“Do you need any help?” Liam looked around and saw no other cars or people in the area, so he figured it was safe to get out.
“No, I'll be quick. I need a moment alone if you take my drift.”
Liam had seen death more than he cared to admit over the past few days. Angie. Captain Osborne. Officer Jones. Now Officer Billy. To say nothing of the thousands upon thousands of people walking around with a plague that brings the dead back to life.
Phil walked around to Billy's door, opened it, and pulled his friend out. He gently dragged the dead man down a slight hill until he was well into the woods. Liam couldn't see much after that.
Victoria and Grandma slept on.
3
Liam must have drifted off while waiting for Phil to return Soon they were moving again, heading south. The direction Liam needed to go to get home. He could hear voices on a near-silent radio up front with Phil.
When Phil saw Liam's eyes were opened he started up. “I've got my police scanner. Sorry if it woke you. You said you lived in Barnhart, correct?”
A quick nod in the affirmative.
“A call came over the scanner that all available Arnold and county police are to meet at the interstate overpass in Imperial—near your home—today at 3 p.m. Something big's going down. I think we need to check it out before we take you home.”
Liam really just wanted to get home in the most direct path he could and avoid further entanglements, but he didn't want to seem selfish when there were so many desperate people outside his window. To be polite he merely said “sure,” and left it at that.
A few minutes of driving and Phil turned the car abruptly to the left into a small strip mall parking lot. He pulled up to a parked Arnold PD car as if he were going to talk to the occupants. They were facing his direction, so he maneuvered so his window was closest to the other driver. “This is Maple's car. I'll ask him what he knows.”
Phil pulled the car up next to the police cruiser, but quickly let out an “Oh shit!” He reached down and pulled up a semi-automatic pistol. Liam imagined he was going to take the gun and start shooting whoever was inside the police car. Instead, Phil moved the car a few feet ahead and took three shots at the rear tire, blowing it out. He then sped out of the parking lot, continuing southward. Liam's ears were ringing as he looked over his shoulder. He could see several men pour out of the police cruiser—none of them were Arnold PD. A couple tried firing handguns, but they were too far away. Liam had never been so happy to see a police cruiser out of operation.
“Wow. Did you know who was in that car when you pulled up?”
“No. But I should have known. I saw the driver wasn't Maple, and did the only thing I could think of—short of killing them in cold blood. Those boys could have been out for a joy ride and innocently found the car, or maybe they killed Maple to get his car. Maybe the car was abandoned; like I dumped mine. Maybe they thought I was a bad guy trying to jack their ride. There's no way to tell anymore who are the good guys and who are the bad. Even the good guys guarding those bridges became bad in the eyes of those on the other side of the roadblocks. Good and bad are just empty words out here.”
Phil drove on a few blocks and pulled off the road behind a small building. He put the truck in park and looked back at everyone. “I'm sorry guys, but we need to regroup. I've realized we all have to work together on security if we're going to survive. I don't think I'll be dropping you off and heading off on my own like I thought either...”
No one seemed anxious to argue with a police officer about security.
Phil requested Liam sit in the front passenger seat to help be his eyes and, he admitted to everyone, he needed someone checking his work. The other thing he did was place an AR-15 in the front seat with Liam. He threw several loaded mags onto the front floorboard. “If you need to fire it, try to stay lower than the window frame. Bullets will still come through the metal part of the door, but they have a much better chance of deflecting or at least slowing down compared to going through an open window right into your head.”
Liam had fired an AR before, as his dad was something of a “gun nut.” However, he was far from an expert shooter with the long guns like this. Some people had a steady hand and a dead-eye when they used scopes on rifles, but Liam admitted he was kind of “twitchy” and found it difficult to concentrate and remain perfectly still when he had to shoot long guns, such as hunting rifles. He wondered out loud how twitchy he was going to be when the targets were for real.
“Just take your time and pretend you're firing at paper targets. Aim center of mass, then put three shots right there. Oh, if you encounter any zombies—add one to the head. But I warn you, it ain't like the movies. Getting a headshot from any distance can be very difficult if you don't shoot guns regularly.”
“Victoria and I shot dozens of zombies in the head with our Rugers when we were on the train. It isn't really that hard when you're up close. Zombies don't move fast. But as I said, we were only a few feet away for most of those kills.”
Phil smiled. “Good. Now listen up. I've spent my whole life on the streets as a police officer. Almost twenty years. Not in the toughest jurisdictions mind you, but I've still seen and done a lot of ugly crap over the years. But none of that compared to the pain and trauma of losing the two loves of my life. My wife and daughter. And to a senseless car accident.”
He paused as if he'd lost his train of thought for a few moments.
“My point is that life is full of curves. That was always the case. But look at things now. Even when you think you're looking right at something you are 100% sure is what you think it is, you need to look again. Have your buddy double check you. Check your buddy's work. Do it again. Take nothing for granted.”
Another long pause. Liam turned to the back and smiled as he saw Victoria.
