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

by Isherwood, E. E.

  The smell of gunpowder fought with the stench of the walking corpses approaching them.

  They reached a point in the creek where the bank seemed low and flat to their left, allowing them an easy egress into the main part of the valley. Something seemed to satisfy Mr. Lee when he saw it because he pushed Liam hard to get out of the creek.

  As they gained the top of the bank, he could see the zombies flooding out of the same woods he and Grandma traversed that first day they arrived.

  Many of his fellow campers were unable to escape and were overwhelmed by the sheer numbers pouring forth. Those in the creek were faring a little better because the barrier slowed the onslaught enough to fight or escape. But too many armed campers vacated the creek and made a run for it. Fewer guns meant fewer zombies put down.

  Lee paused.

  “What are we waiting for?” Liam's breathing, and his feet, were getting back to normal. The initial shock and frenzy inside the creek was wearing off.

  “We need to figure out what's happening here. Running around without a plan is going to get us killed.”

  The creek was a mass of confusion. Upstream, scores of zombies lurched for people in every direction. Nearest to him, and downstream, hundreds of campers also ran in every direction. Some fought with guns. Some fought with spears. Some carried small children to safety. Others appeared to be panicked to the point of helplessness. A few tried to hide...

  After all the planning. It ends like this?

  “I want to save this place, Lee.”

  “I do too. Trust me. OK, I see our goal. You see that clump of trees up on the hillside?” Lee pointed it out as they crouched in their position. “We're going to run like hell over there and then see if we can find anyone with a gun. We have to pull things together or everyone is going to die in this valley.”

  Liam couldn't argue with the logic. “Do you see Victoria anywhere?”

  Liam received no answer. Instead, he was pulled forward again and they began to run across the relatively flat, tent-covered field between the creek and the beginning of the hill forming the south side of the valley.

  Several times he saw other runners fall down after being shot.

  “Who's shooting at us?” He yelled to the crouch-running leader, but it was more for his own sanity.

  “Everyone!”

  Liam saw handfuls of campers holed up in small clumps, as if they paused from running to defend their patch of ground. He'd seen the same thing when the survivalists attacked. Some were firing wildly into the crowds, uncaring if they were zombies or not. Others were picking their targets with more care.

  He looked over his shoulder to see the zombies coming out of the creek behind him.

  He then heard the unearthly Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz sound from the MRAP. Then another, longer buzz. Someone was still alive in there, and taking it to the zombies. The sound of the chain gun sounded louder somehow in the confines of the creek. The rattling went on for several more long bursts, but ended with a short one. He waited for more, but none were forthcoming. It wasn't because all the zombies were dead...

  They arrived at the treeline moments later. He was surprised to see Lee had collected two of his guys as they ran. Now they were a team of four, though none of the men looked particularly soldierly in the face of what was behind them.

  “All right, guys. We have to do two things fast. One, we have to get more shooters. Two, we need to shoot the zombies in the face as they come through these tents. Once they're in the woods it's going to be too late. Many people can't even stay ahead of the zombies on open ground. Climbing hills will be the death of them. I want the three of you to organize firing lines up and down the valley along this treeline, do you understand? I'll be right here in the middle.”

  Liam felt the butterflies in his stomach in response. Lee was putting him in charge of something major. Something that would save lives. He wanted to put on a brave face, being the youngster.

  “Understood.” He gave Lee a quick Boy Scout salute, then took off at a fast jog.

  He didn't really know what to do or say, but he began shouting to the throngs of people ahead of him. “All shooters to me! Form a line! Protect the kids!”

  He ran up the valley. He could have easily run the other way. The way with fewer zombies! The way with fewer survivalists! He remembered Mel's words about those soldiers running off when they were needed the most. He was proud he was doing right by her. He also thought of his grandma and how she would be praying for him as he headed into the maelstrom.

  Please God, let me save these people.

  As he ran he imagined he heard his mom's ring tone.

  But that's impossible.

  He shouted louder.

  4

  His first obstacle was the huge wave of frightened campers as they ran for the literal hills. The area nearest the administration building had the biggest crowd. After the initial battle between the survivalists and camp defenders, most people had huddled in the creek bed since they had nowhere else to go. Now, they ran for their lives right past the survivalists.

  Liam jumped into the crowd, shouting the whole time.

  “I need shooters! Follow me! Protect the kids!”

  Another sixty seconds and he was through the central stream of people. He managed to pull six or seven men and women with guns out of the crowd. One was from the survivalist group, but appeared anxious to help quell the zombies.

  Do I say something to him?

  “OK, we're setting up a line of guns along the treeline up and down the valley. We need to hold the zombies in this valley or they're going to tear up the women and children as they go up the hill to safety.” He paused for many seconds while he tried to catch his breath.

  He must have drifted because one of the men coughed to get his attention.

  “Yeah, so try to grab other people with guns and stand your ground here. I'm going to continue up the valley to do the same.”

  A woman he recognized but didn't know, said, “No problem, Liam.”

