Victoria and Hayes both moved in his direction, but the bodyguard yelled something and everyone froze. He couldn't remember because he'd hit the floor pretty hard and his ears rang like mad.
His mind came back into focus as Victoria lifted him. Duchesne had gone back to his chair, but was hunched over with his elbows on his knees, rubbing his hands together. He spoke in a low voice.
“That's for making me look like an ass back on the bridge. I've been wanting to do that since the minute you left my sight. I never dreamed I'd have this chance. I have to say, that felt pretty good.”
He sat back up, talking to the room.
“This is what's going to happen. My team and I are going to take Ms. Peters here down to our boat. We're going to get into said boat, motor to the far shore where our chopper is waiting, and live happily ever after in the cornfields of Illinois.” He paused with a little drama before continuing. “Well, most of us will live happily.”
“Will you try to take care of her? Keep her alive?” Liam had asked the same question of Hayes not long ago.
“Are you kidding me? I don't care what happens to your dear old grammy. They can rip her apart as far as I'm concerned. As long as someone who knows what the hell they're doing is analyzing the results—and not this goof—she'll have proven her worth. If she has to suffer so the rest of us can live, so be it.”
The pain in his stomach was intense. He wondered if he ruptured his stomach or other internal organs. It felt that bad. While hunched over and being supported by Victoria, he continued to press Duchesne. “Take us with you. We'll help you take care of Grandma and go to your fortress, or whatever, and not cause any problems.”
“Ha! Not cause problems, you say? Like you didn't cause any problems when two of my agents died in your Grandma's house? Like not cause any problems when you sent a whole army of refugees into the quiet hinterlands of southern Missouri? Like not cause any problems when you skillfully avoided the U.S. Marines and the bombing of your neighborhood? Is that what you mean by not cause problems, because if that's not causing problems, I think I'm genuinely afraid of you if you are trying to cause problems. You're a lone boy, and you've cost this country millions of dollars, maybe billions of dollars, in terms of lives lost, damage to property, and long-term financial ruin of a significant portion of the population of St. Louis. That's all you and your 'not causing problems'.”
“Liam also helped destroy a perfectly good railroad bridge over a river when we came out of St. Louis. You might want to charge him for that.” Victoria seemed to revel in goading Duchesne. She did the same back on the bridge.
“Very funny, young lady. I'd punch you, too, if you didn't already have two black eyes.”
On his feet, Duchesne said something to the bodyguard and the big man left the room. He then turned to Hayes. “I'm outta time. Do you want to tell them, or shall I?”
Hayes had a downtrodden look. He was either still sulking from his earlier embarrassment or this was something new. When he looked up, he wasn't looking at Liam. He was looking at Grandma. He moved in her direction, reached behind her pillow, and pulled something into view.
“Liam, I'm real sorry to have to tell you this...”
Liam didn't hear the rest of the statement. He knew. Grandma had already been infected with the deadly virus. The reason she was so quiet was that her body was absorbing it into her blood, just as Bart had done back at Elk Meadow. When Bart woke up, he was sentient for a while, but devolved into a zombie not long after.
Grandma had minutes to live…
4
Marty walked with Al for a few moments, then she entered her own memory.
“Al, no. Not again. I can't bear it.”
“You must, my dear. You must face your darkest fear before you can look ahead.”
“But...”
She fell into the dream.
“I'm so happy! Al just bought me a new car. Well, he bought it for us. Mr. and Mrs. Aloysius Peters. I just love saying the name.” She twirled in the grass of her backyard like a giddy schoolgirl. She wasn't much older than one.
“I can't wait to drive it. Al showed me the controls. I'm sure I can. But he said not to.”
She ran on tiptoes from the yard and into her garage. It was fresh and new. She was looking at a polished black Model T Ford. Her mind registered it as a 1926 Runabout—they had just bought it used from Al's father.
She eyed the driver's door of the vehicle. “What would it hurt to drive it? I could take a quick ride around the block. Al would never know I was gone.”
“I shouldn't.”
“Should I?”
Her emotions became confusing here. Marty recognized both restraint and abandon in her younger self. The straight-laced young lady had never done anything so illicit.
“I'm an adventurer!”
She jumped in and looked at the spartan controls. She walked through the starting process Al showed her, ending with stepping on the starter on the floor. Her happiness was through the roof.
She proceeded to back out of the garage, deftly working the three pedals on the floor while adjusting the spark and throttle on the steering column.
“I can do this.”
She rolled the car forward down the narrow alleyway and paused at the edge of the cross street.
Her elation fused with dread as she wondered if anyone would recognize her, and if they did, would they tell Al his wayward wife was on a joyride in their prized new Ford.
The confusion and danger thrilled her. She released the brake and turned right with a little boost to the throttle. Youthful Martinette's long blonde hair began to flow wildly behind her. She was now in second gear and loving life.
“I'm doing it. I'm so proud of myself.”
While the car never really got going too fast, it felt like riding a bolting stallion to her young self. She controlled all that power.
She could see into the backyards of houses as she passed. More often than not, a woman was tending laundry on the drying lines, or holding a baby or two. Those women were securely tied down just as surely as those laundry cables.