“Once law and order is removed from the equation of the street, you're going to see the worst in people. Without those few police officers making it clear the unspoken rule of “civil society” is still in effect, people are going to be quick to throw off the pretenses of lawfulness. That's why looting happens so fast. Once there is a whiff that law and order is AWOL, some kind of message goes out and finds every criminal in the area and invites them to make things worse. Unless I'm calling things really wrong here, I don't see law and order returning anytime soon. Maybe never.”
Phil hunkered down in his seat after a quick check out the front window.
“This is the absolute most important piece of advice I will ever give you: the concept of law and order is just an illusion. In the past, when order existed in our normal lives, the people who broke the law and did terrible crimes were very much like suicide bombers. They made a decision to murder, rape, shoot people in a movie theater, or whatever—knowing that for a period of time no police officer could possibly stop them. If you were willing to die in the act, no depravity was beyond reach. As a police officer under orders from politicians with a particular mindset toward guns I couldn't talk about this in my official duties. But privately I told everyone I knew it was their civic duty to carry a sidearm with them at all times. Movies. Church. The dentist. You are your own security. Police only show up after the suicide bomber has detonated himself.”
“Here's the bad news. Whereas previously only a suicide bomber would go out and test the limits of depravity, in today's world there is a neon sign on every street corner saying 'Law and Order has been terminated. You are on the honor system.' That means you no longer have to be a suicide bomber to conduct activities that aren't in harmony with the law—either written law or just plain decency. Murder is easy and has no consequences now. The suicide bomber no longer needs to detonate. And it won't just be the down-on-his-luck guy who fancies a molotov cocktail at the parish church, it will be groups of college-educated men and women throwing bombs through windows of entire neighborhoods simply as a statement against the very system of law and order they simultaneously hate and desperately need. Society itself becomes s
uicidal in the absence of law and order.”
“Are you saying it's the law of the jungle now?”
“I'm saying it's worse than that. The law of the jungle allows for continuation of the species. It works well when times are good and the system is well-oiled and everyone knows their place, even though it may not be the most advantageous code for individual weak members of the tribe. The strongest warrior and the weakest elder can coexist when times are good, even under the law of the jungle. A system is in place that rewards the strong and penalizes the weak, but it doesn't outright kill the weak for sport. Imagine the law of the jungle with no societal restrictions of any kind. The strongest warrior suddenly has every incentive to kill all the weaklings, including the young—so he can amass his own resources and treasure to survive a little bit longer. Cooperation is gone. Order is non-existent. The only constant is chaos. In that setting, even the law of the jungle would be the height of civility.”
“So what are we looking at if the law of the jungle is beyond reach?”
“What do you call a world where the dead are walking around in broad daylight? What do you call a world where a man would burn your house to the ground because he could? What do you call a world where a man would shoot you dead simply for wearing a certain color uniform? What do you call a world where the police are the bad guys and the criminals run roughshod over the law-abiding?”
Phil paused his monologue dramatically.
“I call it Hell.”
4
After the lecture on security, Phil pulled the SUV back onto the road. Liam was riding shotgun, and was as alert as his tired condition would allow. They were close to the designated bridge over the highway. Very few cars were on the roads in this more rural part of town.
Nothing could have prepared them for the scene when they reached the highway interchange. There were no cars on the highway. Only people. Lots and lots of people. They consumed all six lanes of traffic on both north and south-bound sides. All of them walking south—away from St. Louis.
Victoria was the first to speak up. “How is this possible? That must be the whole city walking out.”
Phil slowed the truck to take it all in. They were all gawking like schoolkids on their first zoo field trip when a man ran up to Phil's window.
“Hey! You might want to get that car off the bridge. Some of those people down there might be tempted to come up here and take it from you.”
“Thanks.”
“I'm going to pull the car well off the road so no one can see it, but if anyone wants to get out now I plan on walking back and talking to these people on the bridge.”
Liam volunteered to get out. He looked at the women.
“I'll stay in here dear. I'm comfy.”
“And I'll stay with her. We'll keep each other company.” Victoria gave Liam a smile as she said it. A bright ray of sunshine after the problems they'd been having.
Liam looked at Phil before he got out. “You think I should carry the AR?” He was looking at the AR-15 expectantly.
Phil took a few seconds to consider, “No, it would better to keep your sidearm handy, but hidden. Be ready to defend yourself, but don't make yourself a target. There are desperate people down there. They might see a young man with a rifle over his shoulder as a juicy mark. Don't worry, I'll be back in a couple minutes.”
Liam stepped out, and the SUV sped off. He was mesmerized by the impressive number of his fellow man down below on the interstate. He looked behind him and saw the wave of mankind pushing well down the highway and over a small rise about a mile away.
I wonder where they're all going?
As he was standing there, gawking, the same man was once again giving a warning. “Hey. Howdy there. My name's Mark.” He hung his hand out for Liam to shake.
As Liam became aware of the hand, he blinked his eyes as if to wake himself up. “Oh, hi. I'm Liam.”
“I know. We're all exhausted. But I recommend you move over here to where we have our little operation. You don't want to be alone and looking down into the crowd like that. It freaks some of them out. And these folks are already freaked.”
