Since The Sirens Box Set | Books 1-7

by Isherwood, E. E.

  “And what is...the cause,” she said dramatically.

  “The continuation of mankind, of course.”

  “What? No. It can't be that simple. This has to be about power. Money. Something important.”

  “All that is part of it. A necessary component. But that isn't why these people spend their lives in pursuit of their goals. It is much simpler. It is the most basic thing in existence. They want their families to go on forever.”

  Victoria stopped in the middle of the empty street. “I don't believe you. They're killing everyone on Earth! If their goal was long life, they'd have built hospitals, conducted research, trained doctors and scientists. You know, the stuff that keeps people alive,” she said hotly.

  “You're right of course. That was their goal, for many decades. They had a hand in many of the important scientific discoveries of the last fifty years. But this new crisis hit them like a freight train. They had no way to head it off. They—”

  He looked around.

  “—I was there when all this began. I already told you my role. I helped the President release the plague on those marchers. I thought I was protecting humanity—protecting the institutions which had the most hope of doing exactly what I just said.” He paused.

  “But it got out of hand.”

  “Yes, the plague was already loose, overseas. My innocuous virus helped spread it across America, much faster than it might have otherwise. But it was always coming. And once the NIS knew this, they enacted their own plans to protect themselves, and their families, at the expense of everyone else. They stripped the treasury. Promoted and demoted the right people. They even tolerated my research until they realized my priorities had changed. I was unwilling to do whatever it took to protect the cause.”

  “So you're hated because you want to cure everyone, and not just those they deem important?”

  He touched his nose, signifying she was right.

  She went back and forth over who the NIS hated more. Her and Liam, or Hayes. She was leaning toward Hayes.

  “Up ahead is a house of an old man. He, uh, was someone I drew blood from because of his age. We kind of made a base there, rather than hang out in the park.”

  “Or your dorm room,” he said with a knowing smile.

  “Or my dorm room, you perv.” She did not return the smile.

  “So what's his deal? He like Grandma Marty?”

  “He's...interesting.” It was all she could say without revealing the truth.

  “Let's go meet him. We can grab Liam and go.”

  She wondered where he intended to go, but saved that for later. As they walked up the front path of the big home, she unslung her rifle and tried to look like she knew what she was doing. She thumbed the safety, though it was already in the “hot” position. She hadn't given a thought to safety since she'd taken the rifle.

  “The last time we knocked on the door he fired a gun at us,” she said with no humor.

  “Maybe I'll wait over here,” he said as he walked off to the side.

  Fine.

  “Hello? Mr. Grubmeyer? I'm picking up Liam.” She wished it to be true.

  She repeated herself at the bottom of the steps to his front stoop.

  “Don't shoot,” she called out.

  After a few long seconds, she moved a few steps up and repeated herself. In time she was at the door.

  The heavy wooden door had a large metal handle, which she assumed was locked. She gave it a tentative push and felt the door open a couple of inches. She let go and froze.

  “Mr. Grubmeyer?”

  A long pause.

  She turned back to Hayes, standing nearby in the yard. “I'm going in. I have to.”

  “Knock yourself out. Let me know what you find,” he said with a smile.

  I'll be the man. Again.

  The door swung in gracefully. As expected, the front room was filled with boxes of supplies. The place looked like a loading dock. Wooden crates were stacked to the ceiling. Every inch of the floor had supplies, leaving very little space in the middle for a couple of chairs. Hallways led to the back of the house and to the stairwell. She knew the place well, but the silence was eerie.

  She backed to the front door, swung it all the way open, and looked for Hayes. He'd moved closer and was at the foot of the steps.

  “I don't see anyone inside. Will you come in? It's creepy.”

  He doesn't have to know I'm scared.

  There should be someone from the Patriot Snowball group inside. They'd made an arrangement with Hans—Liam did. They'd go pick up his tanks for him, and he'd provide provisions. A kind of hidden base for them to use this close to Forest Park. It was a match made in Heaven, or so she thought.

  Hayes hesitated at the front steps.

  “Please?”

  The turmoil was visible on his face. Come inside to help the teenage girl, or stay outside where it was safe. She wasn't about to complain that he owed her. She wanted to save that for future use.

  He came up the steps with care, and when he reached the front door and saw inside he hesitated.

  Victoria looked inside. All she saw were the boxes.

  “What is it?”

  “Who lives here, did you say?”

  “Hans Grubmeyer.”

  “How did you find him?” His face was pale.

  She tried to arrange the chain of events properly.

  “We were looking for old people at the hospital. They said Hans had been released recently and sent back home. We found him here. It was the address listed on his admission paperwork.”

  “Where's Liam? Why isn't he here?” Hayes' voice was uncharacteristically emotional.

  “He's out. Why does it matter?”

  “Because you won't tell me. And the fact you've just walked us into an NIS supply drop doesn't give me much comfort, either.”

  Something moved in the shadows of the hallway.

  God. Don't let this be the end.

  She readied her rifle.

