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

by Isherwood, E. E.

  After many tiring minutes they reached the final door in the stairwell. It had the number thirty on a placard next to it. Unlike the floors below, each with a different city or region stenciled on it, this door was unmarked.

  Liam ascended the last few steps and put his ear to the door. He heard nothing obvious from the other side but did notice there was one small hole in the metal next to his head. He noticed more holes in various locations on the door.

  He shut off his light and Victoria did the same.

  As their eyes adjusted to the darkness, the door revealed many more punctures.

  With a whisper Victoria stated the obvious.

  “Bullet holes.”

  Chapter 12: Old Friends

  “OK, I'm outta here.”

  Liam made like he was going to walk back down the steps, trying to pass it off as humor. He looked longingly into the darkness below him, knowing it was safer than whatever was on the other side of the door.

  Still whispering, Victoria retorted, “Har har Mr. Funny Guy.”

  “Yeah, I know. I'm just trying to enjoy the day before I get shot up.”

  He tried to look through some of the bullet holes to see what was on the other side, but they revealed nothing.

  He prepared himself to open the door, but paused as he touched it. He turned to Victoria and embraced her. Nothing was said, but it made him feel better. After a few wonderful moments, he broke free, and pulled the large fire door.

  A big machine gun was on the floor. It had been sitting on a tripod at one time, but was now lying on its side in an alcove to his left. A massive hole was in the wall of the hotel room directly in front of him. A spacious circular room with a glass ceiling was to his right. The top level of the hotel was a posh lounge with many small tables and chairs and lots of planters. Rows of slot machines were parked in a central area, though they were still wrapped in shipping plastic. Most of the furniture was overturned, and bodies were everywhere on the floor.

  The circular central lounge was flanked by the penthouse suites on one side, and by some kind of Japanese restaurant on the other. The Kanji letters were listed below the English name Kyushu View. On the far side—in the 3 o'clock stairwell alcove—he saw another machine gun on a tripod, still upright. It had a flashing red light on top, and if his eyes were true, the machine gun was swiveling in his direction.

  “Run!”

  He plunged ahead into the breach in the wall, tripping on the debris as he did so. Victoria tumbled in after him. Together they hugged the floor awaiting the sounds of the big gun. Its silence almost disappointed him.

  “Sorry, I thought that other machine gun was going to start shooting us.”

  Victoria took it in stride as she sized up the new room.

  The construction plaster of the wall had blanketed the floor and was extremely slippery. They both crawled away from the downed wall and regained their footing on a shaggy carpet. The penthouse was huge.

  “So this is where the rich people stay.” Victoria whistled in amazement.

  Everything you'd imagine in a million-dollar suite of an expensive hotel was in front of them: large kitchen, a massive en suite hot tub, stainless steel decor, several bedrooms, and big comfy sofas overlooking a million-dollar view of downtown St. Louis and the entire cityscape beyond.

  It would have been perfect if it didn't also contain a handful of dead Marines.

  Liam dragged himself to the closest man and was dismayed to see he was shot, not bitten.

  “The day has come where I actually prefer dead bodies to be killed by zombies, rather than other men. What does that say about me?”

  Victoria put her hand on his back as she spoke. “I think it's normal. I'm scared to death of anyone who's willing get into a fight and kill Marines. It looks like they succeeded, at least in killing these men. It can't be for any good purpose. Unless—”

  “Unless what?”

  “Unless the Marines are the bad guys.” Liam considered himself to be the conspiracy theorist, with his conspiracy theorist father to thank for that, but Victoria now gave him a run for his money.

  “Think about it, Liam. Someone blows your neighborhood to hell, and the Marines are there. Marines show up at Camp Hope, and out of the blue survivalists attack the camp. Maybe they were working together? Now, in a creepy tower filled with zombies, where we know your grandma is being held, we find more Marines. That seems like a lot of odd coincidences if they aren't really the enemy here.”

  “Yeah, I guess I see your point.” He didn't want to believe it. “But let's keep moving. Grandma's probably in worse danger than we thought. As long as she's up here and not...”

  “Just keep going. She's here.”

  He stood up and she led him to the far wall. It was also breached wide enough for soldiers to pass through.

  The next room was similar to the first. They managed to avoid slipping and falling as they came through. More Marines were dead in this room, but there were also dead soldiers with different uniforms too. It was apparently a swirl of fighting—the room was a disaster area of broken furniture and scorched walls. All the glass of the outer windows were shattered or blown out. It made him feel as if he were going to be sucked out the opening, though he knew it was just his mind being overprotective.

  He reached the first of the non-Marine soldiers to check him out. He didn't need to be an expert to identify the stitched tag on his shirt.

  US Army.

  2

  They were surrounded by both dead Marines and dead US Army soldiers.

  “Were they together?”

  Victoria checked out the bodies, too. “Why do they all have bullet holes in their heads?”

  Nothing? No shock at that statement?

  He looked straight at the dead men, all shot in the head, some with their brains spilled out, and he felt no revulsion at the spectacle.

  He tried to block out the question by focusing on solving the mystery.

