Zombies Ever After: Sirens of the Zombie Apocalypse, Book 6

by E. E. Isherwood

  The colonel continued. “It was a long shot, but I put your name into the database and it returned several hits this morning. It says you’ve been tagged twenty-two times,” he laughed. “What have you been doing to get yourself tagged over and over?”

  He gave the Marines his most serious look. “I don’t think they’re tagging zombies. I think they’re putting everyone down who’s still alive in that part of the city where I escaped.”

  Both men laughed. Brandyweis responded. “Son, I appreciate your honesty, but—”

  Liam held up his hand. “Wait! Where is the drone that you had with you when you found me by that tree?”

  He got blank stares.

  He clearly enunciated his words, as if speaking clearly would make them understand faster. “When you found me by the tree, I heard a drone. I know what they sound like. It was hovering close by. You had a drone.”

  “Son, if we had a drone I’d have no reason not to tell you. There was no drone in the air when we found you.”

  Liam scanned the big yard, confident he was being watched. He didn’t hear the whirl of copter blades, but his imagination insisted it was out there.

  “We should get inside,” he said with the first hint of panic.

  “OK, you wanna tell me why.”

  “Sir, there was a drone. I’ve been running from them all morning. These things aren’t just tagging zombies; they're tagging everyone. And when they tag you, the next thing they do is shoot you.”

  They busted through the swing-away patio doors of the mansion—no one had come out to chase them away—and made their way inside. Liam was comforted to have a roof over his head, and thrilled to have Marines surrounding him, but wary of the responsibility he was putting on himself by aligning with them. Though the colonel didn’t blame him for getting his men killed, he took it upon himself to give them every ounce of information they’d need, going forward.

  It took him fifteen minutes to explain his encounters with the various drones. Then, another thirty of follow-up before they believed him. As time passed he began to doubt his own memory. Maybe there wasn't a drone, after all.

  Still, he'd done what he could to prepare them. Just in case. Whatever happened next would not be on him.

  4

  The little tank appeared at the far end of the yard. Liam, almost glad to see it, pointed. “I told you!”

  “Yeah, looks like you were right. Now let us do our jobs. You keep your head down,” Brandyweis said emphatically.

  “Can I have my shotgun back?”

  “No, you’ll be fine. You have six of meanest hombres in St. Louis guarding you.”

  It was silly, he knew, but he pulled out the shotgun shells from his pocket and noisily tossed them all to the floor. He had quite a few, and he took his time. When it didn't have the effect he hoped, he continued along another line of questioning.

  “I thought you had ten men?”

  “I do. Four are keeping the Osprey in flight. Just stay down.”

  Liam couldn’t guess how the Marines were going to handle the drones, but he knew they’d have a much easier job of it than he did. He assumed as soon as it was clear the Marines had him in custody they would depart.

  “If they think you have me captured, won’t they go away?”

  “That’s an excellent question. But I’m not going to risk it.”

  The tank trundled through the overgrown grass of the yard. It wasn’t quite the same model he’d seen in the pet store, but he couldn’t readily identify what made it so. It had the same treads, was about the same size, and had a gun on top...but it had some extra junk on the top surface. It seemed smaller in the large grassy yard, but he figured it was about the size of a typical riding lawnmower.

  “Give it a warning shot, Max.”

  A loud crack came from the floor above. He couldn’t see outside, but there was no explosion, so he figured the sniper wasn’t aiming for a hit.

  The colonel got up to the hole in the glass. “We are United States Marines. I order you to stand down,” he bellowed. He casually ducked back like he didn’t expect a response, and the other glass door shattered as the reports of gunshots rolled across the yard.

  Liam popped up, against orders, to see the scene. The little tank in the yard was stopped, and looked like a lost child. No smoke from a gunshot. The shots had to have come from elsewhere.

  “There are more drones,” he yelled, though he thought it was pretty obvious.

