Liam was exasperated, and wanted to snap back, but held his tongue. His whole life was based on the reinforcement of the idea the government could always be counted on to make things worse. They always brought problems, and never solutions. His dad even had a plaque to commemorate government incompetence! Why were these people not seeing it? Even the plague itself was testament to the inability of those in charge to protect its citizens. That right there should be proof enough.
“We'll have to talk it over, but my recommendation would be to wait and see what they want and then reconvene once we have more information.” That was from the guy with only his Scout hat as his uniform.
Liam took it as his cue. “Look. You guys have no reason to believe me, but everything I've seen over the past week suggests the government as we knew it is gone. Down at the Arch, I saw pretty much the entire St. Louis PD destroyed. On our way south, we witnessed the destruction of the Arnold Police Department, along with the pillaging of the whole town of Arnold. If the police from those two jurisdictions are gone forever, how many other police units have suffered similar fates? Every book I've ever read about the Zombie Apocalypse says law and order will never come back after something this big.”
He'd said the wrong thing. He knew it the moment it left his tongue.
The chuckles spelled it out for him, but hat-guy put the exclamation on it.
“Kid, this isn't one of your stories. This isn't the Apocalypse, zombie or otherwise. There are just a lot of sick people out there and it has overwhelmed social services. Everything will come back, just give it time. All we have to do is sit tight and hope the plague doesn't overrun this camp, too.”
Liam felt his hackles rising.
“Do you even know what a zombie looks like? 'Cause I've been hip deep in their ranks. I've seen them up close and I've killed scores of them.” Maybe a slight exaggeration. “They aren't people with a cold. They aren't people with Ebola, Extra Ebola, or whatever. They're people who have died and gotten back up. Call them plaguers, zombies, sickos—it doesn't matter. Things are much more serious than you seem to understand.”
Mr. Lee put his hand on his shoulder, signifying he'd said enough. “Thank you, Liam.” Then, to the others, he said, “I move we help Liam and his grandma hide in the woods while these strangers are at our front gate. If they want to search the place, let them. This will protect the camp from being accused of harboring anyone, and it will help a boy and his grandmother from being taken again as captives. I think we all win.”
The others considered the motion; the old-timer brought it to a vote.
“Everyone who wishes to protect these folks by helping them hide, raise your hands.”
It was unanimous. Even Mr. Lee had his hand up.
Liam was surprised to see he'd been talking to a member of the council the whole time.
3
“I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was on the council before we went in there. I felt it had to appear authentic and I didn't want you to think it was a slam dunk. They needed to hear from you instead of just from me.”
“No problem. I'm glad they're helping, but I really do think they have some wrong impressions about what's going on in the wider world. Your valley here is a nice place, but if they don't prepare for the worst, it's going to come in and bite them hard. All books aside, it's a lesson I've learned myself walking from the city out to the suburbs.”
“You might be surprised if I told you what my role is here in the camp. Security. I've walked the perimeter with my patrols. I've seen plaguers and zombies. I know what you say is true.”
“Then why didn't you tell them?”
“I've been telling them for days. But you saw them. Old. Soft. Civilians. They're good Scout leaders, but they aren't good Scouts, if that makes any sense? They arrived here at the beginning, before it got really bad. I won't say they've been hiding, but none of them have been out in the woods to see what's been going on. They look out their windows and see us all cooperating, singing songs, and figure we've done just fine for ourselves in holding things together. They're waiting for the outside to return to normal.”
“So, they have their heads in the sand?”
Mr. Lee only smiled.
They stopped in one of the rooms which contained medical supplies. Stacked against one wall were a few dozen poles with canvas wrapped around them. Liam had no idea what they were until Mr. Lee pulled one out and opened it. “We'll use this stretcher to get your grandma out into the woods. You remember the tower from your time here? That will be the perfect place to wait this out.”
Liam was surprised by his statement.
“You're going with us?”
“Me and several of my friends. We Scouts have to stick together. Plus, it will be a good training exercise for one of the perimeter teams I'm building. Unlike council, I'm preparing for the worst.”
“Zombies?”
“They're bad, no doubt about it, but they're far from the worst. Unless they start running, they're easy to catch and kill with the right tools and with the right people defending us. No, my fears are the thieves, murderers, looters, and other humans up to no good.”
“You aren't going to stop them with pointy sticks.”
“No. I'd love to get some more guns, but until then, we do what we can.”
They started jogging back to the camp. Mr. Lee was big enough to carry the stretcher over one shoulder.
As they ran, Liam realized the Gatling had gone silent. Had they run out of ammo? Were they even now at the front gate? He knew it wasn't logical, but he was worried Hayes was already taking Grandma from her tent.
When they arrived, Grandma was safely where he'd left her. “Grandma, wake up!”
It took a few minutes to rouse her and get her ready for their walk. Mr. Lee went back out to gather his team. He also sent runners to find people and items he needed. They were going to meet at Liam's tent as fast as they could organize. The efficiency impressed Liam greatly.
If the whole world was made of Boy Scouts, would we be in this mess at all?
