Mel walked into the garage to get a better look. She used a small flashlight to illuminate the entryway.
“My name is Marty, but everyone calls me Grandma. Pleased to meet you.”
Mel was reticent to respond for a long while. “I'm sorry. You remind me of my own grandma. She passed away a few years ago. No offense to you or her, but I'm glad she isn't around to suffer through this.”
“Oh, you'd be surprised what we old people can survive. But sorry for your loss.” She followed quickly with, “Will you help my grandson protect our home?”
“Why me? I want to know why you picked me out of all those people on your lawn.”
Grandma indicated it was Victoria's choice.
Victoria explained how she was attacked by the looters as she ascended the Arch stairwell to save Grandma and Liam, ending her story with how they rearranged her face and undoubtedly had further plans. Liam had the foresight to tell the police to try to help rescue her, even as he was rescuing the police officers trapped in the base of the Arch. She said she empathized with Melissa's story and felt compelled to help her. “You seemed like a survivor. And you remind me of what could have easily happened to me. I hope I'm as strong as you when I get older.”
Liam didn't know if he would help the situation, but he felt he had to say something. “Plus you showed concern for those people when we first met you. You were right to be skeptical of people you'd just met. There are plenty of wolves in sheep's clothing out there.” He thought of his own journey out of the city. How many times had he been shot at? A week ago weren't those people law-abiding citizens, content to watch football on the weekend or have BBQ's in their backyards? How quickly the world can go to crap, and good people go bad.
Assuming they were ever good.
Looking at Mel anew, he could see parallels with Victoria. They were both fighters. Stubborn. Driven. Mel was just a couple decades older. Would that be Victoria someday?
Mel surprised them all by walking over to Marty, and then shaking her hand right there in the door. “My name is Melissa Perkins. Pleased to meet you Marty. I'll do my best to protect your home.”
Melissa was a take-charge kind of gal. She asked if she could vet the survivors out front and bring in those she felt had the greatest chance of contributing. No one objected, though Liam wondered what Phil would say had he been there.
She was off. For better or worse, Mel was probationary member of Team Liam. He joked internally about the name, especially since he didn't want to lead it. But he could at least recognize when potential members entered their orbit. He knew it was critical only the “best and brightest” join up with his group. So many books he'd read showed there was almost nothing more important than the quality of people brought in. But real life was always more delicate than a book. That didn't change the result one bit though. Either his group would grow with people who would help, or the group would collapse under the dead weight of useless people. And always the question of leadership. As groups grow, someone has to be in charge.
Liam had no idea who was leading his group.
5
As with so many other plans set in motion during this crazy time, things went pear-shaped almost immediately. Mel was able to get a few people into the garage, notably parents with children, as she explained they'd be the most likely to defend their ground to the death. She gathered a few older men who were carrying firearms. She explained how she talked to each one to ensure they'd be team players. The few she gathered were anxious to move on to find loved ones, so she felt they'd likely defend the house tonight, but would be on their way tomorrow. She was really thinking ahead.
However, flames began pouring out of Mr. Poole's garage across the street—lighting up the entire area in the process. A gaggle of men and women began a hasty egress from the main part of his house, and stood around gawking at the conflagration from the front yard.
Several minutes later Poole was knocking on the back door. Once in the kitchen, Liam, Marty, and Victoria listened to his story. Phil remained in the front room, though he could hear from there.
“Ehhhh, those bastards thought they could take over my house! I showed them.”
He took a seat at the kitchen table, looking dreamy and distant. “I let them in, thinking I was doing them a favor. Little did I know they were a club of some kind—all bad fellas—and they just kept coming and coming. Soon there was no room for me, and they were stomping all around the house tearing things up. They got into poor Ginny's keepsakes and I couldn't take it no more. I asked them to leave, but all they did was toss me out into the garage—laughing.”
He looked around the room, seeming to come to. “You remember our discussion earlier? I told you I tried to kill myself up on the roadblock. Well, I tried again tonight. I lit that fire in my own garage, and I intended to burn the place and all those people with it...but I heard them standing in the front yard and knew they'd gotten out. I guess I didn't think it through. Well, I wasn't about to die if they were just gonna laugh at the whole thing. I walked out the back door of the garage and snuck over here.”
Liam was struck by how crazy this man seemed. It wasn't just the suicide attempts, but his demeanor. Inviting strangers into his house. The way he talked about it. He did just lose his wife, so maybe that broke something in the man?
“I had lots of gasoline for my mowers in that garage. It will help burn the house to the ground.”
From the front room Liam thought he heard a groan from Phil.
No one knew what to say. Liam was tempted to say a sarcastic “good job buddy” but he knew the men in that house wouldn't be gawking for very long. Mr. Poole had just made their own lives a lot more complicated. Plus, if they knew Mr. Poole was in this house—it could make things very difficult for them.
Grandma finally broke the uncomfortable silence, but she said something that came as a complete surprise to Liam. “Mr. Poole, I'm very sorry for your loss. But you have to leave our house this instant.”
