Sirens of the Zombie Apocalypse (Book 4): Last Fight of the Valkyries

by E. E. Isherwood

  Zombies vs. Polar Bears Prologue

  “General. Please. Go on.”

  Major General John Jasper sat in a room full of idiots. The town of Cairo, Illinois had become the centerpiece of middle America's efforts to protect the populace from the roving masses of infected citizens plaguing the countryside, but his ability to get town leaders to do anything useful for him had been spiraling downward almost as fast as the country's healthy population.

  “As I was saying, the only way we're going to keep the sick people out of this town is if your civilians constantly watch the riverbanks. It doesn't take a degree from the War College to know that sick people are going to float down the river and end up on your shores.”

  It had already happened, many times. The town had been lucky because there were a handful of go-getters who patrolled the levees and graveyard of barges littering the shore around town looking for them. They fancied themselves “zombie-killers,” though he refused to utter that word in serious meetings like this one. Whatever they called themselves, they weren't officially sanctioned...

  “But my people aren't soldiers. I can't have this town filled with guns. We'd have mass murder!”

  John physically pushed back the sneer he knew was fighting for air time on his face. The mayor of Cairo was an elderly and chronically sweat-soaked black man who insisted on dressing like a preacher—black pants, white shirt, and a ridiculous black suit jacket. It was next to 100 degrees outside, the humidity was an eternal 100 percent, and the meeting room doubled both. Yet he never took off his suit coat.

  “And he gets everything wrong,” John thought. He was wearing his multicam field uniform and was sweating profusely too, but he was proud he didn't sweat like the other man. It was one small victory that reinforced the superiority he felt over all the men in the room, especially the mayor who seemed to not understand it was guns keeping him alive.

  “General, can you re-deploy some of your men to work inside the town with those volunteers?”

  And then there was her.

  He looked down at his notepad. Ms. Elsa Cantwell. Homeland Security.

  Homeland my ass.

  Generals have access to some of the best intelligence in the military. He knew the oxymoron was there, but he wasn't talking about satellites and spy planes. Most of his best intelligence came from what would once have been called the water cooler. These days everything was done over water bottles. The government seemed to have an endless supply of them. Everywhere he went, people were anxious to share what they knew with him. No matter the branch. No matter the government bureaucracy. Everyone was searching for answers. He was just better at coaxing information from people as opposed to giving it.

  And everyone said Homeland Security had been compromised. The problem was the department was so massive no one could pin down quite what part of it was broken. But he knew. If the woman sitting across the table from him was a drone from some backwater government department, he'd eat his Iraqi-sand-filled boots.

  “As I've said over and over, I only have enough men and women to defend the trench up north of town. I've had problems with...”

  Though his face was a mask, he had to work twice as hard as he finished his thought.

  “soldiers walking off their posts.”

  “General, I'm showing,” she looked down at her own notes, “approximately sixty five of your men have abandoned us. Do you have any means to acquire replacements?”

  It drove him insane at how secretive everyone had become once the disaster broke out in America. He couldn't get a straight answer from his superiors—when they answered the phones—nor could any of his peers in the other branches. Cairo was swimming with one-stars right now, including an admiral of all the crazy things. And here was this civilian telling him how many men he'd lost.

  The part that slaughtered his goat was that she was right. Dammit, he wasn't going to admit it.

  “Ma'am, we shouldn't be talking about numbers here. The point is I don't have enough men to dig the trench, man the AFV's, and go beating the bushes with sticks.”

  “General, I understand your situation. But maybe I can give you some news that will help with your allocation choices.” She pushed out her chair and stood up. She had the attention of the ten men at the table, plus the numerous aides and hangers-on hovering on the fringes of the ancient conference room.

