Since The Sirens Box Set | Books 1-7

by Isherwood, E. E.

  “You two are from St. Louis? You shouldn't even be here.” He seemed to make an effort to put part of the truck between himself and the two kids so as to avoid shaking hands. “My name is Jack Crosby. I'm a councilman up in Arnold, but you're right—we have to prevent further bloodshed.” His hand was twitching intensely.

  Whoa, this guy is baked!

  Liam asked, “Why this bridge?”

  Jack explained. “After the crowds swept over the bridges into Arnold and tore the place apart, people down south got scared. They made calls for help. Then I got a phone call from...” he paused for a long time. “I got my orders from...” He seemed unable to decide. “They gave me a hundred reasons why this roadblock made sense. Why the rioters couldn't be allowed to pass into the rest of the state of Missouri. Now, if you'll excuse me—”

  Liam could see the sweat beading up on his forehead.

  Victoria continued. “Sir, you realize what you're doing here is completely without hope, don't you? Just look at all the people who have already walked under this bridge.” She pointed further down the highway. “A thousand men with machine guns couldn't turn this entire crowd around. Not without killing them all. That's not what you want to do here today, is it?”

  His pause was a heartbeat too long for Liam's taste, but the man conceded cold-blooded murder was not why he was there.

  “I do have orders though. I have to try.”

  “Orders from whom?”

  Jack ignored Liam, fidgeting with the controls of the sound system.

  “Orders from whom!”

  The speakers went live as Jack turned toward the crowd.

  3

  “ATTENTION FELLOW CITIZENS!”

  Liam and many nearby officers flinched. Jack reduced the volume to a more tolerable level. Still loud enough to hear it well down the highway. The crowd was standing still and quieting down. A minor miracle.

  “My name is Jack Crosby. I work for the city government. I know y'all are tired and thirsty and are looking for help—”

  Victoria whispered to Liam, remarking that ol' Jack neglected to say which city he was from. She gave Liam a wink. An Arnold city official would not be popular right now.

  “—but by decree from the Jefferson County Sheriff’s Department, I order you to return to your homes and await further instructions.”

  No surprise that the crowd erupted in screaming and shouting. He was still talking, but no one was listening. If there had been cars on the highway the crowd would have already turned them over and set them alight. They were in riot mode, though still not willing to give the roadblock a go head-on. Liam looked around at the men and women on the bridge, and saw them eying their rifles.

  Jack dropped the microphone and walked away. He appeared to be rubbing his hands—was he literally washing his hands of this? Liam and Victoria were left standing there.

  Should I pick up the microphone and say something to these people? What would I say?

  The question hung heavy on Liam. Could he insert himself between these people and a government politely requesting they go home and die? What would he be authorized to say? Come to my place. I have chips? The responsibility of touching that microphone was huge. He had a new respect—sort of—for the sweaty politician currently fading into the background of this scene.

  His answer would have to wait. A black van slowly moved from the assembly area and glided into position just behind the speaker-truck. It had no markings of any kind, not even manufacturer badges. Three men emerged from the back door.

  Government men.

  It was obvious two of the men were working security for the third. The two large men on the flanks wore equally large black rifles with oversized scopes, slings of ammo, bulky vests, dark sunglasses, and ear pieces. Liam saw their type in numerous action movies. They moved with that cat-like grace big men carry when they are true professionals at their craft. Probably ex-military. The guy they were protecting was dressed exactly as you'd expect from a G-man type. Black slacks. White shirt. Sport jacket over the shoulder. Smart tie around his neck. Mirror shades. The only incongruity was the brown cowboy boots. Maybe that's how they did it in the corn fields of Missouri?

  Mirror man walked directly up to the microphone, picked it up, and pinged it one time for a mic check. He had slicked back jet-black hair, was clean shaven, and looked to be about fifty. His face was otherwise average, but he came across as a man who was supremely focused on his task. Not once did he look at Liam, Victoria, or anyone else on the bridge.

  “Hello.” He spoke into the microphone. “Hello,” he calmly repeated.

  If he didn't see it happen, Liam wouldn't have believed the crowd could actually be “talked down” from the foam-in-the-mouth fury they expressed minutes earlier. Slowly, the crowd stepped back from the edge of chaos. Merciful silence was returned.

  “I'm Special Agent in Charge Duchesne. I'm with the Department of Homeland Security.”

  The two security men happened to be standing precisely where Liam could see both of them at the same time. He thought he noticed the slightest glance to their leader from both of them.

  “My job here today is to help protect you citizens in this time of crisis. I know you're scared.” He paused to let that sink in. “I know many of you have walked through some ugly situations—including roadblocks set up by idiots like Jack back there.” He was pointing over his shoulder. Jack was probably running for his life now. “I'm here as part of the Federal effort to ensure our citizens get the best care their federal family can provide. We're all in this together.”

  The agent went on; a very accomplished speaker taking control of the situation. The crowd heard what they wanted to hear. Someone in charge who was going to tell them what to do. Agent Duchesne began listing facts and figures about survival rates in the city, locations of FEMA hospitals, and even said the US Army had a brigade of troops moving up this very highway from their base in Arkansas to help protect them. He then began listing resources they had set up for food disbursement throughout Jefferson County. Liam wanted to believe it. The government was here to help, right?

