Zombies Ever After: Sirens of the Zombie Apocalypse, Book 6

by E. E. Isherwood

  Find Grandma. Find Victoria.

  Brandyweis kicked the front door in. The distressed wooden frame gave way on the first attempt.

  Grandma wasn’t in the front room. It was a long shot that she’d be in the exact spot where he’d last seen her. The floor was covered with bedding and pillows. Like a mouse had been hoarding materials for its home.

  “Dang it; nothing is ever easy. I really hoped she’d be here,” Liam said with frustration.

  “Don’t sweat it, how far could a 104-year-old woman go?” Brandyweis tried to be funny, but Liam couldn’t laugh. Not after the day he’d had, and how close he’d come to finding her. “I’m sure she’s—”

  It was the last thing the man ever said.

  A crazy-looking girl in the hallway had just used her shotgun to remove his head.

  3

  Liam was stunned. He saw the girl. Saw the shotgun. Saw what it did. Naturally, he knew the threat to himself. But he couldn’t move.

  An image of Yoga Girl flashed across his memory. Yep, he was frozen in inaction just like the very first encounter he’d had with a zombie.

  The girl came out of the darkened hallway, and Liam recognized her—sort of. Like someone he remembered by sight from his kindergarten class.

  “Liam!” the girl shouted with relief. “It’s you! I thought you two were zombies. I mean you broke open the door, and, like, came inside.”

  He couldn’t move. Or talk. Or think, he discovered.

  “Liam? It’s me. Debbie.” She was much too happy for what had just happened. He managed to turn his head to see the crumpled body next to his feet. The gun was right there, too.

  “Like, that was a close one, huh?” She pointed the shotgun to Brandyweis.

  “He wasn’t a zombie,” Liam said in a low voice, but with fiery anger.

  “Oh, I’m sure he was. Look at him. He’s, like, gooey, and stuff.”

  He wanted to reach out and wring her neck, but he still couldn’t move a muscle. The ringing in his ears reminded him, over and over, how close he’d just come to death. And he’d lost a friend.

  Then, just as he was getting his muscles to respond, he saw two people walk out from the rooms at the back of the hall. They were very old…

  “Liam. Before you complain, I, like, did try to get your grandma. I had her right here, in fact.” She pointed to the recliner chair. “But I got greedy. I, um, like found two more outside and was bringing them here when your grandma walked away. She escaped.”

  “What...what are you talking about?” His voice was quaking. The fear was still riding high.

  “Your grandma. I had her. I, like, kept her safe, and stuff. You know, just like you did.” She pointed to the other two elderly women. “See, I keep them safe like you showed me.”

  “I showed you?” He was absolutely sure he’d never interacted with her.

  “Oh yeah, I heard the story of how you got your Grandma out of the city when the zombies first came here, then, like, from that military camp in your bicycle, and how you rescued her from that terrible zombie factory downtown. Then, like, you got her into the plane.” She smiled widely. “Liam, you’re my hero. That’s why I’m, like, mimicking you.”

  The moment overcame him, he wanted to let out a great sob, which was how he felt inside, but instead he let out a deep roar of a laugh.

  Debbie was taken aback. “What’s wrong, Liam. Did I do something wrong? I, like, know your girlfriend isn’t here. I’m sorry. Is that why you’re mad?”

  “Is that why I’m mad?” he said with incredulity. “You mean you have no idea?” He pointed down. “You just—like—shot a good man. You don’t seem to care. And capturing little old ladies? What the hell is it you think I do out there?”

  It didn’t affect her in the way he expected. She didn’t react with anger.

  “Liam. You have it all wrong. I’m doing this to save them. Just. Like. You.” She giggled like a hyena. “You’ll see. I can show you,” she said excitedly, as if she just remembered her ability.

  “What? I’m not going anywhere with you.” Part of him expected the other Marines to come charging in after their fallen leader, but there were only three of them besides the two pilots. There was so much gunfire already in the town, the shotgun blast would be one pop among hundreds. Outside, other gunfire kept getting closer.

  “You have to. I have to show you. I want to make you proud of me.” Her shotgun pointed in multiple directions as she swung it around carelessly.

  He had a dozen witty retorts, but the girl had something wrong with her. Clearly. The two ladies she’d “captured” looked terrified. He rolled his eyes.

  Here we go again.

  “All right. I’ll go with you. But only to help the two ladies you’ve got frightened to death.”

  Somehow he’d taken on the role of protector for the elderly. And, paradoxically, this Debbie person had keyed in on that and made it out to be something evil. Instead of protecting the aged, she was endangering them. Somewhere along the way, he would have his chance to put an end to this.

  They left the house out of the view of the Marines on the Osprey. Debbie was at least that smart. Or maybe it was dumb luck.

  They headed west, toward the towering bridge that went across to Missouri. He’d crossed the very same a half hour before. Back when a character named Lt. Colonel Brandyweis still existed in the world.

  Goodbye, sir.

  Chapter 18: Secret Mission

  John approached the house and stopped short of the front door. It had been kicked open, then shut again. The door jam was splintered.