  “Hard to tell. We know there are at least three factions involved now. Marines. Army. And the black uniform guy and his friends.”

  “Hayes could be his own faction, don't you think?”

  “Dunno. This is getting out of hand though. Is there any hope of finding Grandma if all these men fought and died around her? There's no way she could have survived fighting this bad...”

  She grabbed his shirt and pulled him along. “Don't give up. Just keep moving. Remember, we are her faction.” She tapped her rifle with her free hand.

  She brought them both to the door to go out. There was no breach in the next wall, meaning whoever left the room had to have gone out into the main lounge area.

  Maybe they're watching us now?

  There was no way to hide their approach in the well-lit lounge area, so Liam poked his head out the door to see if it drew any response.

  Nothing happened. He could see the alcove on the far side of the room where the machine gun sat, but from this vantage point he couldn't see the gun. He supposed the Marines were trying to flank the heavy gun. Now he was taking advantage of their tactics.

  “At least the Marines did us the favor of getting us around that machine gun. No matter if they're the good guys or bad.”

  Victoria said nothing, but squeezed his back to let him know she heard him.

  “Wait here and cover me. I'm going to run past the elevators to the next room. The door is open, so that might be where the fight continued.”

  They both double-checked their weapons before he stole a quick kiss and ran across the open space. He eyed all the tables and planters where he could take cover in the lounge if a bad guy saw him, but he made it all the way to the planned doorway without seeing anything. Except—

  About twenty feet from the doorway he saw someone had cut a large hole the translucent floor. The whole lounge was floored with a thick glass-like material designed to let light filter down into the main atrium of the lower hotel. The floor was intact except the five-foot wide hole nearby. Someone had
surrounded it with chairs from the lounge. Victoria ran up after him, patting him on the back again to acknowledge her presence.

  He judged the distance between the open door and the hole in the floor, as well as whether anyone inside the room could see him if he walked to hole.

  “Liam!” Victoria whispered; she wanted him to stop.

  He ignored her and walked to the edge of gap.

  I have to know.

  Victoria chose to stick by him rather than hold up the wall, though he noticed she was turned sideways with her rifle swinging to and fro. She was protecting him from any threats.

  Cautiously, he bent over the 300-foot drop so he could look straight down into the hotel and the lobby floor. He knew what he'd see. The pile of bodies they'd seen while on the third floor was straight down. Whatever took place up here was responsible for the nightmare down there. The bodies had been tossed from this hole to fall unceremoniously onto the macabre funeral pyre.

  Victoria peeked into the hole, too. It didn't take her long to come to the same conclusion.

  “Why would they toss them down there like so much trash?” She looked back toward the open door, then continued while facing Liam. “Look at me. Grandma isn't down there. I know it in my heart. She's not.”

  “I hope you're right. My heart feels it, too. But my brain can almost see her down there.”

  “Liam, no—”

  A new voice spoke loudly from behind them, “She's not down there. I promise you that.”

  Liam didn't have to turn around to know who it was. Since the second day of the collapse this voice had been haunting him. Its owner had followed them out of the city, only to run and hide at the very last moment when he could have been useful. He tracked Liam and Grandma, kidnapped them, and shot Victoria. He tried to experiment on Grandma, then lost her, then kidnapped her one last time, presumably to bring her to this building. He was the person Liam had grown to hate more than anyone else in the entire apocalypse.

  “Hayes.”

  3

  Liam and Victoria spun around, weapons drawn.

  “Don't worry, kids. You don't need the guns. I'm unarmed.”

  He held his arms up as he stood in the doorway of one of the uncleared rooms. He wore a hideous yellow Hawaiian shirt, bulky khaki short pants which mostly covered the bandages on his thigh, and penny loafers. He looked like an older man playing at being young while going to the beach, but then he'd always had a questionable dress code.

  He looked them over, then dropped his arms and limped back into his room. “Come on in.”

  Liam wasn't willing to shoulder his weapon, so he left it hanging at his side—ready if he needed it. Victoria kept hers in her hands, pointed at the floor as she walked. He didn't think she was willing to trust the man who shot her. He didn't either.

  They entered the room where Hayes had disappeared. It was laid out just like the other two rooms, but in the front living space there were several blood-soaked gurneys with lots of medical equipment nearby. The rest of the room was shot to hell. Liam shut the door and locked it with the chain and deadbolt.

  Hayes walked over to one of the remaining chairs—a large leather armchair—and took a seat. He motioned for them to come sit on a nearby couch with fist-sized holes in the sides. Liam was happy to put the bloody gurneys to his back, though he stayed on his feet rather than sit down.

  “Where's my Grandma if not down in that hole?”

  He tore off his makeshift bandana; Victoria followed. The smell was still bad, but not overpowering, on this floor.

  “Be careful, Liam. She's in the bedroom resting. But she isn't alone. Please put your weapon down before you go in. I don't want anyone else getting shot.”

  He looked at him for a long second, then turned and walked toward the bedroom, gun in hand. Victoria followed.

  “Grandma!” He yelled it even though she had her eyes closed. There were also several other people in the bedroom suite.

  “Hello, Sam. Or should I say Liam Peters?”

