Since The Sirens Box Set | Books 1-7

by Isherwood, E. E.

  “Mom said wait for help. There was help here. Follow the crowds.” She talked to herself to steel her soul for what she was about to do.

  Still, she waited.

  Just one more minute.

  And then someone came inside the door. More like she bounced off the door and fell inside. The blood from the thing splashed violently all over the dashboard.

  Indigo was no longer herself.

  She saw a hand that looked exactly like hers open the door, then slam it shut. The thing in her mother's seat looked at her, but she ignored what it was.

  Run girl, run!

  3

  The first mistake she appreciated was forgetting her shoes. She'd been in the car so long she'd long since kicked off her fancy sandals to stay comfortable in the cramped space.

  That, however, was minor compared to her second mistake.

  “This is unreal,” she shouted.

  She had only made it fifteen feet from her car when she looked inside the white van they'd been following. A young woman's face was squished up against the glass near the back seats. Her hair was a bloody, clumpy, mess. Long strands had been pasted with the sticky red glue so as she leaned forward her hair stuck to the glass. It made it appear she had the wind in her hair.

  Others inside the van were thrashing about. She'd gotten too close. She didn't dare look at them. Instead, she squatted down and moved past it at a tentative pace. There was so much going on, she didn't know what to do.

  “I could run back with momma. Take care of her.”

  You'd die.

  “I could just go back up the ramp, get out of the pit.”

  You'd die.

  “Hide?”

  You'd die.

  “Well dammit, what do you want me to do?”

  She answered her own question when she looked down to the mouth of the mine. Everyone who could run headed for it. The lights of the cars down there were strobing as people ran through their beams.

  Even on her section of road, the stream of people running downhill continued to swell. All cars had stopped.

  In the distance, she heard a train horn. And, o' happy day, the sun would soon be up. Almost in a blink, she realized the light of day was creeping into the spiral of death around her.

  She took off. Down.

  A few minutes went by and another man fell from the sky. He landed just short of a large RV parked on the narrow road. He'd come from twenty or thirty feet above and crumpled before her eyes. She slowed just enough to see the man's head tilt toward her. The bones of his legs had shattered and looked like a sick broom with the bristle-shards projecting from his calves.

  “Better luck next time, loser.” Her resolve improved as she continued to run in the wide circle, nearing the bottom as the light of the sun drenched the upper crust of the far side of the quarry like hot butter on a bagel.

  Her stomach complained as she thought about it.

  More train horns. It was approaching the quarry, though she was too far down to know from which way. She was near the flats at the bottom, but took the time to look at the road she'd just come down. People continued to enter the mine on the top tier—they ran along the edge for the most part—though some tried to go back out as they saw what they were getting into.

  Gunfire had become commonplace throughout the night as well. She couldn't remember when it started. It just was. Now the chatter was constant.

  She told herself that was her third mistake of the young morning. Without a weapon, she was as helpless as a new babe against the sort of horrible people she'd seen arguing with the people in the van. And now the people in the van. And the not-dead jumper. And the person in her mom's seat. They'd been ruined by some kind of sickness.

  “Think. You have to think.”

  She steadied herself against the back of a black jeep Wrangler. The truck had the plastic windows and cloth top, making it dead simple to look inside. The answer stared her in the face.

  It took five minutes to scramble inside the unlocked Jeep, figure out how to get into the tight back seat, and then unscrew the bolts to free the offroader's jack. She threw it out the door, and jumped out after it.

  It was too heavy to carry as it was, but she figured out how to remove the base and the other non-essentials. The pace of people running by dwindled...which made her body scream in fear. But her mind kept her on task.

  “You can do this. This is your ticket, girl.”

  After too much time, she had what she needed. The narrow metal bar for the jack was about four feet long, made of heavy steel, and it had holes along the length which made it lighter and gave it the appearance of a small ladder. She picked it up and felt its weight.

  She was very short for her age, but very strong.

  “Look out world, I'm a teen dynamo!”

  She swung the metal bar from side to side, testing her agility with it, and felt pretty proud for equipping herself with something useful.

  She looked again in the Jeep, hoping against hope for a pair of shoes.

  That's when a pudgy middle-age man ran up from behind her and shoved her hard into the open door.

  “Give me that!” His eyes were crazed, and only saw the red bar she'd set next to her.

  But the man was winded and clumsy in his efforts. Though she was surprised, she wasn't injured. She adeptly grabbed the bar and let it fall to the ground. She then stepped around the door, reached down to the bar and picked it up. In the amount of time that took, another man—one of the sick ones—had run up behind the first.

  She stood up, weapon at the ready, and watched in disbelief as the blood splashed all over the glass of the open door. She lurched to avoid it before realizing the window was closed.

  She ran from the screams of the man.

  She ran from screams of the roadway above her.

  Into the earth.

  The screaming continued there, but at least she had a weapon. And she resolved that not one person would ever stop her from surviving whatever came next.

  The lights of the tunnel were bright into the distance, but a long flicker caused everyone to scream wildly.

  Everyone but her.

  4

  Marty woke from her nap with a start. The feel of the electricity in her head faded fast.

