Stop the Sirens: Sirens of the Zombie Apocalypse, Book 3

by Isherwood, E. E.

  Marines. Great.

  “Liam, you must have made quite an impression on someone,” Mel quipped.

  He could only wonder. Were they sent by Hayes to clean up his mess? If he had them on speed-dial, why not send them first if he really wanted to capture Grandma without incident?

  The Marines spread out in careful formations, alternating with each other to various positions until they were up in the ruins. It became difficult to see what they were doing; there was a lot of smoke wafting around from smoldering fires. They didn't appear to be searching any specific piece of the street.

  “We should leave. They have to be looking for us.” As his dad would say, sometimes they really are trying to get you. His instinct said run.

  Phil was quick to agree. “Any competent police sweep we ever did would investigate any nearby hiding areas for survivors. This ditch will be high on their lists once they start fanning out.”

  Liam's parents seemed most reluctant to leave, but they were pragmatic about it in the end. They slid away with everyone else.

  The creek provided an easy way to stay hidden. They followed it to a wider branch which went underneath a nearby roadway. Soon they had the entire road between them and the Marines. They kept going into a thick woodland beyond, then took stock.

  Melissa gave her assessment. “We're probably safe over here, but I'd vote we go deeper into these woods just to be sure.”

  Jerry agreed but added one important request. “Once those guys leave, we have to go back and grab our stuff.”

  Liam looked at him like he was crazy. “Dad, our house is gone. There's no way your supplies survived that inferno. I'm sorry but it's true. We should never go back if we think all is lost. It would be a big risk. Right?”

  Phil and Melissa glanced sideways at each other, each with big smiles on their faces. Melissa seemed to be bursting to share her secret. “Liam, I know your house is a smoldering ruin. I'm sorry about the loss of your friends and neighbors, and sorry your grandmother got captured by Hayes. But we've been busy beavers while you've been away.”

  Dad added, “We have a prepper, a US Army veteran, a police officer, and two whip-smart women on our team. Do you really think we'd leave our most important treasures sitting in our basement for anyone to take if we thought government agents were coming to our house to capture you?”

  Liam thought about it for a few seconds, and grasped the implications. “No, I guess I don't think that at all.”

  For a brief time, the laughter returned.

  3

  The Marines weren't there long. The lumbering Ospreys were impossible to miss as they left. The group waited a suitable time and then returned to observe their street from a different vantage point.

  “You think they would keep someone behind as a lookout?” Liam asked as he crouched behind a tree.

  “Doubtful, I don't think any agency has the resources to fly aircraft in and out more than the absolute minimum. Marines are used when they want to kill someone or lots of someones. Special Forces are used when they want to observe undetected. Or assassinate you.”

  “Thanks, you're a real pick-me-up!” he responded.

  The spirits of the group had simmered back to a disheartened baseline after the rush of dodging bombs, dragging themselves through creeks, and hiding in forests. Now they headed home—to see if anything more than splinters was left of the Peters' residence. Liam wasn't hopeful.

  The remains of the street itself could be seen here or there, sometimes in remarkably undisturbed stretches of flat surface, but several bombs found purchase smack dab on the road. The resultant craters were impressive. Those big bombs had flattened all the houses in their immediate area, and the follow-up fire bombing had burned everything in the area to ash. Even the cars and trucks were empty hulks of fire-bathed steel. No one knew what kind of explosives had been used; Melissa said many of the most destructive types of ordnance had been outlawed against civilians, though there was no consensus on what constituted “civilians” when half the population was technically dead.

  Liam's father tried to be pragmatic. “All we know for certain is that this street was considered such a high value target the military was able to task several planes, unload a significant amount of bombs, and send a couple platoons of Marines to make sure it was erased. All those resources would probably have been more useful fighting the zombies right now.”

