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

by Isherwood, E. E.

  It made more sense if Hayes was a doctor. It would explain his keen interest in Grandma. His command of resources, including Army personnel. An Army doctor?

  “Mel, could an Army doctor command troops in the field?”

  “Yes, though it would be unusual. Maybe less so now, but they do have rank and could command troops.”

  “But aren't doctors supposed to help people? Doesn't shooting my girlfriend disqualify him from the academy or something?” Still, “doctor” felt right. He hated to use the term, but he thought it anyway. An evil doctor. Maybe a step down; a sinister doctor. Just the kind of person who would thrive in an environment of plague, death, and zombies. It was a bit cartoonish, but he couldn't think of a more reasonable explanation.

  His question turned out to be rhetorical. No one volunteered an answer.

  The remainder of the documents provided a few additional snippets of data, but little in the way of information. Protocols for destruction of camps. Composition of security details. Numbers of infected tested at the camp—224. Very little in the way of clues.

  One tantalizing piece of data was in the header of an email sent to the colonel. The hardcopy didn't give an address, but listed “Riverside Operations Center, St. Louis, Missouri.” The message referenced medicines and other supplies they had on hand for shipment to various research facilities, including Elk Meadow. Someone had used a highlighter throughout.

  He leaned over to show Victoria. “Check this out. It seems to imply this place is some kind of supply hub. Colonel McMurphy mentioned a base of operations in downtown St. Louis. Maybe this is where they'd take Grandma? But why doesn't it list an address?”

  “Maybe they didn't want anyone to know where the stuff was coming from?” she volunteered.

  “Or maybe they all knew where it was, so putting an address was silly. No one on Earth probably knows the postal address of the St. Louis Arch. You don't need it to find it.”

  “So, all we have to do is find someone from this camp and ask them for the address of their secret headquarters in the middle of the collapsed city we just spent days escaping?”

  Liam laughed at the thought. “Yeah, and while we're at it, we'll ask them for a ride to get there. Save us all the effort!” He thought about it for a second. “OK, it's a working theory for where she is.”

  Chapter 5: Riverside

  Marty knew she wasn't awake as soon as she saw the birdbath. Almost two weeks ago, her very first encounter with a man purporting to be her late husband Aloysius had been at this very spot—her backyard. The man wasn't really her husband, and she wasn't really in her backyard, but she couldn't say for sure who he was or where she was. It was more real than a dream, but she wasn't really awake either.

  “Hello, Marty.”

  “You aren't really Al. You don't have to pretend.”

  “I'm sorry. I have to say it helps me relate to you better. May I continue the charade, if you will?”

  She hated to admit he was right. She feared what other form he might take.

  “Oh, alright. I guess it helps me, too.”

  The avatar of her husband walked over the bright green grass of her backyard, and stopped at her favorite birdbath. It was a gift from her family for one of her big birthdays, the eightieth she guessed. Before the infected came, she loved to sit on her back porch and watch the birds playing there. It brought her peace. As close to Heaven as she could get in this world.

  “Heaven. An interesting concept. In a universe defined by the cold of absolute zero across the infinite depths of space and time, your warm rock called Earth would be Heaven by almost any definition you could conjure.”

  “Even with infected walking all over it?”

  “Hmm. I guess that depends on if you're still alive or one of the living dead. But do you recall what I told you in an earlier meeting? The infected are still human, and they'll be walking the planet when it's finally engulfed by the Sun if they aren't stopped here and now. That's why I chose you to fulfill your mission with your two young friends.”

  “Liam and Victoria. Yeah, you said we were a trio of heroes. I fear they're trying to get themselves killed by rescuing me from these people. I encouraged them to be heroes, but they don't appreciate the danger they're in.”

  “On the contrary, my dear Martinette, you don't understand the danger you are in. They understand it better than you do, I think. They don't know it as intimately as you do because they aren't here with us now. You know you must survive or all of humanity could be lost.”

  “What if I don't?”

  “Then the cure dies with you. Eventually everyone will succumb to the plague, or die resisting it. Even those who survive the next few years will die off soon enough. The thought of having kids in a world ruled by the undead will eventually decline the pool of survivors to a point the human race can no longer endure as a species. If you had a supercomputer you could run the numbers. I've seen it in other...worlds/simulations/archives.” He chuckled to himself. “Actually, I do have a supercomputer. As part of my research, I've found the pool of surviving humans is dwindling far faster than expected. Though most humans survived the initial crisis, time is indeed growing short for them as the number of zombies rise.”

  They stood near each other in the simulated backyard of her house and watched the bird bath. It had water in it, but there were no birds to be seen.

  “It doesn't make sense. Why am I responsible for saving humanity from this plague? You said before it was because I was close to Hayes. Now that we know Hayes is deeply involved, why not send in the Army? Give the President a visit with this information. Why put three—nobodies—at the center of this fight for all of mankind?”

  Al took a full minute to consider. He walked slowly and deliberately around the birdbath several times.

