Siren Songs: Sirens of the Zombie Apocalypse, Book 2

by E. E. Isherwood

  Real life was much more of a mess. He'd been learning that lesson since he'd walked out his grandma's door, into the apocalypse. Each lesson stacked on the next, guiding him and his friends to this point in time. The next ethical puzzle to be solved amidst the rotation of true moral north during the societal implosion. Many had done it in his books. A simple trigger pull and all those future problems go away...

  As if sensing his internal dissension, Victoria stood next to him and took his hand. It was warm. Comforting. Alive. Would his decision have been easier if she had really died at the hands of this man?

  It would certainly change the equation, though he couldn't say whether he would still be able to pull the trigger. Probably? Maybe?

  “Would anyone object if we let Hayes go?” He said it quietly.

  He secretly hoped someone would object and jump in to do what he couldn't, but everyone was following his lead. Mel had run up late, but even she assented to his release.

  “Just go then.”

  “You know what this means, Liam. I can't stop what happens next, even if I wanted to.”

  Liam spun around. “I know the feeling. Do what you have to, and I'll do what I know is right.”

  Hayes began walking away, as Liam found the comfort of family and friends.

  6

  Liam imagined Hayes was walking out of his life for good, and that everything would turn out OK. He allowed himself to come off high alert. Back into simple exhaustion. He was standing around with family and new friends. Hayes had limped almost all the way down the street when Liam's complicated masquerade finally came unraveled.

  A bicycle and trailer turned the corner, and practically ran into Hayes.

  Things moved in slow motion. Liam's entire existence was focused on the end of his block. He could see each action as it happened, though he could hear nothing from such distance. He couldn't change the outcome from so far away.

  A friendly wave from Hayes to the rider.

  A smile in return. Hayes may have said something like, “So pleased to see you made it, Grandma!” Drew would have no idea he was a bad man.

  The bicycle stopped. A short chat.

  Then a vicious punch. The rider fell.

  “NO! NO! NO!” Liam was yelling, angry at his own impotence. Angry at how slow he was moving.

  Hayes struggled to mount the bike, turned it around, and cranked away. Injuries and all.

  Everyone in the yard snapped awake.

  Liam was the first to start running. He ran for his own tipped bicycle.

  Everyone else was on foot, but heading in the same direction. Soon he had control of his bicycle and overtook them all. He flew by Drew, who was sitting up and getting his bearings. His target was up ahead, but couldn't be far. The helicopter was loudly chopping air nearby.

  Liam pedaled like a maniac, but he only had to go a couple of hundred yards. The helicopter was in the middle of a grocery store parking lot, as he imagined. It was on the ground but its rotors were spinning hard, like it wanted to take off. He risked a look back and could see his group running furiously, some faster than others. Victoria near the front. He kept pedaling.

  Hayes was having issues. His leg injuries were slowing him down, but he managed to keep turning the pedals and he kept steering more or less in the right direction. Liam was closing the distance.

  Liam saw his opportunity as he caught up with the struggling man. He whipped his bike to his left and in front of the other, intending to cause a wreck. Hayes made no effort to correct his path as they collided.

  Liam tumbled hard to his right while Hayes just crumpled with his bike as it impacted. His speed wasn't that great, so Liam ended up getting the worst of it. Even so, he was on his feet quickly, road rash be damned.

  Hayes was straddling his bike's top tube, talking into his headset. His eyes firmly on Liam.

  A shot rang out.

  Liam turned around to see a civilian man with a high-powered rifle in the back of the helicopter. It was now pointed at him.

  “You lose, Liam! I'm taking Marty and we're getting on this bird. I'm cutting you a break just like you cut me one back there at your house. Details you see. But we're even now. I'm a little injured. This is what you're going to do. You're going to get Grandma out of her trailer—the real trailer, you sneaky bastard—and help her board. Then I'm going to fly away with her and you will never look for her. Do you understand?”

