Since The Sirens Box Set | Books 1-7

by Isherwood, E. E.

  While the officers were readying the plan amongst themselves, he stood off to the side, not sure if he should listen in or look busy doing something else. He decided there was one item he definitely wanted to pass on to these guys.

  “Um, excuse me. If you happen to see my friend in there, please help her get out. She's about my age. Wearing a black dress. She ran up into the Arch to save me and the rest of our group.”

  “If we see your girlfriend, we'll grab her.”

  He didn't correct her designation as his girlfriend, even though it wasn't true. He liked how it sounded, but it made him even more depressed at how things had transpired.

  After a few more minutes of preparation, the police officers gathered near the small tunnel entrance and were working the radio. Presumably coordinating with the group inside.

  “Liam, do you have any weapons?”

  He wasn't sure if he should tell the cops that he was packing a gun but decided now was not the time to be worried about getting himself thrown in jail for concealed carry of a weapon without a permit.

  “I have a small pistol, yes.”

  “OK, listen. Your job is to guard this exit, so when we come back out we find your friendly face and not anyone else. Do you understand?”

  “I'd rather go with you guys.”

  Officer Jones grabbed a radio from one of his mates and tried to give it to him. He pulled the police radio he'd been using earlier out of his backpack, showing he was already plugged into their radio net. “I'm ready to go,” he said lamely.

  Jones continued, “I understand, son. But trust me. We'll get it done. We need someone here to keep this door open, or we'll be cut down when we come out. Make sense?”

  He couldn't argue with the logic, though his heart still envisioned saving Victoria. That wasn't going to happen if he was parked here at this entrance as a glorified greeter.

  “Don't use your radio unless absolutely necessary, but you can listen, so you know when we're coming back. We won’t sightsee because the Army is going to bake this place, soon.”

  “Understood.” Liam felt a chill run through his spine.

  Through it all, Hayes had kept his distance from Liam and the police. He figured the man would want to help protect this exit, but he made no effort to move much past where they had placed Grandma near the end of the railroad tunnel.

  He's probably thinking about making a run for it.

  The air outside the train tunnel was thick with gunfire, though the odd angles of the sound waves on the interior made it hard to know where it was all coming from.

  He also thought he could hear an increase in gunfire coming from the other end of the railroad tunnel. That is, from the spooky and dark section north of where he stood.

  Why did I even suggest this?

  Hero stuff. Remember?

  4

  Jones went in first. He had to go in on his knees and elbows since the space was too low for him to crouch and walk. He dragged the battering ram with him. The other three men entered the same way; one of them pulled a large black bag. Liam imagined it was a satchel of weapons.

  He checked the pistol on his hip, then stood against the wall next to the opening, holding the radio close to his ear so he could listen in without blaring it to the whole tunnel. There were other people about, but none were anxious to interfere with this operation.

  The radio chatter began almost immediately.

  “Jones here. We are through the grating and are in the maintenance room. No sign of trouble. Moving to hallway. Out.”

  A few minutes later a much shorter transmission, in a whisper.

  “Jones here. In position. Be ready in five minutes. Out.”

  He knew the basics of the plan but had no idea of the tactics they would use to extricate those inside the museum. He tried to be patient and wait the five minutes. The radio chatter had completely stopped.

  The void gave him time to think of how he could do something stupid, like going up the tunnel himself, then ascending the stairs to try to catch up with Victoria and see if he could help. But he knew that, by now, she was probably down the other leg of the Arch if she kept running once she got to the top. If she got to the top.

  Ugh. Why did I think that?

  Where could she have come down? Was there a room on the north side of the Arch that was a maintenance shed like the one in the south? If so, was there a grate and a tunnel over there too? Did that duct come out on the other end of this same railroad tunnel? He almost started running right then and there, but he looked the other way toward Grandma. She was silhouetted in the evening light of the tunnel exit, now talking to Hayes. Would it be smart to leave her alone and try to force his way into danger?

  He couldn't make up his mind.

  The radio exploded, “Go! Go! Go!”

  The net became unintelligible with all the calls. He listened until there was nothing but a long series of beeps and boops like the frequency just stopped trying.

  From inside the duct leading back to the Arch, there was a lot of gunfire, then a lull.

  “Infected have overrun both entrances.”

  What the hell?

  The screaming started getting uncomfortably loud in the railway tunnel. The tiny speck of light to the north was nearly extinguished by smoke and haze. He couldn't make out any details, but the sound of gunfire was rolling in waves down the tunnel, as were the screams.

  Zombies were already in the railroad tunnel, though not very close as yet. Would he be called to defend this exit from a tide of the undead? It seemed unlikely he could make much difference given the small caliber of his gun. He suddenly felt very inadequate and laughed at the foolishness of thinking he could get Victoria through the other exit—if it existed.

  “This is Osborne. We have all our people clear of the museum. We are heading for the train tunnel now. Out.” He sounded like a man on the run.

  Someone should be coming out soon.

  More gunshots up the tunnel. To his dismay, a bullet ricocheted by. He took one step into the smaller tunnel, mainly to shield himself from stray bullets. He worried Grandma had no such shielding.