“I am, too.”
“But in this moment I'm free.”
Marty recognized the struggle of her younger self.
Her mind was aflutter. Unfiltered joy rode with abject fear. The mixture was intoxicating.
She drove for several minutes. A flash of disappointment as she turned the car around.
“I must get back. Things to do. I've had my fun. I wish Al could be proud of me.”
Her feelings fluctuated between desire and regret now. Telling her husband she had taken a joyride would be a minor scandal. Better to just park it and ignore it happened at all. She felt sorry for feeling that way, but sometimes a white lie helped keep the peace in marriage. She at least believed what she thought.
Hair blowing, she spun the iron horse back into the alley, slowing slightly, heading for the wooden corral behind her home.
“I can turn into the garage at this speed. I know I can. I'm doing great.”
She made the turn quickly and deftly, ecstatic she could do it, and then slammed on the brake. She felt a bump as the car decelerated, but she knew she didn't hit the front wall because she still had a couple feet to spare.
“That would be a disaster.”
“Mercy. What a ride that was.”
Car off. Door open. Step down.
And she saw it. The shoe.
Confusion.
“Impossible. It can't be.”
Slowly, Grandma moved to the front of the car. What young Marty saw was so emotionally powerful she still couldn't see it now. Grandma had completely blocked it.
It was her first baby. Barely 18 months. A girl. Martinette had left her sound asleep in her crib in the backyard when she snuck off for her joy ride. When it happened for real, she had run away screaming. She stole one quick glance at her daughter lying on the cold concrete. Al came and took baby Victoria away, leaving her with nothing but an e
mpty hole in her soul.
Her emotions became a storm of pain and depression.
A voice in her head said, “Marty, you must look.”
“Al, Victoria is dead. I killed her. I killed my little girl.”
“I know, my love. I beg you. Please look at her.”
The grief of nearly ninety years spilled out, and Marty was racked with sobs.
“I just can't, Al. Please don't make me.”
She felt Al's hand on her shoulder. Far away and yet so immediate in this dream. “I trust you to do this. You are my fighter. Always were.”
Young Martinette opened her eyes. She used her hand on the side of the car to pull herself toward the front. Toward what she knew was a tiny ruined body.
Her hands were soaked from perspiration. Her heart was overtaxed from anxiety. She pushed on, rounding the front bumper.
She looked.
On the floor, there was no evidence of her baby. Instead, she saw Liam's phone.
She fainted, but did not wake up.
5
“Hayes. Why? Why now?”
“Liam, listen to me. They were going to take her away. This was my last chance to test my theory. I think your Grandma can survive it. I need to see it happen.”
Liam didn't know what he should be feeling. He felt like he did when he first escaped from Angie, nearly two weeks ago. When he evaded her and reached his home, he sat down and felt empty. He felt nothing. This moment was a mirror of that one. He felt absolutely nothing at all.
Grandma was dead. It was all for nothing. He was—
Victoria chirped. The whole room looked at her.
A second chirp.
She steadied Liam so he could stand on his own, then with a slightly red face, she pulled her phone out of her bra. When he saw it, he recalled she pulled it one other time. It was within the first few minutes they'd been together back when they'd met at the Arch. She hadn't used it or mentioned it since then.
“I usually keep it off. I've been trying to save the power and only check it once a day to see if my parents tried to contact me. I must have left it on.”
She looked at the face of the phone first with shock, then sadness.
“This has to be some kind of joke. Look at this.” She handed the phone to Liam.
Reading from the text log, Liam said, “Need to kill the power to building. Stop the sirens.” He looked up with confusion. “It says it's from my phone.”
“Well, where's your phone?” Victoria asked. “I thought you gave it to Grandma.”
“I did. Someone must have taken it from her.”
Duchesne seemed only half-interested. His tall associate pressed his ear bud, then whispered something to his boss.
“OK, we're ready to go. I like your friend's thinking. We were going to blow the stairwell doors for this building so you'd be trapped in here, but we'll go ahead and place a charge on the power generator on our way out. Yeah, that's a great idea actually. That ought to make things interesting for the whole city, eh?”
“No! If you cut the power all the doors will...unlock.”
“And how is that my problem?”
Hayes looked at everyone before making the realization. “You're leaving us all here, aren't you?”
“Smart man! I don't think we'll be needing your services anymore. I'd just as soon kill you all where you stand, but I think it's fitting you die at the hands of your own menagerie, don't you? Once we blow all the doors, and the power, this place will be zombie headquarters for St. Louis. With a little luck, the old people you tossed to the ground will come back up and have words for you.”
Duchesne whistled and the woman came in with her weapon drawn. She stood by the other bodyguard, their message clear: “Stay back.”
“I assume we're all adults here. You know enough not to try anything tricky with my two friends pointing rifles at you all and zombie grandma. No one needs to get hurt. Now, back against the window if you don't mind.”
Liam was leafing through every book he'd ever read, looking for the answer to this riddle. How to stop a madman from taking his grandma away from him forever. He didn't think he could take the agent in a fight, nor did he consider even for the briefest second he could eliminate the two guards pointing harm in his direction. Unlike his books, there was no opportunity for him to be the hero.
