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

by Isherwood, E. E.

  “I had a strange dream last night. A lot like the ones with your grandpa, but he wasn't in this one.” She described the little girl and everything they discussed.

  “I don't know what to say, Grandma. Maybe the sick girl means the world is sick? Or that you are sick?” It almost made him choke up to say it. “I sure hope you aren't...”

  She laughed. “I may not be sick, but if you keep pushing me like this I might die of exhaustion.”

  They took another rest while they talked. “I've been having a lot of these dreams lately. I never had anything like them before the plague started. I have to believe the two are related. Al—I mean your Grandpa—told me this has to do with good and evil, though I can't quite fathom how.”

  Alarms rang in his mind. He'd done too much reading about how the world ends in zombie bloodshed. Maybe this was more of a supernatural battle, played out with the spirits of the undead walking the Earth? “You mean like God and the Devil fight it out in the streets? Tribulation? That sort of Biblical stuff?”

  Marty was standing there, deep in thought.

  “Grandma?”

  “Oh, sorry. I really don't know. Everything your grandpa has shown me has pointed to Biblical stuff as you call it, but my heart isn't sure. Why did he pretend to be your grandpa? Why not just approach me as an Angel? Why would God be concerned with finding a cure for a plague? What does the little girl have to do with anything?”

  Her statement was left hanging in the woodland breeze.

  Liam made as if to start walking again, before saying, “Well I don't know about you, but I'm ready for a cool refreshing drink of spring water.”

  “That would hit the spot!”

  Grandma was being cheery, but was suffering horribly. Her bottle of Ibuprofin was sitting in his backpack in his parents' basement. He took comfort she had no medications she absolutely required each day. When she broke her arms several years ago, her doctors were amazed to learn she had never been on any long-term medications throughout her entire life. No cholesterol meds. No high blood pressure meds. No blood thinners. No nothing. She did need the rare pain relief for her back, but that usually only flared up when she overdid herself. Like walking-through-the-woods level of overdoing it.

  Liam and Marty walked out of the woods a couple hours later looking much as they had when they collapsed the previous night. Exhausted beyond words. The only difference; it was only 10 a.m.

  They were standing at the edge of the woods, overlooking a narrow and flat valley where the Boy Scouts conducted a great deal of camping trips, hiking, horseback riding, and big gatherings they called jamborees. The camping area was about a mile long, two hundred yards across, and very flat the entire length. It was hard to see from one end to the other because of small curves and undulations in the landscape, but they could see a good portion.

  “Grandma, we found the mother of all jamborees.”

  Below them, tents of all shapes, sizes, and colors were packed into every possible space. Nearest the road were a large number of pop-up campers, buses, and recreational vehicles. It was a spectacle of mankind that caught Liam completely by surprise.

  They'd been standing there gawking for a few minutes when he noticed they weren't alone. From behind them and from the sides several young boys with long spear-shaped poles made themselves known. An extra boy, trailing the others, was carrying a rifle.

  Marty was quick in setting the tone for this encounter. “We surrender!”

  Liam added, “take us to your leader.”

  4

  Fortunately, being a Boy Scout had its advantages. Liam was able to remember the secret handshake and recite the Scout Oath and Scout Promise. The others were impressed. They didn't say what would have happened if he wasn't a Scout. The crew that “captured” Liam and Marty elected to send one of the younger boys as an escort so they wouldn't get lost.

  The encampment was loosely centered around the administrative building in the midpoint of the length of the valley. A small wooded creek ran through the campground, and the building was set just to the west of the waterway. Even so, the large building was hard to see among all the colors and variety of living quarters erected around it. The first camper arrived, set up shop next to the main building, and everyone else spread out from there.

  Contrary to expectations, they did not bring them in to see “the leader.” The place was packed, as you might expect when thousands of your closest friends are camping in confined quarters, with hostiles on the perimeter, and food a scarce resource. The only thing they had in spades was water. Boys of all ages could be seen carrying water from the creek to fires on both banks—likely purifying it.

