GRANDMA ROSE REVEALED HERSELF AT THE END, WHEN SHE THOUGHT WE'D WON. THE PRESIDENT MET WITH THE LEADERS, BUT WE ALL KNOW HOW THAT TURNED OUT. THAT'S HOW WE ENDED UP ON THAT HIT LIST OF NAMES.
ONLY NOW, ON MY DEATHBED, DID SHE TELL ME THE TRUTH OF HER ROLE. SHE MAY CUT OUT THIS PART OF THE LETTER IF I'M NOT ALIVE TO HAND IT TO YOU. SHE'LL DO WHAT'S BEST FOR US BOTH. SHE LOVES YOU VERY MUCH AND ALL HER SPY STUFF (SHE HATES THAT TERM) IS BECAUSE SHE WANTS YOU TO HAVE A FREE COUNTRY AGAIN SO YOUR CHILDREN DON'T HAVE TO LIVE IN FEAR OF THEIR OWN LEADERS.
IT'S REALLY THAT SIMPLE.
MY LEG IS HURTING SOMETHING FIERCE. I HAVE TO END THIS HERE. I'LL TRY TO WRITE ANOTHER LETTER TOMORROW IF I FEEL UP TO IT. TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF. YOUR MOM AND I REALLY LIKE VICTORIA. I HOPE YOU TWO SURVIVE, TOGETHER.
PLEASE DESTROY THIS LETTER, LIAM. IF THIS WAS FOUND BY OUR ENEMIES, IT WOULD INCRIMINATE YOU IN A DANGEROUS WAY. RIGHT NOW, THEY DON'T KNOW ABOUT YOU AT ALL, THOUGH YOU ARE A POTENTIAL THREAT. IF YOU SHOW UP ON THEIR RADAR YOU MIGHT BECOME A LARGER THREAT TO THEM.
GOOD LUCK,
DAD
Sorry dad, I think they already know all about me.
He felt the crumpled paper in his pocket once more. He read it every free chance he got. It was getting soft from how many times he folded and abused it. To destroy it was to destroy the last remaining piece of his father's life. To save it was to save a piece of him, even though it put his own life in danger.
Lana put hers arm around him, and in front of the vaunted leaders of the Patriot Snowball movement, he silently cried. He couldn't even explain why. Was it because his dad was gone? Maybe, but he'd loosely come to terms over the last few days. Was he crying because he felt the subdued grief in his mom? Was it because the radio guy said Grandma was dead? Could he feel the deep sadness of Haylee and Travis—him with his ever-present dog—after losing so many of their own friends and fellow marchers? Was it the ultimate failure of their movement? Was it the zombies scouring the streets below for human flesh? Was it the military struggling to build the bridge over the river? A bridge that would probably lead to his family's final destruction?
In the end he cried because he only had one bright point of light in his life. A rare spark of goodness and hope in a world spinning wildly out of control. And at that moment, it was a hole his mom, the Polar Bears, and even the revelations of the day couldn't fill.
I need Victoria. I need her in my arms.
Yes, he decided, even the thought made him feel much better. He sucked it up, pulled back from his mom, wiped his tears, and said, “What's the plan?”
4
Haylee and Travis left Liam and Lana to their own devices. Over the next couple hours the building became a hive of activity. At times he thought it was because they'd found Jason or his tank, but that report never came in. The radio operators found no evidence he'd been killed, nor had they heard him on any of their monitored frequencies. It was like he disappeared.
Eventually the Bears returned their weapons—Liam's was unjammed and cleaned—and provided food and water. He was aching to sit in close to one of the windows overlooking the Arch grounds, but Travis explained that it was dangerous to stay in view of the Illinois shore for very long. The other directions were fine, but not the east. “The shores have eyes,” he advised.
He and Lana rested in the sofa room. Liam spoke quietly. “What do we do now? Are you some kind of leader here?”
She smiled faintly. “No, I don't think so. You saw how little I know about anything military. I tried to pay attention when your dad talked about guns, survival craft, and all that, but anything beyond camping out the back of a car was more than I could handle.”