  Liam and his father hadn't had time to catch up on all that had happened to them both since the sirens, but Liam took the opportunity to share the most salient bits of his struggle. “Hayes gave me a warning as he was taking Grandma away in the helicopter. He told me the planes were coming, which gave me time to escape. He said it was a detail he couldn't overlook, since I'd spared his life and the lives of his men. But he said nothing about why he needed to bomb us clean off the map. A colonel I met in the government medical camp said he was responsible for deploying the strikes on other camps when containment failed. The planes were designed to erase all threats posed by the plague.”

  All threats.

  Liam's memory was jogged by his own statement. Several days ago he stood on a riverbank and wondered if his father knew the collapse was coming. He sent Liam to live with Grandma a few weeks prior to the outbreak of the plague, and she turned out to be an important objective to the CDC. Just a coincidence?

  Liam pulled his father aside as they sifted through the ruins. “Dad, did you know the outbreak was coming? Is that why you sent me to live with Grandma when you did?”

  His dad looked at him like he had grown a second head. “I sent you to live with Grandma because your attitude this spring was getting so bad both mom and I were arguing over which one of us would get to kick you out of the house when you turned eighteen. Your mom won that argument by the way.” He gave a slight smile, continuing. “We decided we couldn't take a full summer of the yelling and screaming, so we asked Grandma if she'd mind having an extra helper around. We figured if nothing else she wouldn't be as affected by your attitude, and because she couldn't hear well we didn't have to worry about you being too loud around her with all your yelling.”

  That made a lot of sense. It was exactly the kind of statement he'd expect from his father. He also appreciated his dad hadn't exactly said no. Instead of pushing the issue, he moved on to a pain he knew they both shared. “I'm sorry I let Grandma get away. She said to tell you and Mom she loved you.”

  His father put his arm over Liam's shoulders. “I'm sorry you both got you mixed up in all this intrigue. It's bad enough escaping from the infected, but you were tough enough to get Grandma to safety even with all these other people trying to catch her. I'm real proud of you. In the end it was just bad luck that ruined your plan.”

  Liam had no doubt in his mind his father was on the up and up about loving him and wanting him to be safe, but there was something in his tone of voice that told him something more was on his mind.

  “Here it is!” Liam's mother found the stake in the ground, signifying the location of the cache of weapons and material they had stashed in the woods. It was near a small fir tree which still had a lot of branches on fire.

  “Behold, the burning bush.”

  Victoria's exclamation startled him. The small fir was the only such tree burning in the entire area. Other trees were smoldering, but this one still had flames on it. He watched it with rapt attention.

  Victoria continued, in a distant voice. “The burning bush from the Bible was where Moses was given the task of leading the Israelites out of Egypt.”

  “OK, so who is Moses here? And where is the promised land?” Liam wondered.

  They all stopped what they were doing and looked around at each other. It suddenly felt like a legitimate question. Was it Liam? He seemed most likely after leading Grandma and the others to this place. But at fifteen he had a long way to grow. Was it Jerry? Liam's father was capable and had also made a trip into and out of the fallen city. Or was it Grandma? She seemed to be a solid candida
te given her age and her devotion to religion—if she were there to lead. Liam would be happy if it were anyone but him. He didn't judge himself a capable leader.

  Unlike the Bible, nothing was clear cut in the real Apocalypse.

  Phil finally spoke up. He pointed straight down.

  “Right now these weapons are our Moses. They're going to lead us out of this wretched place, maybe not to the promised land, but to somewhere safer than this.”

  Almost in unison, they all replied with a hearty “Amen!”

  4

  The day ended with everyone huddled in the woods for protection. A small pile of supplies had been exhumed, including guns, ammo, and even Liam's backpack.

  The bombing did its job and cleansed a wide area around the neighborhood of everything—including zombies—but more had stumbled in after the fact. It upset him they took their sweet time and didn't come until after the Marines departed.