  He understood. He looked back to see several people arriving behind him.

  “I'll agree to your terms if you also agree not to harm any of the others.”

  “Fine. Just get her in, quick!”

  Liam made a motion for everyone to halt well behind him. Only Victoria disobeyed and continued to run up to him with a hug. She then helped Liam get Grandma out of the trailer as requested.

  Grandma came out with a smile. “Oh, Victoria! I'm so glad to see you're alive. Such a happy day for Liam.”

  “Grandma, they're going to take you away. To a medical facility again. I'm really sorry, but I couldn't save you. They were going to kill us all to get you.”

  Liam could feel the tears welling in his eyes. He found a free spot on his tongue and bit hard.

  “Liam, you made the right decision. You have to see that. Don't you worry about me. I'll be fine. I'm old you see. I've got my Rosary at the ready.”

  Victoria seemed to take a cue from seeing the religious object.

  She reached into her pocket and pulled out the travel Bible Liam had given to her. She showed it to Liam, opened it wide, and held it up to her eye. It had a bullet hole near the top left corner, though it didn't go all the way through.

  “This Bible saved my life. I had it tucked in Liam's belt because it wouldn't fit in my pants pockets. The bullet hit this and sent me flying. I had a bloody bruise on my hip, and I hit my head, but was otherwise unharmed. It was a miracle. I want you to have it so you can have a miracle, too, Grandma.”

  “Oh, child, thank you. Seeing you alive is my miracle. I'll take it for now, but I'll give it back when we meet again. Deal?”

  Victoria was unable to do more than nod. She was crying openly.

  “Oh, and please do return that pillow to the Boy Scouts if you can.” Liam couldn't tell if she was joking until she gave both of them her trademark wink.

  Liam took his opportunity to give Grandma a big bear hug. He held her for a very long time. Finally he spoke.

  “Grandma, I'll find you. I have a whole group here to help me. Together we can get to you wherever they take you.”

  “Liam, don't you go fretting about me. I don't want anyone else to be put in harm's way because of me. Just live a good life with Victoria and your folks, and remember me from the time we've shared on our adventures. I'm happy to have gotten to know you better and I'm proud of the man you're becoming. But maybe you could pray for me once in a while?” She flashed him a huge smile as she said it.

  “I love you, Grandma. I'm going to miss you while you're gone.”

  “I love you too, Liam. Tell your dad I love him, will you? Your mom too!”

  She gave her son and daughter-in-law a wave and together she and Liam moved into the wash of the spinning blades. Hayes had struggled his way into a back seat, though he was still yelling into his microphone.

  With the assistance of one of the crew, Liam was able to help Grandma up and into the helicopter. She was put in a seat across from Hayes. Liam waved once more to her and then ran out of the wash from the rotors. He was watching with Victoria by his side.

  From inside the helicopter he could see Hayes was now wearing a larger pair of headphones and had a boom mic across his face. A loudspeaker on the bottom of the copter kicked on.

  “I have one last gift for you, Liam.”

  Liam looked around, looked at the helicopter, looked at the man with the gun riding in the back. He had become hypersensitive to traps. He found himself taking a step in front of Victoria—shielding her. But from what?

  “Cons
ider this your air raid warning.”

  Maybe he did it to imitate Grandma, but he winked at Liam as the door slid shut.

  With that, the helicopter pushed up, then tilted forward and escaped the area in a hurry.

  Escape.

  “Everyone run!”

  Another race.

  As the helicopter rotor noise faded, a different roar got louder by the second.

  An ugly-looking plane came in low and slow over the trees in front of them. Liam knew it was an A-10, nicknamed the Warthog. He'd seen them days earlier, at the Arch. It was a squat-looking plane with twin-turbofan engines hugging tightly against the rear fuselage, in front of its dual vertical stabilizers. It was best known for its deadly accurate rotating 30mm Gatling gun. There was nothing like it.