  “Do you have any doubt that what you see here is actually how you see it with your own eyes? The complexity of translating the reality of this—place—into something you can process is beyond reckoning. Yet it gets done. Would it surprise you to learn there may be other Marty's talking to other Al's in backyards very similar to this one? I once called myself a close approximation to an angel. You may believe I am infallible—truly an angel in the 'wings, harps, and white clothes' tradition. Those may yet exist. I've not seen a fraction of existence, though it would not be braggadocio to say I've seen a near-infinity's worth of it more than you. Suffice it to say, I am not infallible. I'm not even the best at what I do. But I do serve the Light. I do serve the one true God.”

  He stopped at the birdbath and looked directly at Marty. “But I do make mistakes.” The being pretending to be Al actually managed to look sheepish.

  “So, I was your mistake? That explains a lot, though it doesn't make me feel any better.”

  Al laughed out loud. “No, my dear. Let me finish. You are the exact person I wanted for this crisis. It was your age—along with a few complimentary parameters—which enabled you to hear/decipher/recognize our call.”

  “There! Why did you say it like that? This/this/that? Who are you, really? I think I need to know.”

  “I told you who I represent. Isn't that enough?”

  “You said this universe was at a tipping point between good and evil. Why don't you just cut with the mystery, tell me what I need to do, and we can get it done together?”

  “A delightfully human response. I've admired you from the beginning. But as I imagine you already know, if a creator interferes with his creation to the point he dictates what happens, it really isn't a creation at all. A creator could just snap his fingers and arrive on the final day of the simulation, everything neatly wrapped up. But what purpose would that serve? Why start it at all?”

  Al continued to pace around the birdbath while he moved his hands over the reflective water in a kind of pattern. “Instead, imagine a creation of wonderful chaos. If there was an omnipotent being behind it all, wouldn't absolute chaos and uncertainty ensure He wasn't dictating everything that happened? And perh
aps that being would ensure general chaos by allowing his agents to continually introduce new stimuli, even to the point one might think it was 'evil.' That would be the last thing you'd expect from an omnipotent being, would it not? Agents of the Light. Agents of the Dark. Agents of order. Agents of chaos. All designed to complicate the universe to the point of infinite unpredictability. That would achieve a near-impossible result for an omnipotent being, wouldn't you think?”

  “It has a certain logic to it, but to what end? Why put humans through the ringer like this? Does that mean God has no involvement whatsoever in His creation?”

  “Ah, my dear Marty, I love your spirit. All I can tell you is that if God didn't care at all He wouldn't allow me to be here, either. But there are more pressing and important questions you should be asking. Like how to work that phone you've been hiding in your pocket.” Al pointed to her fuchsia-colored pants pocket where Liam's phone rested.

  “You must summon Liam and Victoria. They will come to you. Together, unified by your shared experiences and emotional interconnections, you have the best chance of anyone to access the 8088 room.” In a prior visit he showed her a locked room behind a window containing an old 8088 model computer sitting on a wooden table. It was part of an elaborate construct which included a seemingly magic waterfall nearby. “I assure you what you will find in there is much more powerful than your nominal recreation of a personal computer. Inside lies salvation for you and for your planet.”

  She reached for her pocket, but instead found herself back in her bed. It was dark once again. She didn't think she screamed when she woke up. Another small victory.

  2

  The MRAP idled outside the front gate of the camp. Liam and his friends were trying to agree on where to secure it. They couldn't park it inside the camp because the council was dead set against it, but leaving it outside the camp left it open to theft from anyone who stumbled upon it.

  Mr. Lee came up with the only viable solution. “We'll hide it in the woods near the watchtower south of here. Technically it'll still be on Boy Scout land, but as per the council it will be outside the camp itself. It will allow us to access it when we need it, prevent it from being easily stolen, and keep it close enough to the main camp to be useful in case we're attacked.”

  Phil and Mel nodded vigorously. Victoria and Bo also seemed to agree. Liam couldn't think of a better idea, so he too lent his support.

  “Wow, we all agreed on something,” Mr. Lee laughed, “if only dealing with the council was this easy!”

  As the truck rolled down the pavement and headed for the dirt track leading to the watchtower, Liam moved closer to Victoria so he could talk to her in private near the back of the truck. She was looking in his direction with a smile on her face.

  He returned a smile and asked, “What do you think happened to us back at Elk Meadow? Why did we both pass out at exactly the same time?”

  He expected Victoria to have an answer prepared. She was planning for a career in medicine, so certainly had been thinking about the incident since it happened. But she surprised him. “I can't explain it. I don't even have a guess. Shared vision isn't something I've ever studied or even read about. Maybe it was some kind of suggestion put in our head by the stress of the bombed out camp? Something there, but beyond our comprehension.”

  “Something that made us both think about a city when we were in a bombed camp in the woods? That's your answer?” Liam smiled, but he was also serious.

  “I know it makes no sense whatsoever. Neither do zombies. Strange things happen at the end of the world.”

  Liam couldn't argue with that. In fact, many of the books he'd read on zombies resorted to magic or the supernatural to explain the goings-on of zombies. It seemed too far-fetched, even as he was immersed in the same zombie world he'd read about so many times. But his were just people infected with a disease. They weren't animated by the supernatural. It could not have been magic.