  He took a mental snapshot of her. Not because she was an attractive blonde—though she was a model of a woman—but because she was a threat. He watched as she moved from her chair to the whiteboard on the wall. She moved with the grace of a lioness. She wore dark business slacks and a short-sleeved white shirt, both well-fitting and clean. Most people wore ill-fitting and dirty clothes they had to pull from the piles of refugee clothing. It had been two weeks since the emergency started—only someone with lots of resources could get clean clothes these days. Or she knew this was coming, and was prepared.

  With a black marker, she drew on the white board. In moments she had drawn a map of the states of Illinois and Missouri, along with the Mississippi and Ohio Rivers.

  “This is us.” She drew a circle at Cairo. Which sat at the very southern tip of her rendition of Illinois. “Up the river is St. Louis.” She drew another dot on the left side of her map. “And up here is Chicago.” A third dot went in the northern part of Illinois. She then drew some other dots in various parts of the map, followed by some arrows from those dots down to Cairo, which sat at the bottom of a V bracketed by the two big rivers.

  “Does anyone know what this means?”

  The mayor had been preaching about this since they'd met. “Yeah. The zombies are coming here,” he repeated from his previous warnings.

  Elsa nodded. “Yes, Mayor Cartright, our GIS guys have determined that as these, uh, zombies, leave the cities they naturally follow the contours of the land and the boundaries of the rivers. Since most of the big bridges over both these rivers have been blown, they will gravitate southward to this point.” Her pen made an emphatic squeal on their position.

  “The zombies are coming here,” she reaffirmed. “But that's the bad news. The good news is this: the government is re-establishing itself in St. Louis.”

  She seemed to wait for a reaction.

  “Why St. Louis?” John probed.

  “An excellent question, General. For the same reason this little town has kept you safe—St. Louis is surrounded on three sides by major rivers. The zombies have been migrating out of that city into the open countryside beyond. What's left is safe to reclaim and re-use. The fact that it's in the middle of the country was also valued by government planners.”

  He wanted to ask why he wasn't informed of such plans. As one of the ranking military men defending the civilian population in the Midwest, he should have been the first to know about a potential new base of operations. He also wanted to ask what would become of Cairo. Currently it was as safe a place as any for hundreds of miles. But he hated appearing out of the loop.

  No one said anything.

  “This is good news, people. The government is coming to rebuild and restore some semblance of peace after these weeks of chaos and uncertainty. The worst is over.”

  Her eyes met his. She was unflinching. Challenging him to say something contrary. He held hers until they were both interrupted by a man standing along the wall behind him. When he spun around to see who was talking he truly was surprised.

  “Miss. I don't believe we've met. I'm Rear Admiral Ray. I was on special assignment with the Joint Chiefs in the Pentagon before things got bad. My sources say that St. Louis is not clear of infected, and in fact it has a higher than normal concentration of them. Also, are you aware of the activities of the Patriot Snowball group in that city?”

  He had newfound respect for the navy man. He actually asked some salient questions. He was unaware of the patriot threat there, though he knew of the Snowballers.

  “Yes. My advance team is there right now. I should have a report soon on the preci
se status on the ground. We are aware of the threats.” She put down her marker and looked around at everyone. “This is going to happen, folks. The government in Washington is gone. Washington D.C. is gone. Most of what's left has to set up shop somewhere, and St. Louis is it. Your job is to support that effort.”

  She looked at John. “Can I count on you, sir, to help these people survive until we can all get safely to St. Louis when the time is right?”

  His head swam with competing directives. Dig the trench. Properly position the tanks. Plan the killboxes. And now, be ready to abandon it all, cross hostile territory, and end up in a bigger town with bigger problems. Though he swore an oath to protect the country, he wavered on what that actually meant here on the ground.

  For now, he would play along.

  “I can provide five humvees, each with two-man crews to patrol on top of the levees.” Keeping them on the levees would give them instant access back to the main effort in the north, should they be needed.

  “All right. See guys, we're getting somewhere now.” She smiled a fake smile. “We just have to play nice and help each other until the government gets back on its feet. You take care of it, and it will take care of you.”

