Since The Sirens Box Set | Books 1-7

by Isherwood, E. E.

  He took off his belt and handed it to her.

  “I don't need it,” he said. “Trust me.”

  He gave her his holster, which fit the belt and the Mark I perfectly. She wrapped the belt around her waist, so it sat just above her hips, then dropped her gun into the snug holster. A little snap could hold it in place, but he suggested she leave it open as she'd likely need the gun soon.

  “It ain't pretty, I'm afraid, but it will keep you in the fight.”

  She looked up at him with wet eyes.

  “I'm so sorry. I just left you guys in there. I thought I knew what I was doing, but I couldn't outrun those two. They caught me at the top. I fought, but... ” She gave him a tired smile, but her swollen lip and bruised cheek made it visibly painful for her to do so.

  He was about to respond, but she kept going.

  “I was so sorry to leave you guys. But I had to save you. I needed to save someone after what I'd done in the city.”

  She leaned into him and rested her head on his shoulder and began to weep. He put his hand on her back to comfort her and further appreciated how soaked with sweat she’d gotten on her escape. It forced him to wonder if he had the same stamina to run those steps again if he’d been asked to save her. It left him in awe at her conditioning, or simply her drive to live.

  “I don't want to die in this horrible place. I want to see open sky again. I want to run to the next tunnel. Then never stop. I want to survive. I want you to survive. I want Grandma to survive.”

  He didn't know what to say. He'd never had a girl cry on his shoulder, and his emotions were in upheaval for so many reasons.

  Then the earth rumbled. Everyone looked around like frightened deer in headlights, and they got serious about moving closer to the exit.

  The police had nearly gathered everyone.

  Osborne yelled at the top of his lungs.

  “ONE MINUTE!”

  He gently pushed Victoria off his shoulder and held her in front of him. Despite the madness and noise, he looked in her eyes.

  “I know this sounds crazy, but I'm not going to let you go. We're going to get through this together. I promise.”

  Should I kiss her? Would I be taking advantage of her?

  His mind was unable to process the flux of emotions swirling around his head and heart at that moment. His face turned to stone.

  Victoria gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. Wiping the tears from her eyes with her free hand, she yelled to him over the tumult, “Together?”

  Released from his indecision, he echoed, “Together!” and tucked his Mark I in his waistband. His pants were tight enough it would stay there pretty well. With a pretty girl by his side, he felt he could take on the world.

  Grandma looked anxious, with her hands on her lap. When she saw him she tapped her ear, a symbol he recognized meant she couldn't hear because there was too much noise. They exchanged a smile as he got her ready.

  He and Victoria each took hold of one handle on the back of her wheelchair and pushed her into position along the side of the tracks, facing south out the entrance. The rear guard of officers had closed the distance to be with the bigger group. Children hung on to their parents; the youngest were carried by those with the strength to hold them. Most kids were crying amidst all the commotion and noise. Many adults were brushing tears as well. Behind them, a seething mass of plague victims emerged from the dark, smoky tunnel.

  Liam took in a deep breath and sucked in the acrid smell from all the gunfire.

  The captain and a vanguard of cops with shotguns stood right at the cusp of the portal. With a flourish, Osborne turned around to everyone and gave his most rousing and succinct speech of the day.

  “RUN LIKE HELL, BOYS AND GIRLS!”

  They all plunged into the chaos.

  Chapter 13: The Hole Nightmares Fall Out Of

  Liam was under the wide-open sky for the first time in nearly a full day and was a little disoriented by the setting sun, heat, and fresh air. The noise of gunfire and panicked screaming came from every direction, accompanied by the angry howls of military aircraft above them. He stumbled a little as he pushed one side of Grandma's wheelchair along the rocky railroad grade while Victoria pushed the other. Grandma did her best to hang on with one hand while she gripped his backpack with the other. They were surrounded by a few dozen men, women, and children making a break from one tunnel to another.