  While thinking, he looked at her surreptitiously as the truck plodded down the bumpy road, and was amazed once more how attractive she was and—

  “Your arm!”

  She looked down, not surprised. “Yeah, when we passed out I fell to this side and my arm must have landed on something in a weird way.” A large and ugly purple bruise the size of a small apple was present on her upper arm just above the elbow.

  “Well, it complements your face.” He gave a taut laugh, not sure if she found it a laughing matter.

  “Ha! Very funny, pretty boy. How is it you have no bruises at all? You don't have a scratch on you. Are we on the same adventure?”

  Liam shrugged his shoulders with great exaggeration, but let it drop. He continued their conversation at a slightly lower volume. “I've been thinking about that vision and trying to recall my feeling while looking at the city I was seeing. I felt something—not an emotion exactly—but something close. I felt old.”

  A knowing look swam across Victoria's face. “Yes! And I think I know who the old person was, too.”

  They didn't bother saying the name out loud. They both arrived at the only logical conclusion given all the evidence.

  It was Grandma.

  3

  After parking the MRAP, everyone walked the short distance to the watchtower. They passed through a woodland construction zone as men and boys worked on a makeshift fence using downed trees. They hadn't built very far from the watchtower yet, but Liam was glad to see progress.

  He and Victoria decided to continue down into the valley to find his parents. The boys at the Endor tower felt confident they would have been taken to the makeshift infirmary in the same building where he met the council earlier.

  Phil and Mel offered to stay close to the MRAP, which Mr. Lee agreed was a great idea given the circumstances. He asked them to join their security rotations.

  Mr. Lee said he was going to stick around the watchtower and catch up on the fence progress. “Thanks for the tour, Liam. You've shown me how far we have to go on making this place safe.” He went off to his troop.

  Bo also stayed to help out the Scouts on the hilltop. “I have lots of experience helping my daddy build fences around our pastures. At the time it wasn't much fun, but it looks like these guys need the help. Not doing much anyway. Not like I'm going to walk back home on my own.” He smiled as he shouldered his gun and headed off to the tower.

  After they all broke up, Liam felt guilty for acknowledging he was glad to finally be alone with Victoria. They walked down the long singletrack trail toward camp, Victoria in the lead, when she stopped, turned around, and moved purposely back up the trail to meet him.

  His heart smashed the gas pedal as she approached.

  Yes!

  She talked in a conspiratorial tone, “Do you think Mel and Phil like each other?”

  No! Not at all what I was thinking.

  He humored her as he pretended to think about it, then found himself drawn into the question.

  “Well, I do know they hated each other that first night they met on my street. I think she used the word 'rapists' to describe me and Phil.” He was uncomfortable even saying that word. “Phil seemed to genuinely dislike her when they first met, too. But they fought together that night and have been fighting together in close quarters all the time you and I have been off doing our thing with Hayes and friends. Maybe they've reached an understanding?”

  “But didn't he just lose his wife last winter? Didn't his wife even say something through Grandma on that bridge when we escaped on that train?”

  It was true. Phil's deceased wife spoke through Grandma that day, though no one—herself included—could understand how it happened. His wife had been gone for six months. He had no frame of reference to know if that was enough time to move on.

  “I dunno. I'm uhh—” He wanted to say he was inexperienced talking about women, but he didn't want to paint himself too heavily into that corner. “—not sure what adults might think after losing a spouse.” Then he thought of himself and h
is realization earlier in the day. “I wouldn't blame him if he needed to share this with Mel. I think this whole disaster would be ten times worse if I didn't have someone to care for and worry about.”

  “Yeah, I wish my Grandma were still alive. Heck, I wish my parents were with me so I could take care of and worry about them too.”

  “I, uh, actually meant you.”

  Victoria gave him a big, gap-tooth smile. “I know, you big dummy. I'm just being silly. But I really appreciate it, and I'm also glad I have someone to care for and who cares about me. I'd probably still be sitting back at the Arch waiting for help to arrive if you hadn't come along.”

  Left unsaid was that she'd more likely be dead, since the Arch had been overrun with gangs, then zombies, then was bombed extensively by the United States Air Force.

  They stood there in close proximity for many seconds before Liam was brave enough to wrap his arms around her and pull her in for a hug.

  “Would it hurt your mouth if I kissed you?”

  He was halfway serious, since she had banged her mouth and lost a tooth during their explosive reunion, but he was also looking for an excuse to suggest he wanted to smooch. His instincts still weren't honed in interacting with her on a romantic level. Hell, the whole world of zombies was the exact opposite of romance, so being romantic was even more cumbersome. At least, that's how he justified his ineptness.

  By way of an answer she stood on her toes so she could reach his face from lower on the trail, and for the first time since they'd met they engaged in a long passionate kiss. By the time it was over Liam's head spun in delight and his initial nervousness seemed a remote distraction.

  It ended much sooner than Liam would have liked, but Victoria apparently couldn't stay on her toes any longer. She dropped down to her normal height, then quickly spun and resumed walking down the trail.

  With her back to him, she spoke to no one in particular. “So, there's this boy I met at the end of the world. A handsome young lad. He's very shy for some reason. But I think that makes him very sexy. I'll have to tell you about him someday.”