  A young Scout about Liam's age was walking by and saw Liam trying to help Grandma along the pathway near the creek. He immediately jumped in to help. The young boy leading them appeared distraught, as if he should have volunteered to help first. He kept walking.

  “Hello. I'm Drew. How old are you ma'am?”

  “I'm 104! Can you believe it?”

  “Wow!”

  “And how old are you, Scout?”

  “I'm almost 15, ma'am.”

  “And what brings you here?”

  “We just got here yesterday. We were trying to hide in our house, but Mom and Dad said it would be safer for us here. We didn't know so many other Scout families had the same idea.” He laughed a bit, but it sounded forced.

  They crossed a small bridge over the creek and the young guide told them to wait by a pirate ship. Liam thought he misheard him, but sure enough they rounded a bend and saw a fifty-foot wooden pirate ship. It was made out of lumber and was intended as a place for young Scouts to play. The mock pirate ship appeared to have run aground next to the water, and it actually made Liam laugh out loud. It wasn't here when he frequented this place. The Scouts probably built the ship as part of one of their many service projects.

  Their young guide asked Drew if he could leave them with him, and he gave the boy a thumbs up sign. He then hauled butt out of there, presumably to return to the woods to find his mates.

  “They organize new people at this boat. I started out here, too. I guess it gives a well-known landmark for orientation and other meetings.”

  There were dozens of people sitting at various places on the structure. Most were families with young boys, but there were older people and young girls scattered around as well.

  The Boy Scouts were nothing, if not organized. As they approached the meeting area, two Scouts ran up with cups of water, each trying to be as courteous and kind as they possibly could. Marty gingerly downed what she could while Liam drank his in a few rude gulps, followed by a gratuitous belch.

  “That was the best drink of my life!”

  Grandma didn't chide him. After what they'd been through she might even have laughed. Sadly, they had no food to offer, and they retreated back to their drink preparation station a bit sheepishly. It must be a common question.

  There were no chairs or benches on or near the boat, so Grandma took a seat on the steps leading from the main deck up to the poop deck. A large wooden wheel for steering the fake ship was up there. Several young kids were already spinning it, their spirits undaunted even in such a bleak world.

  She seemed to relax amongst the youngsters.

  Liam took a moment to pull Drew aside. “What can you tell me about this place? Is it safe? Do you have zombies here?”

  “Ooooh, you call them zombies? We've been calling them plaguers, but zombies sounds better even though they aren't true zombies that come out of graves and stuff. I haven't seen any of them since I got here. Plenty on the way, though.”

  He visibly shuddered.

  “Once I got here and set up my tent, they told us everyone was responsible for security. They send us out in small groups, so we can help each other if there are plaug—zombies. That little guy who brought you here was carrying what most of us are—basically a sharp stick. But we have an infinite supply of them around here. Anyway, to answer your qu
estion, we haven't had any zombies in camp, but from time to time you will hear some shooting or young boys coming out of the woods crying after their team had to put one down.”

  Liam was reminded that he wasn't so far removed from these boys. If things had been a little different, perhaps he would be here at a campsite with Mom and Dad. But would that mean Grandma would be dead in her house right now? Would Victoria still be alive if she hadn't met him?

  Ugg.

  Using that expression, even inside his own head, reminded him of Victoria's absence. A dark cloud passed over his heart, putting a damper on his otherwise pleasant demeanor in front of Drew. The other boy took this as an invitation to continue talking.

