The noise was deafening, but Liam was also screaming. The rear windows of the basement were starting to drip with blood. The gun was ripping apart the zombies and sending them out the back of the house into the yard. Some were falling directly below the back of the house, smearing and splashing those windows with blood.
The gun would sweep one side of the house, then stop. It would start up again on the other side of the house. The basement door was near the center of the house, so it was perforated on almost every pass. The final straw for the door happened when a zombie was pushed through the frame by the kinetic force of the bullets. It came tumbling down the stairs like a rag doll, and crumpled at the base of the steps.
And then silence from the guns. Silence continued for seconds, then minutes. All the while the children were screaming at the top of their lungs. Irreconcilable. Liam had stopped screaming at some point.
Victoria was stacked on top of Grandma, who was on the floor against the back wall. They both seemed all right. They were stirring as the silence from the weapon above continued.
He wiped away the tears from his face, and made has way to the two women. He was dismayed to see blood was dripping into the room from the ruined floor above them. The shaggy carpet was soaking in it. He was deathly afraid to look up for fear of being dripped on. He imagined he was in a zombie movie he'd seen, where a drop of infected blood fell into the eye of one of the heroes—ruining him. He wondered if that was his fate.
“Don't look up! Don't get the blood on your face!”
He didn't know if he could be heard over the screaming kids, or if it was necessary advice.
It was a long time before things got quiet enough for Liam to be sure he was heard.
Victoria managed to get to her feet. She was wiping her face with one hand and holding Grandma steady on her feet with the other. She looked at Liam as she asked the twenty-dollar question.
“What. The. Hell. Was that?”
6
“That, my friends, was a high-powered machine gun. If I had to guess I'd say there are Army units on your street, Liam.” Phil never mentioned experience with military gear, but Liam wasn't about to doubt him on something so obvious.
A loudspeaker began booming. “This is Douglas Hayes of the CDC. Liam Peters! You and your grandma need to exit the house immediately. Bring nothing with you. Please leave your other friends inside. They will not be harmed.”
“What do we do Grandma?”
Marty was already up and moving to the steps. “If they just cleared all those zombies we have to get out of here while we can. Let's go before they hurt any of these good people.” Grandma turned to Phil. “Thank you for driving us here. Best of luck to you. Mel, you too. Good luck.”
Liam looked at Phil. He nodded. “We'll run like hell as soon as we can. Don't worry.”
He looked at Victoria, planning to say goodbye. She had already found her place on Grandma's arm and was helping her up the steps.
I guess that's that.
“I'll go see what they want. You folks should lay low down here. I know this guy.”
None of them made any move to go up the stairs. Only Melissa made as if she might try. In the end, she only wanted to say “good luck” to them. Liam gave her a smile and caught up with the women on the stairs.
The door was pulverized and opened as much by falling outward as by its hinges. It was impossible to believe the whole floor had been stuffed with zombies moments before. The fury of the guns out front had turned the zombies into more or less a fine paste drilled into the walls, ceiling, and floor of Liam's house. Much of the larger remains had been pushed out the back side of the house and into the woods behind his dwelling. The amount of blood and...bits...was legion however, and Liam's stomach went into immediate critical mass. He saw a lot of lower legs wearing shoes. Some heads. Remnants of what the guns missed.
Settle down stomach.
The smell...
By the time they reached the front of the house, both Liam and Victoria had stopped to deposit their stomachs. Grandma seemed unaffected.
The front door was gone. They emerged from a large hole in the front facade of his house.
A large military truck was parked in the middle of the street. Liam recognized it from videos of Iraq and Afghanistan—it was some kind of six-wheeled anti-mine vehicle used to carry troops. Instead of being painted the characteristic desert tan, it was painted in multiple greens and browns more in line with the foliage of this part of the world. It had a nasty-looking Gatling gun on the top.
There were four Humvees parked nearby. Each with a machine gun on top, pointing away from his place. They were sweeping the street for remaining zombies. The area around his house was clear now, but beyond the safety of that space the infected were coming in from all directions.
Hayes and two flanking escorts were coming up the front yard. Liam noted they were trying to avoid stepping in the mess they created when the Gatling sliced through the crowd of infected on the lawn and in a wide arc into the neighbors' yards.
“Ahoy, Liam!” He appeared happy as a lark. As if a massacre of sorts did not just take place. He was dressed in Army fatigues that were a size too big for him. Liam thought it made him look ridiculous.
“Hayes. How did you find us?” Liam tried not to sound as deflated as he felt.
“I work for Big Brother, don't ya know? You were on a list.”
“A terrorist list or something?”
“Nope, something much more sinister. Your parents are on the list. Grandma is on the list. Probably your whole family.”
Liam began to panic he really was on some kind of terrorist watch list. He'd killed enough of the infected in front of Hayes to qualify for some kind of special status. But the rest of his family?
Hayes started to laugh. “It's called a phone book, Liam. Your parents are listed in that magical tome.”
Liam inwardly groaned. He should have seen that coming.
“I need you and Marty to come with me. I told you I could protect you and I must insist you let me do so.”