  Someone tapped him on the back, startling him near to death. It was a teenage girl, but not Victoria.

  “I was told to come this way. Where do I go now?”

  He didn't want to send her out into the railroad tunnel because of the stray bullets, but she was the first of many people who would be coming through this exit, so he had no choice.

  “Just come out and sit on the far wall. Keep your head down.”

  She did as instructed. He vacated the small tunnel, so he wasn't in the way. Soon there was a stream of kids, young adults, and the elderly coming through. Everyone who survived up in the museum was now pouring down. Everyone but the cops. He assumed they'd bring up the rear.

  About fifty people eventually made their way into the railroad tunnel, and most took up positions crouched down along the far wall. The screaming and gunfire in the north end had become feverish and was inching closer. He was on the cusp of praying for the appearance of some of the police officers to help stop the tide rolling down the railroad line.

  A long ten minutes later, a group of officers poured out, including Jones—now only carrying his shotty. His group did not include any of the three men who had joined him going in. He found Liam and asked for an update on what was happening in the tunnel. The sound of screaming was very close from up north, and many people had run by and were congregating near the south entrance, as if unwilling to expose themselves to the outside—yet.

  “There are infected up that way. I've been hearing gunshots and screaming almost this whole time you've been inside. It's too dark to see what’s going on for sure.”

  A few minutes later, several more officers streamed out. This group included at least two of the guys that went in initially with Jones.

  There were now about ten officers in the railroad tunnel. They split up to provide a line of defense inside the tunnel as well
as a lookout or two near the exit to the south.

  More officers trickled out of the small crawlspace, but he had yet to see the captain. Some of them grabbed people who were against the wall—probably family—and made a run for it out the tunnel exit. For some reason, that simple act of desperation chilled him to the bone.

  Several female officers emerged, including the one who was hopped up on speed earlier in the day. She didn't even notice him. She immediately headed to the civilians along the wall, apparently searching for someone.

  Not long after, some injured officers came out, dragging a couple of other guys who couldn't walk on their own. It looked like they had gunshot wounds.

  Then no one came out for a long time. Besides wondering when the bombs would fall, it gave him plenty of time to think about all the grisly ways Victoria could have died at the hands of her pursuers. He also had the time to wonder about the far side of the main tunnel, where he was positive a wave of infected people was coming for him. The gunshots and screams indicated there were still survivors in that direction, though he couldn't tell how close they were.

  “We have her. We're coming out.” It was Osborne.

  Minutes later, a gaggle of officers came out, including one who had no shirt on and looked like he'd just run a marathon. Coming out behind them, was—Victoria! Her black dress hugged her body because she was covered in sweat.

  He ran to her the second she cleared the roof of the low tunnel and wrapped his arms around her. He couldn't help it. She didn't fight him and even seemed relieved to be in his arms. Or maybe just to have escaped. She looked exhausted. Well, of course she is, dummy, if she went all the way to the top again. She had several abrasions on her face and dried blood below her nose—like she'd been punched hard a couple of times.

  The captain crawled out with a few soft grunts. He looked terrible, was covered with blood, had a bandage around his bicep, and he seemed to have trouble getting one of his legs out of the tunnel. Once clear, he limped over to Liam.

  “We meet again. Thank you for what you did here today. Your plan saved my people from certain death in there. Officer Jones told me of your situation, and that of your friend, so I sent up my best runner here”—he pointed to the guy with no shirt on—“to see if he could find your girlfriend. He found her at the very top. Somehow, she managed to incapacitate one of the bad guys on the steps, but the other one beat her up pretty good, I'm afraid. He was so distracted hitting her; he never saw my man coming. We brought her back down. It was the least we could do to return the favor. You're a real hero, Liam.”

  Being called a hero by the imposing police leader was nice, but it paled to what they did for him.

  Liam walked over to shirtless guy to shake his hand. He wanted to go back and hug Victoria again—She's alive, thank God—but gunfire outside was intense and constant, and his survival senses overrode everything else. People outside ran madly toward the water of the river, and the screaming and gunfire inside the north part of the tunnel kept getting closer.

  We've run out of time.

  As if to prove his point, the park ranger zombie slithered out of the tunnel and bit hard into the back of the captain’s ankle.

  5

  Osborne turned around, yanked out his sidearm, and shot the bloody creature several times in the back and neck. The bullets got the attention of the thing attached to his foot, and when it let go, the captain put a final series of shots into its head. Liam could only stare in horror as the head exploded, the debris plastering the insides of the small tunnel. Then a sudden thought struck him hard.

  The captain’s been bitten.

  Osborne looked down at his leg and yanked up the cuff of his pants to reveal a very tall tactical boot with shallow bite marks on it. He gave a relieved chuckle, then noticed the look of horror on Liam’s face.

  “Don't worry, son. I've been fighting zombies my whole life.”

  Fighting zombies—how is that possible?

