Since The Sirens Box Set | Books 1-7

by Isherwood, E. E.

The agent looked directly at Liam's face as if he was going to say something, but instead he reached into his pocket, pulled out a small camera, and snapped his picture. After capturing his quarry in digital format, he relaxed and continued. “Yes, the crisis is everywhere. The whole world is fighting the Double-E Virus in addition to the other problems of good governance.”

  Liam's reply was unusually quick “Oh, you mean like blocking escape routes and sending people back to be eaten by the zombies?” Victoria reached for Liam's arm, as if giving him strength. Or maybe holding him back.

  “Zombies? Is that what you're calling them, kid? Seems suitably juvenile. They aren't zombies from the movies. They're living people with a terrible disease. My—” He paused while seeming to think it over, “—superiors assure me a vaccine is being rushed through FDA approval even now. So relax. No one is going to be eating these people's brains. Though now they're going to be walking out into the countryside with no food, no water, and no medical supplies. Thanks to you.”

  What if he had sent them to their deaths to the south? Even without zombies to worry about, feeding this many people in a survival situation would probably be difficult. But some problems were bigger than others. “I came from the north. I've seen the infected, the zomb-eeeeeeees, killing people by the hundreds. I know it has to be safer outside the city than back up this highway with those things.”

  “Mr.—what's your name?”

  “This is my friend, Sam Stevens,” said Victoria, “he's my neighbor from over there,” she was pointing in a random direction, which luckily wasn't where Liam lived.

  “Sam, huh?” Agent Duchesne gave a tight-lipped grin. He made an expressive show of holding his camera in front of him, to let Liam know his photo would soon be plugged into the proper database and he'd then know everything about him, including his real name.

  “Shouldn't you guys be shredding hard drives or something right now?”

  The agent's response was predictable. He took a snapshot of her.

  “Give me a warning next time and I'll smile!” Victoria seemed to be enjoying herself.

  Without fanfare, the agent spun around, gathered his protection, and got back in his van. Liam wondered if he just made an enemy. He seemed suitably creepy and power-hungry, but in the light of day, it seemed ridiculous. “Making enemies” sounded like a Spy vs. Spy cartoon.

  I only wanted to help my fellow man. That can't be a crime, can it?

  Rather than being a cartoonish evil man shaking his fist at Liam, the agent was simply driving away. He gave no clues about what he would do next. In many ways, it was worse not knowing. He had no doubt that was by design.

  As the police blockade pulled back, Phil and Mark came up to meet Liam and Victoria once again. After explaining what they had done up on the bridge, Phil briefly explained what they'd been doing. “Liam, you're a genius. My solution was to gather everyone with a gun and move under the bridge in small groups, and then we were going to storm the backside of the roadblock with guns blazing.”

  Liam didn't know how to respond. The energy drained out of him after so much mental effort. He put his foot up on the side rail of the bridge, and looked down. Victoria had her hand on his arm, and leaned against him. Under the bridge, the mass of humanity continued to walk out of the city, many of nearest waved up as they slid out of view. He felt a sense of pride he helped make that happen. Then he saw that metal chicken again. It was lying off to the side, abandoned in a drainage ditch.

  Well, maybe someone learned something here today.

  Chapter 4: Home

  Marty watched as Liam bolted out of the SUV, bounded up to the front door, and rang the doorbell. She knew his keys were confiscated when he came to live with her.

  She took a hand from Victoria as she got out of the back seat. She'd spent a lot of time swishing back and forth over the vinyl seat, and her stomach was a little out of whack. She'd have to get something to eat fairly soon to keep up her strength. She wondered if she'd be able to keep it down.

  “Here Grandma, hold on to me and I'll walk you in.”

  “Thank you, dear. Give me a minute to stand here and rest before we walk up there.”

  The two women were separated by 87 years and a lifetime of experiences, but they did have one thing in common—a fondness for the young boy eagerly waiting to see his parents.

