Stop the Sirens: Sirens of the Zombie Apocalypse, Book 3

by Isherwood, E. E.

  “Dad, just leave it. We can come back for it. Let's move!”

  He didn't know if anyone would listen to him, but he grabbed Victoria and she readily followed. Soon they were all following Liam into the dark woods.

  Ahead he had trouble seeing anything. The bright flashes of the guns had ruined his night vision, and the moon was unable to penetrate the thick canopy of leaves above them. He had forced a decision for them all—and it could be a decision that killed them all. What if they ran into another group of infected in this direction? He'd remembered how zombies seemed to end up in pockets in the woods around the Boy Scout camp, like they'd gotten lost and were waiting for something to guide them out. Something alive.

  He didn't know how badly his father was injured. Maybe he couldn't keep up?

  He stopped in a small dry rocky creek bed; the others came up behind him. Several small flashlights bobbed his way. Phil and Mel were last, constantly picking off the fastest pursuit.

  “Where's my dad?” Looking around he added, “and where's my mom?”

  “Dad! Mom!”

  “We're coming!”

  They weren't far behind; his dad leaned heavily on his mom. In the darkness it was impossible to see his condition, but his heavy grunting painted a dire picture. He had no time for a checkup. Other grunts and moans weren't far behind his parents.

  “Keep moving.”

  It was as intelligent a plan as he could come up with at that moment. Everyone followed.

  In a few moments Liam found a small rocky outcrop blocking his path. He could tell they were facing the start of an incline up the next hill, and this formation provided the perfect defensive position. If he could get them all up onto the top of the rocks.

  “Everyone up on these rocks. We're going to fight them from here.”

  He kept it simple. Everyone in the group grasped his plan as soon as they saw the rocks. Find a way up, wait until the zombies show up, then fight them from a raised position.

  “Just don't let them grab your feet. That will be the end.”

  He didn't need to spell it out. He'd seen men and women pulled from the flat railcar he'd rode out of St. Louis. It had also provided an elevated fighting position. But there were untold zombies pursuing them a week ago. Enough that they stacked up and made unholy ramps for others to climb.

  Surely there couldn't be that many? Unlike the rail car, they could move along the rocks if there were too many. They could start running up the next hill if things deteriorated. That is, if his dad could move. He tried to get a read on his father.

  Jerry made it up, but was lying on a rock, behind Lana. Liam could just see him in the darkness. Condition unknown, but not looking good.

  They'd had just enough time to arrange themselves in a loose line, facing the direction the from which the zombies hurtled out of the darkness. The risk of shooting each other was minimal.

  Liam wondered if he would be THAT GUY that gets shot by friendly fire.

  Or worse, shoot my own friends?

  So much to worry about in the seconds before contact.

  The zombies weren't fooled by the retreating humans or by the darkness. They weren't as fast, but they stayed on track as they approached the rocky area.

  They had also thinned out. The trees and uneven terrain of the woods ensured the mass of zombies was staggered. They attacked the group in ones and twos, rather than all at once.

  The height of the rocks made using the spears kind of awkward. To be effective, Liam had to drop to one knee to get the leverage he needed to thrust downward into the heads of the zombies. He also found himself constantly worried about tipping or being dragged over the side of his perch. A few times he had to jump the rocky terrain to find new perches.

  After some initial gun fire, the entire group reverted to their spears. Even Bo had borrowed Jerry's, and joined the horrible melee. Soon all he heard was the sickening slurps of spears finding their homes in the skulls of the plague victims, followed by a dull crunch as the bodies fell onto the forest floor. The huffing and puffing of the men and women thrusting the spears played counterpoint to the death they handed out.

  Liam found the rhythm both horrible and beautiful. In one of the increasingly longer lulls between zombies, he debated if Grandma would call this the rhythm of life? Personally Liam felt the sounds of life's harmonies were gone forever. The laughter of children. The patter of rain. The rustle of leaves. Those songs were for the living with a bright future. Hearing them now only reminded the listener of what was lost.