  He shared what he'd learned in the Boy Scout Camp, especially how they whittled stout sticks into nasty spears and how they used them to puncture the skulls of the zombies. “The key is to kill them with the minimal amount of noise so we don't keep bringing in more. A spear isn't as sexy as a gun, but it's free, it's plentiful, and it works. It also keeps the zombies at arms-length while you do your thing.”

  As they all tried their hands at making adequate spears, and dispatch the odd wandering zombie, they were pleased to learn a few neighbors did survive the assault. One of them was a man who lived several houses up the hill from Liam. He was old and gray, and had a serious demeanor almost all the time. Liam remembered him from his youth as the guy you never wanted to tangle with.

  His name was Paul.

  “Me and the Wright's from across the way were standing on my lawn when those birds first came through with their cannons. It was a sound of pure evil. We got lucky they was shooting right up the middle of the street instead of in the lawns and houses. Well I guess unlucky if you were in the street. I saw one man—I didn't recognize him—standing in the street one second, and then he evaporated. Just poof!”

  The stern man almost showed emotion at that, but continued. “Well you can bet your ass we started running. Everyone scattered into the woods. My old legs wouldn't carry me faster n' a wounded dog but I never looked back. Them bombs hit the bottom of the street and worked their way up, so I had a little extra time. Others were in the woods too, running much faster. Most haven't come back. Maybe they ran into the dead walking toward the sounds of destruction...”

  Paul explained he came back because he had nowhere else to go. No family. No friends. Nothing. Not even a pet.

  No wonder he's a sour man.

  It made Liam feel slightly better to know there were some survivors. Even crusty ones. He felt bad enough for being responsible for Drew's death. He'd given up hoping his friend survived once he saw the area he'd last been standing. There wasn't even a body to bury.

  They didn't light a campfire for fear of being seen. They salvaged some stout patio chairs which had survived everything, and used those as a base camp of sorts. It at least gave them some place to sit besides the ground. For the first time in a long while Liam could relax in the company of his family. The whole group was engaged in hushed conversation around him.

  Victoria sat in the chair next to his. Perhaps it was coincidence, but they were given extra room by the others. When she noticed him looking her way, she leaned forward to quietly talk, “We have to do something to get Grandma back. I feel horrible all this happened because of me.”

  “Because of you? This all happened because I brought her back here. If I would have kept her away she might still be with me.” He knew that wasn't exactly true. Hayes had been looking for them the whole time. It was bound to happen sooner or later. He had a lot of resources apparently. But he wasn't going to let her take the blame for the end result. It was bad luck, as Dad said.

  She was about to argue, but Liam moved on. “We can't worry about what's happened. We have to worry about what's next. Where do we even start looking for her? How can we rescue her? Is it even possible?”

  Victoria sat back in her chair, thinking. The soft light from the moon made her bruises and abrasions disappear. Even her swollen lip was difficult to see. He was happy to be in her presence again, despite all the destruction it had brought. He was happy Victoria wanted to find Grandma too. It would be so easy to write her off as a loss and instead tackle the not inconsequential matter of survival day-to-day.

  “You're always talking about the end-of-the-world books you loved to read. Did any of them give any clues on how we can get through this? Do you and I storm the city ourselves to rescue her, like they do in the movies?” She laughed.

  He was put on the spot. He was always drawing parallels to the stories he'd read. Books about zombies were all over the place in subject matter, and of varying usefulness to the real life zombie apocalypse as he'd found out many times. Fictional stories always had clues. That was the big difference from reality. When it mattered in his own ongoing life saga, he saw no such convenient clues.

  He felt in his pockets, thinking he was overlooking something. His pocketknife was in one, and the family picture given to him by Colonel McMurphy was in the other. He pulled it out and thought about the man he watched shoot himself in the head back at Elk Meadow—after he was bitten by a zombie test subject. In the dim light he could only see the outline of the man's wife and teenaged son. He had asked Liam to find them and tell them he loved them. It was his final request. Liam felt a lump in his throat as he relived those last moments. He turned the photograph over to see the address on the back. It was some town in Colorado.