  “I haven't had a chance to thank you for helping me get Liam out of the city.”

  “Well, he handled himself pretty well. I didn't have to do too much.”

  Marty turned to give her a look. “My dear, you did the most important thing. You played it smart. That meant Liam didn't have to do anything stupid to try to rescue you. I tried to do the same, so he wouldn't have to get hurt rescuing me either. It was easier for me since all I could do was sit and hang on.” She chuckled at the image of her in that big wheelchair.

  She had an agreement with Victoria that, should Liam ever have to make a choice to save only one of them, it would be Victoria. Liam didn't know about it, and Marty wondered if Victoria would renege when things got down to it. She had already shown a willingness to lay down her own life—saving the rest of their lives back at the Arch—but in the future, such heroics could spur Liam to do just about anything to rescue her, no matter how dangerous. She knew Liam was becoming romantically interested, and Marty admitted she handled herself very responsibly in some pretty dangerous situations the past few days.

  I've met 100 young women that would be worse for Liam. Few better.

  “Do you really think there's a cure out there?”

  Marty cleared her throat. “Hmm, well, I feel like there's a cure. Someone made this virus. Someone must know how to fix it. Right?”

  Victoria seemed surprised. “How do you know someone made it? Did they say that on the news?”

  “When you get to be my age you just get a sense of things. There's a natural rhythm to life. I guess if this was a natural plague, the rhythm would be there. Deadly, yes, but part of nature. It wouldn't feel so overwhelming. But this. Walking dead? Does that sound like Mother Nature to you?”

  “I guess not. But why? Even if this was man-made, who would benefit from killing off the human race?”

  Marty actually laughed. For most of her life, she had avoided politics. Avoided conflict with family members sporting political views contrary to her own. But she read the papers. Watched the news channels. The world was full of bad people. Some were religious. Some were fiery political scions. Some were nations that just oozed evil. She formed opinions. Had thoughts on why bad things happened in the world. She could list a dozen groups that would benefit from throwing the world into chaos. Just as Jim Jones convinced his followers to drink poison, so too would many organizations willingly kill almost everyone on Earth to advance their sick goals. But she wasn't ready to unload all this onto Victoria. Wild speculation would do no one any good.

  “Oh, I could think of a few groups that wouldn't hesitate to kill off mankind, but the real question isn't who would do this. Instead, the question is, who could do this. A few grumpy men sitting in a bunker somewhere probably couldn't come up with a virus this destructive.”

  While they were talking, Liam had found a hidden key near the front door, and was walking in.

  “It looks like Liam made it in. Let's start up there, if that's OK?”

  “Sure, Grandma.” And then, “Do you think God would allow us to kill ourselves? Kill off the whole species homo sapiens?”

  They'd only been walking a few steps, but Marty stopped her at that question. “Oh dear. God gave us free will. Free will includes allowing us to do stupid things. Even stupid things that kill off the entire race. But God gave good women and men like you and Liam the ability to stop that from happening.” She pointed to the cross on Victoria's necklace. “You have to stay strong in your belief God is watching over you. He is helping you when you need helping. Never lose faith, no matter how dark the world gets. Those bad people—whoever they are—must be stopped.
”

  Victoria gave a little laugh as they started walking again. “You talk like Liam and I are going to save the world. We're just a couple of random kids. We aren't important. We can't be.”

  “That's where you're wrong. To some people, you two are the most important people in this world. They are counting on you—like I'm counting on you—to take it upon yourselves to take action. Stand with the light. Fight the dark. Save the world.”

  “What makes you so sure we can?”

  “Because if everyone waits for the perfect heroes to come along, the world dies waiting.”

  To underscore her point, Liam walked out the front door with a monotone announcement. “Mom and Dad have gone to your house, Grandma. If you can believe it, they went to rescue me.”

  Marty was looking at Victoria to see how she would handle the news, and was pleased to see a new look on her face. Resolve.

