Since The Sirens Box Set | Books 1-7

by Isherwood, E. E.

  “Sir, were you sent by Douglas Hayes?”

  At the mention of the name, the man sprang to a semblance of awareness. He grabbed his rifle and pointed it—somewhat randomly—at Liam.

  “Tell me right now who you work for.”

  Liam froze. In moments, the gun swayed dangerously. The man was on the edge and having trouble holding the weapon in the air with his waning strength.

  “Hayes has my grandma. We think he's going to kill her.”

  The gun dropped completely to the floor. Whether it was because of what he said, or just fatigue, Liam couldn't tell.

  “Son, look over the rails. They've been killing grandmas and grandpas up there by the pound. Your meemaw's dead. Get out of here.”

  Victoria spoke directly to Liam, as quietly as she could. “Liam, I'm sure she's fine.”

  The man coughed several times, loudly. Then, with his head on his chest, “Liam? Can't be many Liams out there. Liam Peters, by chance? Grandma is Martinnette Peters?” He ended with a wet cough.

  Liam hadn't recovered from having the man's rifle pointed at him, but now pointed his own gun. “What do you want with Martinnette Peters?”

  The man was trembling. He looked into the distance. “Sorry, sir. I almost killed them both. Yes, sir. It's been an honor, sir. I'm—” He heaved himself sideways into the doorway.

  Victoria pushed Liam into the doorway as well. They both fell to the hard cement floor on the far side of the man as an explosion erupted. Liam was stunned by the noise and concussion, but was otherwise unharmed. He got to his feet with ringing ears and his normal headache. He pulled Victoria off the ground and they moved out of the smoky stairwell while they recovered.

  “Are you OK?” Victoria shouted.

  Liam nodded in the affirmative.

  They both sat down on the floor nearby. It took a couple minutes before they could resume normal conversation.

  “You saved our lives. Thanks. How did you know he would explode?”

  Victoria talked at a higher volume than normal. “I saw it in a movie. I didn't want him to raise his gun at you again, so I watched him like a hawk. When he rolled over, I heard a click, and saw the grenade clear as day fall behind him. I guessed that his body would shield most of the explosion, so that's where I pushed you.”

  “I'm lucky I brought you along. I just stood there like an idiot.”

  “Well, you didn't bring me along for my girlishly good looks, did you?” Even behind her shampoo-laced scarf, he could tell she was smiling.

  “Well, actually...”

  The humor belied the stark raving fear he felt at that moment.

  We almost died. Again.

  5

  “So, what do we do next? Go into the super-scary pitch-black stairwell?” He tried to be funny, which was the only antidote to the dread clawing at his insides.

  “The elevators haven't come down for us yet, so I guess we have to.”

  Liam inwardly smiled that she had a sense of humor. He didn't think he could have survived with someone who was a constant dark cloud.

  They got up and searched the man for any clues about who he was or what his mission might have been, but he had no ID and very little else on what was left of his body. He had a small flashlight latched to a black utility belt. Also attached was a holster with a handgun in it. Liam recognized it as a Glock. He tossed it in his backpack. The man wore a piece of steel on his chest—a bulletproof chest plate. Liam imagined wearing the chest plate, getting shot by the bad guys, but then jumping back up to kill them all after they thought he was dead. However, after pulling it off the man's ruined body, he felt the weight.

  “I wish I could have carried this bulletproof armor.” He held it up to his chest, struggling to keep it there. He never thought of himself as a weakling, but the dead man was larger than he appeared. The armor was oversized for a man of his girth.

  “Just do what I do,” said Victoria, “don't get shot.”

  “Now, wait just a minute,” Liam retorted. Of the two of them, she was the only one who had actually had a bullet land on her.

  “You're so funny. I'd kiss you if I wasn't wearing protection from the stink around us, and we didn't have a headless zombie full of bullet holes and a dead man missing a large chunk of his body right by us. Kinda takes the mood away.”

