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

by Isherwood, E. E.

  Liam looked around at the horror. “Mr. Lee's dead. Zombies.” He said it, but it was really the fault of the survivalists for starting the whole thing. Or his fault for getting the survivalists involved. Or… He saw there was no end to that thought.

  “I'm so sorry. I know you two had a connection. Are you going to be OK?”

  That's the million dollar question.

  “Yeah, I'm good. Just going to take some time. You know?”

  Nothing further was said as they all looked over the ruined campground. The administration building might be salvageable, but it was littered with holes and broken windows. The MRAP pumped thousands of rounds into the structure. He was afraid to ask how many people died inside. He knew it must be a lot. There were dead bodies on this side of the valley, just like on the far side. The zombies rampaged through here, but got chewed up by the mass of gunfire and the concentration of good shooters. The Marines took more than their fair share of the horde.

  “OK, Liam. I have to get back to your dad. Be safe out here.”

  Ha! As if that's possible.

  “I will mom.” He almost let her go, but he shouted, “I love you, Mom,” before she had gone too far. She turned around and expressed her love for him and for Victoria.

  “See you guys in a bit,” she said as she continued her departure.

  After she was gone, he looked at Victoria. He pulled her into a private space on the edge of the woods, checking for lingering zombies the whole time.

  “We have to go find Grandma now, or we may never get the chance. I really don't want to know who else is dead. You and me have to go out on our own. No fanfare. No nothing. Just walk out unnoticed and get it done. If we wait and try to gather more help, we may never get out of here. Zombies could swarm again. The survivalists could shoot me on sight. Anything could happen. It's you and me on this list.” He patted his pocket where the list of names was hiding. “We can't stop until we find out who put our names there. I think we both know his name. Find him and we find Grandma.”

  Victoria wore a serious face. Liam had learned to read her facial expressions and knew she was in. Before she could answer verbally he gave her the key piece of information he knew would guarantee her assent.

  He held up his mom's phone. There on the screen was a text message from Grandma. It said exactly where she was.

  Victoria nodded. While looking at the phone she solemnly pledged, “Grandma, we're coming.”

  Chapter 10: Green Water

  Getting away was easier than Liam had thought possible. They walked out with hundreds of others. On their way they grabbed whatever ammo they could scrounge from the dead, as well as a few tidbits of food and bottled waters. Liam found the orange tent where he'd stashed his backpack so they had something to carry the supplies. Several of the zombies had energy bars in their pockets, like they'd all come from the same place.

  “Why is everyone leaving camp? Didn't we win this morning?”

  He wondered the same thing. “You and I have been outside this valley several times. We know how much worse it is out there. I bet lots of these people have no idea how far everything has sunk. They won't get far probably. If we ever make it back here with Grandma, I bet most of these people will be back. Unless…”

  Liam paused, not really knowing if what he was about to say could possibly be true.

  “...there's somewhere safe out there now. Maybe set up by the government? Someone's handing out energy bars. Or was. If there's nowhere around safer than this valley, we're all in for a letdown.”

  The Marines still functioned, so the government had to be operating. But even the Marines were chewed up—literally he was sad to admit—so the thought of any government agency being able to save them was remote.

  “In the books, the government always tries to shore up humanity, but it always involves setting up camps behind fences of some kind. But the problems, at least in the books, are that the population of the camps always get out of hand, the plague always gets in, and the government is always too rigid and unable to adapt to rapid changes as the disaster unfolds. They can deliver pallets of water and energy bars, but if they run out of ammo the whole thing falls apart. Maybe we just live in a backwater and aren't seeing some serious firepower being applied to the zombies, but it looks to me like this war is lost.”

  He looked at Victoria, expecting a reply, but he could see the stooped shoulders and hangdog head.

  “Look, I'm sorry. Yeah, things are bad. But we've survived this long. Look at what we just did! We survived those duckers and a whole field full of zombies—at the same time. I'd say we're pretty well able to take care of ourselves, better than most of these—”

  He realized he was talking a bit loud around the other people walking out the front gate.

  “—most of those people who didn't survive out there.”

  He stopped and grabbed her arm, pulling her close.

  “We're going to get through this. When I was looking at the map back in the MRAP I saw we aren't far from the Meramec River. If we can find a boat, we can float the river downstream until it hits the Mississippi. From there, we can make our way up that river until we end up downtown. We'll be right next to the hotel where they're keeping Grandma.”

  He tried to keep his face bright and smiley as he said this next part. “It'll be a piece of cake.”

  She smiled at him through misty eyes. “We're not warriors. This isn't natural human behavior.” She paused. “I know we'll save her. I'm just tired of always fighting. Being on the run. Being hurt. Being hungry. You don't have to lie to me. I know it won't be easy—nothing has been easy since...”

  Her eyes were unfocused and distant, looking beyond him. It worried him on a level he couldn't vocalize. In the two weeks he'd known her, she always had direction. Always had the look of someone with a plan, even in those early dark days. But not now.