  Even while on the run he couldn’t help noticing odd details. A couple pulling along a young teen girl, who was, in turn, dragging along a small border collie that wanted nothing to do with her. A nun, black habit and all, easily outpacing almost everyone in her orange running shoes. A young police officer, barely older than him it seemed, pausing to fire at nearby threats with his sidearm—liberally cussing the entire time.

  The railroad tracks paralleled the length of the Arch grounds and ran along a shallow trench. He couldn't remember seeing the railroad tracks from the park above, so he figured they were designed to be well camouflaged. A gigantic stone staircase wrapped around and over the tunnel ahead. It helped people get from the park, over the tracks, and down to the nearby riverfront. The tunnel was a couple of football-field lengths ahead.

  The remnants of the civilian and military cordon around the Arch, as well as many of the people they were protecting, ran down the hill from up top and either turned into the tunnel ahead or continued forward toward the river. He couldn't see much in the direction of the water. His worry focused on what was behind the survivors as they came off the hill.

  Fewer and fewer healthy people exited the park. Some stragglers were caught by the rising tide of blood-drenched infected behind them. The slow. The weak. The injured. Those out of ammo. The overly brave. They fought hand-to-hand with the front edge of the approaching zombies. They either got away quickly or fell to the horde. Most, he was sorry to admit, succumbed.

  His heart stuttered as a large vehicle tore through some of the small trees on the hill above. It was the heavy M1A2 Abrams tank he'd seen from up in the Arch—he recognized the make from seeing them in video games—but it had completely morphed into something out of a horror flick. It was belching out great clouds of white smoke, making it impossible to see behind it. Its color had changed from desert tan to Hell's red.

  As it plowed over the hill, it crushed several feeding zombies and readjusted its path to avoid the rear of Liam's group. It popped off a small ledge and perched itself directly on the railroad tracks, close enough to him that he could see the sheen of blood covering its entire lower half. The tracks and road wheels were caked solid with—he couldn't even describe the horrors. One detached foot in Angie's car had been enough to terrorize him. The tank’s deck was covered with body parts and torn clothing. It was hard to tell, but there appeared to be injured zombies riding along—groping for the living inside the steel beast. He could imagine all the death the tank crew had witnessed—the results were riding with them.

  He thought it was just going to continue onward toward the river, along with all the people running in that direction, but instead, it seemed to dig in as it sat on the ruined train tracks. The massive smoke screen wafted along the hillside behind the tank, temporarily providing cover for those—like him—running from the walking plague up there.

  He continued to move Grandma down the tracks but looked over his shoulder to see what the tank was going to do. Just as it seemed the billowing smoke would obscure the vehicle completely, the wind shifted slightly, so he could still see most of the action.

  The turret swiveled left to face the large tunnel they'd just evacuated. Zombies poured forth from it like filth from a broken sewer pipe.

  Shoot them!

  The tank's machine gun barked above all the other gunfire in the area and ripped viciously into the mass of lost humanity near and inside the tunnel. The crew had positioned their vehicle perfectly to shoot inside the dark space. He wondered how many sick people each shell would pass through. Would a bullet reach the other e
nd of the long tunnel, passing through zombie after zombie the whole length? The gun pounded in short bursts for maybe thirty seconds.

  For its final act, the tank fired one shell from its main gun into the tunnel. The concussion of the shot caused incredible turbulence of smoke and debris around the hull of the tank as if the whole thing was trying to shake off the blood and wreckage coating it. A hundred-yard swath of zombies evaporated in a line drawn from the gun to the tunnel, and he realized the tank had fired a type of shotgun round that inflicted horrible results on flesh. Who says you don’t learn anything from video games?

  The turret turned back to the forward position. He watched as the hatch on top was opened briefly; a tanker poked his head out. He looked in Liam's direction and gave a thumbs-up sign. Then the tank jerked forward, the hatch dropped, and it moved away. It pulled the smoke screen like a curtain behind it. For just a moment, he couldn't see any movement in that direction.