  As he walked off, the survivalist sidled next to him. He looked like he'd been flopping in a mud pit. He wore full camouflage gear and had attached some branches to himself for additional visual deception. But his mud had streaked in the downpour earlier. He came across as the kind of guy not happy to have his stuff ruined.

  “Mind if I go with you and help?”

  He wanted to say no, but he didn't have time for an argument. Killing zombies had to take priority over everything else.

  “Sure, we have to hurry.”

  As they ran, Liam shouted his message. From time to time he'd stop to arrange small groups of gun owners. The whole time the survivalist shadowed him, offering no commentary or assistance.

  Get lost, buddy!

  If only he could order the guy away using his mind.

  After another ten minutes of running Liam knew he was out of time. The sound of gunfire behind him intensified. The zombies had finished consuming survivors on the other side of the creek and were all coming across to his side.

  He turned around to head back. He found a last little group of men and told them to gather more support from further up the valley, where there were no zombies. Mel's words echoed again. He could leave the battle and just go gather men in safety up that way. If he was that type of guy.

  He took a deep breath. “You know what to do. Someone has to keep going up the valley to warn them and organize resistance. I'm going back to join the fight. My family is back there.”

  The men nodded and were off.

  I wish survival guy would volunteer to go up the valley by himself.

  He began jogging back to the main fight. After running only a few moments, the man grabbed his arm and asked him to stop. Liam's rifle was slung over his shoulder while he ran; it was useless in an emergency of this sort. He knew he'd have a better chance with his pistol on his hip. He tried to be casual.

  “Hold up—Liam. I want to ask you a question.”

  The man was slig
htly taller and bulkier than him, but had a sallow and wet look about him—like he'd been suffering in a malarial jungle for a long time. He looked unnatural.

  “Umm, OK.”

  He tried to separate himself from him, but he wouldn't allow Liam to leave his personal space. It was intentional, but made to look innocent.

  “Hey, bud. I don't mean no trouble here, but you're the Liam we're here to find, right?”

  A million things swirled through his head at that moment. But the most prominent thought was how stupid he'd been the past few minutes. The survivalist stood right next to him with his rifle drawn and pointed in his direction. Not an overt threat, but the threat of a threat. It took away his own options.

  “We have to keep moving,” was all he could think to say. He turned around and took a step down the valley when he heard the unmistakable sound of a reload and a bolt release on an AR15. A round was in the chamber of the gun behind him, no doubt facing right at his back.

  “I don't think so.”

  Liam put his arms up. He thought someone might see him and come to help, but was distraught to realize they were mostly hidden from view by dense foliage in their vicinity. The man chose this spot for a reason.

  “Are you going to kill me?” He still faced away from the man.

  “That depends. I was given very specific orders to kill you if I could. I'm also cleared to kill your parents if I find them. But my associate also said I could take you alive if you were with your grandma—he was going to give me a little something extra for you both. Don't see no grandma, though. Don't matter to me anymore. This whole valley will be dead by the end of the day. I could kill you, take that sweet antique gun you have, along with your ammo, and be a relatively rich man in the wild. Who's to say you didn't die in this zombie attack?”

  Liam didn't think there was anything special about his rifle, but he considered all the men and women now running for dear life who would give anything to be able to defend themselves.

  Anything.

  Liam was back in the movie. His next line was scripted.

  “So, who is it that wants me captured alive?”

  Who is the mastermind behind all this?

  “Mmm-hmm. I bet you'd like to know that. Why don't you drop that gun slowly and take a few steps away huh?”

  He did as he was told, but kept talking.

  “Was it Hayes? Did he send you out here?”

  His gun rattled to the muddy ground. Next he dropped his magazines. Here and there he could see campers scurrying, but none were coming directly for him. No help out there.

  He was violently grabbed by the man, then forced backward. He fell. Rather than slam down to the rocky soil, he got wedged between two tree trunks. He was turned so he looked up at the man. A man with his weapon pointing directly at his eyes.

  “He said you were dangerous, but not very photogenic. That means ugly, kid.” He laughed. “And smart. Said you were a real weasel.” The man spit to the ground, as if in emphasis of his disdain having to say those words. “Frankly, you remind me of the little punk kids that used to make fun of my boy.” He pushed the barrel closer, “A BOY KILLED BY THIS PLAGUE! You think it's funny to destroy our only hope of a cure?”

  “But I didn't do any of those things they told you.”

  “SHUT UP!”

  The anger was evident on the man's face. The malicious tone to his voice was no better.

  “The world has gone to hell, my family's dead, and my orders are to kill some jerk kid in Missouri. Do you know what it's like to kill women and children? It changes you. It changed me—that much I know. We had to kill them and burn that whole subdivision to the ground because of you.”

  He moved his rifle so it was up against Liam's sternum. Liam tried to move his body so he could grab his pistol in his hip holster, but he had sunk further between the two trunks and his arms were wedged at his side. It would be comical if it wasn't going to be the cause of his death.

  Liam struggled hard, almost getting one of his arms free. He reached for his holstered gun, which was in clear view of the man. Liam didn't care. He wasn't going to die without trying to defend himself.