  “And we're working on the vaccine for the sickness. That will be given out at the FEMA centers. You just have to turn around.”

  Victoria looked at Liam, apparently studying what she saw on his face. “You don't believe him, do you? What he's saying is horse hockey. You know that, right? We didn't pass any food distribution centers and we've been all over the place. Have you heard of a vaccine?”

  No, but I want to believe.

  Liam looked down at the crowd while he was digesting. Something amazing had happened. They were all standing there talking to each other, as if they were discussing the weather. Did they believe what the agent had told them? Stuck between false hope and hopelessness, they seemed to be selecting false hope. They had to know it was all a long shot. An impossible shot.

  Don't get involved. This is for the adults to handle.

  He found himself wishing his dad was there. He'd know just what to say to make this situation resolve itself satisfactorily. He desperately wanted to avoid being the one making the decisions.

  Get involved. You can't let this happen.

  He thought of the teens pushing the chicken. Who would speak for them? He looked down into the crowd and saw women, children, the elderly. Would they really turn around because this guy said it was the right thing to do?

  Yes, but don't get involved. Someone else will save the day.

  The agent carried on with more soothing words. All lies.

  Why is no one stepping up? I can't be the only one seeing this? Where is Mark? Phil?

  He knew they were somewhere below, but he had no idea what they were actually doing down there. He was supposed to be the diversion for them, but they didn't seem to be doing anything to divert.

  Don't do it. Don't get involved.

  Do it. These people need someone giving them the honest truth.

  BUT IT COULD GET YOU KILLED!


  Worse. You could get them killed.

  Liam squeezed Victoria's hand, stepping forward.

  If I do nothing now, I kill them. I know that in my heart.

  To his relief, Victoria didn't let go.

  4

  Liam wasn't that far from the man speaking, so he didn't have much time to think what he was going to do. He realized he probably should have thought of that before he committed himself. Was he going to push the man aside and heroically begin a speech as if he were George Washington? Maybe organize the police to hurl the man over the side of the bridge so the crowd could “have at him.” That's how they do it in the movies.

  Reality was less structured. There were two guards with guns standing right there. Not to mention the other fifty police officers. He took a few steps forward toward the side rail of the bridge—it was a wall of concrete about three feet tall. The police had set up some steel cases at various points on the bridge—ammo crates?—and he hopped up to the one nearest him. People down below could clearly see what he was doing. Victoria stood next to and underneath him, but still held his hand.

  He did the first thing that came to his mind and began wildly flailing his arms as if trying to get the attention of someone way back in the crowd. He thought he might start screaming “This man is a liar!” but he thought it might only antagonize the agent. Better to be seen as a confused kid than a man with a plan.

  “Dad! Dad! Can you see me?” he shouted.

  Where am I going with this?

  The agent halted his speechifying, unable to ignore the young man to his left gesticulating and yelling in a crazed fashion. It gave Liam the opening he didn't know he was looking for. “Hey! Can I use that microphone? I see my sick dad over there!”

  Not too thick, you fool.

  The agent was clearly processing this new information, and was reaching a conclusion Liam wasn't going to like. He turned around from the crowd and gestured to one of his guards using the “finger across the throat” motion. Then he pointed to Liam.

  He looked twenty feet below to those closest to him on the roadway. In that instant, he saw a family of four and knew what to say. “I have information that could save your lives, but this man won't let me speak. Help me!” Liam was yanked off the crate and was subdued forcefully to the ground by one of the guards. He could no longer be seen by the crowd, but Victoria began shouting at the security guy to let him up, insisting they were hurting Liam. She was putting on a show for those below.

  With a knee in his back, he was unable to continue watching her. He was looking at the cigarette butts, chewing gum, and other debris on the pavement of the bridge near his face when he heard the chanting from below.

  “Let him speak!”

  “Let him speak!”

  “Let him speak!”

  Liam knew as soon as he'd heard it he'd won the first round of this battle. The people down below would not stop until they knew the kid on the bridge was safe and was allowed to speak. The chant went on for another sixty seconds before the agent finally relented.

  The security agent simply removed himself from Liam's back. He was left lying there to collect himself. Victoria pulled him up. She had a nervous look on her face, but also the makings of a smile. “You better go talk to your dad,” she said with a wink.

  That's it. Victoria was a genius.

  Liam resumed his story when he got up, this time speaking to the agent in charge as he moved his way. “I just need to get a hold of my dad and I'll be out of your hair. I have information that could save his life.” It was a thin transition from what he had told the people down below, but it was all he had.

  Liam could see Agent Duchesne was a smart guy, and that they were both walking a precarious line with the mass of frightened humanity below. If Duchesne wanted this crowd to turn around, he'd have to allow Liam “the frightened kid” time to call for his dad. Similarly, Liam would have to speak in a way that wouldn't be threatening to the very driven agent.