Liam was floored. Victoria's mouth was agape. Only Mr. Poole seemed unsurprised. He sat there for a minute, then looked up as if peering at the clock on the wall. In the low light it was very hard to tell. Liam caught a glimpse of Phil in the hallway, past the clock. From where he was sitting, only he and Poole could see Phil. In the shadows Liam saw he was aiming a rifle into the kitchen—at Poole.
Is he going to try to suicide in my kitchen?
Poole, getting the message, got up and retreated out the back door. His final words were aimed at Liam as he stood on the threshold, “I'm sorry if I caused you any trouble. Good luck finding your parents. You won't see me again.”
The group let out a collective breath, though Liam's was a bit heavier since he knew what Phil had done. The girls expressed relief at getting the trouble out of their house.
Phil had returned to the front window without saying a word.
The fire across the street was so large it was throwing light into Liam's house. Liam thought it was a pretty light, if you ignored all the memories and resources going up in smoke. If the world really was ending, most of the things now aflame would be irreplaceable. A few minutes passed when Mel ran in through the garage entry.
“Hey guys. We have trouble out here!” She was pushing a gaggle of children inside.
Phil, at the front window, underscored the urgency, “Oh crap! Those guys are armed!”
The men forced out of the burning house were looking for a new place to stay. They must have found Liam's house the next-easiest target. They were grouped together, maybe twenty burly motorcycle-gang-ish guys with weapons out, all moving up the fifty-foot driveway in the direction of Liam's open garage.
Thank you for screwing us, Mr. Poole!
Chapter 6: Checkmate
Liam and Victoria moved past the children already inside, and went to the door of the garage to see what was happening. Both had their pistols in hand, pointing them safely at the ground.
When Liam looked into the garage he was
just in time to see Mr. Poole throw himself on the crowd of angry men. He moved silently from the darkness of the space next to the garage and was on the front man before he had a chance to raise his weapon. Poole had a stout wooden-handled shovel which he was able to swing hard into the face of that man. “Serves you bastards right for stealing my house!” It was the last thing he ever said.
As Liam stood there in disbelief, he heard Mel inside the garage yelling too.
“Fire!”
Liam was blown away by the concussion in the confined space. Several rifles cracked from the dark spaces at the deepest part of his garage, from the back of Phil's truck, and even underneath his dad's car—he didn't notice the men and women hiding until they revealed themselves with gunfire. The dark garage became a lightning storm of flashes as more and more shots were fired. It exposed their positions, but it must have been fearful to the men out on the open ground only a handful of yards down the driveway.
After a few moments, more cracks were coming from the front yard and from inside the house. Phil's rifle was adding to the cacophony. Liam could see innocent bystanders scrambling away from the erupting gunfire. He hoped no innocents would get hit in the crossfire.
The men on the driveway were surprisingly agile in reacting to the fluid situation. The guns in the garage made short work of several of the men in the front of the group, but those in the back began running to their left, taking them out of the field of fire of the shooters inside the garage. It still left them exposed to the guns in the front yard—Liam had no idea who was shooting from there—and Phil had the best view of all. The light from Mr. Poole's house helped keep the men lit even as they tried to shoot back.
An explosion of wood in the doorframe next to Liam's head made him realize he'd just been standing there gaping at the action. He turned and saw Victoria was similarly mesmerized. He pulled her back into the house.
It wasn't long before the gunfire died down. Soon it was gone completely. Liam was nearly deaf and was choking on the smell of gunpowder, but he could hear cries of the injured men out front, as well as very loud calls of surrender.
Phil from inside the house yelled, “Everyone stay put on my team! You out on the driveway, put your hands up and walk into the light!”
Liam grabbed Victoria's hand and pulled her into the front room to be with Phil and Grandma. She was lying on the floor, but gave both kids the thumbs up sign. He wanted to help her but needed to see what was happening out in his yard. He went to the front window where Phil was still stationed. The entire window had been broken out. In fact all the windows in the front room had been broken out; Liam realized bullets had been coming this direction too.
He saw two men standing in the driveway with their hands up. Between them was the man initially struck by Mr. Poole. He was trying to sit up after having been knocked out cold. Lots of blood was on his face, visible in the fire light. Liam thought he heard men crying out on the lawn. He imagined there were some grievously injured attackers unable to surrender properly.
“Get on your knees, keep your hands up!” Phil was yelling out the front window. He had a serious look on his face as he studied the lawn.
“What do we do with these men? They obviously meant to do us harm,” Phil asked.
Victoria had helped Grandma back to her spot on the couch. Liam looked in her direction to confirm she was OK. He silently thought if she had been killed by these men he'd have no mercy on them. As it was...
Liam responded. “I'm not sure we can just outright kill them. Maybe we could tie them up somehow and save them for the police when they come back?”
Victoria suggested they mark them with a branding iron and tell them they were being released but we'd kill them if they ever turned up again. She'd seen that on television, but couldn't remember the show.
Phil was turned into the room at the moment more gunfire erupted from the front yard. Several quick pops went off. Liam turned around just in time to see Mel down the injured man. She then hurriedly went around to the remaining attackers and shot each one in the head as they tried to scramble away.
