Liam felt himself tense up at the thought of all the chaos and bullets flying by.
“—I managed to help Grandma out of the MRAP and into a Humvee so we could escape but I'll admit I've never been as scared in my whole life. That includes riding a train in the dark with zombies lurking all around us.”
“Hmm. Sounds really dangerous for us if that thing decides to come up this way. You were inside it you say? How'd you manage that?”
“The people in that convoy might be CDC, or they might be Homeland Security. They also might be some kind of military unit. They captured my grandma—they brought me along so I could support her. They took us to a medical camp over in Lone Elk Park across the highway. They were running weird experiments, and told me the camp was set up to help find a cure to the zombie plague.”
“And you believed them?”
“No, sir. I didn't believe a word... Well, there was one man, a colonel, who seemed to tell me the truth. Oh yeah, back up, I almost forgot the most important part. They killed my girlfriend in cold blood to convince us to go with them in the first place.”
That thought forced his shoulders to slump noticeably.
In return, Mr. Lee briefly put his hand on Liam's shoulder. “OK, so they are super dangerous. Sounds like you did everything you could to keep your grandma alive. Don't beat yourself up.”
“Thanks, but there's something else.”
It made Liam feel marginally better to share his story with the Scout leader, but he turned inward while considering his next statement. Was Hayes looking specifically for his grandma? Hayes and his buddies hightailed it out of there the second the warning sirens went off. But where did they go? Another camp? Back to some central base? Did they go somewhere nearby and watch all the old people walk right out the front gate? Would they know he and Grandma survived at all?
Maybe the old folks told them.
It wasn't something he wanted to admit, but the escapees weren't exactly friendly, in the end. They had volunteered to be there—maybe they resented a young boy coming along and tipping the apple cart? It was plausible Hayes caught up with them, and maybe gave them all a cold beverage while he interrogated them to learn where he and Grandma had gone. They could at least confirm Grandma was alive. That part rang true.
“Mr. Lee, I would feel bad if something happened and you didn't know this. They might be coming for my grandma and me. If they thought we were still alive it's possible they're once again trying to track us down. I honestly don't know why we're so important to them. We've been tangling with Hayes almost back to when the sirens went off. Unfortunately, some of our fellow escapees know we crossed the highway in this direction. It's only natural we would end up here. We should leave.”
“I appreciate the offer. I really do. You show a lot of bravery in saying that, and I'm honored to meet someone who would go to such lengths to take care of his family. You're exactly the kind of young man we need here. You've done the Boy Scouts proud. Now, I hope you have comfortable shoes. We have to do some running.”
Liam was wearing his old running shoes—he saved his better pairs for track meets and long runs—but they were still serviceable. Of course they were covered with dried blood and their original color was hidden underneath the road grime of the last week.
“Where are we going? How will we move Grandma?”
“Just you and I. We'll leave her here for now, but I promise we'll be back in time to take care of her. Right now I want to take you to the camp leaders so you can share your story with them, and they can make the decision on what to do next. Since these people present a threat to us all, we have to make sure the leaders are involved.”
“What do you think should happen?”
“We should hide you guys, of course. We aren't just going to hand you over.”
He seemed to dwell on that for a moment.
“I have to inform the leaders. But if for some reason they decide to do something silly—like turn you guys in—I promise I will personally help get you guys out of camp before that happens.”
“Are you saying you don't trust the leaders?”
“I trust them. But they're a team of civilian leaders working under extreme conditions. Not all of them are cut out for the tough decisions necessary to run a camp of this size, with these plaguers lurking all around us. Some of them might see the arrival of military units as a return of authority. Look, I'm not trying to scare you. I want you to have the lay of the land. I'm in this to help you.” Mr. Lee turned around and started jogging, giving a wave for Liam to follow.
He didn't know what to say. So he started after him. They ran back through their new little cluster of tents, informed Drew and the others where they were going and that they'd be right back, and then began a fast jog over to the administration building.
2
The camp headquarters was bustling with activity. People were running in and out in droves, presumably to get advice and instructions from the camp leaders. Mr. Lee explained the Scouts had divided up several tasks to different committees, and each committee was located in this central building. It made it easy to find answers, and it kept a lot of runners busy zipping all over the camp, but it seemed to work efficiently.
They walked in on the ground floor and Liam was disappointed to see how many people were inside.
“The leaders are against the far wall. Follow me.” Mr. Lee snaked through the crowd, unconcerned about queue protocols. Even though there were dozens of people lined up in front of the table where the leaders positioned themselves, he walked Liam right up to it. He got the attention of one of the leaders—an older gray-haired man with a Boy Scout hat but no other uniform accoutrement—and motioned for him to lean over the table. He whispered something, and the man then went to each of the others on the committee with a quiet message. They all left the table to go up some steps to the second level of the small building.
The last leader to leave spoke up. “Sorry, folks. We had something come up and need to put our heads together. We'll be back as soon as we can.” He then pointed to Mr. Lee and Liam. “You two please come upstairs.”
Everyone in line seemed disappointed at the delay, but no one made any snide comments at this turn of events.