“Nice and easy, everyone.”
The big bodyguard slung his rifle, then picked up the frail form of Grandma from the bed. He was surprisingly gentle, and due to his size, she appeared as if she was a small child over his shoulder. He carried her out of the room, making for the stairwell.
Duchesne walked out next, followed by the woman. She slowly walked backward, keeping them in check. Liam wondered how often it happened to her that her prisoners sprung for her with their bare hands. When she was at the threshold of the door, she pulled it shut. Just before it closed completely, she said, “If we see you come out before we're on the stairs...” She didn't finish it but she raised her rifle in Liam's direction.
When the door clicked shut, Liam flung himself at Hayes. He was partially deflected by Jane, but he made contact with the man's jaw. Liam winced as his knuckles felt broken. Hayes reacted in an instant, twisting himself and Liam to the ground. The battle was over in moments.
“Liam, you have to listen to me. We can still save Grandma. I didn't inject her with zombie blood.”
He had him in a headlock so Liam couldn't respond except with gasps of air. After many seconds, he stopped struggling and gave a thumbs up sign. At that, Hayes relented enough so he could talk. He didn't know what to say. He was used to hating Hayes. The new Hayes was confusing him.
“This may be the first time you don't have a witty retort for me.”
With a groan, Liam could only say, “Yeah, this may be the first time since we met that I sort of like you. It feels weird. Especially since I just punched you.”
They both got up and dusted themselves off. The two women also stepped apart, though they hadn't been fighting.
Liam tried to be nonchalant about the whole affair. “So, about that rescue...”
Chapter 14: Since The Sirens
Jane was Hayes' assistant, or friend, or girlfriend. Liam couldn't figure it out, and didn't ask. She was at the big window of the main room in the suite, scanning the wreckage below the Arch. “I've found them. They're leaving the railroad tunnel.”
Liam and Victoria jumped off the couch so they could see. Jane was trying to locate Grandma and her three captors.
“You found her?” Liam asked.
Duchesne said they had boats.
“You might be able to see her. South leg, heading south on the tracks.”
Jane gave him the binos and pointed to the bomb-cratered landscape that was once the lush grounds under the Arch. The dead bodies, downed trees, ruined walkways, and the massive flocks of scavenger birds had turned the parkland into an ugly slice of hell. The Mississippi River was the same ribbon of muddy and ugly it had always been, but now it deposited the world's litter into the large pile of wreckage entangled in the piers of the Poplar Street Bridge.
It took a few seconds to orient on the position and adjust the binoculars, but he saw her. A tiny figure carried by a giant and followed by two normal sized people. He was at such a height he could see them, but so far away he couldn't make out much detail. He dropped the binoculars and looked closer to the hotel. The zombies below the building were a throbbing froth of death.
“How did they get by all of the zombies?” He no longer cared about using that word. He had to know how to catch up with Grandma.
Hayes knew. “I'm sure they took the pedestrian tunnel. It goes from the parking garage into the Arch museum. It's all underground.”
Hayes had returned their weapons and ammo, and even shared a little food.
“Liam, there's something else in this building. Something you should know if you're going to go out there to get her.”
Liam wolfed down a grain bar
as he listened.
“This building is designed as a crude prison for the zombie samples we've been bringing in for months from around the world. But it also became the focal point for other pieces of research. One of the key discoveries the long-gone research team made was in brainwave manipulation. The brains of the infected retain a very narrow band of electrical activity—usually core functions such as muscle control, motor functions, and the most rudimentary cognitive functions related to...we assume...sating hunger. They don't run on evil spirits, like the movies.” He guffawed, trying to be funny, but he had an unreceptive audience.
“Anyway, we were able to modify all 200-something tornado sirens in the St. Louis area with special equipment which could broadcast on that frequency. When the sirens went off, the message went out to the infected: Run!”
“Hayes, I hate you again.”
“I deserve that. But don't you see, it was perfect. The sirens go off and the small number of infected in their homes or sitting in backyards run out to spread their cough. Before all this happened, we actually thought we'd have trouble getting our virus to spread. We worried the flu victims would curl up in bed and we'd miss our opportunity.”
“And are they working now? We saw tons of zombies walking back toward downtown when we were in our boat. Is that why they're all packed against this building?”
Hayes laughed, but not in a funny way this time.
“We have digital sirens on the roof of this building. Sort of massive dog whistles designed to be subsonic for humans, but the sound is like a dinner bell for the infected. We were field testing a way to bring them all down here so we could dispose of them. Imagine how easy it would be if we could gather them in one place.”
“So we have to get down on the ground, run through the crowd of dinner bell zombies, get into the tunnel, and then deal with the mercenaries before they can get her across the river to their impenetrable base. Sound about right?”
“Yes. That's right. But I do have a plan.”
After hearing it, Liam really wanted to devise an alternate plan and dazzle everyone. Unfortunately, he couldn't think of any alternative that didn't involve fighting the thousands of zombies at the base of the hotel in close combat. He'd have to work with Hayes' plan.
Since The Sirens Box Set | Books 1-7 Page 80