“What about my friends? There are women and children down in my basement.”
Hayes left his two escorts several paces behind him. He came right up to Liam and began speaking in a tone that sounded an awful lot like sincerity. “I'm sorry Liam. I really am. But there just isn't enough space to transport everyone. My orders are to bring you and your grandma back.” He then looked around the yard as if satisfied. “I think we helped your friends out quite a bit though.” Pointing to a lone leg nearby, “We gave them a leg up, eh?” He laughed heartily at his joke.
“As I said earlier, I appreciate the offer but we aren't going anywhere with you.”
Marty became uncharacteristically agitated. “Liam, I really think you should listen to the man. He's offering safety.”
“Grandma, you know we can't trust him.”
Though he was standing right there, Hayes didn't seem offended.
Victoria said, “I'm with Liam. We can't trust him and you shouldn't go with him.”
“Really? I just roll up and kill a couple hundred zombies with my cool toys and you don't recognize the situation? I can understand these kids, but you?” He was looking at Marty.
“Liam, you and I should go with this man.” She tried pulling Liam along, but Liam was firm.
“Grandma we can't!”
Hayes' was smiling up until that point.
“You must come with me. Now. Look around, the zombies will be back.” He said it very close to them—waiting for a reply.
Liam wondered if he could get Grandma back inside. Just kind of slide backward into the wreckage of the place. Maybe the folks downstairs could help? Then he thought about the fake police officer who tried to rob him. His mind drifted to thoughts of a guardian angel. Someone—or some thing—had saved them both that day, and they'd been very lucky this entire trip. Surely this injustice could not be tolerated by any guardian angel. So many thoughts, they became a jumble
inflicting a paralysis on his decision-making.
Hayes gave a disgusted snort, turned around, and walked back to his escort. Liam relaxed ever so slightly, thinking he was leaving. But Liam saw him say something to one of the guards, though he couldn't hear it. The escort was carrying a fancy military-style rifle with a big telescopic sight on top.
That is a big friggin' gun.
Without turning around, Hayes spoke in a very loud voice, “Last warning Liam. Walk with me now or things are going to get ugly.”
Grandma was trying to move. Victoria and he were holding her back. “Liam, please,” She was imploring him.
He faltered. Unsure. But Victoria was strong. Holding her ground. Setting the example for him.
“Hayes, you wouldn't dare do—” Victoria began.
Hayes gave a nod.
The soldier raised his weapon. The scope was huge, but he didn't look through it. No need for it at ten feet. He aimed. He pulled the trigger. The bang wasn't as loud as Liam expected. He wasn't sure why that was his first thought, but it was.
His next thought was that he hadn't been shot.
Neither had Grandma.
That means...
“You will either step forward and walk to my truck right now or I kill Liam too. I'd rather not so I don't have to waste one of my men supporting an old lady, but I will if it means we can move on to other business.”
Several of the Humvee's machine guns were rattling in anger at the encroaching zombies.
Liam had just enough time to look back and see Victoria laying face down inside the remains of the front room. The force of the bullet must have pushed her back even as it brought her down. Marty had grabbed his hand and pulled Liam forward. In the shock he was unable to resist. He knew he wasn't supposed to resist.
What just happened here?
They were complying with Hayes' request. They were halfway down the desecrated front lawn before Liam's mind caught up with the confused rage in his heart.
“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE! YOU SHOT HER, YOU BASTARD!”
“Ha! That's where you're wrong. You killed her Liam. You've got to learn you either comply with me immediately, or people get hurt. I let you go at the roadblock because I didn't have my proper team with me. It was very rushed and I don't do rushed. That's how mistakes happen. But I don't like anyone telling me no. You saw that back when the police wouldn't let us across that bridge. I found my own way. I had a backup plan. I always do. I'm trying to save the world, so give me a little respect.”
Several soldiers were training their weapons on him. Very close. He could see inside the muzzles of the guns they were so near to his face. Liam remembered the temper tantrum Hayes threw when the police told him he couldn't cross the bridge out of St. Louis, despite telling them he was with the CDC. But he never once advocated murder in the days he'd been with Liam's group. This was something new.
He knew enough not to do anything stupid. Despite his rage, Grandma kept a tight hold on his hand—even for her age she had a tight grip—and moving in the right direction. There was no arguing with this man, at least not here under the aegis of all these guns.
“You shot Victoria. You shot Victoria. You shot Victoria.” It was a mantra that got him across the grass and up to the big truck.
Was it really my fault?
A guard searched him for weapons, taking his pistol and a pocket knife. They also did a cursory search of Marty. She carried nothing.
As they were climbing through the rear entrance of the big military truck, Liam looked at his house one last time. It was a disaster. All the glass was gone. There were large holes where the windows once were, and many smaller holes all along the length of the structure at about man height. The Gatling really did terrible damage.
He tried to look for Victoria one last time too, but she was inside and the bright glare of sunshine prevented him from seeing her lying on the floor. Wisps of smoky debris also poured out the front.