  The poison in her eyes reinforced his doubts about her motives. Cairo was safe. It was on a peninsula and was easily defensible thanks to his efforts digging fortifications on the landward-facing side. Only an idiot would abandon prime defensive real estate like this.

  He wasn't going to let her, or anyone, ruin all that he had built.

  Homeland Security may be in charge, but he controlled the firepower.

  ###

  Ramblings of an Author

  Thank you for reading Last Fight of the Valkyries! I'll be working on book 5, Zombies vs. Polar Bears, by the time you're reading this message.

  If you've read this far, I think it's safe to say you qualify as a “superfan” of my books. Seriously, whether you loved them or merely survived them, I want to take this opportunity to shake your hand in appreciation. The series has taken on a life of its own and brought me to places I never imagined just a few short months ago.

  For one, I had no idea these books would sell beyond a few copies to my mom. I wrote them mainly for my own enjoyment and even a few weeks after I hit the publish button on book 1 in December, 2015, I still wasn't thinking of them in terms of making money. I just wasn't wired that way.

  However, about a month after the launch of book 1, I put the finishing touches on book 2 and hit the publish button again in January, 2016. Suddenly I had two books in the marketplace and a few people started to notice. A trickle of people read through book 2 and had pre-ordered book 3. It was slated to come out in the middle of February, 2016. As the weeks went by, more readers pre-ordered book 3 and it dawned on me they were buying all three books in quick order. One of those early people was probably you. Yes, you—reading this, right now.

  Because of you, I decided to write a book 4. I spent the month of March doing almost nothing but writing Last Fight of the Valkyries, and I loved the directions it took me. I don't want to give anything away on the off chance you're reading this before reading the story, but there were things in the ending that even I didn't know were going to happen until they took place far into the writing process. It has truly set things up for an exciting book 5!

  Now, as I release book 4, and as I'm talking to my best and most endurance-oriented fans, I'm going to look back on some of the reviews for my first book and add commentary in the form of replies. You see, as an author, I don't feel it's right for me to comment on reviews directly on the site where they appear, because reviews are a way for readers to talk directly to other readers. I don't like to get in the middle of that natural process.

  However, in my own book, I feel free to highlight some of the reviews which interest me, and, if you'll indulge me, show my thought process as I read and respond to some of them.

  First, I'd like to take a minute to address, in bulk, the several people critical of one key aspect of my books that honestly caught me by surprise. It seems obvious in retrospect, and shows my lack of experience as an author, but I had no idea Grandma Marty's religion would be seen so negatively by some reviewers. I've touched on this in some of the “acknowledgments” sections. Marty was based on my own grandmother. It's hard for me to visualize my own grandma in those situations, because although she was far more religious than Marty, she wasn't one to proselytize. So, while it's safe to say my grandma was very religious, she was not a Bible-thumping, in-your-face, follow my religion or go-to-hell type of woman. She was a Christian, and thus I wanted to write Marty in the same spirit. See what I did there? Haha.

  They say you can't please everyone, and that's reasonable. However, I take reviews seriously. I re-read my own books looking for places where I made religion in-your-face or otherwise out of place with the story. Anything that would cause such negative reviews. I really couldn't find anything that I, as a reader, felt was pushy or showy about religion. I describe Grandma's prayers, her belief she was seeing an angel in her visions, and Victoria's cross necklace and her desire to find a Bible in various places throughout the book. Any of those could have been substituted for non-religious counterparts. Grandma could have been meditating. She could have thought Al was a ghost. Victoria could have been wearing an Ankh. I could have then pleased those who gave me a negative review and been on my way to author greatness.