  Before he could ask, Captain Osborne gave him a stern pat on his shoulder and went on to the next crisis, giving orders to his men, shouting above the cacophony of the engulfing disaster. Liam's ears rang from the sound of the captain's point-blank shots, so he simply grabbed Victoria's hand and pulled her up the tunnel to where Grandma sat. She and Hayes looked like they were waiting for the bus, but she clutched Liam's backpack in a way he recognized as fear. Then she saw Victoria standing next to him, swaying unsteadily.

  “Nice to see you again, dear.” As if Victoria had just dropped in for tea and cookies. “Liam, why don’t you help Victoria sit down? She looks rather tired.”

  He did as she suggested, and offered her some water, then looked around. He guessed there were about twenty officers still in the fight. Most of them were facing the dark of the tunnel, pointing their lights toward the clamor coming from that direction. Sometimes people would run by screaming, but more often now it was a zombie that came slinking out of the confusion only to have its head blown off. The far exit had become obscured by darkness, dust and the smoke from multiple weapons. More than a few times, bullets ricocheted to his end of the tunnel, sending citizens flat onto the rocks.

  Once the captain had his men where he wanted them in the tunnel, he moved to the opening on the south end. He put two of his female officers in charge of using zip ties to secure the exterior gate of the small service tunnel and told them to shoot anyone attempting to come out.

  He saw Liam’s group and stopped to ask how they were doing. He also let them know they were going to need to help out when the time came to run—which he said was going to be soon.

  “This tunnel is about to get dangerous.”

  Get dangerous? Liam thought. As opposed to the quiet Sunday afternoon at the park it is now?

  “We have to move somewhere more secure,” the captain continued. “Get ourselves room to breathe. Can you both shoot?” he asked, glancing in turn at Liam and Victoria.

  He nodded yes. Victoria was silent, then turned to him. “I'll take that second pistol if you aren't using it. I don't want to ever be unarmed again.”

  He looked at Osborne. “We'll both be ready, sir.”

  Osborne gave him a small salute and began walking away. He caught himself when he saw Hayes.

  “You have any kind of weapon?”

  “I'm not a warrior. I'm a...doctor. I'm too important to fight them with guns.”

  Osborne responded. “So important you and your friends were willing to spend your time getting drunk in the candy store? I don't think you're as important as you think you are. Neither the zombies nor the gang members will be stopping to ask for your credentials—you can bank on that.”

  He moved away quickly, meeting up with the remaining officers now guarding the large opening at the head of the tunnel.

  Hayes looked back at Liam, but he avoided the man’s gaze by pretending to talk to Victoria.

  A doctor? Was that the truth? Did he lie to me earlier?

  He realized he had just picked up a valuable life lesson. In a world where no one knows your past, anyone can be anyone.

  6

  The final plan was kept simple. About a quarter of a mile to the south, the train tracks entered another short tunnel before they left the Arch grounds via a long above-ground trestle. The captain figured if they could reach that tunnel, it would put them in good shape to keep moving to the south, out of the worst of the massive scrum taking place all around them. It would also get them clear of the impending military assault. He mentioned that as a casual addendum, as if unconcerned they were nearly out of time.

  Some of the officers expressed concern at leaving so many people to their fates up top.

  “I know you all took an oath to serve and protect your communities. I did as well. But our communities are gone. What we have now, pretty much everywhere except this little bubble containing our families and us, is anarchy. Our community is now down to our families and the friends we pick up along the way.” He nodded in Liam's direction.

/>   “Our only hope of seeing another day is to get out of this fighting so we can take a breath and figure out what comes next.” He cinched a bloody rag around his upper arm, gave a grimace in doing so, and continued with his pep talk.

  “I want us all to move as fast as we can over to that next tunnel. This one is about to push us out anyway, judging from all the shooting and screaming behind us. I'm sure we can hold them off for a while, but we only have the ammo in our pockets, so if we're going to make a move, we have to do it now.”

  “Grab your families and line them up here. We leave in five.”

  Liam checked his weapon, ensured the safety was still on, and practiced thumbing it on and off.

  Victoria held her Mark I but was still in a daze.

  He leaned over to her.

  “Hey, you OK? Have you ever fired a pistol before?”

  She fought back a sniffle before speaking. “Yes. My dad took my sister and me to some indoor shooting range back in Colorado several times. We didn't shoot a gun like this one, but we did shoot pistols with magazines.”

  “That's good. That means you'll have no problem with this. In fact, this is probably much easier to shoot than anything you used with your dad. The trigger is very soft. My dad did something to modify it so “even an old lady could fire it,” as he would say. You just point it in the direction you want to shoot and gently squeeze the trigger. I'll warn you though that the ammo we're using is very light duty. It will do fine against any petty criminal, but I don't think the infected will even feel this unless you pop them through the eye or nose. Or, if you're at point blank, it should go through their skull. My dad and I talked about these guns last summer, and he said they were deadly in the proper hands, but you have to know what you're doing. I wish now he had just given me a bigger gun.”

  “Wow. My parents gave me Bibles for my birthdays. Yours gave you guns. Kinda cool, actually.”

  He felt a rush of pride, then remembered he was mad at his parents. Sort of.

  She continued, “Where do I put it? I don't exactly have pockets in this dress.”