  4

  Victoria got down on one knee like Liam had shown her. With careful aim, she put several rounds into the face of the military-looking male zombie stumbling out of the hallway. As soon as it hit the light, she knew he wasn't NIS. It was one of the Patriots left behind to keep the place safe until Liam and Lana returned.

  Though the bullets were tiny, her aim was true. The zombie slid noisily on the wooden floor and came to a rest a few feet from her.

  “I got him,” she turned to tell Hayes, but he had gone.

  “You big sissy!”

  She removed one of her hands from the gun, noticed it was shaking, and then gripped the frame again.

  “Hans?” she said with trepidation.

  No reply came from within the house.

  “Is it clear?” Hayes asked from somewhere out front.

  “Yes. The zombie is dead.”

  Victoria poked her head down each of the two hallways but wasn't interested in searching the whole house. For the moment, she was content to know the front room was safe.

  Hayes was there when she backed into the front room.

  “What are you good for?” she asked with a scalding tone.

  He didn't reply.

  When she got a look at the zombie, it had something on its face that screamed for her attention. It was a white sheet of paper, and it had been duct taped to the side of the man's face.

  “One of us needs to check this out,” she pointed to the sheet with the barrel of her rifle. “It has to be you unless you want to hold the gun.”

  “O-OK,” he replied.

  After much effort to remove the duct tape without ripping the paper, he had it in his hand. It was a folded sheet of stout paper with fancy wording on the front.

  “It's a wedding invitation.”

  “Seriously? What does that mean?”

  “I told you. These people play to win. This is Elsa's. The invite is for her wedding with one M. Duchesne.”

  “What's it doing here?” she a
sked, though she was starting to get a sense of it.

  He stared at it for a long moment, then showed it to her. Someone used a pen to print large block letters near the top of the page. It said: “For Douglas Hayes, wedding crasher.”

  “Who's it from?”

  “It was Elsa. She knew I'd come here.” His voice remained panicky. “Which is why we have to get out. Now.” He threw down the paper, and backed to the door.

  “But what's going on?”

  “Don't you see, this is a trap.”

  “Help.” The voice came from inside the room, but from behind some of the towers of boxes.

  She looked at Hayes. He'd heard the voice, but kept going for the door.

  “We have to help.” She didn't know if that was true.

  “No, we have to run.”

  “Help, please,” came the male voice.

  “We hear you,” she said firmly. Then she carefully picked her way to a corner of the room with a small gap in the boxes. The work boots of a man on the floor came into view.

  “I'm here. Who are you?” she asked before she stuck her head around.

  “I'm shot. I recognized your voice. You are...begins with a V...” the man said weakly.

  “Victoria,” she replied.

  She peeked around the corner, waiting to get shot. But the man was down. No weapons visible.

  “Hayes, I need help,” she called out. To her surprise, he found her in moments. Together they lifted the man from his hiding spot, as that was what it appeared to be, and got him to a chair in the cramped room.

  “It was the old man. He shot us. Said he wasn't going to be taken alive.”

  “How many were you?” Hayes asked.

  “Me and Becker. We walked out back for some fresh air, leaving that old bastard alone. All he did was sleep, anyway. We heard gunshots and ran. When we came back, it was just him and his pop gun standing over the bodies of two men in black uniforms. He looked all proud like he'd just bagged a couple of lions on safari. We thought someone had tried to rob him and were even congratulating him on being such a good shot—and that's when the sonofabitch shot us, too.”

  He took a deep breath, appearing to be in pain. He had several bloody spots on his upper chest. “Beck went right down. Hans was a good shot, I'm afraid. I think he figured me for dead because I stumbled into this room and threw myself into the boxes to get away from him. He shouted some nonsense that 'she' wasn't going to kill him. That the assassination attempt would fail.”

  “Where is he?”

  “No idea.”

  “Do you know anything about this,” Victoria picked up the nearby leaflet. The injured man held it while he read the names.

  “Elsa,” he said with recognition. “He said this name a couple of times. Didn't know what he meant. Still don't,” he said with finality.

  Victoria looked at Hayes, who seemed to wear an “I-told-you-so” face. “Elsa did this. She's sweeping up messes.” He looked at her. “Me. You. This Hans guy. Though I have no idea what he did to cross them.”

  “The tanks,” croaked the man.

  “What?”

  He turned to Hayes. “The old man told the kid about the tanks. Sent him to go get them. He went on about how he shouldn't have done that.”

  “Military tanks? He sent him to get a real tank?”

  The man nodded as best he could. “These people have hundreds of 'em.”

  Hayes pivoted toward her. It was her turn to look sheepish. “Is this true? Liam went off to get tanks? You didn't think that was worth telling me? And who is this guy?” he pointed, “and why was he here in NIS-land with you and oh-so-innocent Liam?”

  Victoria felt defensive but was unable to reconcile the need to protect Liam with the need to tell Hayes about Liam's comings and goings, even if her omission resulted in her ongoing disaster of a morning with Hayes.

  “I didn't tell you because it's none of your business.”