  He looked back to the Osprey and his unit. They were down the street, shooting random walking zombies in the area. One quick glance north toward the meat of the approaching zombie horde now snaking its way through the streets of the town and he calculated his odds of getting back, getting more men, then checking the house. There wasn’t enough time.

  “Stick with me,” he said as he pushed through. Chloe followed, with one of her spears.

  “Oh, God.” An Army officer lay upon the wooden floor, among several sheets and pillows. His leg twitched pitifully as John watched. The spray of blood on the wall and floor was evidence of the level of violence which had practically removed the officer’s head. He'd been shot within the last several minutes.

  He rolled the man over so he could see his name tape. “Brandyweis. Marty had mentioned this man. He was involved in this, too, though I'm not sure how.”

  He hovered around the dead body while Chloe searched the house. In a moment, she called out. “They left through the back door. They can’t be far,” she said with a drop in her voice.

  “What is it?”

  “Zombies, sir. Lots of them.”

  Chloe walked back into the room. “Who shot him, sir?”

  “I don’t know. This day just keeps getting stranger...”

  His eyes fell upon the dead body. Was Brandyweis here to hurt Marty, or was he like him—trying to protect Ms. Peters from Elsa and her operatives. Maybe he was killed by a robber. Anything goes in anarchy.

  “Sir, there a shit-ton of zombies outside. We need to get back to the world.” She opened the front door to reinforce the urgency.

  He picked up the dead man’s rifle. No sense leaving it for the dead.

  They ran outside, then, out of duty, he walked up to the Marines. A couple of young women—filthy with blood, and screaming they were still alive—ran straight into the back of the plane. A small contingent of survivors huddled inside. “Did you guys hear a gunshot from inside the house? Your man is dead. Brandyweis.”

  Three guns were trained on him.

  He put his hands up, as did Chloe.

  “We didn’t kill him,” she stated loudly. “Someone used a shotgun to clip his head off.”

  The Marines shared a look, then lowered their weapons a little. One resumed sniping nearby zombies. More were on the way.

  If they were lying, there’d be no way to prove them wrong. T
here simply wasn’t time.

  The senior Marine spoke up. “There was a boy with him. Was he dead, too?”

  John turned to Chloe, who had searched the house. She shook her head.

  “No, son. We saw no one else in the house, but the back door was opened like someone had just left.”

  The Marine looked at the tanks and Humvees, then back at John.

  “I guess you’re leading this goat rope now, uh, sir. What are your orders, general?”

  Inwardly, John respected the Marines’ ability to roll with anything. A man in a white T-shirt walks up to them in the midst of a zombie overrun situation, and they calmly deferred to him as the most senior commander in the shitstorm. Of course, he could never utter complimentary words for a Marine in front of his own men.

  They talked for a minute about radio frequencies, the situation in the streets around them, and the plan he hoped to execute down at the southern tip of the town. But his last order was the most important.

  “Get this bird in the air. Get those civilians to safety,” he said while pointing to those in the back of the plane. He said it mainly to cover his own ass. There weren’t many townsfolk left alive, other than those who refused to leave their homes. But if the Marines saw any before liftoff, it would be good to authorize them to grab as many as possible. “And then I want you to head south to Wickliffe, Kentucky.” He pointed south. “It’s the next town down the river. That’s the rally point for what’s left.”

  “Understood.”

  “And Marine?”

  “Sir?”

  “I’m sorry about your CO.”

  With a grim nod, he went back to the defense of the aircraft for a moment. He said something to his two teammates, then ran inside.

  John ushered Chloe off the ramp, and toward his patrol.

  “Listen,” he said just loud enough for her to hear him. “I have a special job for you. You’ve done some good work on our defenses, and I can only trust this to someone who understands the big picture. My command has been compromised, though I think any traitors would have left a long time ago.”

  He stopped her midway between the tanks and the Osprey.

  “In that tank is a dear friend of mine. She’s 104. Her name is Marty Peters.”

  “The one you've been protecting,”

  He nodded and motioned to the tank.

  “If something should happen to me, I’m tasking you with keeping her alive. She is an enemy of my enemy, if that makes any sense to you.”

  “Perfectly, sir. But, sir, what if something does happen to you? Where do you want her to go?”

  She always goes right to the core of the problem.

  “That dead man in there was looking for Ms. Peters. The woman who left me for dead tried to have Ms. Peters killed. I walked in on that attempt and put a stop to it. Now, I’m...ah, I guess you'd say marked, because of that. It may be better if I didn’t tell you where to take her. If I’m killed, your life will be in danger.”

  He watched for her reaction.

  “Disappear. I can do that.” She reached out her hand to shake it when a Blackhawk helicopter caught his eye gliding low near the Missouri bridge—out over the barges below that span. There had been no such helicopters in Cairo since he’d been there, which suggested the people inside were not his.

  The back door of Marty’s house faced the Missouri bridge. Chloe said they’d run out the back door and had to have gone in that direction. They certainly didn’t go north, into the zombie horde.

  “Sir, we’ve got to leave.”