  “You have sixty seconds to hail your dad,” the agent said, in a very quiet voice, as he passed him the microphone for the large speakers. “Thank you, sir. Thank you!”

  Just a dumb kid here, uhh yep.

  Liam pinged the mic once as he stood right up against the guard railing again. No crates to stand on this time. “Hello! I'm talking to my dad out there in the crowd. I saw him just a moment ago way back there,” he pointed over the crowd emphatically, as if the father were real.

  “Dad, if you can hear me, I want you to know these are some good men and women up here. These police officers are here to help you survive this crisis. They have taken an oath to serve and protect you. You can count on them to be good and true to their oath. A good man, Captain Osborne of the Missouri Highway Patrol, sacrificed his life to save me and many others as we escaped the infected in downtown St. Louis.” Liam didn't know what he was doing, but he wanted to let the police officers know he was on their side and that they should be on the side of the crowd. It would matter because of what he was going to say next.

  “But even good men can make bad decisions. You can't turn around. Not ever! I'll tell you why if you give me a chance!”

  Liam knew the agent would be fuming, and looking back at him, he wasn't disappointed. Would the agent decide to cut him off now? Shoot him in the back? Seemed a bit too dramatic. Better to ask forgiveness than permission. He continued—

  “Here's what you need to know, dad. This roadblock was set up to turn you all back, but there's no help back there. None. No army units coming to help. No FEMA hospitals. No—” He felt himself drifting, unsure.

  Hey look, you're talking to all these people. Not scared, are you?

  Liam recovered with a quote. Ironically it was one taught to him by his real father, not the fictional one standing out in the great crowd below him. “A great President once said, we shouldn't ask what our country could do for us, but what we could do for our country. I say we need to get back to basics and simply ask, what can we do for ourselves!” The crowd seemed to be warming. “We're Americans, dammit! We do what's right even when the chips are down. Even when society itself is collapsing. That's what you always taught me, dad.”

  Some cheers and affirmation from the crowd now.

  “Look around you. Look what you've been through. Do you know where you're going? We're all lost right now. The people on this bridge are lost, same as you. Which is why we have to stick together if we have any chance to ride this thing out.”

  For the life of him, Liam couldn't think of what to say next. He wasn't a speechwriter. He could see the crowd was reacting positively to his message, but what was actionable? Platitudes were nice, but if they couldn't go home, where could they go? He had new appreciation for why the councilman was running from this problem at top speed.

  So, he once again said the best thing he could, hoping it was enough.

  “Dad, four days ago I walked out my front door with Grandma Marty—she's 104 years old, by the way, for all you who don't know her—and we went downtown because traffic was stopped on the highways heading south. The situation at the Arch was...horrible.” Liam noticed the crowd was listening in utter silence. “Tens of thousands of people were protected by the desperate acts of heroism by soldiers and police. But there were also people like you, just average everyday people, manning the barricades against the—infected.” Liam hesitated to use the Z-word, as it tended to scare people. “We survived for a time. But then the bad people came. No, not the infected. I'm talking about bad humans. Looters. Criminals. Hoodlums. They tried to take over the Arch, killing anyone in their way. They beat up my girlfriend. They would have killed us all if not for the St. Louis police department. I mentioned Captain Osborne. He led us all out of that disaster and made sure we were safely moving south before he was killed by one of the bombs from the Air Force.” Liam looked down and could see most people were still listening. Certainly there was there some kind of message here?

  “You, my friends, have to take char
ge of your own lives or people like this,” Liam was pointing over his shoulder at the silent G-man, “are going to herd you around like sheep until you fall down dead.”

  How do I end this?

  “Dad, look in the crowd. There are leaders among you. There are police officers. Farmers. School teachers. Every ingredient you need to survive. It can't be done by killing, stealing, or other lawlessness. It can't be done by killing the men on this bridge, nor can it be done by killing the people under this bridge.”

  Will the police understand I'm talking to them?

  Was that a good ending? Only one thing left to do. Liam made a theatrical turn to the people on the bridge. He had spent days with the police. He didn't fear them. “My friends up on this bridge, your oath is to serve and protect these people. I ask you now, will you let these folks pass so they have a chance at living another day, or will you force them to go back to certain death in St. Louis?”

  Much like on TV, there was a long dramatic pause.

  5

  Liam held his breath. Really. He fully expected the agent to sic his two guard dogs on him, then pull him screaming and kicking into their van, and “disappear” him. The law enforcement people would start shooting at the crowd to make them disappear as well. End of problem.

  The police did exactly what he hoped. They removed their officers from the highway below. The refugees started to pass under the bridge once again. It was the only thing they could do with a clear conscience, just as Liam had gambled.

  Instead of shooting him in the back, the agent came up to Liam and began talking. He had regained his composure and was using a low voice, as if they were sharing a moment between old friends. “I commend you for your methods. You were able to win the crowd with your deceptions. I underestimated you, kid. I assure you that will never happen again.”

  “Thank you, sir. The only reason I had to step up and mimic your methods was because they believed your lies. There's no help coming is there?”

  He made no effort to answer.

  “Can you at least tell me if this crisis is all over the country?”