  Am I a bad person for manipulating her?

  Deep in her subconscious, Al was probably smiling.

  2

  Liam, Victoria, Phil, and Marty were all sitting comfortably in Liam's family room. The house itself was a modest ranch-style dwelling with a small floor plan. Therefore, the family room was quite cozy with all four sitting together. Grandma had found the recliner she favored. Liam and Victoria were sitting next to each other on a small loveseat, though they remained separated by a few throw pillows. Phil sat by himself on the large couch. They all shared a visible weariness after their days of being on the move. The problem of Liam's missing parents had been the subject of much discussion the last several minutes.

  Phil summed up the situation. “We know your parents left two days ago in your mom's car and headed into the city. We have no way of knowing whether they made it to Grandma's house and thus we have no way of knowing if they are on their way back. The only practical question is whether they would wait there for you to return or if they would assume this is where you'd go. Did you leave a note at her house saying where you were going?”

  It seemed so obvious now, but he admitted he never thought of leaving a note because he never dreamed anyone would go looking for him. He was only thinking of Grandma and himself.

  “Well, is there anywhere else they might look for you?”

  Liam wondered about other members of his extended family, some of whom lived near Grandma's neighborhood in the city. Were they still alive? Did they also go looking for her? Maybe there were a dozen family members in her house right now, all asking the same question about where Liam would have taken her. Would it be obvious? Liam admitted it never crossed his mind to take her to see other family members—even those who lived relatively close to her.

  “Any family member who knows me would probably agree the only place I would go is back home. My friends might be under the impression I would try to get to their houses—we kind of all discussed how we'd band together if zombies came—but if they knew I was with Grandma...they'd probably assume we died on the way.”

  “OK, so for now we have to assume your parents are going to come back here. Which means we have to decide what we're going to do in the meantime.” The question hung on the air for a long time.

  As they all sat together, the only sound to be heard was the soft tick tock of the analogue wall clock hanging near the kitchen. It reminded Liam of Grandma's clock hanging on her wall, and how it used to make him nervous to sit in the same room with her and always be aware of that clock ticking. Mocking his inability to interact with his oldest living relative. Fighting zombies and running from gunmen weren't nearly as hard as finding a common frame of reference with the old woman, at least before the collapse. Now they had plenty to talk about, and all of it was as important as life and death.

  “Grandma, what do you think we should do?”

  She let out a quick puff of air, like she'd been holding her breath waiting for his question. “Well, I think we have to stick to the basics. Take things one day at a time. We need some food. We need to rest. We need to get cleaned up. We're all covered in filth—look at poor Victoria—and we're all exhausted. The day is getting on. We should use the time to rest and look at things anew tomorrow morning.”

  Phil was in agreement. “I'm going to bring our gear into the house and pull the truck into the garage. No use making it known we have goodies for people to take. After we get some grub, I recommend we discuss security of the house overnight, go over some safety protocols, and have a basic plan of escape.”

  He did a double-take when he saw everyone was eying him like he was nuts. “What? I'm a police officer. It's in my blood.” He gave a little laugh at that, but then was serious. “Look, I know it sounds crazy, but this is dangerous. If a bad guy comes through that door, you can't call the police anymore to take care of it—OK, you folks can because I'm in your house—but you get what I'm saying, don't you? The only way to stay alive now is to be prepared, all the time. I told you earlier the bonds of civilization are coming off. Bad people are going to be coming out of the woodwork looking to capitalize. Our only hope is to—”

  He stopped to consider his next words. Liam figured he was going to say something like “stick together” or “stay positive” or some other platitude.

  “—kill potential threats as they present themselves.”

  Everyone remained silent for a few moments, the reality sinking in.

  Victoria said, “Are you saying we have to go around killing people? I have no problem killing zombies, but people?”