  Liam and his companions were running away from Liam's street, but they were on the same axis. The planes were coming in directly in front of them, heading lengthwise directly above his street. They heard the chain gun rounds smashing into the neighborhood an instant before the sound of the gun itself reached their ears from above. The first jet screamed overhead, passed the street, then peeled away, direction unknown. Liam knew the Gatling on the MRAP was a toy compared to the power of the lethal aircraft.

  Two more were coming in similarly low and slow. Lining up the houses behind them and then letting rip with multiple rapid strings of gunfire.

  “Keep running!”

  The small group of his friends and family were running across the open parking lot toward more trees and a drainage ditch. A stray Gatling round or one well-placed bomb could have eliminated them all forever.

  Forever.

  That word continued to scare him.

  His mind was trying to crack the code as to why.

  So much going on.

  He found himself running hard, though Victoria was staying just in front of him. She was fast.

  Wow. She's beautiful, like an angel. Why can't I catch her?

  Seeing her spurred a desire to pray. He recalled the first time they met, and the comfort he took from the cross hanging from the chain around her neck. He recalled openly praying on the corral back at the Elk Meadow facility. He wanted to tell Victoria all about his burgeoning faith. He realized he never told Grandma about it either. She would have been so proud.

  Am I about to learn what happens after death? Will I learn about “forever” or will I simply wink out of existence? Never know that I existed at all?

  He expected to die. So much left unsaid. Undone.

  More planes were screeching above him. His mind was racing as fast as his feet. The stress was causing havoc on his thought process. The important mingled with the irrelevant. The eternal chased the ephemeral. He couldn't control it.

  He resolved to ask Victoria out on a date if they survived. That seemed very important to him as he trailed her. What would dating look like when there were no restaurants or movie theaters? What did they do back in the old days? And there would have to be introductions with his parents. That scared him almost as much as the barking guns above.

  I need to apologize to my parents. I'm sorry I was such an ass.

  Behind and above, a sound was growing. If he didn't know any better he would say it was the stereotypical sound of a bomb falling from high in the sky, like a cartoon. Or his mind was playing tricks. Fear could do that.

  It couldn't end like this. He wasn't ready.

  He wanted to tell everyone about the experiments he'd seen. Reveal the different types of zombies wandering America. Share news about the safety of Camp Hope. Warn them of the presence of more government camps, including a big one downtown. He'd just escaped the city and had no desire to go back—maybe he'd save telling them about it.

  And what of Grandma? He tried to imagine where the helicopter would take her. To another camp out in the woods? Would she soon be tied to a gurney inside some dank tent? Would Hayes be there rubbing his hands in glee, after finally bagging the old woman he'd been chasing? She wasn't as old as Bart, but there had to be something special about her to demand so much attention. He needed to solve that mystery.

  If he lived. He sprinted until his heart nearly gave out. He even caught Victoria. They were in it together.

  His mental gymnastics were finally shut off when he was knocked into the muddy ditch by the massive explosion behind him.

  Did I win the race?

  ###

  Bonus Material

  Thank you for reading Siren Songs. I hope you'll consider taking a few seconds to review my book on Amazon as it really helps me improve future versions of this story as well as guide future readers into my zombie universe. Once I capture them, they can never escape the walking plague! I appreciate every review as long as it's honest.

  Below you will find the first two chapters of book 3 in the trilogy, Stop the Sirens. It picks up exactly where book 2 leaves off. The family is reunited as the quest to find Grandma kicks into gear. The mystery of her location, and the source of the plague, will be answered in book 3.

  Thank you so much for your time.

  E.E. Isherwood

  Stop the Sirens: Prologue: Shush!

  Marty woke up in a clean bed, in a well-lit room. She was on her back, and for the first time in a long time, felt rested.

  She managed to sit up and was surprised to look out the window and see she was high up in a skyscraper. It was probably a hospital, but she couldn't be sure. She wasn't even sure what city was outside. The 'North Star' of her hometown of St. Louis was the Gateway Arch. If you could see it, you were home.