  “Nice try, kid. I guess I'll just take the gun.”

  The man pulled his rifle backward off his chest and took careful aim at Liam's face again.

  An inane thought sputtered out of Liam's head.

  Did he back up so he wouldn't get blood on the muzzle?

  Liam's closed his eyes.

  Crack! A gunshot from very close by.

  On reflex his eyes opened. The man had not fired.

  A second shot.

  His chest opened up. A loud gunshot clap immediately followed.

  The man looked up to someone behind Liam, surprised.

  “You? Nawww.”

  Then eight or ten continuous cracks of gunfire.

  The survivalist sprouted several more holes in his chest. All Liam could see was the big hole of the barrel of his gun wobbling over his chest. Was something deadly going to reach out and zap his own life? Finally, with no fanfare, the man tipped over backward.

  Liam was well and truly stuck. Even with one arm free he was wedged so completely in the uneven space he couldn't get leverage to move himself. He was so tired. All he could do was wait.

  He was shocked when the woman came into view.

  “Liam, thank God!”

  Victoria! Thank God indeed.

  His exhaustion conspired with the release of adrenaline and he teared up involuntarily. He couldn't help himself. His mythical hero status was very much in doubt.

  5

  Victoria pushed and pulled Liam so he could shimmy out of his prison, and held him close.

  “I saw you back down the valley when you came across with Mr. Lee—I mean Lee. I tried to catch up to you. I almost caught you when you met up with this loser,” she gave the man on the ground a little kick “and something told me to hold back. So, instead of running up to you I ran up a little higher on the hillside here so I could watch. I saw you for a while but lost you in this clump of trees. When you didn't come out I knew something was be wrong. I made my way closer just as he threw you down. I wanted to run in screaming and shooting, but he was pointing his gun right at your chest. I don't know how I held my fire now that I think about it. But he pulled back for some reason and I took that as my cue. I remembered what you taught me, and I aimed for the biggest part of his body. I missed him the first shot, but I hit him with the second. When he didn't fall down I opened up. I think I missed half of the shots, but I got him with the other half.” She laughed nervously.

  “I was so scared, Liam.” She was in tears too.

  “I wish we could curl up together in one of these empty tents...but we have to get into the fight. Can you believe this is really happening?”

  “I know, this doesn't seem real. These duck hunters. The zombies. That freak storm. Everything seems fake.”

  Liam picked up his rifle and the ammo he dropped, and he also grabbed the gun from the survivalist and slung that one over his shoulder. He searched the man for extra ammo or other supplies, but he had none. Just what was in the magazine he was carrying.

  Has a human's worth really been reduced to the number of bullets he can carry?

  As an afterthought, Liam searched the man's pockets.

  “This guy talked like he was important. He might have something on him which would help us figure out who he worked for.”

  But other than minimalist survivalist gear—a fork/spoon combo, waterproof matches, and so on—he had nothing of importance in terms of intel on his upper body. Liam did find a sheet of paper tucked into a cargo pocket on one of his pant legs. His pants were covered in mud and filth, but the pocket itself was clean.

  He pulled it out and unfurled it. “Well, that makes perfect sense.” He read the names on the sheet. “Liam Peters. Lana Peters. Jerry Peters. This must be the list my parents mentioned. They said their names were on it, but they didn't mention mine.”
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  They were the only remaining names on a list consisting of three neat computer-printed columns. The other names had deep black lines through them, as if they'd been redacted. They were unable to read any of them. Next to Liam's name someone wrote in “kill or capture” while it only said “kill” next to his parent's names. At the end of the list one name was hand-written in the margin. It was Victoria's. Rather than kill or capture, it simply said “known accomplice.”

  They both crouched in silence. He wasn't sure what to say, though after having a gun pointed at his face he felt better than he imagined he should. He folded the sheet and put it in his pocket.

  “We have to keep moving. We'll look at this later.”

  They were off and running once again. As exhausted as he was, Liam felt that extra “something” he always felt when Victoria was around. It pushed him to keep going.

  “Thanks for saving me by the way. It's almost old hat now, huh?” They both laughed at the dark humor as they reached the first group of fighters on their journey back down the valley.

  This was a group of about ten men and women, all with rifles. Most of the civilian campers had been cleared of this part of the valley, so they were free to shoot at will at any of the zombies coming out of the creek. The creek was a bit steeper here though, so not many zombies made it out. They were going elsewhere...

  Liam made a command decision.

  “Hey guys, can a couple of you come with me further down the valley? I'm sure there are more zombies down that way.”

  Several of them looked at each other with the “stay here where it's quiet or go to where its dangerous” expression, but in the end three volunteers stepped forth.

  More running.

  They reached the next strong point. This time there were about twenty shooters in a rough line fifty yards long. Liam spotted the survivalist immediately; he was hiding behind a large tree and shooting at the approaching wall of zombies.

  He turned to Victoria, and spoke quietly. “What do we do with that survivalist? I can't just go over there and kill him, though that seems to be what they want to do to me. I don't know how to deal with this.”