Since The Sirens Box Set | Books 1-7

by Isherwood, E. E.

  She responded with a horrified “ugh,” but Liam found no humor in it. Not because it wasn't funny—he smiled to the big guy to show his appreciation—but because it was true. Nothing was ever going to be the same. Even the most basic things such as plumbing were going to be hard to find unless civilization kept hold somewhere else. St. Louis seemed to be a lost cause.

  Right now, the High Rollers Club was the best they had.

  Liam stood on the wooden slats of the flat car as it lurched forward. Glad to be moving again. Glad to make it back from his spy mission. But mostly he was glad to have his feet out of the toilet.

  4

  They moved with no time to spare. A crowd of zombies approached from the trackway behind them. The answer to an earlier thought of Liam's was that yes, the plague victims were going to follow the train regardless if they could see it or not. It seemed impossible, but zombies themselves were “impossible” a week ago, too. Who knew what they were capable of? Then again, maybe they just kept walking in the direction they were already pointed?

  The train reached speed once more. Now that he knew the engineer wasn't a professional, he understood why they weren’t breaking any speed records. With the crowd packed tightly on the flatcar, it was probably a good thing they weren't going too fast. Falling off the final car would be terminal.

  He and Victoria snaked through the crowd and made their way to where Grandma sat against the truck tire. They squeezed in next to her and spoke of what they saw up on the bridge. She took it in with her usual calm demeanor, which agitated him.

  “Grandma, why aren't you more concerned about him? We think he’s trouble.”

  “Ah, Liam, when you get to be my age, it takes a lot to concern yourself with every detail of what's going on. It doesn't matter who he is to me, as long as this train keeps moving south and gets you and Victoria out of harm's way. That's where we'll find your house, your parents, and hopefully some law enforcement to control these sick people. You two should stay away from him, though, if you think he’s dangerous.”

  “Well, that’s easy enough. We just avoid the train engine because that’s where he is.”

  “Yeah,” Victoria added, “he likes to be closest to escape.”

  Victoria laughed, but he wasn’t sure how to take that. If the CDC guy knew more than they did, perhaps being in the front of the train was the smart play.

  Unsure of himself, Liam sat back to think. He immediately drifted off as the car rattled along, but it wasn't sixty seconds before lots of gunfire from up in the front jerked him awake. People who stood near the edges of the car began screaming and almost as one they recoiled from the edges. Several tried to wedge themselves under the big trailer into the space where Grandma sat and forced him and Victoria to move Grandma almost directly underneath the axle of the big trailer.

  “We have to see this,” Liam said before he was trapped by everyone. “Let’s go,” he said to Victoria.

  “Quick! Go. I’ll be fine.” Grandma would say that if she were falling over Niagara Falls in a wooden barrel, but he had to leave her.

  The pair managed to get out from under the tractor-trailer.

  Oh, crap.

  The train entered some kind of quarry complex. On their left, next to the muddy brown river, were huge conveyor belts and machines that dumped the white rock onto barges and trucks. On the right was a maze of roadways where oversized dump trucks—had they been operating—hauled rocks from the deep tunnels of the mine.

  Hundreds of parked civilian cars and trucks created a line of traffic along the rock path around and down into the big hole in the ground, to some point below his field of vision. It seemed suicidal to drive a car into a hole in the earth with everything else going on. Sort of like driving into your own grave.

  Zombies by the thousands surrounded most of the top edge of the pit quarry. He noted this facility was next door to the bridge they were just on, and the mystery of the big blockade with no people was now solved. The cars had been diverted off the highway, away from the closed bridges, and seemingly directed here.

  “Why would they drive down into a quarry?” Victoria asked. “Couldn't they figure out the zombies would follow them in?”

  “I think you can read my mind,” he said weakly.

  He could only imagine what drove them on. When zombies are crawling all over your car, and the interstate is permanently closed, maybe the quarry looked like somewhere they could hole up—literally—and defend themselves. The train continued ahead, running over some of the wandering zombies. People in the forward cars fired guns at the infected orienting on the train. Many of the zombies, at least on the topmost level, were willing to turn away from their quarry inside the quarry and focus on the much closer blood factories rolling up to them on the train.

  As he got closer, he got a better impression of what was going on inside the pit. The cars were parked around a spiral road, which descended until it reached the bottom. He still couldn't see that bottom, but he could guess people were down there trying to hold off the zombies who were following the spiral behind them. The jam went back toward the highway. It seemed everyone mistook this for a road to safety. Once inside the gravity well of the pit, they had no choice but to continue down because the rim was already awash in zombies and there was no backing up. How far could they drive into the rocky tunnels?

  So many mysteries here.

  The second-level loop around the mine had a second access ramp that allowed some people to escape on foot back to ground level before they got too far down the hole. He saw people using that ramp, running out both directions around the rim of the mine. Some were coming toward the train. Others were heading into the woods or back toward the highway.

  The largest group headed for the train—toward rescue. They were up against an area thick with zombies waiting on the edge. Some members of their group were using weapons to try to clear a path. He judged there was no way those people could get through so many undead without help from this side.