“Then how did you become the leader Dad said you were? He said you guided the entire march?”
She looked around, then leaned in. “You may not want to hear how I did it.”
“Oh yes I do.”
“Well, you know that game you always played?”
“World of Undead Soldiers?”
“Uh huh. That's the one. I saw you playing that day after day and it got me interested in how many other players were out there. You know, a mom likes to know her son's friends.” She smiled, then winked, like Grandma Marty would do. “And I found a news article about how someone inside the State Department used characters inside the game to pass sensitive information back and forth from embassies overseas. I did some digging and found out the people who make that game take data encryption and player security very seriously. So seriously, in fact, there was a push to get them to loosen the security so police and intelligence agencies weren't blocked out. They told them they'd think about it...which was the politically sensitive way for them to drag their feet.”
“So you used my game to lead a revolution?”
“Not exactly. I talked to others inside the game—mom's, grandma's, and others—who were on the routes taken by the marchers, and I shared that information with the march leaders so they could plan accordingly. You'd be surprised how many times protesters were sent somewhere to cause trouble and we caught them before they could set up their blockades. Of course we didn't get them all...”
It meant nothing to Liam. He didn't follow the march at all.
I was playing a game full of moms?
“What a minute. Are you saying you were in my game, the same time I was?”
“That's the best part. When you were online, it shielded what I was doing. When you were in the game I could blend in with your data—just on the off chance someone was sniffing around outside our house. It was an elegant solution.”
“So it was you that contacted me inside the mine? Told me about—”
“No. I haven't been online since the infection spread.”
“Well, then it must have been another mom. Someone knew I was there. Someone sent me a text message to get me to go there.” He paused, thinking. “Where is Grandma Rose? Was it her?”
“I'm afraid even I don't know where she is. She went into hiding after she and Haylee met with the President. That was just before the end, when the planes dusted the marchers. She may have been captured, or she's on the run somewhere. You know she's on that list, too.”
He had to find her, eventually. It was well down his list of mission critical objectives. To write his book he'd need her perspective—assuming she was alive—in all this. His priorities were much closer to home.
“So what do we do here?”
“We have to go down in that mine and get those tanks. You can make the difference in saving the entire country.”
“You want to go to war?”
“No, Liam. I want to stop a war. Those people coming here,” she pointed out the window, though they weren't facing east toward the convoy, “aren't going to be happy to see us. Anyone they think was responsible for ending our entire way of life is going to be a target for their anger.”
“But we didn't end everything. They did.”
“Some of them did. That's what makes this so difficult. Only some of them did, but we have no way of separating the good from the bad. Our only hope is to convince all of them we are strong enough to defend ourselves and that we want to live in peace.”
He was the veteran of years of zombie books, books about the end of the world, and movies and video games with similar themes. He could tell a lost cause when he saw one.
“Um, Mom. The entire eastern part of the country is coming here. We are one little city in their way. Not even a military organization. Fighting is impossible. We can barely fight the zombies walking the streets outside.”
“We have to try. They said the march on the nation's capitol was impossible, too. Don't underestimate yourself.” She laughed, speaking more freely now that they weren't state secrets.
“What about the cure? What about Grandma Marty? What about—”
His voice skipped, just a little.
“—Victoria?”
“One thing at a time. It should be easy for you to get our boys into that mine. Once we have the t
anks we can take care of those other things. There are lots of military men and women defecting to our cause every day. Some of them bring equipment with them. We might have a helicopter or two we can use.”
“If it doesn't get shot out of the sky.”
“We're not at war.”
“Yet.” But a thought popped in his head. “Or are we? Do they know it was you that shot the crane? We drove the tank right into that building for crying out loud. How are they not swarming this place?”
He became agitated. It had been hours and they'd done nothing to prepare.
“They have lookouts here. They monitor the radio. The bad guys aren't coming for us.” She kept her voice low, which Liam suspected was to keep his panic from affecting the other people lounging nearby.