  Liam turned to the dark doorway, flicked on his own battle-worn flashlight, and said a quasi prayer. “I will fear no evil.”

  “Amen.” Victoria gripped the dead man's small light and together they headed up the steps.

  Almost immediately, Liam said, “Are we there yet?”

  “Don't make me turn this stairwell around. I will, so help me!”

  “No seriously, are we there? How much longer?”

  “For the one-millionth time, I'll tell you when we get there!”

  They both giggled in the confined space, trying to push back against the darkness.

  At the next landing, they checked the door. It was closed, which was a relief since no zombies could stumble in, but it was also welded shut with the word “Phoenix” stenciled on it with white paint.

  The next level was also welded shut. Its door said “Chicago.” A few twice-deceased zombies were lying in the stairwell—all shot in the head. They were dressed in hospital scrubs, though it was unclear if they were the doctors or the patients.

  “Why do you think someone would seal these doors?”

  Liam could think of a few reasons. The most obvious was to keep out the zombies, but zombies were already in the building, on every floor, if his earlier surveillance was correct.

  “I don't know,” was all he felt like committing to at that moment.

  At the fifteen floor, they found the bodies of two U.S. Marines. The area around them was scorched and blackened, as if an explosion ripped through there. The bodies were badly mangled, though Liam avoided studying them in any detail.

  “So now we have Marines, a guy dressed in black wearing body armor, and a hotel full of zombies. Was this a popular nightclub or something?”

  Liam responded, “This hotel is so new I don't know if it was even open before the sirens went off. Dad drove me by here a couple times and I saw it going up, but I don't have a clue why it's so popular now.”

  After many tiring minutes, they reached the final door in the stairwell. It had the number thirty on a placard next to it. Unlike the floors below, each with a different city or region stenciled on it, this door was unmarked.

  Liam ascended the last few steps and put his ear to the door. He heard nothing obvious from the other side but did notice there was one small hole in the metal next to his head. He noticed more holes in various locations on the door.

  He shut off his light and Victoria did the same.

  As their eyes adjusted to the darkness, the door revealed many more punctures.

  With a whisper, Victoria stated the obvious.

  “Bullet holes.”

  Chapter 12: Old Friends

  “OK, I'm outta here.”

  Liam made like he was going to walk back down the steps, trying to pass it off as humor. He looked longingly into the darkness below him, knowing it was safer than whatever was on the other side of the door.

  Still whispering, Victoria retorted, “Har har, Mr. Funny Guy.”

  “Yeah, I know. I'm just trying to enjoy the day before I get shot up.”

  He tried to look through some of the bullet holes to see what was on the other side, but they revealed nothing.

  He prepared himself to open the door, but paused as he touched it. He turned to Victoria and embraced her. Nothing was said, but it made him feel better. After a few wonderful moments, he broke free, and pulled the large fire door.

  A big machine gun was on the floor. It had been sitting on a tripod at one time, but was now lying on its side in an alcove to his left. A massive hole was in the wall of the hotel room directly in front of him. A spacious circular room with a glass ceiling was to his right. The top level of the
hotel was a posh lounge with many small tables and chairs and lots of planters. Rows of slot machines were parked in a central area, though they were still wrapped in shipping plastic. Most of the furniture was overturned, and bodies were everywhere on the floor.

  The circular central lounge was flanked by the penthouse suites on one side, and by some kind of Japanese restaurant on the other. The Kanji letters were listed below the English name Kyushu View. On the far side—in the 3 o'clock stairwell alcove—he saw another machine gun on a tripod, still upright. It had a flashing red light on top, and if his eyes were true, the machine gun was swiveling in his direction.

  “Run!”

  He plunged ahead into the breach in the wall, tripping on the debris as he did so. Victoria tumbled in after him. Together they hugged the floor awaiting the sounds of the big gun. Its silence almost disappointed him.

  “Sorry, I thought that other machine gun was going to start shooting us.”

  Victoria took it in stride as she sized up the new room.