  She struggled to find her rosary. The dreams felt more real than ever, and while she suspected all these visions of the girl who left with Liam were merely her imagination playing tricks on her, she couldn't help feel there was something more to it. The girl—Blue, Saffron, Indigo, whatever she called herself—was dangerous.

  Sadly, she couldn't pick up the phone and warn him.

  Chapter 11: Voices in the Dark

  “I found something,” whispered Victoria.

  “A flashlight?”

  “No, something better. I think it's a tire changer tool.”

  She showed it to him by holding it up in the faint light coming from far behind. It was a piece of steel about twenty inches long, shaped like the letter L. On the short end, it had a fitting to remove the lug nuts from a wheel. On the other—

  “Oh yeah. It's sharp.” He heard the smile in her voice, though her face remained masked in deep shadow. They'd found a few cars with working lights, but as they continued further into the industrial mine's tunnel they had trouble finding vehicles with power in their batteries. They might have been run down back when the cars first arrived. That was his best guess.

  “Keep it close.”

  He didn't want to worry her, but he couldn't temper his own concern. Blue and Pink were many cars ahead. They weren't very good at keeping quiet. Once, one of them even slammed a door shut. Yet he couldn't yell at them. If they found trouble, he didn't know what he'd do.

  Behind him, he could hear footsteps and the angry moans of the infected. They should have caught up to them already, but they'd been leaving car doors open wherever they could and that was—he believed—slowing them down.

  In another minute, he almost ran into one of the g
irls. They'd stopped and waited near the driver's door of a late model sedan.

  “There's a blinking light in this one, but we can't see inside. It has tinted windows. Should we open it?”

  A howl from behind. It was hard to judge distance of sound in the confined space, but he thought it was very close.

  A hand pounded on the window of the mystery car.

  “Get out of here,” he quietly urged them all.

  A faint voice yelped from inside the car. “Don't go!” The door latch clicked as Liam hung between running and staying. The others had already moved out, including Victoria.

  He pivoted back, but stayed away from the door. “Are you OK?”

  The door opened with a loud squeak. The hinge needed some oil. A dim light spilled out from the car. The man held a flashlight.

  “Is this a rescue,” the man inquired. The light was dim, but the man pointed it in Liam's eyes. He still didn't get out of the car. “I'm not getting out unless you have a platoon of soldiers with you.”

  Liam moved so he could see inside the car. As he got closer, the stench of the filth overwhelmed him.

  “Oh my—” He put his hand over his mouth, cutting himself off.

  “I have to know. Is the Army here to rescue me?”

  The man on the rear seat wore fatigues. Liam didn't care to ascertain what branch he was with. Instead, he took a step back toward the tunnel wall. He tried to make it look casual, though it didn't look like the man much cared.

  “No, I guess not. You're just a kid. Those others were just kids, too, weren't they? Do you have any food?” The flashlight was in his face again. “Just a little? I've been here for...”

  The flashlight went to the man's watch.

  “A week. A week,” he repeated with surprise. “Water drips from the ceiling, but not food.”

  He's not right.

  Louder, the man repeated himself. “Kid, I said, do you have any food?” The beam, weak as it was, landed on his face. But now the man had his feet outside the door.

  “N-no, sir. We've been looking for food in here.” He was always looking for food.

  “Liar. Kids always lie.” The man reached for something behind him. The light moved up to the man's head, and he tucked the flashlight between his head and shoulders. That gave him a free hand so he could bring his gun around and spin the revolver's cylinder like he was in a cowboy western.

  “Don't really recall how many bullets I got anymore.” He snorted, then chuckled, like he'd remembered something. “You feel lucky, kid?” More laughing. He was too loud.

  “Let's find out.” The guy stood up, but had to lean heavily against the open car door. His light was still wedged in his neck like he was holding a phone to his ear.

  “Been a while since I've stood up. Feels good.”

  Liam wanted to run, but the man was so close he didn't think he could get away. This had all happened so fast, he wasn't prepared for it. As he stood waiting, his mind imagined shapes lurking just outside the reach of the glow of the flashlight. Zombies had to be nearby…

  The man was pretty big. When he finally took a step from the support of the door, he straightened up, and Liam guessed he was well over six feet tall.

  He weakly held his spear, knowing it was useless in this situation.

  Delay. Every second of life counts.

  “You can search me. I don't have anything.”

  “You know what they do with liars in the Army? They shoot 'em!” The man laughed with lots of nervous energy.

  Liam didn't think that was exactly true, but he wasn't going to smart back.

  The gun came out of the darkness; its smooth outline was well defined by the flashlight behind it.

  Smile for the camera.

  Liam saw the details of the gun in his face for just a fraction of a second. A flash of light filled the tunnel; during that instant, he saw behind the man.

  The soldier's gun went off just as the other burst faded.

  He felt something hot snap at his left ear. The pain was confusing, as his head was assaulted by the sound of the two gunshots. He was unable to judge if the pain was due to his ear drums exploding, or something else.