“Oh, all right. I guess I can see where all this is going...”
“It will be OK. I promise.”
He wanted to believe her. Her voice was soothing and calmed him outwardly, but the deeper turmoil boiling inside was something he fought hard to conceal.
Mom. Do you know you just lied to me?
5
Thirty minutes after their discussion, Lana was asleep on one of the plush sofas. The afternoon sun poked through the windows. He'd seen exhaustion the past few weeks and knew he could have slept inside a gunfight a couple times, but he was wide awake with the prospects of his mission at that moment. A secret mission.
He moved out of the rest area with his cleaned rifle slung over his shoulder. The great hall was subdued, though the radio room took up the slack. As best he could tell, it was where most people had gone.
That was fine by him. He used the opportunity to move toward the EXIT sign over the stairwell door. His was almost there when he heard a man's voice.
“Liam! Hold up.”
Chief ran up to him, like he'd been ordered to attack with licks and affection.
Travis followed. He was holding a small backpack and a light tan t-shirt. “I got these ready for you.” He handed both to Liam. His own pack was still in the tank.
“What are you talking about?”
“You're leaving, aren't you? I could see it in your eyes this whole time. Trust me when I tell you I've seen that look a thousand times. It's the look of a soldier who misses his girl—or guy—back at home. Other men have that look when they've had enough fighting, though that's not you.”
He pointed to Chief. “He's my savior. When I came back from the war, I was a broken man. Two tours in the sandbox. Purple Heart. Other medals that don't mean shit. I got him through a veteran's group that helps people like me.”
“You mean heroes?” His dad often equated veterans with heroes. At times he went out of his way to shake hands with them and thank them for their service. Liam sort of understood the sentiment at the time, but now, with his own near-death experiences under his belt, he appreciated what it might be like to have bullets shot at you day after day, for years. He'd only been playing at being the hero for less than three weeks.
Travis laughed. “That's funny. No, not heroes. Just men and women doing a job no one else will do. We volunteered for it. And I can tell you've got your mission in mind already. Wherever you're going, you'll need this bag. I've got a few mags for your AK—nice furniture on it by the way—a couple bites of food, and a few bottles of water. I think there's a knife and some other gear. Whatever I had lying around.” He handed Liam a small flashlight. “What's her name?”
How had he been caught so easily? His mom knew when he was about to sneak out of Camp Hope, too. He would have to work on that. It upset him to have to deal with Travis, but he felt a strange pride that an ex-soldier would see something in him, and treat him like a man rather than turn him in.
“Victoria,” he said tentatively. “My mom doesn't need me for this war stuff. I appreciate all you guys are doing, but it's not my fight. Beating Democide, or whatever. Maybe if all the zombies were gone, I'd want to help. Now I have to get back to my girl. She's what I care about most in this world, and she's the only thing worth risking my life to save.”
“I'm glad that's what it is. I didn't think you looked like the type to want to fight the dead just for fun.” He ushered Liam the last few feet toward the door. “And I would go to any length to rescue Haylee if she were out there. I get it. Be smart. Stay in buildings. Sewers. Anything to shield yourself from the dead. I wouldn't let you go if I didn't think you could handle it.”
“Will you tell my mom, when she wakes up? Let her know I'm OK?”
“Sure thing. She may even understand.”
“I doubt that. I think she already has me leading the fight with your group. A family thing,” he laughed quietly. “Trust me, you don't want me doing anything remotely military.” He changed the subject. “I'll be back. But if you go for the tanks in that mine, they are down the spiral road, you go into the tunnel and go straight back all the way to the end. There's a big room blocked by dump trucks. Go through them, then through a couple control rooms on the right—the tanks are back there. But there are lots of zombies down there. I can't stress that enough.”
“We'll handle it, don't worry.”
Liam leaned to pet Chief on the head. “I'll try to come back here,” he repeated himself, as if trying to make it true.
“Hey. If you find somewhere safe. Stay there. That's what your mom would want. I'll make sure she doesn't try anything crazy, either.”