“No doubt.” Liam followed him from the middle of the bridge to a point a bit further toward the western edge. There were about twenty or thirty people doing various tasks up on the bridge decking, all of it related to water. Some were pulling big water containers on bicycle trailers. Others were pushing some kind of garden cart with more containers. Then there were static containers filled with water sitting directly on the bridge. Several people were either filling them up, or draining water into buckets. Those buckets were being dropped over the side of the bridge. Liam walked over to the edge and could see where the buckets were going. The crowd below was using the water to quench their thirst. They looked road-worn but shouted up thanks with real gusto. He had to admit it was almost festive.
Mark spoke to Liam as they both looked down. “Get to livin' or get to dyin' eh?”
“What?”
“Oh, it's a line from a movie. It's how I feel about setting up this water stop for people.”
“You set all this up?”
“Well, me and thirty of my closest friends. Yes. We did it together. The fast food joint over there was the key though,” he was pointing off to their left, “they still have running water and the owner got us most of these big containers.”
Liam was impressed. It had only been four days since the world did its face-plant off the bicycle, but this was the first truly positive thing he'd seen. It lifted his spirits. “Amazing.”
Phil came running up, and after some introductions, he took in the operation and could only echo Liam.
Liam looked at Mark. He seemed to be in his 30's or 40's—he was notoriously bad with ages—with short dark hair with bits of grey sprinkled in. He was average build and average height. He was wearing dark sunglasses and an obnoxious deep red Hawaiian shirt with white palm trees. He came across as a naturally happy person, with an infectious smile, even in the midst of this terrible scene.
He turned his smile on Liam. “So what brings you guys this way? Not many cars on the roads these last couple days. You must be going somewhere—surely not here.”
“I used to work for the Arnold police. I've heard on the police scanner that some local official from Arnold is rounding up all his remaining officers, and those from the Jefferson County Sheriff's Department, and is going to try to turn these people back.”
“Back? That's insane. Where the hell is he going to try this neat trick?”
“Lucky you. They're coming right to your bridge. 3 p.m. today.”
Liam looked down at his watch. It was already 2:30.
Saddle up! We're out of here.
5
Liam really wanted to get out of there, but he couldn't force Phil and he didn't want to lose a ride for Grandma.
“Did you know these folks burned Arnold to the ground?” Phil nodded in the direction of the massive plumes of black smoke to the north. The small town was indeed burning.
Mark had already heard about the blockades at the bridges, and how they fell. He pointed over to his team and said a couple of them had come directly from the nearest up the highway. Whoever it was probably wouldn't be too happy an Arnold PD cop was standing right here on this bridge, though Phil had nothing to do with the bridges other than the one he managed—and on that bridge he let the people across peacefully.
“But most of these people are just like you and me. Average law-abiding people. Parents. Children. They have no more interest in the violence spinning around them than they did before the collapse. We set up this system with the water to keep them moving down the highway. Initially I thought of the idea to keep them from coming off the highway and overwhelming my neighborhood, but now that I see them—there is nothing that can stop that now. There are just too many.”
“And they're being pursued by zombies.”
Both men turned to Liam. Phil had briefly witnessed the zombies in action, b
ut Liam had spent days inside St. Louis trying to fight them and get out.
“Well I can't say for certain that these people are being pursued by zombies, but my grandma and me lived on the south side of the city and we had to practically fight our way out tooth and nail since the sirens went off. We met Victoria and she helped us get out of the Arch. We met Phil and he helped us get over the last bridge out of St. Louis. The infected—I call them zombies—are real, and they're vicious. They wouldn't stop following us even in the middle of the night while we were on a train.”
Mark looked back to the crowd. “If they're behind this group, it's going to be an explosive disaster. There's nowhere to run with people packed that tight.” He put his foot up on the concrete barrier that was the side of the bridge, like he was thinking. Liam noticed he was wearing cycling shoes—the kind that locks a rider onto the pedals. An interesting choice for someone with that shirt on.
“I just don't know what to do. I can't make these people move any faster. I can't warn them without panicking them. I also have an obligation to my wife and family to protect my own house. If these people leave the highway and zombies are rampaging over the countryside, my little water station is going to be a skidmark on the underpants of this disaster. Maybe it would better to just abandon it and spend time fortifying my neighborhood?”
Phil replied. “There's no clear answer. Once the Arnold people get here there's going to be a disaster either way. The Mayor is an idiot if he thinks this tiny intersection can be defended against this crowd, when an entire river wasn't enough to stop them. Of course this is your town now—he's no longer worried about destroying his own, because it's already ash.”
Stay or go. Door 1 or door 2. The age-old question of gamers lining up for quests in his video game world. Only a few days ago World of Undead Soldiers was the only thing Liam would think about for days at a time. Now he was living it. Run away or confront the local overlord and try to make a difference. Unlike the game world, Liam had responsibilities. His grandma. Victoria. His parents. It wasn't simply a matter of finding the right weapons and then cutting new trail into the wilderness as a loner to find glory. He found himself getting nervous about being on the bridge when the police showed up.
Sirens of the Zombie Apocalypse (Book 2): Siren Songs Page 4