  All the gunplay happened in slow motion, though strangely his concern was elsewhere. His eyes focused on something he'd seen during that initial wave of light. The light had gone out like a radar pulse. His mind assembled the data and reported its findings.

  A zombie squatted on the roof of the car behind them.

  Its head was cocked as it looked right at him.

  2

  The soldier fell over where he stood. The light flickered as it slammed into the rocky ground.

  Victoria, with the Glock, stood in triumph. She spoke, but Liam couldn't hear her over the constant scream in his ears.

  He reached down for the flashlight and yelled, “Run!” as loud as he could. In moments, he and Victoria raced along the narrow space between the wall of the tunnel and the cars parked in the long traffic jam. They quickly caught up to both of the girls. They'd been moving as instructed, but were unable to run until he caught up with the only portable light in this section of the tunnel.

  They yelled something at him, but he still couldn't hear.

  He just pointed and ran, hoping it was obvious what was happening.

  The tunnel turned sharply to the right, which he took on the run with the girls in tow. He looked back to ensure they were there; the light was dimming even as he ran.

  “No!” He yelled at the light in his hand, knowing it was stupid but unsure what else to do. He saw this expedition ending in the back of one of these cars as they were surrounded by hungry zombies.

  He'd almost stopped to check a car door—to find their last redoubt—when the tunnel came to a final “T” junction. It was a confusing tangle of cars, bodies, and rock piles. He swung the light in an arc across the scene, and tried to piece it together.

  To the left, the traffic jam continued as far as he could see. To the right, a few of the big mining dump trucks were parked next to each other at the cusp of a larger room. Cars had tried ramming into them, but that clearly failed. The big trucks seemed to huddle together to block traffic in that direction. They most assuredly had blocked the line of cars here.

  Liam found a hole between the trucks large enough for people to fit through, and he held the light as he stood next to the crevice—pointing the way. Victoria stood by him, allowing the two girls to get through first. She gave him a hasty smile and began to wedge herself between the trucks. Then it was his turn.

  He threw himself into the gap as if his life depended on it. The hand on his arm suggested he'd once again made the right call.

  A faint howl made it through his foggy brain. Lots of screams came from the other direction. He was tempted to yell for everyone to be quiet and scream one at a time, so he knew what was happening.

  I'm going crazy. That's clear now.

  He didn't look back. He felt more hands reaching for him in the tight space.

  Scooting along the truck, he absently wondered if zombies could get into tight spaces. It seemed like a pretty complicated task for the dumb things…

  Fingertips on his shoulder gave him his answer.

  Seconds later, he fell out the back side of the truck roadblock.

  With very little breath in his lungs, and a mouth as dry as the desert wind, he yelled, “Fight them here!”

  He still had his spear, but it felt small in his hands. He put the flashlight on the ground so it pointed to the gap. With a flourish, he turned with his spear to stop them from coming through. He sensed as much as saw Victoria and the two girls standing behind the next truck. The dim light almost couldn't reach them.

  The first zombie squirted through, and had gained its freedom before he could bring his spear to bear. It moved toward the girls.

  He hoped Victoria could read his mind, but he yelled the obvious to be sure. “Get that one!”

  A second zombie poked its head from between th
e two trucks. Liam set himself upon it with growing anger. He channeled his fear at almost being shot, and his fear of this dark space, and used that to thrust with all his strength. The spear plunged into its face, though even with all his pent up anger, he was unable to look at the damage he'd wrought upon it.

  Rather than fall to the ground, the body of the zombie wedged itself into the space between the two trucks. The next zombie in line behind it comically peeked over the head of its slumping partner and Liam dispatched it—her—as well.

  He could see what would eventually happen. As more and more zombies got into the gap they would eventually push their dead comrades forward to clear the space. But for the moment, he could turn his attention to the one that got away…

  In the ugly light, he saw the male zombie had on a too-tight fitness shirt and running shorts. He had fallen upon Blue. He imagined she was screaming, but he couldn't be sure. Victoria was over the zombie swinging her tire iron like a mad woman.

  As it happened, he added audio to what he was seeing.

  “Crack! There goes the skull.”

  It went rigid for a moment, then dropped like a lead balloon on top of Blue. Victoria struggled to get the man to roll over until Pink came out of the shadows to give her a hand.

  His head was still a mess. His ears alternated between a tinny ringing, a high pitched whistle, and perfect silence. Once in a great while, voices would filter through, but he couldn't be sure what was being said.

  He felt hands on his arm, and jumped once again. But they were friendly—Victoria picked up the flashlight, pointed it forward, and pulled him with her.

  There were no lights in the new area, and the flashlight continued to flicker and dance as they ran. But there were no cars parked here. That, at least, made it different.

  He corrected himself. There was one light. It was tiny in the darkness ahead. It took another couple of minutes of unsteady walking to piece together what they were approaching. When he finally knew what it was, he had regained a little of his hearing and a lot of his hope.

  It was a glass door.

  3

  A dull blue glow came through the frosted glass of the single door. It looked like a typical door you'd see attached to any strip mall tenant across America. Here, it was inset into a smooth concrete face—and looked completely at odds with the mine.