“I'll do my best.” He couldn't see past the instant he found Victoria again. He'd had a day of endless running, tense gunfights, numerous near-death experiences, and had even rode inside a vintage tank. But the one moment that towered above all the others was from his time that morning with Victoria. When she changed out of her pajamas—
He truly had been a gentleman, though he still agreed with his earlier assessment to leave that part out of his future book. But enough had happened that it was the only thing he could think about. Zombies. Guns. Tanks. Nuclear bombs. Nothing had the impact of his own girlfriend. And she was only a short six-mile run away from him. Sixty minutes, tops. He'd outrun zombies on a longer run while in the floodway. This run would be shorter, but with a bigger payoff. He was motivated.
“All right. Get out of here.”
He hesitated at the door. The man couldn't be more than twenty five or thirty. It was hard to tell with his fuzzy beard and old eyes.
“Am I doing the right thing?”
“What does your heart tell you?”
He thought about Victoria. “That I would rip the heads off every zombie between me and her just to be with her again.”
“Then that's your mission. And do yourself a favor, when you find her, never let her go again. There's too many broken people as it is...”
He thought of his mom, without his dad. He thought of Grandma. She was likely dead, too. Losing loved ones had been repeated millions of times in the last few weeks. And he voluntarily left Victoria.
Cures. War. Patriotism. None of that matters if I don't have someone to fight for.
He patted the backpack as he slung it over one bare shoulder.
“Thanks for this. Good luck stopping those guys,” he nodded to the windows with the Arch—and the bridge—outside.
“And to you. The Polar Bears all wish you well.”
Liam plunged into the dark stairwell.
Epilogue
“Try to keep up Dar,” Emil said as he smiled back at her.
I'm fine right here, behind you.
Darcy was on foot patrol through fields of goopy river mud, but she wasn't complaining. The Zombie-Killers had new orders from the general. And, once given, she begged Chloe to pair her up with the other teen so they could keep watch on the Mississippi River shoreline to the east of Cairo. The walk was hot and tiring on a normal day, but nothing bothered her this afternoon.
Is it sexist if I fall down and have him help me up?
Yes? No? Do I care?
Her thoughts distracted her, passing the time while she searched for the
encouragement to ask him to go out with her. Whatever that meant anymore.
Life had been tough since the zombies came. She refused to think about those days, or how she came to Cairo. None of those downers needed to be rehashed.
But she did think of the many high school parties she'd attended over the years, and especially party favors provided by her hosts. She could use some of that liquid courage out here. Drugs and alcohol had not made a comeback, at least not that she'd found. Having food was the big score back in town.
Maybe he has a girlfriend already?
It didn't ring true. Every minute of the last week they'd been working with the Zombie-Killers, her eyes were on him. He never seemed interested in other girls. At worst, he seemed constantly distracted.
When she slipped and fell over a deep root hidden in the mud, it was totally unplanned.
“Arg,” she yelled without thinking. Her whole front side plopped into the stinky mud. Both hands were pushed out in an attempt to catch herself, but they sank up to her shoulders instead of stopping her fall. Her knees, shins, and shoes were already muddy, but now her skort soaked it in, too.
“Are you all right?” Emil's shoes sucked in and out of the mud as he backtracked. “Oh, man! You're a mess!” His laughter, always quick to make her heart race, now made it skip.
Cards. Play the cards you've been dealt.
“I don't believe it,” she looked up as he arrived. Her chin had touched the mud, but her face was spared. Small consolation as everything else facing down was now covered in filth, including the frayed ends of her dirty blonde hair. “I can't move.”
There was no remorse or second-guessing. She really did need help. The mud seemed bottomless and it had its own suction.
Emil approached cautiously, remarking that the mud was much deeper where she had fallen. From ahead, he reached for her arm and she used one arm to clumsily reach for him. Together they managed to slide her to where it was much shallower, but mud slid down into the front of her shirt the whole way. It felt awful.
Zombies vs Polar Bears: Sirens of the Zombie Apocalypse, Book 5 Page 28