  “Or ground pounders. We may not be alone.”

  He hadn’t thought of that. If the NIS could track him, they may have figured now was the time to eliminate him.

  A powerful green laser came from the hedge at the back of the yard. It pointed above Liam—to the second floor. Then a shot followed.

  “Take it out,” he ordered on his radio.

  The Marines fired at will. He put his head down as a natural reaction to gunfire.

  The familiar crack of the sniper rifle rose over the din of all the other guns, including the colonel’s battle rifle. Brandyweis edged to a window, broke the glass, then waited for a response. There were several windows on the back of the ground floor of the house, and he broke each in turn. When he reached the last window in the large living room, he turned back toward Liam with a serious look.

  “Get down!”

  It reminded him of the frustration he’d often visited upon his dad. In their arguments over the past six months, he reveled in angering his old man so that he’d loose his cool. The colonel’s frustration at something as simple as keeping his head down was the same tone his father often had. He complied.

  A couple of rounds came through the back window near Brandyweis. They struck some wildlife heads that had been mounted to the wall. An impressive deer with a massive pair of antlers fell from its mount after it had been hit.

  A large mirror on the wall followed suit.

  The colonel fired through a broken window, then pulled back.

  Liam chanced another look and saw the drone tank had moved about half the distance to the house from where it was last.

  He felt the air move near his head. A pop from the yard followed the clink of more glass behind him where the bullet had struck.

  “The drone is getting closer,” he offered.

  The colonel looked at him with a scowl, perhaps seeing the same futility as his father. Then he put a few more shots on target before again pulling back from the lead flight path.

  A green laser swept the room. When it struck the broken glass of the windows or the remains of the mirrors on the rear wall, it broke into multiple directions like a laser show he’d seen at the Missouri Planetarium.

  While he thought about that more pleasant memory, a small drone came in through the open back windows. It was hovering above him before he had a chance to move. It was different than the bigger helicopter drones he’d seen earlier in the day. It was more like the tiny drones he’d watched come out of the compartments on the Tiger tanks. It hovered on four small fans but consisted mainly of one central hull with a shiny black orb.

  He searched for a tiny gun or even a tagging device, but it appeared harmless. He did begin to crawl backward, hoping to find a table or something solid he could put between him and the trespasser, but it exploded over his head before he got anywhere. It slammed to the ground and its fans shut off. The colonel had used his rifle to good effect.

  “Run upstairs, kid. They know exactly where you are.”

  He stood up to run, but the green laser found him.

  I know! Get down!

  5

  Liam didn’t wait to find out if he’d been hit. He’d gotten good at fast-crawling over the past several weeks, and he crawled for all he was worth. First into a nearby hallway, then he searched for the stairs up.

  Another Marine stood in the front foyer, peeking out a window next to the front door. His back was to him, so he wasn’t noticed.

  The stairs were nearby. He was surprised that two of the green lasers blaze
d through two different windows and nearly touched when they reached him. Rather than dip, he jumped a few steps and continued upward. Too late, a bullet bit at the steps below him.

  He hesitated at the top step. Daylight shone in the open hallway on the second floor, meaning a drone could probably see him once he made himself visible.

  A few seconds into his deliberations, an explosion rocked the home. Smoke wafted up the stairs, and he could tell the explosion happened at the front door. The body of the Marine guard was on the floor.

  Crap. Crap. Crap!

  “Kid, over here!” Another Marine stood across the hallway, toward the far end. He waved from inside the door frame of a room.

  Liam looked back down. The engine of a drone tank spun up, and it was moments before he saw the treads appear through the smoke. He threw himself into the upstairs hallway, righted himself, then fast-crawled again toward the open door.

  “There’s a drone tank coming up those stairs. They killed your man at the front door.”

  “Roger. Get in. Get low,” the man said with a gruff voice.