  But that's not how I heard the story. Part of being an author is writing from the heart. I listen to my characters, and when I'm really lucky, I can see them. I imagined Victoria when Liam first met her. He was nervous because she was a cute, older girl in a pretty dress. But, and who knows where such things come from, I saw her with that cross necklace. As the author, it gave me comfort that here was a girl who might bring something to the table. I felt she had some gravitas, despite her age, because she sees something larger than the current catastrophe surrounding her. Liam took comfort from that, and was one facet of his later attraction to her. Could I have used an Ankh? Absolutely. But it would have been fake. A cop out. It wasn't what I saw. Besides, at the time, I only considered my own writer's voice, not the voice of dissenting reviewers.

  One other reviewer mentioned religion in the negative, and suggested that there was no way Liam would have tried to grab a Bible for Victoria while under threat of the zombie horde. Everyone is entitled to their opinions, but I have to ask what fifteen-year-old boy DOESN'T do stupid stuff to catch the eye of a girl he fancies? I did plenty of doozies in my day, mostly while cruising the town in fast cars. I saw nothing in that act tied to religion. He did it to impress a girl, which is pretty much the most important reason to do anything as a teen boy! He even says as much later in the story. He'd been looking for that Bible since they'd met. It's one of my favorite scenes, and I'm quite happy with how it's written.

  To counter the above, many reviewers appreciated the religious element present throughout the books. In fact, the great majority of my readers seem to appreciate the inclusion of religion, not as a central theme to the story (e.g., this isn't Christian Fiction) but as something that would naturally happen if the world suddenly found itself overwhelmed by zombies. To ignore religion—any religion, it just so happens this character is a devout Christian—would be a gross oversight. Liam is less of a believer, at least at first, but his struggle to understand what's happening with the world would be, I think, what most normal human beings would experience. If there were no religion at all, I happen to believe things would devolve to a Mad Max level of barbarism much faster. That isn't to say it couldn't happen otherwise.

  There are many details of the reviews that I found thought-provoking.

  One reviewer took offense to the fact Liam was an asocial gamer who lived in his parent's basement. I don't see Liam that way at all. In fact, he normally plays his games with his four or five friends at one of their houses, but since he was spending the summer with his great-grandma, and since he had no choice
but to live in her basement and hang out at the library, he ended up appearing as the “typical asocial teen gamer.” Also, I should point out I was a somewhat asocial gamer in my younger years, and I did spend some time living in my parents' basement. Funny how life experiences can make it into a book!

  Bollocks! That's a word Liam uses at one point, and a reviewer found that to be unnatural for an American teen. Again, this is a life experience thing. I grew up watching Benny Hill, Blakes 7, and Doctor Who. I was enamoured with all things British. Today's teens (and I know a few) are also hooked on British television, including the new version of Doctor Who. They also enjoy the British teen story about the boy called Harry Potter, though I don't recall if anyone said bollocks in those books. In short, I don't think it's a stretch that Liam would use that word. We could argue whether the “average” American teen would use that word.

  Other reviewers have described Liam both as too smart for being fifteen and too dumb for being fifteen. I tried to balance his youth with his deep understanding of the zombie plague itself. When I was fifteen, I could have recited useless stats from Dungeons and Dragons manuals. I read and studied those books all the time (to the detriment of school). I could tell you how to fight hundreds of different monsters—their strengths, weaknesses, etc. I'd like to think if I ever came across a gelatinous cube in a dark alley, I'd know the secret to defeating it: step out of its way. Thus, I felt Liam would understand the global ramifications of the zombie apocalypse, even if he didn't really know how to properly use a radio. In the end, I'm glad there are complaints of both as it suggests the truth is somewhere in the middle.

  I believe Liam would also have advantages over adults in some situations because he'd read about similar things in his zombie books. I'm fascinated by zombies in our culture. For one thing, we've all agreed that zombies are killed by hitting them in the head. But if zombies actually stumbled their way into reality today, how many people still wouldn't know how to kill them? It seems incredible, especially for people who regularly read and watch entertainment about zombies, but most people probably don't have that deep background in zombies. In that light, Liam could appear to know more than his years suggest when he is helping with zombie-related lore. This would include the basics—arm up, aim for the head, find and secure shelter.