  The engineer gave a long blast on the air horn. The train slowed down to an even slower crawl, but not a full stop.

  “What the hell? Is she going to try to save those people?” Victoria wondered.

  “It sure looks like it. But who is going to save us?”

  As they watched, the right side of the train was engulfed front to back by plague victims, each trying to gain purchase on a car. He looked back—and wasn't surprised to see a large group of zombies coming from the direction of the train tracks behind them. The followers had never stopped following ...

  They only had a few minutes before zombies would be surrounding them from almost every angle. There was essentially nothing he could do to change the outcome of this battle against so many attackers.

  That didn't mean he wasn't going to try.

  5

  Liam looked at his options, briefly hoping someone else would suggest a plan.

  “I think we should do something,” he told her. “No one else is helping.”

  “If you've got a plan, let's hear it,” she countered.

  He could try to organize some kind of rescue mission with police and gang members forging out into the crowd of zombies to try to meet up with the incoming group of people—but he was pretty sure that would fail based on the sheer size of the rising horde. And they'd waste a lot of ammo; ammo had to be running low for most of the police.

  He looked over his shoulder to the river side of the complex. Several big dump trucks sat there. His first thought upon seeing them came from one of his zombie books. He couldn't remember the name, but in it, huge dump trucks were used by evil men to deposit large buckets of zombies on the good guys. He doubted that could happen here in real life. No evil men were lurking by the trucks.

  “I think if we get into one of those dump trucks, we can use it to push through the thickest part of this crowd of zombies and help those people cross over to the train.”

  She looked at where the trucks were parked, how fast the t
rain was crawling along, and the status of the people in the group moving in their direction.

  “It's going to be close.”

  “Good enough for me.”

  Though the quarry side was clogged with infected, the other side of the train was almost free of them. The massive crowd behind was uncomfortably close, but still a few minutes back. Once they caught up to the train, all sides would be consumed. There was little time.

  He felt stupid saying it, but he yelled to Jones and Victoria as he went down the short ladder.

  “Cover me!”

  Jones said something he couldn't hear, but Victoria yelled, “Go for it!” as if he were part of a sporting event.

  He dodged around a couple of walkers who happened to be in his way as he ran the fifty yards to the trucks. He had his pistol, but speed was more important than killing any one or two random z's.

  It was large, but he was glad to see it wasn't the truly enormous dump truck he’d seen on National Geographic specials. It was just a normal-sized dump truck.

  He had no trouble scaling the side but was stymied at the door. It was locked. He hadn't even considered what he'd do once he got into the cab. Now he wasn't even going to make it inside.

  He took out his pistol and readied it to shoot out the glass. At the last second, he realized he was about to do something stupid. He engaged the safety and then used the gun as a hammer to break the window. In seconds he was inside. He found a lone key in the ignition. He figured these trucks never left the premises and thus never needed their keys removed. If someone got in at night they could joyride around the quarry—the teen boy in him imagined what a fun night that would be—, but the big gates in the front would keep anyone from leaving the property.

  With a turn of the key, the big rig started to turn over, then sputtered to a stop. He steadied himself as he looked out the window, ready to try again.

  This is going to be a piece of cake!

  The train was moving slowly down the track from his right to his left. The engine was now coming in line with the southernmost part of the open pit and was at a point closest to the people trying to get out of the mine. The back of the train was starting to be enveloped by those infected already lurking at the mine, while the group of trailing zombies was still a couple of hundred yards behind but closing quickly.

  It's now or never.

  A second turn of the key did no better. The truck started for a moment, then died. Only then did he look down and realize it was a stick shift.

  Are you kidding me?

  He looked down at the extra foot pedal on the floor. Purpose unknown. He had never learned to drive a stick. His parents had two cars with automatic transmissions.

  On an ordinary day with plenty of time, he knew he could figure it out. When zombies were pushing in from multiple directions and people's lives depended on the results—he decided not to risk it.

  He kicked open the door, scampered down the side, and ran back toward the train. On his right, the zombies were uncomfortably close. Again he dodged the few random infected between the trucks and the train. He would only have time to return to the truck one more time before the larger group was upon him. It all depended on finding someone who could drive a stick.

  Fortunately, he had a large fan base watching him, including Victoria and Jones—both had moved to the front ladder of the flatcar.

  “Can anyone drive a stick?” he yelled, out of breath.

  He looked at Victoria—it just seemed like that was how it would go—but he was surprised when Jones jumped down.

  “Let's go, man.”

  He gave Victoria a smile, then turned around with his big friend and started back.

  The man was big indeed, but fit for his size. After all, he was a police officer. But even with their combined speed, they made it to the truck just ahead of the leading zombies in the rear. Jones had to push one of them over to give himself room to climb.

  Once in the cab, Jones started the truck like a pro and pulled forward.

  “Look, kid, I got this. When we get up to the train, I'm going to pull up next to the rear car, and you're going to jump back on.”

