BUT IT COULD GET YOU KILLED!
Worse. You could get them killed.
Liam squeezed Victoria's hand, stepping forward.
If I do nothing now, I kill them. I know that in my heart.
To his relief, Victoria didn't let go.
4
Liam wasn't that far from the man speaking, so he didn't have much time to think what he was going to do. He realized he probably should have thought of that before he committed himself. Was he going to push the man aside and heroically begin a speech as if he were George Washington? Maybe organize the police to hurl the man over the side of the bridge so the crowd could “have at him.” That's how they do it in the movies.
Reality was less structured. There were two guards with guns standing right there. Not to mention the other fifty police officers. He took a few steps forward toward the side rail of the bridge—it was a wall of concrete about three feet tall. The police had set up some steel cases at various points on the bridge—ammo crates?—and he hopped up to the one nearest him. People down below could clearly see what he was doing. Victoria stood next to and underneath him, but still held his hand.
He did the first thing that came to his mind and began wildly flailing his arms as if trying to get the attention of someone way back in the crowd. He thought he might start screaming “This man is a liar!” but he thought it might only antagonize the agent. Better to be seen as a confused kid than a man with a plan.
“Dad! Dad! Can you see me?” He shouted.
Where am I going with this?
The agent halted his speechifying, unable to ignore the young man to his left gesticulating and yelling in a crazed fashion. It gave Liam the opening he didn't know he was looking for. “Hey! Can I use that microphone? I see my sick dad over there!”
Not too thick you fool.
The agent was clearly processing this new information, and was reaching a conclusion Liam wasn't going to like. He turned around from the crowd and gestured to one of his guards using the “finger across the throat” motion. Then he pointed to Liam.
He looked twenty feet below to those closest to him on the roadway. In that instant he saw a family of four and knew what to say. “I have information that could save your lives but this man won't let me speak. Help me!” Liam was yanked off the crate and was subdued forcefully to the ground by one of the guards. He could no longer be seen by the crowd, but Victoria began shouting at the security guy to let him up, insisting they were hurting Liam. She was putting on a show for those below.
With a knee in his back he was unable to continue watching her. He was looking at the cigarette butts, chewing gum, and other debris on the pavement of the bridge near his face when he heard the chanting from below.
“Let him speak!”
“Let him speak!”
“Let him speak!”
Liam knew as soon as he'd heard it he'd won the first round of this battle. The people down below would not stop until they knew the kid on the bridge was safe and was allowed to speak. The chant went on for another sixty seconds before the agent finally relented.
The security agent simply removed himself from Liam's back. He was left laying there to collect himself. Victoria pulled him up. She had a nervous look on her face, but also the makings of a smile. “You better go talk to your dad,” she said with a wink.
That's it. Victoria was a genius.
Liam resumed his story when he got up, this time speaking to the agent in charge as he moved his way. “I just need to get a hold of my dad and I'll be out of your hair. I have information that could save his life.” It was a thin transition from what he had told the people down below, but it was all he had.
Liam could see Agent Duchesne was a smart guy, and that they were both walking a precarious line with the mass of frightened humanity below. If Duchesne wanted this crowd to turn around he'd have to allow Liam “the frightened kid” time to call for his dad. Similarly, Liam would have to speak in a way that wouldn't be threatening to the very driven agent.
“You have sixty seconds to hail your dad,” the agent said in a very quiet voice as he passed him the microphone for the large speakers. “Thank you, sir. Thank you!”
Just a dumb kid here, uhhhh yep.
Liam pinged the mic once as he stood right up against the guard railing again. No crates to stand on this time. “Hello! I'm talking to my dad out there in the crowd. I saw him just a moment ago way back there,” he pointed over the crowd emphatically as if the father were real.
“Dad if you can hear me I want you to know these are some good men and women up here. These police officers are here to help you survive this crisis. They have taken an oath to serve and protect you. You can count on them to be good and true to their oath. A good man, Captain Osborne of the Missouri Highway Patrol, sacrificed his life to save me and many others as we escaped the infected in downtown St. Louis.” Liam didn't know what he was doing, but he wanted to let the police officers know he was on their side and that they should be on the side of the crowd. It would matter because of what he was going to say next.
“But even good men can make bad decisions. You can't turn around. Not ever! I'll tell you why if you give me a chance!”
Liam knew the agent would be fuming, and looking back at him he wasn't disappointed. Would the agent decide to cut him off now? Shoot him in the back? Seemed a bit too dramatic. Better to ask forgiveness than permission. He continued—
“Here's what you need to know dad. This roadblock was set up to turn you all back, but there's no help back there. None. No army units coming to help. No FEMA hospitals. No—” He felt himself drifting, unsure.
Hey look, you're talking to all these people. Not scared are you?
Liam recovered with a quote. Ironically it was one taught to him by his real father, not the fictional one standing out in the great crowd below him. “A great President once said we shouldn't ask what our country could do for us, but what we could do for our country. I say we need to get back to basics and simply ask, what can we do for ourselves!” The crowd seemed to be warming. “We're American's, dammit! We do what's right even when the chips are down. Even when society itself is collapsing. That's what you always taught me, dad.”
