  When they were well away from Mel she whispered to Liam. “I couldn't let her walk away without trying to help. I'm not sure why, but it just felt like the right thing to do. Like I was helping myself.”

  “You did great. Next time, just let me know what you are doing before you run out alone. You scared the hell out of me.”

  “Deal. That was pretty dumb of me.”

  No harm done. This time.

  3

  The sun was nearly down. Liam and Victoria came inside the house and made for the kitchen to round up some water. Grandma and Phil were still in the front room.

  “The new clothes look good on you. I take it those are my mom's?�
�

  “Yes, I hope she doesn't mind, but I needed to get out of that filthy dress or I was going to die. I ran a brush through my hair, but it didn't help much. After I woke up from my nap I was nosing around in your parent's room, hoping I could find some of your mom's clothes and praying they would fit me. When it looked like we were in for more trouble tonight I decided to go ahead and change clothes. The only thing left is to burn my dress. I never want to touch that thing again!”

  Liam would never forget that dress, as it was what attracted his attention to her in the massive crowd at the Arch, but he had to admit after days of hard wear, it had gotten quite the beating. He also lamented there may never be an opportunity for women to wear dresses like that again.

  At least not voluntarily.

  That shook him to his core. He thought of Melissa and how quickly things had deteriorated for her. He took a fresh look at Victoria and knew she would undoubtedly catch the same eyes that had been after Mel. Many of the end-of-the-world books he'd read painted a hard life for women, though he never truly appreciated why until now. Slavers. Religious nuts. Men who want to rebuild the world with their babies. He knew he would need to be vigilant in protecting his female friends. They all would.

  “I don't want to scare you, but Mel's story has me worried about you. You know—because you are pretty and stuff.” Liam tried not to sound like a shy schoolboy when he said it, but knew he'd failed.

  “Thank you, Liam. Her story scared me too. But I have something she didn't have, which helps me sleep at night—friends. She plays tough and all that, but she has to know how futile it is to trust absolutely no one. We all need friends. People we can count on to watch our back and stand by our side when things go to pot. That's a lesson you taught me by the way.”

  Ha! Liam had read enough stories to know the only way to survive the Zombie Apocalypse was to stick together in strong groups. It took him a while to realize he had done exactly that over the past several days, though he felt his core group consisting of himself and his 104-year-old guardian would be laughed out of any of the great zombie stories. Somehow they did though, and they picked up Victoria, several St. Louis city police officers, and even a few “gang bangers” as they all joined Liam's group while escaping the city. Or he joined theirs. It didn't really matter which.

  Maybe I'm passing on the lessons of those stories without realizing it?

  Victoria had joked about leading a group of survivors, but his age precluded that reality no matter how many books he'd read on the subject. He was content to let others lead because it took the burden of making mistakes and or causing deaths and made them someone else's problems. He'd almost lost Victoria in the Arch and that made him panic. He saw Jones die at the quarry—and that made him depressed just thinking about it again. He thought Grandma died on the bridge, and they were all going to follow her, until a last-minute rescue. Those were just in the past three days! How much stress would he have to endure leading a group in this cruel new world for years into the future? No, he'd resolved to contribute as best he could to any group he, Grandma, and Victoria might find, but leading just wasn't something he wanted to do.

  “Thank you. I wish I could say I was doing it on purpose, but I wasn't. I just think what characters in the books I'd read had done and tried to learn their lessons—both good and bad. But I'm learning reality is much different than anything in a book.”

  “Well, you did pretty good in my book.”

  She gave him a broad smile—even though she'd cleaned herself up pretty well, she still carried the nasty bruises and black eyes from her fight with the looters—as she walked away with water for the people on the lawn. “You might consider freshening up. Have you looked at yourself in a mirror?”

  “Hey!”

  But she was already out the door. Looking down at himself he saw he was covered in the same coal dust and road grime he'd seen on Victoria. His own jeans and t-shirt were pretty much ruined, just like her dress. Out on the road he'd not noticed the dirt, but in the spotless kitchen his condition was amplified.

  Suddenly overwhelmed with exhaustion, he took a moment at the kitchen counter. He put both hands on the counter top, as if steadying himself. What would his parents say to this motley foursome now occupying their house? He hadn't exactly recruited people to his group, more like they wandered in, but he felt in his heart they were good people—and he believed that would please his parents more than bringing home a random squad of soldiers.