  The Abrams tank had bought them a little time, plugging the hole and confusing the pursuit. However, the wave of undead was still there. And it wouldn't be long before the dead would be emerging as the smoke dissipated. He saw what he guessed were the final survivors of the rear guard coming down from above. A rare few were police officers. Most were civilians with weapons. Some appeared to be hunters with long guns or shotguns. Others were dressed in black tactical gear as if trying to be stealthy. And still others were flamboyantly dressed like they might have been going to church—he imagined them as drug dealers, pimps, and the like. But, with zombies not far behind, they were all working together to escape the park, just like everyone left alive.

  The captain stopped and turned around as he neared the tunnel, urging his party to run harder. Liam was encouraged by his presence, but the look on Osborne’s face as he peered back to where they came from made him once again feel a wobble in the pit of his stomach. He chanced a look back, too; the smokescreen had almost evaporated.

  He saw scores of infected pouring out from the railroad tunnel behind them. Even after the terrible damage inflicted by the tank, more took the place of the fallen. The soft tones of the evening light made the blood on their faces, arms, and chests stand out. The confines of the railroad grade ensured they would all funnel in the one direction they could see food—right to him and his fellow survivors.

  He pushed the wheelchair faster.

  2

  Osborne ran into the short tunnel ahead. There were already a good number of people holed up inside, including some with weapons. Liam saw how, after some quick words, the captain arranged those with rifles along the two sides of the opening, so they could protect the flanks of the group running in. It wasn't long before the shooting began. He wasn't willing to turn around to see if anything was hit. He was too close to the goal.

  Hayes beat him, Victoria and Grandma to the tunnel entrance by a full minute. Apparently, he wanted nothing to do with the slowpokes.

  They wheeled Grandma in among the very rear of the group, just a few women and children behind them. Once inside, he turned to watch and see if his help was needed. At the very back, a few policemen were pulling rear guard duty, preceded by the grievously wounded officers from the museum who were being carried slowly by two of the biggest officers, including Jones.

  They moved too slowly.

  Any fool could see there would be too many zombies for the group to hold off, but still they kept shooting and reloading. Perhaps if they backed everyone into the tunnel and stood shoulder to shoulder?

  He felt for his gun and considered helping but knew he was woefully under-prepared for the battle. He was happy to see the police give the thumbs-up sign to someone above them on the outside of the tunnel. Osborne motioned for them to come down while his men continued to pour lead into the infected crowd closing the distance.

  The first guy to come down from just above the tunnel exit looked like a gang member. He hung off the ten-foot wall holding back the soil at the entrance and then dropped down. Dressed in jeans with his underwear showing in a silly fashion, he carried an AK-47 rifle. He took up a position at the front of the tunnel with the remaining police officers and added his firepower to the defense of those inside. In small clumps, other gang members dropped in from above, as well as other civilians, the ones with hunting rifles and other guns that he'd seen moments before, running like hell on the hill above them. The group was gaining fighters like a snowball picks up snow. The tunnel was the only piece of cover in this part of the park. Everyone who saw it ran that way.

  The original fight between the rogue gangs and the police was pushed aside as life and death for everyone depended on getting as many guns as possible aiming in the same direction.

  Soon there was parity between firepower and incoming zombies inside the channel of the railway culvert. It wouldn't last unless the sick stopped coming. Looking out the tunnel entrance, he saw them swarming like locusts on the hill above. The tunnel was just a place to give the living breathing room while planning their next escape.

  He made sure he was close to the captain so that he could listen in. Whatever the plan was, it was important to hear it first, so he could prepare right away. He would give Grandma every chance he could.

  One of the gang guys hung by the captain, as did several of the new “good ol' boys” with their camo hunting outfits and long-distance rifles. Like Liam, they all wanted to know what their leader was going to say next.