Some cheers and affirmation from the crowd now.
“Look around you. Look what you've been through. Do you know where you're going? We're all lost right now. The people on this bridge are lost same as you. Which is why we have to stick together if we have any chance to ride this thing out.”
For the life of him Liam couldn't think of what to say next. He wasn't a speechwriter. He could see the crowd was reacting positively to his message, but what was actionable? Platitudes were nice, but if they couldn't go home, where could they go? He had new appreciation for why the councilman was running from this problem at top speed.
So, he once again said the best thing he could, hoping it was enough.
“Dad, four days ago I walked out my front door with Grandma Marty—she's 104 years old by the way for all you who don't know her—and we went downtown because traffic was stopped on the highways heading south. The situation at the Arch was...horrible.” Liam noticed the crowd was listening in utter silence. “Tens of thousands of people were protected by the desperate acts of heroism by soldiers and police. But there were also people like you, just average everyday people, manning the barricades against the—infected.” Liam hesitated to use the Z-word, as it tended to scare people. “We survived for a time. But then the bad people came. No, not the infected. I'm talking about bad humans. Looters. Criminals. Hoodlums. They tried to take over the Arch, killing anyone in their way. They beat up my girlfriend. They would have killed us all if not for the St. Louis police department. I mentioned Captain Osborne. He led us all out of that disaster and made sure we were safely moving south before he was killed by one of the bombs from the Air Force.” Liam looked down and could see most people were still listening. Certainly there was there some kind of message here?
> “You, my friends, have to take charge of your own lives or people like this,” Liam was pointing over his shoulder at the silent G-man, “are going to herd you around like sheep until you fall down dead.”
How do I end this?
“Dad, look in the crowd. There are leaders among you. There are police officers. Farmers. School teachers. Every ingredient you need to survive. It can't be done by killing, stealing, or other lawlessness. It can't be done by killing the men on this bridge, nor can it be done by killing the people under this bridge.”
Will the police understand I'm talking to them?
Was that a good ending? Only one thing left to do. Liam made a theatric turn to the people on the bridge. He had spent days with the police. He didn't fear them. “My friends up on this bridge, your oath is to serve and protect these people. I ask you now, will you let these folks pass so they have a chance at living another day, or will you turn them back to certain death back in St. Louis?”
Much like on TV, there was a long dramatic pause.
5
Liam was holding his breath. Really. He fully expected the agent to sic his two guard dogs on him, then they'd pull him screaming and kicking into their van, and “disappear” him. The law enforcement people would start shooting at the crowd to make them disappear as well. End of problem.
The police did exactly what he hoped. They removed their officers from the highway below. The refugees started to pass under the bridge once again. It was the only thing they could do with a clear conscience just as Liam had gambled.
Instead of shooting him in the back, the agent came up to Liam and began talking. He had regained his composure and was using a low voice, as if they were sharing a moment between old friends. “I commend you for your methods. You were able to win the crowd with your deceptions. I underestimated you kid. I assure you that will never happen again.”
“Thank you, sir. The only reason I had to step up and mimic your methods was because they believed your lies. There's no help coming is there?”
He made no effort to answer.
“Can you at least tell me if this crisis is all over the country?”
The agent looked directly at Liam's face as if he was going to say something, but instead he reached into his pocket, pulled out a small camera, and snapped his picture. After capturing his quarry in digital format, he relaxed and continued. “Yes, the crisis is everywhere. The whole world is fighting the Double-E Virus in addition to the other problems of good governance.”
Liam's reply was unusually quick “Oh, you mean like blocking escape routes and sending people back to be eaten by the zombies?” Victoria reached for Liam's arm, as if giving him strength. Or maybe holding him back.
“Zombies? Is that what you're calling them kid? Seems suitably juvenile. They aren't zombies from the movies. They're living people with a terrible disease. My—” He paused while seeming to think it over, “—superiors assure me a vaccine is being rushed through FDA approval even now. So relax. No one is going to be eating these people's brains. Though now they're going to be walking out into the countryside with no food, no water, and no medical supplies. Thanks to you.”
What if he had sent them to their deaths to the south? Even without zombies to worry about, feeding this many people in a survival situation would probably be difficult. But some problems were bigger than others. “I came from the north. I've seen the infected, the zomb-eeeeeeees, killing people by the hundreds. I know it has to be safer outside the city than back up this highway with those things.”
“Mr.—what's your name?”
“This is my friend, Sam Stevens,” said Victoria, “he's my neighbor from over there,” she was pointing in a random direction, which luckily wasn't where Liam lived.
“Sam, huh?” Agent Duchesne gave a tight-lipped grin. He made an expressive show of holding his camera in front of him, to let Liam know his photo would soon be plugged into the proper database and he'd then know everything about him, including his real name.
“Shouldn't you guys be shredding hard drives or something right now?”
The agent's response was predictable. He took a snapshot of her.
“Give me a warning next time and I'll smile!” Victoria seemed to be enjoying herself.