The upstairs was the complete opposite of the lower level. Peaceful. Calm. Unoccupied.
There were four men and two women on the leadership team. Most were retirement age, and appeared healthy and active. One man appeared to be old enough to have been an escapee from Elk Meadow, but he still looked fit. A couple had full uniforms. Most had pieces of their uniforms, as if they arrived here and had to borrow them.
“Lee, what's happening out there?” It was one of the women, though it was unclear if anyone outranked the others.
“Everyone, meet Liam. He's a Boy Scout who found his way here with his 104-year-old grandma this morning. They came across the north hill...”
He took five minutes to explain everything he knew about Liam's journey, the reason he was in the government camp, and why Hayes and his team might be looking for them. Liam filled in any gaps, and answered whatever questions he could.
Just as Mr. Lee predicted, their first reaction was of hope. They thought the government was coming to restore order. A younger leader joined explained. “I appreciate your situation, Liam, but I have a hard time believing these government people would hurt any of us. Maybe we could get them to provide some food and water once they know we're here. Surely there can't be bigger groups of survivors in the area. They have to help us, right?”
The oldest man seemed to support his reasoning. “Back when I lived in California we'd get those earthquakes and it would tear things up something awful. Lots of people were turned out of their homes, and we'd all go to shelters and get our three squares a day until our neighborhoods were re-opened. They did that after Hurricane Katrina too. Wind and water knocks everything down. Government picks it all back up. The scale of this is bigger, but they'll be along to help us. They always come
through in the end.”
This wasn't going the way Liam had hoped. He had made it clear the government had killed his girlfriend, kidnapped his grandma, and forced him into a glorified prison camp.
Another of the male leaders seemed to hedge. “I'm willing to believe you Liam. No one would make up a story like that. But I just can't believe the entire government is in on it. Maybe the trucks heading our way are a different group—the good guys—come here to help?”
Liam was exasperated, and wanted to snap back, but held his tongue. His whole life was based on the reinforcement of the idea the government could always be counted on to make things worse. They always brought problems, and never solutions. His dad even had a plaque to commemorate government incompetence! Why were these people not seeing it? Even the plague itself was testament to the inability of those in charge to protect its citizens. That right there should be proof enough.
“We'll have to talk it over, but my recommendation would be to wait and see what they want and then reconvene once we have more information.” That was from the guy with only his Scout hat as his uniform.
Liam took it as his cue. “Look. You guys have no reason to believe me, but everything I've seen over the past week suggests the government as we knew it is gone. Down at the Arch I saw pretty much the entire St. Louis PD destroyed. On our way south we witnessed the destruction of the Arnold Police Department, along with the pillaging of the whole town of Arnold. If the police from those two jurisdictions are gone forever, how many other police units have suffered similar fates? Every book I've ever read about the Zombie Apocalypse says law and order will never come back after something this big.”
He'd said the wrong thing. He knew it the moment it left his tongue.
The chuckles spelled it out for him, but hat-guy put the exclamation on it.
“Kid, this isn't one of your stories. This isn't the Apocalypse, zombie or otherwise. There are just a lot of sick people out there and it has overwhelmed social services. Everything will come back, just give it time. All we have to do is sit tight and hope the plague doesn't overrun this camp, too.”
Liam felt his hackles rising.
“Do you even know what a zombie looks like? 'Cause I've been hip deep in their ranks. I've seen them up close and I've killed scores of them.” Maybe a slight exaggeration. “They aren't people with a cold. They aren't people with Ebola, Extra Ebola, or whatever. They're people who have died and gotten back up. Call them plaguers, zombies, sickos—it doesn't matter. Things are much more serious than you seem to understand.”
Mr. Lee put his hand on his shoulder, signifying he'd said enough. “Thank you, Liam.” Then, to the others he said, “I move we help Liam and his grandma hide in the woods while these strangers are at our front gate. If they want to search the place, let them. This will protect the camp from being accused of harboring anyone, and it will help a boy and his grandmother from being taken again as captives. I think we all win.”
The others considered the motion; the old-timer brought it to a vote.
“Everyone who wishes to protect these folks by helping them hide, raise your hands.”
It was unanimous. Even Mr. Lee had his hand up.
Liam was surprised to see he'd been talking to a member of the council the whole time.
3
“I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was on the council before we went in there. I felt it had to appear authentic and I didn't want you to think it was a slam dunk. They needed to hear from you instead of just from me.”
“No problem. I'm glad they're helping, but I really do think they have some wrong impressions about what's going on in the wider world. Your valley here is a nice place, but if they don't prepare for the worst it's going to come in and bite them hard. All books aside, it's a lesson I've learned myself walking from the city out to the suburbs.”
“You might be surprised if I told you what my role is here in the camp. Security. I've walked the perimeter with my patrols. I've seen plaguers and zombies. I know what you say is true.”
“Then why didn't you tell them?”