  Time drifted on and she showed no sign of returning. Liam tried to finish her sentence. “Nothing has been easy since we met, that's for sure.”

  Come back to me.

  She blinked.

  “Ha! You got that right. Nothing has been easy since you rolled Grandma's wheelchair over my hand. How many weeks ago was that? How many weeks since the sirens?”

  The big tornado sirens may have signaled the end of civilization, and he recalled how scared he felt as they were going off, but now he craved their sound, if only as a reminder of the more civilized time just prior to them.

  “Not even two weeks. Can you believe it?”

  Liam worried she was going to drift off again, but instead she focused hard on his own eyes. He thought she was going to say something, but after a few moments she merely pulled him in for a long, firm, embrace. He could sense people shuffling by on both sides, though he felt he was frozen inside an impenetrable bubble. He held on tighter.

  2

  Later, as they walked down the highway toward the river, he tried to steer the conversation toward something that didn't involve death, zombies, or the collapse of everything around them. It was no small task.

  “Did I ever tell you about my childhood trips to the lake with my grandparents?”

  “I don't think you've ever told me anything about your childhood.”

  She laughed, which he took as a good sign. The dark cloud hanging over her trailed behind them instead of directly above.

  “Ah well, that's why we're heading to the river right now. I spent a good portion of my childhood on small fishing boats and canoes. In fact, the very first thing I can remember as a child was being in a boat. Actually, under it. My grandparents liked to take me to one of their favorite lakes down in Kentucky. We'd load up their canoe with camping gear and then they'd take me out onto the lake to a remote cove where we could have some peace and quiet. We'd find a nice sandy beach and make it our home for a week. My favorite activity was playing in the water of course. And my favorite water activity was to flip over the canoe with Grandpa and play underneath. It felt spooky to see th
e dark water below us.”

  He paused to prepare for the punchline.

  “Well, Kentucky Lake is massive. Barges use the lake to transport stuff up and down the riverway. They make huge waves because they are so powerful. One day, while playing under the canoe, I heard loud screams from Grandma just as some unusually large waves slammed into us. I banged my head on the floor of the canoe and took in some huge gulps of water. I panicked. I kicked and flailed, all the while my grandpa tried to steady the canoe above us. Fortunately, the waves were big but few. As they passed, Grandpa pushed it off. Grandma was there in a flash, dragging me out of the water with a strength that sticks with me to this day. I remember being thrown to the ground and the water escaped my lungs. She saved my life.”

  “Wow. Grandma Marty has always been a hero.”

  “What? No! I'm talking about my grandparents...on my mom's side.” He laughed heartily. “Can you imagine my 94-year-old great-grandma rescuing me from the water?” He immediately stopped laughing. “Oh wait. I guess she did save me a few times recently.”

  More seriously, he continued. “Yeah, the funny thing is, at the time it didn't bother me. It didn't prevent me from swimming again as a child. I probably swam under the boat that same day if they let me. Today however...”

  He hesitated again, unsure how he felt about this part of the story.

  “The thing I remember most is how green that water was. When those waves rolled through, and I was in over my head in water, I just saw a deep, almost bottomless...green. You imagine water is black, but not there. Not that day. I regained my mind smelling that faint hint of dead fish on the shoreline. I can't go near water without recalling that incident. Even walking near water makes me a bit nervous.”

  Victoria held his hand as she gave him a sideways glance.

  “So, you want us to take a boat ride, yet you're deathly afraid of the water?” Her tone was sarcastic, but she asked a serious question.

  In his head, he saw that green water. He tried to push it aside.

  “I know, I probably shouldn't have even brought it up. But, well, I guess I feel like I can tell you anything now. And besides, once you've had zombies trying rip you apart, a boat ride seems positively quaint—even if it does scare me to death.”

  He laughed to wallpaper over his fear, but was relieved when Victoria squeezed his hand.

  “Don't worry. I've never been on open water. Not many places to sail in Colorado. We'll make a great boating team!”

  She made like she was pulling him, trying to get him to the water faster, but then settled back down with a snicker.

  “What's so funny?”

  “I was just thinking that this plague has blown away even the thing that scared me the most prior to its arrival. My nightmares back then seem trivial now.”

  She seemed to drift off a while. Liam let her go this time. It only lasted ten or fifteen seconds.

  “I guess the plague did me that one favor. Now, my scariest memory is that first night on the run when the zombies came. It's like a dark window that blocks everything that happened to me in my life before it. Both good and bad. Every bad thing that's happened since then—going up in the pitch black Arch, riding that train, getting shot, the mess back in the valley—is each its own black box of emotions, but nothing has exceeded the level of fear and despair of that first night. Maybe I'm broken?”

  “No!”

  No more than me, at least.

  “No.” He repeated in a calmer tone. “We've all seen lots of things that should scare us to death, but I think we're getting used to the fear. Once you've seen the dead walking, is there really anything else that's gonna make you poop your pants in fright?”

  “You're disgusting!” He could see she wanted to laugh.