  “Thanks, guys. You saved our asses, but this can't last. We have to keep running to the south. There are too many of these things.”

  The firing and crowd noise was so loud he couldn't hear many of the details discussed, but he did catch their intention to push further south down the railroad tracks. Several volunteered to stay behind at this rail tunnel to hold off the pack of zombies, while the others got away.

  He was impressed that both the gang members and the hunters volunteered to join the police in making that happen. He assumed their families were also heading south, which appeared to be the only real route of escape left to anyone.

  He tried to convey what was happening to Grandma, but she tapped her ear again. Her smile told him she was fine. In fact, she seemed almost calm given their grim situation.

  “I'm glad you found Victoria again,” she mouthed with a wry smile.

  “You have no idea,” he wanted to say. He flashed a thumbs-up sign and a big grin. He felt as if the weight of the world had fallen off, now that she was back safe with him—with them, he corrected himself.

  There were a few minutes left before Osborne was going to push them all out, so he grabbed his backpack, dropped it on the rocks, and checked his gun. He pulled out the magazine from his pistol and ensured it was fully loaded. Victoria stood close by, so he motioned for her gun. He pulled out its magazine to double check it. He knew it was full, but even so—

  He was shocked to realize it was not full. He had just given it to her and was right next to her while they pushed from tunnel to tunnel. She hadn't had time to fire it.

  When did I fire this gun?

  He couldn't remember if he switched guns somewhere along the way. In fact, he didn't remember firing any gun since they left Grandma's house. He tried to think of what might have happened, though the constant noise of the guns around him made it difficult to process data and think.

  I didn’t load it correctly in the first place, he decided. He resolved to be better about checking and rechecking his guns.

  He slammed in three rounds, seated the magazine back into the frame, and handed it—with the safety on—back to her. He showed her the safety again and had to yell to remind her to toggle it off when she was ready to shoot.

  The sound of gunfire reached epic levels in the tunnel. The time to move on was at hand. But all the while, men and women continued trickling in from above, some joining the shooters in the front, and others adding to the pack of civilians in the back.

  “We're moving soon!” he shouted to Grandma, hoping she heard him.

>   3

  He happened to be looking directly north out the mouth of the tunnel when he saw a massive fireball inside the park. Not quite on the central staircase directly under the Arch, but a little north of it. The resulting shock wave pushed a warm current through the tunnel. He had no idea what caused the explosion until the captain yelled, “HERE COMES THE AIR FORCE!”

  The promised attack by the military had begun. Some of the people cheered, but he noticed not many of the police joined in. They undoubtedly remembered the radio message both telling them to clear out and to forget about getting across the river to safety. He felt excited to see so many of the sick get destroyed, but that was tempered by the vibe coming from the police.

  The initial bomb must have been a signal to fire freely at the massive gathering of infected. He dared to move closer to the exit and watched as the hillside above them erupted in all manner of explosions. The captain ordered everyone to retreat as far back into the tunnel as they could. The gunners at the mouth blasted the zombies in the railroad culvert even as they continued their inexorable march forward into the hail of bullets.

  “I don't know if the Air Force knows we're here,” Captain Osborne shouted, “but if they drop one of those big boys in this area, we're all going to get free haircuts and cough up our lungs. I don't want to be collateral damage, and you don't either. We're moving out!”

  He pointed to the back of the tunnel, which opened to a railroad bridge over some streets and then went south into an industrial area along the Mississippi River. From there, Liam guessed they ran along the river practically forever.

  The captain organized a spearhead of his men and sent them out the south exit to clear the way. He then had all the women and children, along with Grandma and the wounded, head out and follow those men. This time, there was no speech. He wanted everyone out of the area, pronto.

  One last look and he witnessed the flash of another large fireball under the Arch. Liam guessed they were starting up north and working their way down south. Surely, they knew any survivors would be down here, right? Were others up north?