He wanted to give the boys their due, but he remembered the leaders were less than he'd hoped. Maybe leaders were just normal people, doing average work. A select few rose to any challenge, making them shine, like Mr. Lee. If Liam had run into any of the other six on the committee when they'd first arrived, he thought—perhaps a bit unfairly—he and Grandma would already be moving on to somewhere new. Once again, luck was his friend.
They were standing around with Drew and a few younger boys, explaining what it was they were about to do.
“Can I come with you, Liam?” Drew was one Scout Liam would be happy to have along. Liam wondered what he was like in a fight. That was quickly becoming the gold standard for making friends in the world of zombies. Can this person help me survive or will he or she get me killed? Every book on zombies—movies too—showed how the wrong mix of people would be the death of any group. Liam called the phenomenon “Being that guy.” The guy that falls asleep while on watch. The girl that refuses to believe her boyfriend has really changed. The man who loses his mind and shoots people instead of zombies. “That guy” was always the first chink in the armor leading to the downfall of any group of survivors.
His science teacher would call that a conundrum. Humanity needs groups of survivors of a sufficient size to hold off the zombies and work together to rebuild. But if the group gets too large, the capacity for “that guy” to manifest himself and ruin the whole thing grows, too.
Drew didn't seem like the weak link. “It's fine with me, but we should see what Mr. Lee says. He's building a specific group for this adventure.”
That seemed to mollify him, but events were moving fast. From his vantage point on the wooded hillside, Liam could see the trucks moving along the valley road. One MRAP and two Humvees. “Drew, will you help me with this stretcher? We have to move now. Those trucks are nearly here. They might spot us.”
Unless they were very unlucky, the odds of being sp
otted with so many other campers around seemed pretty low. They also had some additional cover from the trees. Still, Liam felt moving out was better than waiting around to see if Hayes got out and walked right to them by random chance.
Leave nothing to chance. Thanks for drilling that into me, Dad.
“Grandma, I need you to lay down on this stretcher. Drew and I are going to carry you into the woods to hide. Mr. Lee should be back soon and he'll join us.”
Marty had done enough things the past week well out of her routine; she was able to roll with anything, it seemed. In just a couple of minutes, they were moving into the woods out of the camp.
A very young Scout was selected to tell Mr. Lee they'd started up the trail.
They were joined by four pre-teen boys who insisted on coming along as security. Their sharp sticks seemed menacing enough, though Liam had serious reservations they would be able to hold off a significant number of zombies. Or a single bad guy with a gun.
Still, you go with the army you have. Not the one you wish you had.
That sounds like a dad quote too.
He began walking up the trail with his mates, the fate of his parents foremost in his mind.
4
The Boy Scout reservation was an island of undisturbed forest nestled in the suburbs of St. Louis. It was bounded on the north by the interstate Liam and Grandma had crossed. In the west, it was bounded by a small blacktop road. On the east and south sides, it was bounded by suburban homes. Because it was ringed by fairly sizable hills, the valley was shielded against easy access by the zombie waves coming out of the city. They stuck to the highways and main roads, where prey was more accessible. Still, the miles of forest on the reservation was an excellent place to get lost—or hide.
On a nearby tree-covered hilltop, the Scouts had constructed a three-story wooden watchtower with stairs leading from one level to the next. Each twelve-foot by twelve-foot level was empty but bounded by a slatted railing, like you'd find on a backyard deck. It provided a convenient destination as it was essentially the only structure built outside the main valley. But it was a bit of a joke as a watchtower because it was built inside the canopy of trees, making it useless for any function but walking up and down stairs for exercise. Nothing beyond the hilltop itself could be seen through the full foliage of the trees.
The path leading up to the summit was steep but well-traveled, making it easy to keep a steady pace the whole way for the boys. They only needed to set Marty down a few times on the mile-long ascent. When they reached the tower, they helped her walk up the three steps to the first level and then sat her down on the top step.
“How are you, Grandma? How do you feel?”
“Oh I'm fine, Liam. Our walk over the hills earlier today took a lot out of me, but I'm doing OK. This time, going up the hill was much easier, thanks you strong young men.”
The younger boys immediately went to the top level of the tower, as every Scout before them had done—laughing and hollering the whole way up. It wasn't long before they came back down, in complete silence. “There are plaguers over the hill!” They were quiet, but forceful in the statement.
Liam and Drew went to the top level to confirm the report. Indeed, there was another wooded valley on the far side of the hill, narrower but otherwise similar to the one they'd just escaped. Zombies had found their way into the woods and were meandering around the open spaces down the hill.
“Yep, zombies are here.”
Most of them were in the valley. But some were moving up the hill, directly toward them. Did they see the kids running and laughing as they went up the tower?
Why can't I just have a nice relaxing afternoon?
He and Drew moved back down to the bottom level. For now, the zombies were out of sight.
“Grandma, we might have some company.”
“Oh dear.”
Drew and Liam hashed through their options. They could continue to carry Grandma around the woods, hoping to elude the zombies, but other than the trail back down the hill toward Hayes, there were no others. If they went off the trail, it would make carrying her difficult in the sloping terrain and dense underbrush.