  “Yeah, I know how you feel. We all have that look in our eyes. Like we're lost. I know I did for all those days sitting inside our house waiting for things to improve. Of course they only got worse. Some of our neighbors left early in the plague, but most stuck it out until the end. We fought off looters, zombies, and even a huge pack of wild dogs. But in the end, it was the stench that drove us to abandon our house. Do you know what dead bodies smell like? Our street was covered with them. The smell sticks to you. Reminds you constantly not to forget it. Nothing would block it either. My mom tried everything. We packed up what we could and drove our car as far as we were able. That turned out to be about 100 yards. Once we got out of our neighborhood we realized this was far bigger and worse than we imagined sitting inside the safety of our home. We almost turned around, but the smell was with us even then. So we got out and walked, trying to get to this place.”

  “How did you do it? What route did you take? I need to get Grandma to our house after we leave here.”

  “Ahh, that's the thing. It was mostly at night. Mom and Dad both had guns. Several times we stumbled on zombies doing their thing...shot them of course. It took us a whole night to get here. We don't live far. I guess we just got lucky.”

  “Sounds like your dad knew what he was doing.

  “If you say so. You can ask him why Grandma and Grandpa couldn't come with us.”

  Liam was afraid to ask, as he had just left a group of grandmas and grandpas...

  “You mean he wouldn't let them come?”

  “They said it was their decision, but I know he talked to them. He never liked them.”

  Liam had sympathy. There were plenty of people he would like to leave behind if he ever got the chance. His algebra teacher. That asshat Jeff Tuttle who gave him grief in study hall. He had a list from his various track teams too. But when the carnage was absolute and unforgiving, Liam didn't think he had it in him to turn anyone away to their deaths. He just didn't think he would be able to make that call.

  What if it would save someone I loved?

  He resolved to try to be strong if that situation ever came up. So far he'd avoided any complicated life-or-death choices. For a moment he had forgotten many of the choices he'd made since leaving Grandma's house nearly a week ago. So many of those choices were probably life or death, though they may not have seemed like it at the time. Certainly Victoria was dead because of decisions he'd made.

  Neither of the boys was particularly happy, but Drew seemed to be a glass-half-full sort of kid. He raised both their spirits by admitting, “With Grandma and Grandpa on their own, I figured it would only be right to help you with your grandma. At least someone of their generation made it here to safety.”

  Safety.

  Liam didn't think that word meant what it used to.

  5

  Liam and Drew were chatting happily within eyesight of Marty. They realized they both played the same video game, so they had a lot of things to discuss about the adventures they shared from inside that fictional universe. It helped distract them from their own seemingly fictional woes.

  They didn't notice a leader walk up to the boat and extend two fingers, which is a Scout sign to “shut the hell up.” The two boys failed to notice everyone else had dropped to silence while they continued talk and laugh. Someone tapped them on the shoulder and pointed to the leader glaring at them with his arm over his head.

  Red-faced, they turned to give their full attention.

  “Hello, ladies and gents. Welcome to Camp Hope. Yes, we've renamed this place for the duration of this event. I hope you'll find it appropriate for what we've got going on here. Oh yeah, my name is Troop Leader Lee. Like the general.”

  A few snickers.

  “You can call me Mr. Lee. My role is to introduce you to this place and help you find a place to stay. I'll assume many of you have camping equipment and supplies. Raise your hands if you don't have a tent or any supplies.”

  Several hands went up, maybe a third of the group, including Liam's.

  “We've noticed fewer and fewer people are making it here with supplies. Don't worry. We know things are rough on the outside, so just be thankful you made it here in one piece.” Lee went through some checklists relating to the area, much of which was important to Boy Scouts in general—preparedness, sanitation, security, hygiene, hydration, and calorie counts. Liam was interested in all of them, but the last was foremost on his mind. He raised his hand.

  He was soon called on by Lee. “Hello. I'm Liam. Sorry about earlier. My grandma is over there, and she's 104 and could use a bite to eat. We've been in the woods all night.”

  “That's a tough one, my friend.” He looked at Marty as he spoke. “Ma'am, I'm sorry to say we don't have much food here. Only what was brought by folks such as yourselves. We're trying to organize some raiding parties to go out and look for food and supplies, but it's been so dangerous none of the leaders have been willing to let any of the kids go back out of the valley.”