  He slid into a huge tiled bathroom, then backed up against a clawfoot bathtub. The Marine continued to guard the door, his weapon drawn. Liam couldn’t help but notice he had a knife belted to his leg and carried a sidearm in a holster on his hip.

  “No, kid. Get in the tub,” he said with force. He pulled a grenade from his chest rigging but waited until Liam was in the tub before he pulled the pin.

  “Grenade in the front stairwell,” he said calmly. Liam expected him to yell, but the Marines seemed to be communicating via the comm links in their ears.

  A few moments later, his tub rocked.

  The Marine shut the door and ran over to him. The look on his face was a grim determination. “Kid, you won’t believe this. A flying drone caught my grenade and carried it down the hall before it exploded.”

  It didn’t phase Liam. Nothing would anymore. “Can you try another?”

  “All out. Been using them a lot, lately.”

  “So what do we do now?” He climbed out of the tub, eyeing the window, and the trees of the backyard.

  “What is this thing coming after you? Does it have a weakness?”

  “I used a shotgun to mess up a flying drone from the back, but the colonel took my gun. I saw a drone tank before, but I ran instead of fighting it.”

  As he talked quietly, he walked to the back window. The Marine yanked him back a split second before the green laser appeared.

  “No going that way.”

  “Sir, we’re trapped up here. Bathroom. North end of house,” he reported to the team. Then, facing him, he continued, “All right, kid. You get back in the tub. We’ll see where this goes.”

  “I can fight. Give me a gun.” He eyed the sidearm.

  “Well, it can’t hurt.” He pulled the gun out of his holster and handed it to him, barrel facing down. “Just don’t shoot me,” he said with a nervous laugh.

  He jumped in the tub again, disappointed at how heavy the gun felt.

  “The safety’s off, kid.”

  There was nowhere to hide, so the Marine stood behind where the door would open. The large shower area was glass, so that wasn’t an option for anyone.

  It was sixty seconds before he heard the engine of the tank drone in the hallway. It struggled to get up the steps, as the other had back at the pet store, but it sounded smooth as it trundled down the hall to his door. He jumped at the first bang on the wood.

  Two green lasers appeared in the air above him.

  “Sir, the kid is in a big tub. Safe for a few.”

  The concussive force of the Marine’s rifle startled him again. He’d expected the drone to be shooting, but if there were lasers on the second floor, it meant the floaters were directly outside. They were engaging the only target they could see.

  A spent shell fell into the tub, into his shirt sleeve.

  “Ouch!”

  He squirmed to get it out, and in the process stuck his head above the lip of the tub. He saw at least one drone outside, though there were two beams. The crack of wood followed.

  “Get down!” his companion yelled between deafening blasts.

  Many shots ensued, including the sound of the drone tank’s gun. He recognized it for what it was.

  The Marine hit the floor screaming in pain, but he continued to fire.

  I can’t let him die for me.

  He stuck up his head, intending to fire his gun. The battle rifle was pointed right at him. Again, he ducked. After the Marine shot out through the window, the whine of an engine was punctuated by a violent crash against the window frame.

  That was his cue. He got to his knees, then aimed at the tank drone. It looked twice as large as he remembered it, now that it was only a few feet away. The gun was unable to aim down at the injured man below it, so it was trying to back itself up to find the angle it needed to hit its target.

  He fired several wild shots, then ducked back into the tub. The gun on the tank could hit him at that level.

  A shot did hit the side of the tub, but the heavy steel deflected it with a dull thud. He felt it hit, but there was no penetration.

  He was ready to declare a stalemate, but then he saw the return of one of the green lasers.

  6

  The first round impacted the Marine—he yelped—but the following four or five seemed to have missed.

  The drone’s tracks came back into the room. They slid on the broken glass and debris as the tank approached the tub. With a final clank of steel on steel, it stopped. From the bottom of the tub, he could see the edge of the thing’s superstructure and the big gun on top, though it couldn’t possibly aim down at him as it was now too close. In a way, it was a classic standoff. He considered shooting the pistol, but there was no obvious point he could hit which would shut the whole thing down like you see in the movies.