“We could go back down to camp and try hiding.” Drew presented this as a question.
The only other option was to stick it out at the tower, hoping if any zombies made it up the hill, it wouldn't take much to put them down. His concern was for the safety of the boys he'd brought along. If the zombies trapped them on the tower, or if there were more zombies in the woods than they could immediately see, it could be the end of them all. Liam didn't want that responsibility.
One of the boys tapped Liam on the shoulder. “Liam, look over there. A plague—I mean, a zombie!”
The creature was walking along the path they'd just come up, cutting them off from the relative safety of the tent city. It was just one, but there could be more. Almost certainly were.
“OK, we'll stay put. If we're quiet, they may leave us alone. That will give Mr. Lee time to get here and then we'll see whether we need to fight or not.”
Ten minutes later, he knew things were not going to be peaceful and quiet. Several zombies came up the hill, almost invisible in the underbrush until they were a stone's throw away. They made for the group sitting on the first level of the tower. He watched as the first wave of them made enough noise to pull in those behind them.
Liam had his little hand gun, with a few rounds in the magazine, but he knew it was only useful as a last resort. It wasn't a loud gun by any definition, but it did make a distinctive crack that would be unmistakable if anyone within earshot was listening for it. If they were going to do this, he didn't want to survive only to see Hayes coming up the other side of the hill.
“OK, Drew and I will be the first line of defense. We'll stand here at the top of these steps and use our sticks to...impale...any zombies that come up to us.” He blanched at the thought of all the blood it would create. He knew it had to be done. “Can two of you guys give us your sticks?”
After taking the sticks of the two volunteers, he asked them to pull the two wooden poles out of the stretcher canvas and sharpen one end of each. They would make perfect spears. Each boy whipped out a pocket knife and set upon the stretcher as if their lives depended on it. The remaining two boys with their sharp sticks were to patrol the first floor behind Liam and Drew, ensuring none got over the railing around the platform. Marty was moved to the second level. Liam didn't think they would create a stack of dead zombies on this hilltop, but he knew better than to assume.
As he watched the handful of zombies appear out of the brush, he thought back to the experiment he'd seen with the zombies from Chicago. Those could climb. What kind of trouble would they be in here if these zombies happened to have come from a bus full of Chicago natives? He gripped his small spear a little tighter.
“Hey guys, if you see anything unusual, like they start climbing over the railing, let us know. Expect the unexpected!” There were five visible zombies now, all within about twenty yards of the tower.
What am I forgetting?
Drew drew first blood.
He was closest to the lead zombie. He braced himself, watched the pacing of the plainly dressed man, and plunged his light spear directly into its eye. He almost fell forward as the zombie tumbled backward. His stick was stuck inside the brain pan. Liam had to turn sideways to hold Drew, and Drew held tight to his weapon as it slid out with a wet slurping sound. He fell backward and pulled himself up the steps on his backside.
Liam couldn't help himself. His stomach was empty, but he threw up anyway.
The next zombie pulled up as his mate thudded to the ground.
Since Liam was the most prepared, he called out he would take it. He too braced his feet and readied himself for the impact, but when the zombie arrived his head moved higher than Liam anticipated, and the point of his stick went through the left side of his throat and neck. The profuse bloodletting caused him to throw up again, even as he
wrestled with the stick to pull it out for another thrust. The zombie was not cooperating.
He's going to pull me.
Liam was about to release his stick and let the zombie take it when Drew launched his own spear for his second kill. His aim was true, and another eye puncture ended the conflict abruptly. Together, they were able to pull their weapons out and return to the top of the three-step flight.
Looking at what they'd just done with the spears, he imagined them as stakes, and the zombies as vampires—he'd just put a stake through the proverbial heart of these creatures. He and Victoria had wondered whether it was more appropriate to call these things vampires. They consumed blood like a vamp, and they could be killed with one swift blow to the head with a stake. The only difference he could see was that he didn't have to aim for its heart. Of course, he'd never had the time to experiment with where else a stake might kill a zombie—he'd just assumed, based on the literature, to aim for the head. Perhaps it was all academic anyway. As far as he knew, he was pretty much the only person who cared what the things were called. Most people simply called them infected or sick or plaguers.
He was desperately tired after his first encounter. The adrenaline was pumping hard, but his exertion at holding the spear while the zombie thrashed left him exhausted. He wasn't going to complain. Three other zombies were making their plays, and as one of the older boys, he had to do his duty.
The most distant zombie appeared to be going for the far side of the tower, where one of the younger boys would have to deal with it from behind the relative safety of the railing. The other two were closer, and heading for the same opening as the pair before.
The two dead zombies were sprawled on the ground just below the steps, the beginnings of the inevitable pile. Currently, they served as tripwires for the walking horrors now approaching. Rather than step around the bodies, the zombies tried to step on them. It was as if they couldn't be bothered to take a slightly longer route to the humans directly in front of them. It was their literal and figurative downfall.
Since The Sirens Box Set | Books 1-7 Page 50