  The ramp of the Osprey had already folded up. A couple 50’s on the roofs of the Humvees rattled and pointed at the arriving wave of zombies. Two runners actually passed John and Chloe as they stood there, only to be put down by the service pistol of one of the Humvee drivers. He’d held his gun out his window, gangster style.

  Everything is breaking down. And here I’m about to do something stupid.

  “Chloe, go. Take care of Marty.”

  “What about you?”

  He looked to the nearby bridge, and the chopper floating next to it.

  “I’ll catch up with you. Trust me!”

  He knew what he had to do to protect his men, his equipment, the old lady in Alpha-1, and any future they might have after today.

  He banged on Brandyweis’s rifle, then slung it over his shoulder. It was mostly to bolster himself for what he was about to do. He passed orders using the radio of the nearest Humvee, then ran.

  The Osprey glided up and leaned south. His ground team spun around and tore off, though they’d only get as far as the southern point of land at the confluence of the rivers. Unless Tom showed up with his miracle, it looked like saving the vehicles was going to be out of his hands. He breathed lighter knowing his men and women would escape, even if they had to swim.

  He silently thanked his people for not trying to follow him.

  Elsa would expect me to roll in with my tanks and machine guns. She’ll never expect a lowly old general to sneak up on her.

  Getting to the Missouri bridge was harder than it looked. The ground to the south and west of town was wide open and flat, which was perfect terrain to be seen by the fastest zombies devouring the rest of Cairo. Several times he had to line up his shots and put down runners as they approached him.

  He breathed in deep heaves when he reached the rough shoreline next to the procession of barges floating in the Mississippi. The Blackhawk still drifted near where it had been, and now he could see ropes being tossed down from the open rear compartment.

  There was no thought of taking things slow and reconnoitering the site from the safety of the woods. The zombies saw him on the open fields, and there were too many behind him.

  Whatever was going to happen, he’d lost the element of surprise.

  The helicopter seemed to settle over one of the outermost barges still attached to a small towboat. There was a primitive walkway over all the barges between the shore and that outer barge. He got to the top of the first ramp. He kicked the plank so he couldn't be followed by the zombies. There was about a five-foot differential any zombie would have to climb if they wanted to follow him. He'd prefer fifty feet, but it was better than zero.

  Far ahead, a pair of young kids each escorted a hunched-over old lady. They walked the decks of the barges tethered together, but he guessed they were going to the same destination as him, under the helicopter. Like magic, they all moved toward the same spot.

  “What the hell?” He ducked down behind some maritime equipment on the front of one of the barges.

  The kids looked up at the helicopter, but went down, out of his sight.

  He wanted to run toward the action, but a direct charge against a Blackhawk was folly.

  He stayed low and moved in a different direction.

  Chapter 19: Uptalk

  The drones kept their station near the exit of the barge. Victoria and Jane had just enough time to chat with the small number of awake elderly in the boat before another disturbance drew everyone's attention to the stairs again.

  Two sets of feet started down. She somewhat recognized the girl holding a senior citizen companion.

  Victoria watched as Debbie reached the metal floor of the makeshift hospital barge. The old woman on her arm wasn’t Marty. She had mixed feelings. Wouldn't Grandma be in a boat full of people her age? But if they were collecting the elderly, wouldn't it be better she wasn't there?

  A second couple came down the steps behind her, and her roller coaster emotions headed upward again. It wasn't her. A teenaged boy with sloppy hair helped the elderly woman to the base of the steps. She moved a step in that direction, then stopped when she confirmed who he was.

  “Liam!”

  He looked up at her, then made sure the two little old ladies helped each other stand, and finally ran to her.

  They closed thirty or so feet of distance and were seemingly about to throw themselves into an embrace when Victoria pulled up short and pushed out her
arm to him.

  “Wait, Liam. Just wait.”

  “What?”

  “I, uh. Need a moment.”

  She wanted to tell him she was infected, but with all her soul she wanted to experience the comfort of his arms. Though it had only been a couple days, it felt like they’d been separated for a lifetime. Now was the time to indulge in expressions of love and assurances such a time apart would never happen again.

  But what if I’m infected?

  Her mind was very confused at the lengthy chain of questions she now had for herself.

  Was she infected? That was the foundation for all the rest. If she was infected, when did she get the virus? Or, more properly, did she already expose Liam to its effects. What if he was immune, like Marty? Then it would be OK to hug him.

  We haven’t shared everything, but we’ve shared enough.

  They’d breathed the same air. Shared the same food. Even kissed.

  She had to hug him. Her body screamed for her to do it.

  “I think...I think I’m infected,” she said with deep sadness. “I don’t want you to get it,” she tossed the words like a dead fish onto the cutting board.

  Liam took some time to interpret her words and the emotions behind them. She saw his mind working by reading his face. The rest of the room could have been on fire, but her attention was on him.

  “Where?”

  “I don’t know. I’m not even sure I’m actually infected. Hayes told me,” she said flatly.

  “Hayes?” He looked around, finally noticing her traveling partner, Jane.

  “What’s she doing here?”

  “Hi,” Jane said, “I saved your girlfriend’s life, so you’re welcome.” She wasn’t mean about it, but wasn’t exactly friendly, either.

  Liam’s head was on a swivel.