  “Liam Peters?” A distant metallic female voice called to him.

  “Umm.”

  One of the small drones hovered in through the broken windows. The force of the air from the fans filled the tub with turbulence. When it was over him, he saw both the black orb and a speaker in the plastic casing around it.

  “Mr. Peters?”

  “Yes. You got me.” There was no possible way they didn’t know it was him. He had twenty-two tags embedded in him which said as much.

  “You’ve been a hard gentleman to find—”

  Someone interrupted the woman in the speaker.

  “Are you f’ing kidding me? She got out?” the voice said quietly in response. After a pause, she continued.

  “I said, you are a hard person to find. I had to move drones all over the city to get to you.”

  “Why?”

  “Why, huh? Do you remember Agent Duchesne? I’m sure you do. You left him to die on that shipwreck.”

  “Yes.”

  “Let’s just say this is for him.”

  “But he tried to kill me. I didn’t want him to die.”

  He didn’t think the truth would help. He was happy to see the man die because he was responsible for infecting Grandma. Then he tried to kill them all in the river. That he died was a bonus, by his reckoning.

  “The reasons are unimportant. We all do bad things in the service of our country. He was a big piece of my own future. So, thanks for that, you little shit.” The words were vicious, but the tinny speaker didn’t do them justice. He considered telling her, but his life was on the line. Humor usually backfired on him when the stakes were high.

  “Well, aren’t you going to tell me who you are? My money’s on this being that dirtbag’s mom. You sound like an angry mom.”

  Dammit, Liam. You said no humor.

  “Mom? Are you really that stupid? No, I don’t guess you are. You’ve survived trips back and forth to Cairo, and I’m guessing you’re responsible for walking off with two of our tanks. Not the activities of an innocent child. Who are you with? Tell me that, and I might let you go, for now.
”

  He took a chance.

  “Elsa? Is this Elsa? I have a note for you.”

  Silence for a long pause.

  “OK, it doesn’t matter. Who has a message for me?”

  He didn’t know the who. Only the what. “It said, Dear Elsa. You lose. Then a bomb exploded and blew up the home of Hans Grubmeyer.”

  The woman began to cuss but keyed off her microphone before she completed her first word.

  She came back with serenity. “It doesn’t matter, Mr. Peters. It gives me great pleasure to tell you your Grandma Marty is now dying with the miserable town of Cairo, Illinois. You left her here, and I finished her off. Her life isn’t worth a tenth of Michael’s, but it's a start. I have a list here with several more of your family members. It will provide a fun diversion from my more pressing duties, like rebuilding the world.”

  Liam was crestfallen. He knew about the list but wanted to believe Hayes had been telling the truth when he said that list had been stopped.

  His options were to grovel to this tinny-voiced drone or remain defiant until the end.

  A violent series of explosions erupted inside the tiny bathroom. He figured the drone was self-destructing or something. It would be a sure way to eliminate him. For twenty seconds the room was a smoky echo chamber of ear-splitting bangs and the sound of bullets impacting heavy metal.

  He closed his eyes, not because he was scared, but because he imagined debris dropping in his eyes from all the shrapnel raining on him. The drone bumped into the tub several times but soon stopped altogether. If the voice was still speaking, he couldn’t hear it.

  A deep hum and vibration came from outside the house, rattling the glass on the floor. Then a hand touched him.

  “Come on, sleeping beauty. Time to run.” It was Brandyweis.

  He jumped out and followed. Three other Marines hovered outside the bathroom door, aiming their weapons up and down the hallway.

  “Go! Go! Go! We’ll be out in thirty seconds.”

  The other end of the hallway was a mangled mess. Where the grenade had gone off, it stripped the paint off the wall and punched holes through them in several places. The glass window at the end was blown out.