Without fanfare the agent spun around, gathered his protection, and got back in his van. Liam wondered if he just made an enemy. He seemed suitably creepy and power-hungry, but in the light of day it seemed ridiculous. “Making enemies” sounded like a Spy vs. Spy cartoon.
I only wanted to help my fellow man. That can't be a crime, can it?
Rather than being a cartoonish evil man shaking his fist at Liam, the agent was simply driving away. He gave no clues about what he would do next. In many ways it was worse not knowing. He had no doubt that was by design.
As the police blockade pulled back, Phil and Mark came up to meet Liam and Victoria once again. After explaining what they had done up on the bridge, Phil briefly explained what they'd been doing. “Liam, you're a genius. My solution was to gather everyone with a gun and move under the bridge in small groups, and then we were going to storm the backside of the roadblock with guns blazing.”
Liam didn't know how to respond. The energy drained out of him after so much mental effort. He put his foot up on the side rail of the bridge, and looked down. Victoria had her hand on his arm, and leaned against him. Under the bridge the mass of humanity continued to walk out of the city, many of nearest waved up as they slid out of view. He felt a sense of pride he helped make that happen. Then he saw that metal chicken again. It was laying off to the side, abandoned in a drainage ditch.
Well, maybe someone learned something here today.
Chapter 4: Home
Marty watched as Liam bolted out of the SUV, bounded up to the front door, and rang the door bell. She knew his keys were confiscated when he came to live with her.
She took a hand from Victoria as she got out of the back seat. She'd spent a lot of time swishing back and forth over the vinyl seat, and her stomach was a little out of whack. She'd have to get something to eat fairly soon to keep up her strength. She wondered if she'd be able to keep it down.
“Here Grandma, hold on to me and I'll walk you in.”
“Thank you dear. Give me a minute to stand here and rest before we walk up there.”
The two women were separated by 87 years and a lifetime of experiences, but they did have one thing in common—a fondness for the young boy eagerly waiting to see his parents.
“I haven't had a chance to thank you for helping me get Liam out of the city.”
“Well, he handled himself pretty well. I didn't have to do too much.”
Marty turned to give her a look. “My dear, you did the most important thing. You played it smart. That meant Liam didn't have to do anything stupid to try to rescue you. I tried to do the same, so he wouldn't have get hurt rescuing me either. It was easier for me since all I could do was sit and hang on.” She chuckled at the image of her in that big wheelchair.
She had an agreement with Victoria that should Liam ever have to make a choice to save only one of them, it would be Victoria. Liam didn't know about it, and Marty wondered if Victoria would renege when things got down to it. She had already shown a willingness to lay down her own life—saving the rest of their lives back at the Arch—but in the future such heroics could spur Liam to do just about anything to rescue her, no matter how dangerous. She knew Liam was becoming romantically interested, and Marty admitted she handled herself very responsibly in some pretty dangerous situations the past few days.
I've met 100 young women that would be worse for Liam. Few better.
“Do you really think there's a cure out there?”
Marty cleared her throat. “Hmm, well, I feel like there's a cure. Someone made this virus. Someone must know how to fix it. Right?”
Victoria seemed surprised. “How do you know someone made it? Did they say that on the news?”
“When you ge
t to be my age you just get a sense of things. There's a natural rhythm to life. I guess if this was a natural plague the rhythm would be there. Deadly yes, but part of nature. It wouldn't feel so overwhelming. But this. Walking dead? Does that sound like Mother Nature to you?”
“I guess not. But why? Even if this was man-made, who would benefit from killing off the human race?”
Marty actually laughed. For most of her life she had avoided politics. Avoided conflict with family members sporting political views contrary to her own. But she read the papers. Watched the news channels. The world was full of bad people. Some were religious. Some were fiery political scions. Some were nations that just oozed evil. She formed opinions. Had thoughts on why bad things happened in the world. She could list a dozen groups that would benefit from throwing the world into chaos. Just as Jim Jones convinced his followers to drink poison, so too would many organizations willingly kill almost everyone on Earth to advance their sick goals. But she wasn't ready to unload all this onto Victoria. Wild speculation would do no one any good.
“Oh I could think of a few groups that wouldn't hesitate to kill off mankind, but the real question isn't who would do this. Instead, the questions is who could do this. A few grumpy men sitting in a bunker somewhere probably couldn't come up with a virus this destructive.”
While they were talking, Liam had found a hidden key near the front door, and was walking in.
“It looks like Liam made it in. Let's start up there, if that's OK?”
“Sure, Grandma.” And then, “Do you think God would allow us to kill ourselves? Kill off the whole species homo sapiens?”
They'd only been walking a few steps, but Marty stopped her at that question. “Oh dear. God gave us free will. Free will includes allowing us to do stupid things. Even stupid things that kill off the entire race. But God gave good women and men like you and Liam the ability to stop that from happening.” She pointed to the cross on Victoria's necklace. “You have to stay strong in your belief God is watching over you. He is helping you when you need helping. Never lose faith no matter how dark the world gets. Those bad people—whoever they are—must be stopped.”
Siren Songs: Sirens of the Zombie Apocalypse, Book 2 Page 6