  Marty merely nodded.

  “For the rest of you, please assemble over on the path there. I'll be with you once you're all together.”

  Liam and Drew both got up to help Grandma again. “Thanks, Drew. I can get her if you have places to be?”

  “No sweat. I'm not doing anything important right now. I want to see where they stick you. Otherwise I'll never find you in this crowd.”

  Liam was pleased to have a friend here.

  He noticed Mr. Lee was stopping to talk to stragglers while they were lifting Grandma. A couple with a small baby. Another elderly woman. And then he arrived just as they were moving Grandma off the boat. He was purposefully facing away from the larger group.

  “Hi, guys. Look, I couldn't give this out in front of all those people, but I have a grain bar for your grandma.”

  Marty tried to demur, but Liam accepted it for her and promised she would get it.

  “Scout's honor.”

  “Good enough for me.”

  Mr. Lee walked away, toward the group of new recruits.

  They didn't have to travel far.

  “Y'all are the first group to get spots inside the woods. We've run out of space on the flat, grassy part of the valley, so we had some of the boys clear this flattish section of woods so people could use it. We'll be placing new people in similar redoubts around the outside of the whole camp. I guess we'll just keep on spreading until we have a city again.” He laughed at the joke, though no one appeared in the mood to laugh with him.

  After spending the rest of the afternoon with Mr. Lee and several of his assistants, the group was settled into a small enclave of clear space among the large trees. They were joined on one side with the main encampment—in fact they could still see the central administration building. The other three sides were empty woodlands as far as they could see in the hilly terrain. By pooling resources, and shoving too many people into too few tents, they were able to get everyone in the group into a tent they could call home. Someone even volunteered a sleeping bag for Grandma, which prompted her to immediately plop down in a small tent to rest.

  “Don't leave without me,” she joked as Liam zipped her tent flap to keep the bugs out.

  Liam was standing right next to the tent, marveling at their luck at having such a fine place to stay, at l
east until they sorted how they were going to get home—when he heard a familiar and terrifying sound far in the distance.

  Buzz. Buzzzzz. Buzz.

  Mr. Lee was banging in a tent stake for a nearby tent when he stopped to listen. Soon everyone was stopped, cocking their heads like a herd of nervous deer.

  Buzzzzzzzz.

  “It sounds kind of like a chainsaw.”

  “No, it sounds like a bunch of hammers hitting over and over.”

  Liam could only admire the Scouts for being problem solvers. One part of him felt he shouldn't make it known he knew what the sound was, but another part was anxious to earn the respect and trust of Mr. Lee. Deep down he also wanted to impress the younger kids within earshot. So he spoke up.

  “No, my friends. You're all wrong. It's a gun. A lot like a fire-breathing dragon.”

  Everyone was laughing except Liam.

  Almost everyone.

  Mr. Lee wasn't laughing, either.

  Chapter 12: Along The Watchtower

  “Liam, can I talk to you for a minute? Alone?”

  The buzzing of the Gatling gun had been going on and off for the past couple minutes. It was still far away, but definitely getting closer. The road from the highway to this camp lay on the other side of the hill where Liam had come from, and it intersected the beginning of this small valley system. The gun would be heard while the MRAP was driving on that entrance road.

  When the two were away from everyone else, Mr. Lee spoke first. “I did some time in the military—sandbox stuff—so I know the sound of guns like that. I just didn't place it because it sounded so unusual stateside. Never thought I'd live to see the day military rigs are here shooting stuff up.”

  “Well, they're probably shooting zombies, but I can't say for sure. I rode in one of those things yesterday and they were shooting tons as we drove, and unless they were just killing men and women at random, I'd say they were shooting zombies. But from time to time we could hear gunshots pinging off the exterior. So someone was shooting us, though I can't think of any reason why. We eventually got trapped at a roadblock and we had to get out while under fire—”