  All that remained was the cacophony of a dead and dying world.

  The horrible music played for a long time, but went silent with the dawn.

  They survived to see the tenth sunrise since the sirens.

  Chapter 3: Trojan Horse

  The dawn brought a new perspective on the destruction they'd wrought overnight. Liam looked around the rocky outcropping where they'd found sanctuary; bloody, discarded bodies were strewn everywhere. They were stacked two or three deep, but nothing like he'd seen on the railroad journey. They were too spread out here.

  His dad was fortunate. He wasn't bitten.

  “Your mother says I broke my fibula. It was that very first zombie that ran me down. It pushed me back and I fell over a tree root and he landed hard on top of my leg. The force fractured my bone. It hurts like hell.” He laughed a little to show he wasn't giving up.

  Bo and Phil helped him walk back through the woods toward the road. The others provided security with their spears. There didn't appear to be any additional zombies afoot, at least not in the woods.

  When they arrived back at the bottom of the roadside hill, they were amazed at how many infected they'd killed there. The use of firearms knocked down a lot of zombies in a short period of time, probably giving them the edge they needed to retreat and survive the night. Without the spears, they'd probably all be dead.

  “We need to give those Boy Scouts a medal or something.” Liam was being serious. Boy Scouts loved awards and commendations. It was part of their DNA.

  They started to clean up the mess of the fallen bicycle and wheelbarrow. Guns had been flung everywhere, the bag of rice had been partially damaged, and boxes of ammo were spread among the dead bodies in their little combat zone. It was like a sick Easter egg hunt.

  Liam focused on the bike. He was positive it would be ruined, but it looked remarkably intact upon closer inspection. The fabric of the trailer had several big rips, but the frame was fine. In the end the only major structural issue was the arm that hooked up to the rear frame of the bike. It had been bent pretty bad, and didn't seem likely to survive being bent back into proper shape. It was only a hollow aluminum tube.

  They decided to collect the guns and put them on the bike again, just as they had before. They put most of the ammo into the wheelbarrow. It was so heavy Phil was put in charge rather than Lana. Since the trailer arm was broken, Bo had an idea to use a stout log to pull it by hand. Liam found the proper piece of wood for the job. It was about a ten-foot straight section of a young sapling. It took some time with his pocketknife and some larger knives carried by the others, but they were able to get it down. The key feature was a notch in the bottom where a second shoot was growing upward. It provided a kind of hook at the end.

  By the time he was done, most of the debris was cleaned up and waiting for him up on the highway. They put things together in between several cars so as not to be easily seen by anyone or anything else. Liam used his hook and slid it underneath the two-wheeled trailer, anchoring it to the frame by pulling it forward. Now, they could pull the little trailer by hand. The last thing he needed to do was put his dad back there.

  The trailer was built to seat two small children side by side, facing backward. A full-sized man like Jerry was hard pressed to fit in there, but it was up to the task. The makeshift ambulance was completed when they found an empty suitcase in the traffic jam. They put the extendable handle under the frame of trailer, wrapped up with the
wooden hook. This allowed Jerry to put his broken leg into the suitcase as its small wheels rolled behind the trailer. It was ugly, but it worked. Liam and Victoria both pulled the trailer. Lana walked behind Jerry. Bo was in the lead with his shotgun at the low ready. They used his bike for a few guns and some equipment they stuffed into Phil's duffel.

  They grabbed another empty suitcase and put the mostly full bag of rice in it. Lana pulled that behind her.

  Finally they cleared the big intersection. On several occasions Bo used his spear to repulse aggressive straggler zombies. Once he fell to the ground after badly misjudging the speed of an oncoming walker. The two tumbled together. It happened with lightning speed. One second Bo was fighting like a pro. The next minute he was in mortal danger.

  Lana had made a living out of saving her husband the past ten days.

  “Keep him off you. I'm here!”