“Goodbye, Victoria. I love you.” He said it only loud enough for Grandma to hear. It was the first thing that tumbled out when he thought of the girl he had come to know during this calamity, and began to have strong feelings for her—love perhaps—because of those shared experiences. He had thought he'd found something worth living for. Someone to help get him through to the light on the other side of this disaster. Someone to share the load.
Then the door to the outside world was closed. He wasn't surprised to see two long empty bench seats in the rear of the transport.
No space, my ass!
All Liam could do was break down and cry.
Grandma put her hand on his back to comfort him as he was hunched over in his seat.
No words passed between them for a long time.
There was nothing to say after such a loss.
Chapter 7: Breakfast in Afghanistan
Jerry was sitting at Marty's kitchen table. Lana was sitting next to him absently leafing through the kill list with the familiar names on it. They'd spent the previous few hours scouring the house for any definitive clue as to where Liam and Marty had gone, but could find none. They knew Liam was armed and had taken her and many of her essentials—the walker, her pain meds, etc.—but they had no idea which way they went, how they were getting around, or even where they were going. Angie's car was gone, but the garage was ransacked so it was unclear who had it. Their best guess was Liam was going back to his own house, but they wanted to be certain before giving up on Marty's home.
“We know the highway is a solid brick of cars south of here. If they got stuck in that they would certainly have had to walk out. You don't think Liam would have been dumb enough to get himself caught in that traffic do you?”
“I think all we know for sure is they made it far enough away from this house they didn't feel the need to return. That may be a good sign they are making progress.”
“Or they were unable to return.”
“That's always going to be a possibility until we see them safe and sound.”
“So what do we do next? Wait here and hope they show up? Go back home? We're worried about Liam getting out with Grandma. We have to get out too at some point.”
They had caught a quick nap in the waning hours of the night, as their long journey into the city and the disappointment of not finding Liam had sapped them of all their strength. They woke up on the fourth morning since the sirens had gone off.
They couldn't leave and risk Liam showing up at Marty's again. But they couldn't stay forever either. If Liam somehow made it home, he'd be looking for them.
“I wish the phones were working. We could just call him.”
“Actually maybe we can. If we can find the internet somewhere. If it's still up. We just have to find something which can send out a text in that fashion.” Jerry was the family's IT guy. He stood up, excited at the implications. He and Lana both shared a cell phone plan with Liam, but neither had gotten a signal—Wi-Fi or otherwise—since the crisis began. They'd more or less given up on them. Their phones were older and cheaper than Liam's. They had voice and texting plans, but no data and no ability to get onto a hotspot.
“I won't bother asking about Grandma, but doesn't Angie have a tablet of some kind we could use for this?”
They both remembered her with some kind of tablet on at least one occasion recently. It was enough of a hope they both sprinted up the steps to her flat to search for it. The horrid smell and large piles of blood-soaked clothes on the floor slowed them down. They'd been in the room in the darkness; somehow the light made it scarier.
“What the hell happened up here?”
“I have no idea, but let's find that thing and clear out of here pronto. All this blood gives me the creeps.” Like Liam, Jerry suffered a queasiness around blood. He was mostly able to control it after years of careful practice, but this place tested his resolve.
The tablet was sitting on the floor of Angie's bedroom. It had probably been sitting on the nightstand, but the furniture had been rearr
anged to put it charitably. They grabbed the tablet and its charger.
A few minutes later they were back at the kitchen table, hovering over the tablet as it was turning on. They were both relieved to see it had at least half its juice left. But they were greeted with disappointment as Angie's device had essentially one application on it—the app that let her read her stories. They had no way to easily determine if Angie had the internet in her apartment, but it was clear there were no hotspots active anywhere in range at the moment. With the power down everywhere, they expected as much.
“OK, so what we need to do is find a working Wi-Fi hotspot, then hope we can connect to the internet, then hope the app store is still open, then hope the messaging app we need is free, then we have to hope Liam still has his phone with him and that at some point he will also find a Wi-Fi hotspot so this texting program can get a message to him.” Jerry tried to remain optimistic. “Should be a piece of cake!”
“Don't you mean it's impossible? Even I can see that.”
He moved closer and put his arm around her. “I understand your frustration. I really do. But look at it this way. A few minutes ago we had absolutely no hope of finding our son without walking out that door and searching each structure and car from here to our home. With this tablet, we at least have a chance of contacting him.”
“But not a great chance.”
“Any chance is better than no chance in my book. We'll find him, I promise you that. Even if it takes my whole life I will find our son. I say we head back home. We have to do something besides sit here and hope he comes back. If there are people out there targeting him, we need to protect him. I want to be make sure our home doesn't have any of these men waiting for him.”
“That's good enough for me.”
The tablet was tossed in a backpack along with the list of names. Lana found some paper and wrote a note and taped it to the surface of the kitchen table. On a whim she peeled off two more identical notes and taped them to the floor just inside the front and back doors. “Just in case they come back, I want Liam to know we were here and went back home.”
Sirens of the Zombie Apocalypse (Book 2): Siren Songs Page 12