“I've been telling them for days. But you saw them. Old. Soft. Civilians. They're good Scout leaders, but they aren't good Scouts, if that makes any sense? They arrived here at the beginning, before it got really bad. I won't say they've been hiding, but none of them have been out in the woods to see what's been going on. They look out their windows and see us all cooperating, singing songs, and figure we've done just fine for ourselves in holding things together. They're waiting for the outside to return to normal.”
“So, they have their heads in the sand?”
Mr. Lee only smiled.
They stopped in one of the rooms which contained medical supplies. Stacked against one wall were a few dozen poles with canvas wrapped around them. Liam had no idea what they were until Mr. Lee pulled one out and opened it. “We'll use this stretcher to get your grandma out into the woods. You remember the tower from your time here? That will be the perfect place to wait this out.”
Liam was surprised by his statement.
“You're going with us?”
“Me and several of my friends. We Scouts have to stick together. Plus, it will be a good training exercise for one of the perimeter teams I'm building. Unlike council, I'm preparing for the worst.”
“Zombies?”
“They're bad, no doubt about it, but they're far from the worst. Unless they start running, they're easy to catch and kill with the right tools and with the right people defending us. No, my fears are the thieves, murderers, looters, and other humans up to no good.”
“You aren't going to stop them with pointy sticks.”
“No. I'd love to get some more guns, but until then we do what we can.”
They started jogging back to the camp. Mr. Lee was big enough to carry the stretcher over one shoulder.
As they ran Liam realized the Gatling had gone silent. Had they run out of ammo? Were they even now at the front gate? He knew it wasn't logical, but he was worried Hayes was already taking Grandma from her tent.
When they arrived, Grandma was safely where he'd left her. “Grandma, wake up!”
It took a few minutes to rouse her and get her ready for their walk. Mr. Lee went back out to gather his team. He also sent runners to find people and items he needed. They were going to meet at Liam's tent as fast as they could organize. The efficiency impressed Liam greatly.
If the whole world was made of Boy Scouts, would we be in this mess at all?
He wanted to give the boys their due, but he remembered the leaders were less than he'd hoped. Maybe leaders were just normal people, doing average work. A select few rose to any challenge, making them shine, like Mr. Lee. If Liam had run into any of the other six on the committee when they'd first arrived, he thought—perhaps a bit unfairly—he and Grandma would already be moving on to somewhere new. Once again luck was his friend.
They were standing around with Drew and a few younger boys, explaining what it was they were about to do.
“Can I come with you, Liam?” Drew was one Scout Liam would be happy to have along. Liam wondered what he was like in a fight. That was quickly becoming the gold standard for making friends in the world of zombies. Can this person help me survive or will he or she get me killed? Every book on zombies—movies too—showed how the wrong mix of people would be the death of any group. Liam called the phenomenon “Being THAT guy.” The guy that falls asleep while on watch. The girl that refuses to believe her boyfriend has really changed. The man who loses his mind and shoots people instead of zombies. “THAT guy” was always the first chink in the armor leading to the downfall of any group of survivors.
His science teacher would call that a conundrum. Humanity needs groups of survivors of a sufficient size to hold off the zombies and work together to rebuild. But if the group gets too large, the capacity for “THAT guy” to manifest himself and ruin the whole thing grows, too.
Drew didn't seem like the weak link. “It'
s fine with me, but we should see what Mr. Lee says. He's building a specific group for this adventure.”
That seemed to mollify him, but events were moving fast. From his vantage point on the wooded hillside, Liam could see the trucks moving along the valley road. One MRAP and two Humvees. “Drew, will you help me with this stretcher? We have to move now. Those trucks are nearly here. They might spot us.”
Unless they were very lucky, the odds of being spotted with so many other campers around seemed pretty low. They also had some additional cover from the trees. Still, Liam felt moving out was better than waiting around to see if Hayes got out and walked right to them by random chance.
Leave nothing to chance. Thanks for drilling that into me, Dad.
“Grandma, I need you to lay down on this stretcher. Drew and I are going to carry you into the woods to hide. Mr. Lee should be back soon and he'll join us.”
Marty had done enough things the past week well out of her routine; she was able to roll with anything it seemed. In just a couple of minutes they were moving into the woods out of the camp.
A very young Scout was selected to tell Mr. Lee they'd started up the trail.
They were joined by four pre-teen boys who insisted on coming along as security. Their sharp sticks seemed menacing enough, though Liam had serious reservations they would be able to hold off a significant number of zombies. Or a single bad guy with a gun.
Still, you go with the army you have. Not the one you wish you had.
That sounds like a dad quote too.
He began walking up the trail with his mates, the fate of his parents foremost in his mind.
4
The Boy Scout reservation is an island of undisturbed forest nestled in the suburbs of St. Louis. It is bounded on the north by the interstate Liam and Grandma had crossed. In the west it was bounded by a small blacktop road. On the east and south sides, it was bounded by suburban homes. Because it was ringed by fairly sizable hills, the valley was shielded against easy access by the zombie waves coming out of the city. They stuck to the highways and main roads, where prey was more accessible. Still, the miles of forest on the reservation was an excellent place to get lost—or hide.
Siren Songs: Sirens of the Zombie Apocalypse, Book 2 Page 21