  She used her spear as a baseball bat first, and got the attention of the blood-slick and sick-looking male zombie dressed in short pants and a tank top as it squirmed on top of Bo. He had the good sense to pull up his knees to keep the thing off balance and off his skin. It allowed Lana's “bat” to hit him solidly in the head; the momentum carried him to Bo's side. It was off to his side, so he could roll away. By the time he was up, Lana stood over a still corpse.

  “Thanks. That was close!”

  He wiped sweat from his brow in the early morning sun.

  “Don't mention it. I'm glad I could get to you in time.” Then, as she looked back at the group, she doled out a piece of advice. “If they ever get you down, keep moving. Keep them off balance. Keep something between its mouth and your skin. As long as we stay in a group you should only need to keep them at bay for a few seconds and we'll be along to help you. We have to look out for each other. Always.”

  Liam knew it made all the sense in the world. What he never expected was to hear his mother giving him advice on how to survive in a world filled with zombies.

  I assumed it would be the other way around.

  2

  The second half of their journey was anticlimactic. They struggled along with the bike and trailers, and made terrible time. They discussed resting in the trees but everyone was anxious to get to the safety of the Boy Scout camp. So they pushed on.

  They had nearly reached the last intersection before the camp when Lana's phone beeped as if it received a text message. Everyone stopped, shocked at the unfamiliar noise. The beeps and rings of technology had already faded from their memories.

  ***This is Liam. At Lone Elk Park at a gov camp. Just broke free. Beware Hayes. Heading for home. Have grandma. 7d since sirens.***

  “You sent this three days ago; I already got it. It's how we knew you were coming home and had Hayes to worry about. But now it's showing up again.”

  “I wonder if this is intentional? Maybe someone is controlling the cell towers. Someone we may have met before?”

  “Hayes? He already has Grandma, why would he want you too?”

  “Us. Why would he want us?” Liam reminded his dad.

  “OK, so maybe not Hayes. Then who?”

  Melissa was a little less paranoid. “Maybe this is just a coincidence. Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.”

  Liam scratched his head at the reference, but had no ideas. Maybe he was getting too paranoid.

  “OK, the question is do we try to contact Grandma while we can?”

  The group huddled together. They stood in front of Jerry in the trailer, since he couldn't get out. “We may never get another chance to do this. If we can find out where she is, it's worth the risk.” Liam was ready to jump on the chance.

  Victoria was uncharacteristically hesitant. “Maybe we should think this through, Liam. If someone is tracking your family, they'll be watching for your message. That might lead them right to us. They'll surely realize we're heading for the Scout camp. That could put everyone there in danger.”

  Melissa agreed. “Whoever is out there, they have sophisticated intelligence assets, not to mention the use of the US Military. For all we know there's a B-2 bomber up in the stratosphere just waiting to plug in coordinates to deliver its payload.”

  Liam had recently seen a B-2 bomber doing just that. It was part of the bombing done on the zombie horde back at the St. Louis Arch. Day three of the collapse. That seemed like months ago.

  The group argued the pros and cons for a couple minutes. All the while Liam felt the sands of time slipping away. What if the network shut down for all eternity?

  His father sat quietly. Listening. “I feel like there is something afoot here. The network came up for a purpose. Whoever did it probably has the resources, like Melissa says, but we need the network to contact Liam's phone so we have a clue where she's being held. I think we all know the risk, but I vote to try. Better now than trying it inside the camp where there are people to worry about.”

  Liam felt relieved. Mainly for his dad's confidence in his plan, but also—he admitted to himself—he was glad his dad was there to make decisions again.

  Everyone else agreed, or at least didn't argue. Victoria was quietly kicking a stick on the ground.

  Liam got to making his call on his mom's phone, but was disappointed to find he couldn't make a voice call. He went right to text. “Grandma may not know anything about texting, but she's a smart cookie. She'll figure out how my phone works. If she has the phone on her and can access it, she can even tap to reply directly to this message.”