  Now she only saw the upper portions of other buildings and lots of smoke in the air below her. The sun was setting in the west, directly out her window. Whatever clues she could find outside might help her identify her location. She spent twenty minutes looking around, but saw absolutely nothing which gave her the all-important answer.

  Where am I?

  She sat in a little chair next to her bed and happened to look down at her bed's foundation. On it was stamped “Riverside Hotel and Casino.” That made it much easier. Not a hospital after all.

  She laughed despite her fear.

  So I'm still in St. Louis.

  She had no idea what day it was. How long she'd been there. If any tests had been done. The last thing she remembered was getting on the helicopter after Liam said goodbye, waving to him, and then—

  —nothing.

  I'm old. I must have zoned out.

  She stood up again. She felt good. Getting up from a chair was normally a laborious process. Even her back wasn't bothering her at the moment.

  “Al, am I dreaming right now?”

  Her late husband/guardian angel did not respond.

  “OK, I'm not dreaming.”

  She found a mirror over the sink in her room, and was happy to see herself for a change. Rather than the usual drooping eye sockets, her eyes looked bright. Even her skin seemed to sit a little firmer on her face.

  Maybe it was all that exercise.

  She laughed out loud at the notion. She hadn't had so much exertion in decades.

  “Hmmm, exercise really is the best medicine.”

  She winked at herself in the mirror, then moved back to the window. The world outside was as dark as pitch on the ground and in the sky. No other lights were visible now. The entire city seemed devoid of light. She had an inspiration to turn off the lights in her own room, so she could get a better look at the stars. Once she returned to her window, she allowed some time for her eyes to adjust, and was rewarded with a sky full of stars. The smoke in the air obscured some of them, but the entire sky in front of her could not be covered by the smoke.

  She put her hand into the pockets of her pants, fighting a chill. Her hand ran across something foreign. Small, boxy, smooth, about the length of her hand. Pulling it out, she was able to get a good look at it in the glow of the stars.

  She inadvertently hit a button which turned it on.

  Marty didn't know what a lock screen was, but
she could appreciate the picture on it. Staring up at her, with a conspiratorial grin on his face—and a few tears in his eyes—was Liam. He had one hand in front of his mouth, with one finger up in the traditional “shush” symbol. Behind him she could just make out part of her own head, and the rotors of the helicopter. After a few seconds the screen went blank and she pocketed the device without comment.

  He must have snapped the picture while giving me that big hug. Clever boy indeed.

  Marty lay back down in her bed. Content for the time being. Somewhere out there people were thinking about her. Trying to get to her. Drawn by her siren song. A song she continually tried to mute.

  Normally she prayed for others. Health for the sick. Luck for the out-of-work. Help passing a school test. Some prayers were epic in scale, others a simple show of affection. Always for someone else. But in a rare moment of spiritual weakness she requested something for herself.

  Lord, if they come to save me—

  Liam couldn't help himself. He would find a way. It was already written.

  —please, I don't want anyone to die.

  She admitted that wasn't how siren songs end...

  Stop the Sirens: Chapter 1: Exodus

  8 days since the sirens

  Fifteen-year-old Liam Peters looked up from the muddy water. He and several of his companions had escaped the big bombs dropped on his neighborhood by tossing themselves into a shallow creek running next to the shopping center parking lot they'd just sprinted across. First the A-10's swept his block of modest ranch-style homes—their deadly Gatling guns announcing themselves like the horns of the Four Horsemen the Apocalypse. Quite appropriate for the actual apocalypse. And then something came down from high in the sky—the Colonel he'd met at the government medical camp called them bunker busters—and moved the Earth just as they'd tossed themselves down into the creek for cover. Then more bombs came. He wasn't brave enough to look up over the little lip of the creek to see the remains of his neighborhood yet. For now it was enough he was alive.