  And what of Victoria?

  Other than a few awkward chaperoned trips to the mall with girls set up by his mom and her friends, Liam had never brought home a real girlfriend to be vetted. His time was spent with his guy-friends playing World of Undead Soldiers for the most part. The World of Girls just wasn't on his radar. The thought of how his parents would react to a new girlfriend had never crossed his mind. Conceptually he assumed they'd approve, but it still scared the crap out of him to even consider it.

  But Grandma likes her. That has to count for something.

  He picked up the water bottles and began to follow Victoria out onto the lawn. He resolved to keep building his little group with people of the highest quality. Men who would help defend the women, and women who could defend themselves. Doubt was plaguing him though. Could it be as simple as his video game missions? Men and women adventurers, each with strengths and weaknesses, all working and fighting together. Could he find a group of people all rowing in the same direction?

  Could anyone?

  4

  The group of people on the lawn had grown. After Victoria and Liam provided some water, they retreated to the living room of the house to provide overwatch for those outside. Phil and Grandma were still there. Phil was keeping watch out the big front window, using the curtains to shield his presence as best he could. This meant they were at the ready should any trouble flare up, but no one expected the people to keep flooding in.

  Phil broached the topic. “There are too many people out there. If they decide they want in this house, I don't think we can stop them.”

  “Should we let some of them inside?”

  Phil looked at Victoria as he considered. “I don't know. Once they're inside we may never get them to leave. But if we don't invite them in, they may force their way inside anyway and push us out. I couldn't see what happened exactly because there are no lights out there, but a group of some kind did go into your neighbor's house across the street. Poole's house.”

  “He said he was going to let some of them in.”

  “They're in, all right. The question is whether he is a willing host or a captive to the whims of the crowd.”

  They discussed the problem, unable to come to a definitive conclusion. They noticed people were going into Liam's backyard and the woods beyond—sneaking around to do their business. But more than a few faces appeared in the rear windows of his house before going back to the front. It helped solidify the need for a plan.

  Marty summarized the issue. “We need more friends. Right now we're too small of a group to resist the will of the mass of people outside. We need allies.”

  Phil responded. “I hate to admit it, but she's right. Not because I don't want to listen to her,” he tipped his head toward her, “but because I didn't foresee this earlier. I had no idea there would be this many people. I still hate the idea of opening our doors to strangers, but I guess we have to take chances to avoid potential disasters.”

  “So how do we get the people we want to come inside, and leave the rest outside? And if we have a house full of people, will it still be enough to resist all those still outside?”

  Victoria's questions got Liam thinking. They had made the effort to befriend the people outside by giving them something to drink, but he had to admit they were approaching this crowd in the same way Mark said he approached the crowd on the highway when he first saw them. Anything to keep them moving down the line. But what if this was the end of the line? Were these locusts waiting to destroy everything
in front of them, or were they human beings to be cared for? Maybe a mixture of both?

  Victoria answered her own question.

  “I have an idea. I'm going to talk to Mel again.”

  Phil gave an audible groan but otherwise said nothing.

  “OK then. Liam will you come with me? I need to go out through the garage.”

  Together they were able to lift the double garage door. His mom's minivan was gone, but there was a small four-door sedan in one space. Phil's SUV was in the other. When the door was open Victoria softly called for Melissa. She was conspicuous in the middle of the lawn where she'd sat down earlier. She got up and moved purposefully to Victoria standing at the garage threshold.

  “Hello again.” Victoria tried to be polite.

  “Hi.”

  “We need your help. We have a big problem.”

  “I'm listening.”

  Victoria had only just begun her studies in her nursing program, but one of the most basic concepts was triage. When faced with a large number of sick or injured, you had to take care of those who could be saved, and let some of the others go. She explained to Mel they needed to find people in the crowd who could be counted on to protect the house in the event problems started happening on the street.

  “I know this seems silly to ask, but we're worried there are too many people coming up this street. We don't want to lose the house. We need some people we can trust to help hold it in case things get—” She left it hanging, but the implications were understood.

  “Why should I care about your house? Tomorrow I'll be moving on. Right? That's what you said.”

  Victoria and Liam stood there looking at each other, unable to voice a suitable explanation.

  “Because the world falls apart if we don't take care of each other.”

  It was Grandma. She was standing inside the house, but talking out the open door into the garage. She was steadying herself by holding onto the doorframe.