  Hayes' eyes swept the room and seemed to make a realization. He let out a deep breath. “I get it. You don't trust me. But you've just walked us into the head of an important NIS family. Maybe the most senior member in the Midwest. That man sent your boyfriend on some kind of wild goose chase—I assure you whatever tanks he thinks he was getting will not be given to him. He's going to get himself killed. And now Elsa is trying to kill a senior member of the organization... And you walked me right through his front door.”

  He ripped the wedding invitation from the hands of the wounded man. “And this! Elsa had this left so I would find it. It won't mean anything to anyone else. She knew I'd show up. She wanted me to find this. She's playing with us,” he said with derision. “So thanks for that, Vicky.”

  5

  “Hans knew she'd come to get him,” the guy wheezed. “And he was working on a bomb. The man talks to himself,” he gurgled.

  Victoria kneeled down to him. “Just rest. We'll figure this out.”

  Hayes looked around the room. “I don't see a bomb.”

  “Help me up.”

  “No. You're shot.”

  “Sweetie, I'm dead already. No one is going to fix a wound like this,” he nodded his head to a serious gash on the side of his chest. “But I think I can help you.”

  Together, they lifted him to his feet. After he got his bearings, he spoke tiredly. “There. That's the box.”

  Victoria and Hayes put him down in the clear part of the room where an open-topped metallic box sat on the lap of one of the NIS corpses. When he examined it, he smiled with satisfaction.

  “How did you know this had explosives in it?”

  “The long answer involves the military, a chicken, and a million lines of code. The short answer is this box wasn't here before. The old man was puttering around with something, and this has to be it.”

  “Will it go off?” she said with reverence. She pulled off her long-sleeved shirt as the exertion of the morning had made it expendable.

  “Nah. It has to be wired up. I would have been surprised if the old man could do it.”

  “Can you?”

  He chuckled. “I'm guessing neither of you can do this.” When they didn't reply, he continued. “So yeah, I can. If that Elsa lady comes through here, she'll get quite the surprise.”

  “Well, get to it,” Hayes said with haste. He then pulled Victoria down the hallway, toward the back door. They were next to the porch filled with ammo before he spoke.

  “He tried to get things going with this suitcase surprise, but the old man isn't coming back. She'll be out for blood if he took down her people. He's fleeing the scene of the crime.”

  “So where will he go?”

  “Hard to say. Depends on how much of a planner he was. Who his friends are on the outside. But I don't think an old man has much chance to get very far.”

  “Hmm, kind of like Grandma Marty?” she said with a touch of condescension.

  Hayes studied her face. “Look. Things are a lot different than even a few weeks ago. The people outside are weaker, and the zombies are stronger. Anyone with the means to avoid the zombies—like the NIS—can prey on the survivors with impunity. She could drop on the roof of this mansion, kill us, and be back to her camp before dinner. She has that kind of reach. It all depends on how much immediate risk the old man poses to her.”

  Victoria had a light go on. “Could he pose more risk than a scientific researcher close to finding a cure? Research, you say, she is doing everything she can to destroy?”

  “This isn't a flight of fancy. She wants the disease to spread. It has to kill everyone.”

  “But then she'd die.” It sounded empty as she spoke it.

  “No, I'm sure they have a team working on the cure, too. They control the best scientists in the world. I know that for a fact from my time...uh...”

  “Designing the plague in the first place.”

  He rubbed the back of his head, signaling what passed for embarrassment for him. As always, he regained his composure in record time.

&
nbsp; “It doesn't matter who's at the top of the Elsa Pyramid of Hate. At least two of her men are dead in this house,” he laughed. “She's coming back. Here. If we set this bomb, it may be our only chance to take her out.”

  “While he sets up the bomb, can we continue our search for Liam?” She was going to check with Doctor Yu, but if that didn't yield anything she was going right to the administrator. Someone had to be able to find him.

  What if he's back in the dorm room?

  Hayes responded while she was lost in thought.

  “...you know? That's why we have to get out of here.”

  “Leave? No! I have to find him.”

  If Liam had gone back to her dorm room to wait for her, it would be the ultimate insult to all her running and searching. But she believed what Hayes was saying about Elsa and her team. She could search new places, but going back would be impossible for the time being.

  “There are a hundred thousand people out there.” His face signaled a new thought. “I bet you didn't know the food's running out?”

  “What? When?”

  “A couple of days. They're already cutting back. Do you know what that means?”

  “People can survive for a long time without food. I saw it out at Camp Hope.”

  “That was a quaint little valley of Kumbaya Boy Scouts. This is a whole city.” He spoke quietly but forcefully. “And that assumes the NIS doesn't airlift a bunch of zombies here to wipe everyone out.”

  Her face went slack.

  “Oh, it's true. Or, it could happen. These people will stop at nothing to ensure their plans go off without a hitch.”

  “They want to survive at our expense?”

  “Yes. You are either with them or against them. They entertain no middle ground.”

  “We have to warn someone,” she said tiredly.

  Hayes laughed. “Yeah, excuse us. There is a super duper secret organization planning to drop zombies on you, or release them from a lab, or put rabid infected dogs into your camp.” He looked at her with a deadly serious expression. “Who would believe us?”

  “But you were inside. You know.”

  “Victoria, even you don't believe me.”

  For once, he spoke the truth.