  He sent a simple message asking her to tell him where she was. He pushed send and watched it as it left his phone. The network didn't give him any indication his message had been lost, so he took it to mean it actually went through.

  Everyone held their breath, waiting for the big reply.

  A few minutes went by before the group started to fidget. Liam had time to look at the low battery indicator. They'd need a way to recharge it soon. He'd probably passed a dozen car chargers back at the intersection.

  Eventually they all went to doing other things. Even Liam was ready to admit they should get back to their task at hand.

  “Hey, I wonder if I can text anyone else? Let me try JT.” Just before the world went to hell, JT text messaged him by accident. He alluded to the fact he and his family were evacuating the city because of the exploding crisis, but Liam was too thick-headed to appreciate what was happening until it was too late. Now he wondered where his friend had gone.

  The message he tried to send stalled in his phone; it was unable to connect to the network.

  “It's down again.”

  His dad spoke quietly. “Convenient.” With a little bit of drama he made as if he were looking up at the sky. “We should keep moving.”

  They all returned to their walking formation. Soon they traveled the last little way to the camp. Liam kept his mother's phone in his own pocket, determined to be ready for any replies. He imagined the infrastructure of the world: the cell towers, the network operation centers, and the lines themselves. Everything had to work just right for any signals to go out or get back. And with everyone left alive running from zombies, there would be no one around to fix even the most minimal problems.

  Figuring out where Grandma was located was a race against the entropy of civilization itself.

  3

  “Halt!” The voice came from the woods to their right.

  “What's your business on this road? This is Boy Scout territory.”

  The group looked at each other, then at Liam.

  “My name is Liam Peters. I left here the other day with my grandma and another Scout named Drew. I said I would come back with my parents. Mr. Lee knows who we are.”

  Some voices were evident, closer in the woods than they would have expected. They seemed to be arguing over what to do. Many seconds later, a young boy tumbled out of a bush. He was covered head to toe in mud and leaves, which made him blend perfectly into the landscape.

  “Liam!” The boy ran up and gave him a big hug.

 
Liam knew he should recognize him, but with all the debris on his face it was impossible. Perhaps sensing his confusion he let him off the hook. “I'm Preston. Remember me?”

  “Of course! You don't look the same with all that camouflage. You look awesome.”

  “Thanks, Liam. I've been on guard duty at this gate since you left. I just knew you'd come back.”

  Preston had fought zombies with Liam in the woods of the Boy Scout camp days earlier. They lost several friends in a gruesome battle with the undead. Liam had assumed it ruined the boy, but he seemed to have bounced back.

  “You guys have a gate out here now?”

  “Yep, we have gun guys up in the woods. I'm more of a greeter guy down here.”

  Liam suddenly felt the weight of eyes on him.

  “Preston, these are my parents and my friends. Can you take us to Mr. Lee?”

  “Sure thing, Liam.” Then to his mates in the woods, “I'm heading to Endor. I'll be back as soon as I can.”

  Liam could see two other boys in the weeds, near the bush Preston used for cover. They gave him the OK, asked him to bring food, then went back to whatever they were doing.

  When they got a few paces further down the road Liam couldn't resist asking about Endor—the mythical forest moon in one of the Star Wars movies he'd grown up watching.

  “Oh, Mr. Lee wanted to name everything in our camp after things we kids would know. He selected his main security base and called it Endor. I guess he thought we were all Star Wars fans. I would have called it Hogwarts myself.”

  He wasn't a big Harry Potter fan, but the naming convention made sense. He asked about other names in the camp, wanting to become familiar with them.

  “Well, after that he tried to get us to vote on the names, but we couldn't all agree on anything.” He gave Liam a knowing laugh, as if kids couldn't agree on the color of the sky. “What else? Oh, there are some groups of tents that have given themselves names unofficially, mostly silly stuff. The only one that stands out is the Umbrella Corporation. They've been going out of the camp to abandoned houses nearby and taking any patio umbrellas they find. I don't get it, but they all think its hilarious.”