Phil just stood there, staring out.
Liam considered yelling for her to stop, but found it wouldn't come out. It was already over. The pair of women were down on the floor again, unaware who was shooting.
Phil recovered just as Mel finished the grisly business. “Mel just solved the problem for us. It looks like we take no prisoners.”
Liam couldn't tell if he was saying it with regret or pride.
Grandma was laying on her back, but in the dim light of the ever increasing conflagration across the street, Liam saw her make the sign of the cross. He wondered if she was praying for the deceased on the lawn, the soul of the executioner, or those in this room who now lived in an increasingly desperate world.
While looking out the window, Liam noticed movement near Poole's place across the street. A couple of men were standing in the shadows, looking toward Liam's house. Studying what went down? He couldn't really tell. Together they ran off into the dark of the woods over there.
Liam wondered if they just set the tone for the days ahead?
Out loud he said, “Pray for us all, Grandma.”
2
While they were still alone in the living room, Liam, Victoria, Marty and Phil were trying to answer the question whether what they just witnessed was necessary or wrong. In the few minutes they'd been hashing it over, no consensus emerged.
Grandma had the only answer they could all agree upon. “Maybe nothing is as simple as good and evil anymore. There is simply life or death.”
Liam recalled an earlier conversation with Victoria about living in a world where good people were forced to do bad things, but now he was less sure he could identify what those bad things might be. Staying alive and not worrying about those men searching them out to kill them later seemed pretty “good” in his book.
They were just about to join Melissa out on the driveway when they saw people running down the street, from their left to their right as they looked out the front window. A few were screaming wildly.
“What now?” Phil looked out the wide open window to see if he could see anything to explain the commotion. A few more people were running by, but nothing obvious was behind them.
“We better collect our people.” He yelled for Melissa to come inside.
Liam noticed there were fewer people in his yard now. No surprise there. The shootout had sent people scattering for safer areas. Several refugee bodies were left lying in the yard, none of them moving. Maybe a dozen or so people were still milling around, mostly on the side of the yard away from the driveway.
Liam moved back into the kitchen and was reminded of all the kids that had come through his door.
Melissa came in quickly from the garage, trailed by several of her shooters. She spoke to the parents in the kitchen, most of whom were carrying rifles slung over their shoulders. “Thank you for defending this house. I had no idea we'd be attacked so soon after approaching you guys, but I'm so glad we were able to work together.” Many of the parents stood quietly with their children, looking at Mel.
She sensed the uncomfortable atmosphere and guessed at their reasoning. “I know it seems harsh to kill those men, but trust me there was no other way. The police aren't coming. We can't keep them prisoner forever. If we turned them loose today, they'd be back after us tomorrow to kill me; to kill your children. You saw how they killed that man. They were coming here to do that to all of us. I did what I had to do to protect these kids.” She motioned with her hands, sweeping all the kids in the room. “Things are different now. You have to recognize that if you want to keep you and your families alive in this chaos.”
It seemed to settle the room somewhat, though Liam was troubled that he was adjusting to what she did almost without question. His brain had gone too long without sleep so he attributed his newfound acceptance of the changing moral climate to exhaustion.
He spoke up. “We have
a new problem. People are running down the street as if something is chasing them. It could mean more bad guys are up the hill, but they aren't stopping to ask for help so it's more likely they are running from zomb—the infected.”
He didn't like to use that word in the company of kids.
“But we don't know anything for sure.”
He knew these folks had just saved his house, and they did it to protect their own kids. He couldn't very well ask them to go back out on the lawn. “Please make yourselves comfortable. This is my home, but you're welcome to plop your kids down anywhere you feel safe. I recommend the basement in case there's more shooting, but we don't have any doors down there so if you want to get out of the house in a hurry you may want to stay on this floor.”
Always think of escape.
“Just be ready with your guns.”
He had put his own pistol back in his waistband. He'd have to see if he could scare up another proper holster for it. Victoria had the one his dad gave him. He also considered getting one of his dad's guns.
When he went back into the front room, the situation on the street had already snowballed. Now there were tons of people running, and the source of their fright was evident by the shambling infected moving quickly down the street. Many of the zombies reached Poole's house and halted. They seemed agitated—or entertained—by the fire, even as they moved themselves too close to it. Some were catching their clothes and hair on fire as their numbers increased. More were coming.
No one was left on the front lawn. A few of the last people had come into Liam's house, along with most of the kids and their parents, but most of the survivors on his lawn had taken off running during the gunfight and never returned. The wave of fleeing people from up the street swept away any stragglers.
“Should we be running?” Liam really wanted to know.
In a quiet voice, Phil replied, “I think we're better off here for now. We have lots of ammo and a good defensive position. We can't all get in a car and drive off and leave our—your house—with all its belongings. We have too many young and old. I think as long as we're quiet they may focus on the people running down the street and that fire over there.”
Siren Songs: Sirens of the Zombie Apocalypse, Book 2 Page 10