  “Imagine yourself captured by a registered sex offender who lives down the street. He knows the police will never come around again so he decides to have some fun. If you don't have a gun on you, and you can't run or get away, you're probably in big trouble. But if you have your gun on you, and you know how to use it, you can defend yourself. But here's the problem now. If you point your gun at him and tell him to get lost, what do you think he'll do next? Go home and cry in his pillow? If he didn't have a gun the first time, you can bet he will be armed the second time he goes out. I'm a sworn officer of the law—well I was—but, the way I see it, we have to accept the law is gone. The only thing that matters is survival. You have to kill threats immediately once they are clearly identified.”

  Victoria got up and left the room. She wasn't crying, but Liam knew why she was upset. “You couldn't have known, but looters did capture her in the Arch. She was unarmed. She ran up all the steps, all the way to the top, to keep them from nabbing Grandma and me. It was dumb luck she was rescued by the police. I told them where she was so they could keep their eyes open for her.”

  “Oh hell. I'm sorry. I need to go apologize.”

  “No. I'll go. Thank you, Phil. She won't hold it against you. But I'll go talk to her.”

  Phil leaned hard back into the sofa, looking even more tired.

  As Liam got up to find Victoria, he let the words tumble through his mind.

  Kill threats immediately.

  This dilemma is addressed in many different ways in a plethora of zombie books and movies, but there is no consensus. Letting bad people escape to fight another day almost always results in a more dangerous fight down the road. Killing bad guys without a trial never sits well with people of good conscience, but it does eliminate the short-term threats. One method keeps people safe. The other defers the danger. Liam thought he knew which was which, but as he walked in the hallway of his boyhood home he realized the choice wasn't so simple.

  There's no blueprint for the apocalypse.

  3

  He found Victoria in his room, poking around at all the little tchotchkes he had on his desk and shelves. She even found his messy nightstand, with a few personal effects littered about.

  “You know I was just joking when I said I'd show you my retainer!”

  She looked back at him and smiled weakly.

  She's exhausted.

  “Phil feels terrible about his example. He said to say he was sorry for causing you any pain.”

  “It's OK. He's right, of course
. That's what's so troubling to me. If I’d had a gun up in the Arch, I would have killed those guys with it. I'd have had a choice. But I never dreamed I'd become a murderer. Is that what we must become to survive? Murderers?”

  “You wouldn't have been murdering those thugs. It would have been self-defense. That is not murder. Big difference.”

  Victoria moved to sit on his bed. “Love the superheroes bedspread.”

  “Uggg. I'm so glad I put away all my dolls. Oops! Did I say that out loud?” He noticed his books near his bed and had an idea to change the subject. “You know, I'm sure we have a Bible somewhere around here. I could probably get you one that has the Old Testament, as well as the New, if you'd like?”

  Her reply surprised him. “No, I think I prefer the one you gave me. It's just perfect, Liam.”

  Liam sat down next to her. He still wasn't bold enough to put his hands on her, even though they'd briefly kissed earlier that day. It warmed his heart she wanted to keep the Bible he had found for her, but he felt compelled to revisit the murder question because it was so important for both of them.

  “Seriously Victoria, murder is completely different than self-defense. You can't hesitate if someone is truly intent to do you harm. Please don't ever hesitate to save yourself if you can.”

  Liam thought back to the early days of this crisis, when he froze several times, unable to adjust to the threats right in front of him. It almost cost him his life more than once.

  “But if all we do is go around killing bad people, doesn't that make us bad people too?”

  That was the ethical dilemma. If you kill out of necessity to prevent evil from doing harm to you and your loved ones, does it eventually catch up to you—make you evil? Does it depend on how many people you kill? For what reasons? Does it become easier the more you kill? That was his real fear. That killing would become routine and expected. That's why he preferred to think of zombies as a distinct species—no longer human. Deep down, he knew that wasn't true though. And if what Grandma said about a cure was true, it meant maybe even the zombies could be brought back. That could present some moral problems.