  A man in dark tactical clothing sat on a chair next to the bed. He was the same agent he'd seen days ago on a bridge overpass over the interstate out of St. Louis. A wave of refugees were on the highway underneath, and Special Agent Duchesne wanted to turn them all back. Liam outsmarted him and convinced his police allies to let everyone escape. He'd used the alias “Sam Stevens” to avoid giving his identity, but the agent took their photographs, and figured out the truth.

  “You? What are you doing with my Grandma?”

  Another man stood next to Duchesne. He was large and well-armed. Liam remembered him, too. He was on the bridge as the agent's bodyguard. He pointed a huge military rifle directly at Liam's chest.

  “Why don't you drop the weapons and then we'll talk?” His bodyguard put the emphasis on “drop.”

  Liam and Victoria both stacked their weapons on the floor at their feet. Liam didn't want anyone shooting with Grandma sprawled out on the bed in the middle of them all.

  At the far end of the room, near the exterior window, the red-headed woman sat on the long window sill. She was dressed in camo fatigues including the same cap he'd seen her wear before. She was also unarmed.

  “Just don't hurt my Grandma and we won't have any problems.”

  Duchesne stood up, kicking the guns closer to his assistant. “And what if I did hurt your Grandma? What kind of problems would you make for me?”

  Liam looked at the bed, then at the man. Then back to the bed.

  “Just please don't.”

  Louder, he called out of the room. “Hayes, why don't you come in and stand over there by your secretary.”

  The woman glared, but remained silent. Hayes did as instructed, and Liam noted she put her hand on his back when he joined her.

  Duchesne slowly wound his way around the room, speaking softly. “Liam, do you have any idea the lengths I've gone...” He came to a stop right behind Liam, then spoke to Hayes instead. “Actually, I think Douglas would be a much better person to explain the length's we've gone through to get you. Don't you?”

  For the first time since he'd known him, Hayes appeared tired.

  “You serious? You want me to tell him everything?”

  “At least tell him your role. I think he'd love to know why you've been following this old lady,” he thumbed in Grandma's direction, “like a little lost puppy dog.” He laughed, though Hayes did not. “Tell him about your delightful experiments here. Go on!”

  Grandma was still asleep. Or passed out.

  Or dead.

  He studied her chest and was relieved to see it rising and falling in slow, even turns.

  Hayes didn't respond. Liam didn't know who was in charge here, but he wanted answers.

  “Hayes lies about everything. Why would you trust him?”

  That got a response.

  “I've always told you the truth. Your grandma is very important to our research into the origins of plague—”

  “Because of her age, right?”

  “Yes, we know that men and women of extreme age seem to react to the infection in a way that is very different than the younger people who get it. You saw that back at Elk Meadow. That was where I put it together for the first time. Unfortunately that buffoon in charge of the camp let the virus escape and he set us back in our research. Who knows how many people died because of that, eh?”

  His glib attitude constantly grated at Liam.

  “OK, so the old people have something to do with the plague. Why is there a pile of them on the ground floor of this place?”

  He knew the answer, but had to ask it anyway. He saw a similar killing field back at Elk Meadow, though McMurphy assured him everyone was there as a volunteer. In a quieter voice he preempted his own question.

  “Were they volunteers?”

  “You can't be that naive can you? The elderly are this planet's most important resource. Do you know how fast they're dying now that electricity is gone. Medicine is gone? Medical services are gone? So m
any of our age-challenged friends were literally living on borrowed time back in the Old World. They never had a chance of living in this new one. Volunteers? No. But they gave their lives doing something that could save everyone they love, so I tend to think they gave their lives happily once I explained what they were doing for us.”

  “You think all these people were already going to die, so you killed them?”

  “No! I'm not a monster. Killing them is such an unfair depiction of what we're doing to them. When we inject the virus, there is a very real chance each and every time they will live. Some of them live for a long time. I admit some of them convert right away. Those are unfortunate, but necessary. You see, the key to this whole thing is that some of them are almost able to resist the virus completely. If we can find out why, it may give us the clue we need to cure the whole population. We draw blood, do tests, send it to—”

  “But why just toss them down the hole? Don't they deserve more?”

  “I share your concern. I really do. In the camps out in the country we could bury people with a little dignity, but that take resources. Fuel for tractors. Manpower. Things that are in diminishing supply. We chose this place because it allowed us to operate up here and easily dispose of the unfortunate volunteers by putting them in the hotel lobby below. We felt it was more humane than tossing them out the window into the crowd of zombies below us.”

  Liam couldn't argue the point, but it didn't make it right.

  “So Grandma is important to you because she's so old. I get it. I hate that this question has popped in my head, but what's so special about her that has made you chase her so many times and keep her alive while so many other old folks are tossed aside like trash?”

  Duchesne was back by his chair. He seemed to be enjoying things. His bodyguard hadn't moved. He hadn't even lowered his weapon.

  Hayes paced in front of the window.

  “Before I tell you that, let me ask you a question. Let me ask you both a question: what kinds of medications are you on?”

  Liam looked at Hayes like he'd just stepped in a cow pie.