  “Well, I won't tell if you don't.” He gave her a wink, to which she gave him a withering look with a scrunched-up face. She was finally healing from all her bruises. Even the fake disdain on her face was a welcome sight.

  “I'll tell you one thing though: my biggest fear right now is that we haven't seen the worst yet. I feel like we're heading right for it...”

  The words hung in the air as they detached from the scattered group of refugees on the highway. A small river was just ahead. They made their way down a short hill next to the roadway, and arrived at the waterfront of the Meramec River.

  His palms began to sweat.

  3

  There were no boats in view. They were along a part of the river far from any boat ramps or other places where a boat might be tied up. Up and down the river they saw nothing but the highway overpass and foliage-draped shorelines.

  “It's beautiful down here.”

  Many birds chirped happily, adding to the illusion of peace. Liam just wished he could have presented her with a boat, to make himself feel better about bringing her along on this journey. She volunteered, but he felt he had to keep her safe and show some intelligence. In the old days it might be described as hot-dogging to impress a girlfriend. Today it was survival. He had to improvise.

  “I guess we should start walking.” A small muddy path along the high-water mark of the river snaked away. It was empty of any foot traffic, alive or dead. That made it promising as a next step.

  “Onward. Let's see if there are any boats downstream.”

  Be confident!

  They followed the path for an hour before it began to change into something more substantial. The dirt changed to gravel, though today it was all still muddy and wet after the hard morning rain. Several sections were eroded by wide gulleys, as if maintenance had been neglected for a long time.

  The gravel path merged again with a blacktop trail of about the same size. The walked together onto a large golf course nestled along the river. Today it was wild and untended.

  “Wow. A golf course sure goes to pot quickly if the maintenance crew becomes zombies.” He wasn't a golfer, but he knew what a golf course should look like.

  They kept moving along the river while they enjoyed the better quality path of the country club.

  “I wonder if we could steal a golf cart?”

  While pondering what he thought was a really good idea, Victoria spoke again. “Or what about that boat? Bingo!”

  She pointed to a small white rowboat that was next to a small pond on the golf course. Its purpose was likely decorative, but it seemed functional.

  “No, you're supposed to say 'fore' here.”

  They laughed as they walked to get a better look. With little effort they slid it into the water, jumped in, and paddled around the surface of the tiny pond. It was painted white, and it did show off a lot of wear and tear, but they made it work for them.

  “Let's get this to the river,” she said as they hopped out.

  They strained to pull the rowboat up the shore of the pond and get it going through the hundred yards of rough toward the river.

  “You know this is the part of the movie where the zombies come at us just as we're close to putting this in the water?”

  “Liam! Why would you even say that? I'd come over there and slap you if I weren't exhausted.”

  “Yeah, sorry. My filter turns off when I'm scared. Oh. I didn't mean that. I'm not scared at all.”

  But he looked over his shoulder, fully expecting that by thinking it, the zombie horde would spring the trap. She picked up on his nervous behavior.

  “Hey! Zombie boy! Stop thinking that. Focus on what's ahead. Getting Grandma.”

  She's probably dead.

  After he thought it, he thanked his lucky stars he didn't let that one out.

  But seriously, she is.

  Stop it!

  “OK, Miss Smarty Pants. What would you like to talk about?”

  “Tell me more about Grandma. Why did you go to live with her? I mean you've told me the general stuff. I want to know the details.”

  She said the word “details” as if it were a tawdry tabloid story. Liam knew she was just teasing him, but he momentarily took offense that
his past life could be in any way considered a tawdry tale.

  “Well, I told you that my parents and I fought a lot this year, though I can't tell you the one thing that started all our problems. My dad and I used to be really close, but this year has just been a challenge. It's like he became a different person. And—”

  Do I tell her all the details?

  “—I guess there was that one time I punched him.”

  “Ooh. Do tell.” She sounded like the town gossip.

  “We were in our living room. He and I had been yelling at each other for ten minutes about my behavior. He said I was out of control because I went out with my friends the night before without telling him exactly where I was going and when I'd be home. He wanted to ground me for a month. A whole month! I guess I was losing it already, but then the phone rang. Of all the times to take a call, my dad actually shushed me while he answered it. I stood there seething, my anger growing at his attitude toward me.”

  He chuckled.

  “Anyway, when he was done I went nutso. Lots of things were said. He got up in my face. I got up in his. I...threw a dumb punch that landed on the side of his head. It was embarrassing how weak I was—I'm not much of a fighter—but after that everything changed. My dad's anger turned to raw shock. I knew I had crossed a line. I felt so bad, my anger drained away. But it was too late.”

  A long sigh.

  “Instead of punching me, he walked away. He can be an ass, but he's not violent. My mom was in another room, and he went to retrieve her. It took a few minutes, but they both came into the room and informed me I would have to go live with Grandma because it just wasn't safe for me to be there. I was gone the next day.”

  Liam's blood thumped in his ears with the tension of reliving the event. They were nearing the river. His relief loosened his tongue some more.