  The construction plaster of the wall had blanketed the floor and was extremely slippery. They both crawled away from the downed wall and regained their footing on a shaggy carpet. The penthouse was huge.

  “So this is where the rich people stay.” Victoria whistled in amazement.

  Everything you'd imagine in a million-dollar suite of an expensive hotel was in front of them: large kitchen, a massive en suite hot tub, stainless steel decor, several bedrooms, and big comfy sofas overlooking a million-dollar view of downtown St. Louis and the entire cityscape beyond.

  It would have been perfect if it didn't also contain a handful of dead Marines.

  Liam dragged himself to the closest man and was dismayed to see he was shot, not bitten.

  “The day has come where I actually prefer dead bodies to be killed by zombies, rather than other men. What does that say about me?”

  Victoria put her hand on his back as she spoke. “I think it's normal. I'm scared to death of anyone who's willing get into a fight and kill Marines. It looks like they succeeded, at least in killing these men. It can't be for any good purpose. Unless—”

  “Unless what?”

  “Unless the Marines are the bad guys.” Liam considered himself to be the conspiracy theorist, with his conspiracy theorist father to thank for that, but Victoria now gave him a run for his money.

  “Think about it, Liam. Someone blows your neighborhood to hell, and the Marines are there. Marines show up at Camp Hope, and out of the blue survivalists attack the camp. Maybe they were working together? Now, in a creepy tower filled with zombies, where we know your grandma is being held, we find more Marines. That seems like a lot of odd coincidences if they aren't really the enemy here.”

  “Yeah, I guess I see your point.” He didn't want to believe it. “But let's keep moving. Grandma's probably in worse danger than we thought. As long as she's up here and not...”

  “Just keep going. She's here.”

  He stood up and she led him to the far wall. It was also breached wide enough for soldiers to pass through.

  The next room was similar to the first. They managed to avoid slipping and falling as they came through. More Marines were dead in this room, but there were also dead soldiers with different uniforms too. It was apparently a swirl of fighting—the room was a disaster area of broken furniture and scorched walls. All the glass of the outer windows was shattered or blown out. It made him feel as if he were going to be sucked out the opening, though he knew it was just his mind being overprotective.

  He reached the first of the non-Marine soldiers to check him out. He didn't need to be an expert to identify the stitched tag on his shirt.

  U.S. Army.

  2

  They were surrounded by both dead Marines and dead U.S. Army soldiers.

  “Were they together?”

  Victoria checked out the bodies, too. “Why do they all have bullet holes in their heads?”

  Nothing? No shock at that statement?

  He looked straight at the dead men, all shot in the head, some with their brains spilled out, and he felt no revulsion at the spectacle.

  He tried to block out the question by focusing on solving the mystery.

  “Hard to tell. We know there are at least three factions involved now. Marines. Army. And the black uniform guy and his friends.”

  “Hayes could be his own faction, don't you think?”

  “Dunno. This is getting out of hand though. Is there any hope of finding Grandma if all these men fought and died around her? There's no way she could have survived fighting this bad...”

  She grabbed his shirt and pulled him along. “Don't give up. Just keep moving. Remember, we are her faction.” She tapped her rifle with her free hand.

  She brought them both to the door to go out. There was no breach in the next wall, meaning whoever left the room had to have gone out into the main lounge area.

  Maybe they're watching us now?

  There was no way to hide their approach in the well-lit lounge area, so Liam poked his head out the door to see if it drew any response.

  Nothing happened. He could see the alcove on the far side of the room where the machine gun sat, but from this vantage point he couldn't see the gun. He supposed the Marines were trying to flank the heavy gun. Now he was taking advantage of their tactics.

  “At least the Marines did us the favor of getting us around that machine gun. No matter if they're the good guys or bad.”

  Victoria said nothing, but squeezed his back to let him know she heard him.

  “Wait here and cover me. I'm going to run past the elevators to the next room. The door is open, so that might be where the fight continued.”