  “I can help you!”

  “No doubt. But those people are going to need all the firepower they can get on the train. You have to hold them off,” he said while pointing to the arriving crowd of undead. “Once you do that, maybe you can clear as many of the zombies as possible between the survivors and the train. Wow, I can see the whole thing now that I'm in this seat.”

  Liam shared his perspective. It was obvious what had to be done. It involved running over a lot of sick, bloody, ruined people to save the healthy ones beyond.

  He wanted to stay with Jones because he felt it was his idea to use the truck, but he quashed his ego and acquiesced to the request to return to the train.

  Jones pulled out his radio as they neared the train.

  “This is Jonesy. I need you guys to coordinate some shooters to help clear a path for those people—and kill any zombies I miss when I drive through. Good luck. Out.

  “Good luck, kid. Get ready to jump.” Jones expertly maneuvered the truck alongside the flatcar, and he was able to step out of the cab while holding the door, and jump the couple feet over to the crowded platform. Many hands helped pull him in.

  Once he was safe, Jones slowed so the train would pass him on his right, then he turned to cross the tracks and accelerated along the right side of the train. It was all physics from that point.

  The train was about halfway off the property of the pit mine. The engineer stopped the train just as Jones turned toward the mine. She sounded the horn over and over for extra emphasis, drawing in friend and foe.

  Jones also laid into his horn as he started crushing zombies. The dump bed was empty, but the vehicle was so massive it had no problem handling the ever-greater number of infected it was pushing aside—and under. It was making a path as Liam had intended.

  The big dump truck started turning along the outermost ring of the spiral around the top of the mine. It moved almost directly away from the rail line and directly toward the mass of people pushing for the salvation of the train.

  He couldn't see exactly what was happening with the truck once it started moving away, but the bloody trail of downed zombies behind it told him enough.

  “Aw, man. We should have gotten several of those dump trucks working, and we could have cleaned up this mess!” Victoria said, as if realizing something important.

  He looked at the remaining bank of trucks with longing, but the trailing zombies were catching up to his car.

  He and Victoria moved as best they could through all the people huddled in the middle. Grandma was safely ensconced under the truck's axle, so they didn't have to worry about her. That was the only good news.

  Did they all follow us?

  With so many zombies converging on the back of the train, they would have to shoot to stay alive, no doubt about that. But all that shooting would lead to the dead stacking up under foot—which was how they almost climbed onto the flatcar the last time.

  What they needed was for the train to start moving again. That would have to wait until the people were rescued. In the meantime, everyone was in danger.

  The zombies arrived like the pull of a blanket over their heads.

  The shooting arrived with them.

  6

  As he suspected, there were a lot of new guns on the back of the train. Many of the people who came out of the coal cars had weapons, and they were anxious to get in on the action. As soon as the zombies shambled up to the back of the train, they plugged away at them. Before he could shout any warnings, it became impossibly noisy.

  He and Victoria tried to use their weapons from where they stood, but they were dismayed to realize there were too many bodies standing in front of them to even consider using a gun. The outside row recoiled inward from the tide of plague-driven zombies washing up at their feet. It was mere moments before the first victims were snatc
hed off the car and into the sea of hands, inciting panic among the remaining passengers as they pushed, pulled, punched, and clawed their way into the middle of the train car. Some tossed strangers off the edge to stay alive—it was a stampede smothered inside a murder-suicide.

  What was once going to be a heroic defense of the rear car, turned swiftly into a debacle of fratricide. Fearing they'd be tossed out, he grabbed Victoria's hand and pulled her back on top of him as he fell beneath the tractor-trailer near Grandma. She was packed in like a sardine in her section. He wondered if she was being hurt by all the struggling people.

  The most effective shooters, the ones inflicting the most damage, were at the rear. They had the most room, and because they grouped together in anticipation of the trailing zombies, they had plenty of time to prepare.

  In under a minute—much faster than his smaller group had done earlier—they had created enough carnage to stack the dead directly behind them. Like before, the zombies used their fallen comrades as a biological ramp to crawl up to the survivors. Hands grabbed at passengers’ legs. One shooter fell, then another. Then more.

  Within minutes, and despite the withering gunfire, the zombies were up on the flatcar, tearing through the rear contingent and moving forward. He looked at Victoria and saw the fear in her eyes.

  The tractor-trailer was parked so the legs holding it up were near the back of the rail car. That put about 80 feet, and 50 or so adults—only some with weapons—between them and the incoming wave.

  He caught sight of Grandma who was watching the whole thing unfold. She gave him a weak smile as she huddled with everyone else under the truck. Escape was impossible for her.

  “Liam,” Victoria shouted over the gunshots and screams, “can you call the engineer? We have to move this train, or we're going to be swamped.”

  “I don't know if she has a police radio up there. But I'll try.” He repeatedly tried to raise someone up in the front of the train. No one answered.

  He tried to get a look over to Jones and his effort with the dump truck, but there were too many faces staring back at him, blocking most of his view.