  Some clue!

  He didn't think it likely they'd be going to Colorado anytime soon. Although...

  “Didn't you say you are from Colorado?”

  “Uh huh. Denver. Why?”

  “The colonel. He gave me this picture of his family and said if I should ever be in their neighborhood, I should stop in and give them his last words. But the address is in Colorado. Some place called Grand Junction.”

  “I see the city name all the time on the interstate signs driving around Denver, but I've never actually been there that I know.”

  “It doesn't matter. We aren't going out-of-state anytime soon. We'd never make it.” Liam recognized he was in delicate territory now. He didn't want to discount ever going to Colorado. Her parents were there. But clue or no clue, there was no way to safely cross 1000 miles of the unknown. Certainly not for a flimsy clue. Not even for her parents.

  Uh oh. Bad Liam!

  He realized the irony pouring off his declaration. He'd travel any distance to find his own parents, but hers, not so much. At least, he was afraid that was how he sounded to her.

  Victoria made a sound Liam couldn't interpret.

  “I didn't mean anything by it. Someday we'll try to get there after this is over. I'd like to meet your parents.” He tried to be cheery, and she even reached over and touched him on the arm, but he knew it was perilous to hope anyone could survive whatever this was. The end of the world. The Zombie Apocalypse. End Times. Take your pick. “Let's focus on one rescue at a time. Grandma first because we owe her. Then let's talk about getting you home to your parents. Deal?”

  She was silent for a long time. He tried to play it cool. Did he say the wrong thing? The right thing? He chanced a look in her direction. She was silently crying.

  He stood up, then drew her out of her chair. They held each other in the soft ambiance of moonlight.

  Later they slept the sleep of the dead.

  5

  The night wore on. Hunkered down as they were, they only had a couple encounters with interloper zombies. Liam's spears were put to good, silent use. As the sun started coming up, the group came together to discuss the day.

  Liam could tell they'd all been thinking about what came next.

  Phil made the case they should try to get further out into the countryside. Find an abandoned f
arm or piece of land where they could regroup and ride out the worst. Melissa wanted to scout out from Liam's ruined neighborhood to find like-minded souls to join their group. She argued the bigger the group, the better chance they had to survive. Liam's parents had agreed they wanted to find Marty, but they had no suggestions on where to even begin. It left Liam and Victoria to answer that question.

  “Victoria and I feel responsible for Grandma getting captured and taken away. I know what you'll say—that it wasn't our fault—but nothing can change our minds short of having her back with us. We've been trying to put our heads together to think of where she might have been taken but we're very short on clues. What I do know is this: I gave Grandma my phone just before she left on that helicopter. My hope is that somehow we can get a text through to her and—God willing—she'll figure out how to use my phone to send a message back telling us where she is.”

  Everyone seemed to perk up at Liam's revelation.

  “There are a lot of assumptions, but if we can find out where she is we still have to figure out what we can do to get her out. We aren't exactly a crack commando squad.” He looked around, thinking of the calamity they had just survived, and knew he could have been tossed in with worse survivors. In fact he'd spent some time with a group of twenty or so eighty-somethings. They were probably all dead by now.

  “So Victoria came up with a short-term plan, a type of triage she called it, whereby we'll go back to the Boy Scout camp I left the other day, and use that as our base camp for future efforts. At least we know we'll have friends there, and we'll have a secure base from which to operate. Once there, maybe we'll be inspired to pick up clues to find Grandma.”

  He looked at Melissa. “They're going to need help with security, that much I can promise you. Also, I told them if I ever returned I would bring back weapons to help them fight off zombies and other threats. That might be the price of our admission.”

  He turned to Phil. “The other thing they're lacking over there is food. There are thousands of people and lots of water, but no food. If we can provide them some opportunities to get food—say from abandoned farms—it might further reinforce our value to them.”