  They both double-checked their weapons before he stole a quick kiss and ran across the open space. He eyed all the tables and planters where he could take cover in the lounge if a bad guy saw him, but he made it all the way to the planned doorway without seeing anything. Except—

  About twenty feet from the doorway, he saw someone had cut a large hole the translucent floor. The whole lounge was floored with a thick glass-like material designed to let light filter down into the main atrium of the lower hotel. The floor was intact except the five-foot wide hole nearby. Someone had surrounded it with chairs from the lounge. Victoria ran up after him, patting him on the back again to acknowledge her presence.

  He judged the distance between the open door and the hole in the floor, as well as whether anyone inside the room could see him if he walked to the hole.

  “Liam!” Victoria whispered; she wanted him to stop.

  He ignored her and walked to the edge of gap.

  I have to know.

  Victoria chose to stick by him rather than hold up the wall, though he noticed she was turned sideways with her rifle swinging to and fro. She was protecting him from any threats.

  Cautiously, he bent over the 300-foot drop so he could look straight down into the hotel and the lobby floor. He knew what he'd see. The pile of bodies they'd seen while on the third floor was straight down. Whatever took place up here was responsible for the nightmare down there. The bodies had been tossed from this hole to fall unceremoniously onto the macabre funeral pyre.

  Victoria peeked into the hole, too. It didn't take her long to come to the same conclusion.

  “Why would they toss them down there like so much trash?” She looked back toward the open door, then continued while facing Liam. “Look at me. Grandma isn't down there. I know it in my heart. She's not.”

  “I hope you're right. My heart feels it, too. But my brain can almost see her down there.”

  “Liam, no—”

  A new voice spoke loudly from behind them, “She's not down there. I promise you that.”

  Liam didn't have to turn around to know who it was. Since the second day of the collapse, this voice had been haunting him. Its owner had followed them out of the city, only to run and hide at the very last moment when he could have been useful. He tracked
Liam and Grandma, kidnapped them, and shot Victoria. He tried to experiment on Grandma, then lost her, then kidnapped her one last time, presumably to bring her to this building. He was the person Liam had grown to hate more than anyone else in the entire apocalypse.

  “Hayes.”

  3

  Liam and Victoria spun around, weapons drawn.

  “Don't worry, kids. You don't need the guns. I'm unarmed.”

  He held his arms up as he stood in the doorway of one of the uncleared rooms. He wore a hideous yellow Hawaiian shirt, bulky khaki short pants which mostly covered the bandages on his thigh, and penny loafers. He looked like an older man playing at being young while going to the beach, but then he'd always had a questionable dress code.

  He looked them over, then dropped his arms and limped back into his room. “Come on in.”

  Liam wasn't willing to shoulder his weapon, so he left it hanging at his side—ready if he needed it. Victoria kept hers in her hands, pointed at the floor as she walked. He didn't think she was willing to trust the man who shot her. He didn't either.

  They entered the room where Hayes had disappeared. It was laid out just like the other two rooms, but in the front living space there were several blood-soaked gurneys with lots of medical equipment nearby. The rest of the room was shot to hell. Liam shut the door and locked it with the chain and deadbolt.

  Hayes walked over to one of the remaining chairs—a large leather armchair—and took a seat. He motioned for them to come sit on a nearby couch with fist-sized holes in the sides. Liam was happy to put the bloody gurneys to his back, though he stayed on his feet rather than sit down.

  “Where's my Grandma, if not down in that hole?”

  He tore off his makeshift bandana; Victoria followed. The smell was still bad, but not overpowering, on this floor.

  “Be careful, Liam. She's in the bedroom resting. But she isn't alone. Please put your weapon down before you go in. I don't want anyone else getting shot.”

  He looked at Hayes for a long second, then turned and walked toward the bedroom, gun in hand. Victoria followed.

  “Grandma!” He yelled it, even though she had her eyes closed. There were also several other people in the bedroom suite.