Since The Sirens Box Set | Books 1-7

by Isherwood, E. E.

  6

  “The old goat has everything. He was prepared for World War III.” They'd learned the man's name was Nick. He lifted a fancy box that fit snugly in both arms. “Including this.”

  “What is it?” Hayes asked.

  “It's just a box,” he giggled wetly.

  Victoria and Hayes shared a look.

  “But. But this box will serve nicely to spring our trap.”

  He lifted the lid and made a “boom” sound.

  Hayes' eyes lit up with understanding. He moved like a dervish as he planned his revenge. For once Victoria could marvel at his efficiency and craftiness without worrying for her own safety.

  It took a long thirty minutes to set up the room. They'd found rolls of chicken wire out back, which Hayes explained would be his insurance policy that Elsa couldn't toss the box out the front windows. They strung the wire over the windows, then boarded the front door shut. His goal was to get Elsa in the room, then make it so she would find the box, read the note he was going to leave her, and have a few seconds to appreciate the fact she'd been beaten.

  “I wish I could leave a camera here so I could watch her face.”

  “You put one in my dorm room, can I get it for you?” she laughed, but only on the outside. She wasn't ever going to forgive him for that intrusion.

  “No,” he said without addressing her sarcasm, “When we hear the boom, we'll know we got her.”

  “And what if Liam shows up first?”

  “I got ya covered,” Hayes said smoothly. He held up a sheet of paper.

  “Liam. Meet me in Bosley Deveraux's office. Love, Victoria,” she read aloud.

  “We'll nail that to the front door. If Elsa sees it first, it won't matter. She'll still come in. If Liam sees it first, he'll run like a lovesick puppy to Bosley's.”

  “I'll nail this to the door,” she said as she grabbed it. “I'll go through the back door.”

  She had a bounce in her step as she walked through the fresh morning grass. She stopped under a plum tree and took a deep breath. The air was humid and already warm, but she was out of the view of the refugees in the park and away from Hayes for a short time. It gave her a chance to enjoy the beauty of nature, just for a minute.

  Ahead, on the ground, the bright orange plumage of a Robin bounded to and fro as it searched for worms. Life for the bird went on as if nothing of any consequence was happening in the world around it.

  “God, if it's your will, please help the people in the park escape the fate of having zombies put in their midst. Protect them from such evil.”

  It was an impossible prayer. More of a wish. Could anyone, God included, protect all those people? It wasn't very likely.

  Not impossible. Just improbable.

  Those were Grandma Marty's words.

  “Come back to me, Liam. Hurry.”

  The bird flew away as she walked to the front of the house. In moments she had the paper secured to the front door with a couple of nails she'd taken from Hans' supplies.

  Looking at her work, and the words Hayes had written, she felt guilty for not writing them herself. Almost as if it were a crime for Hayes to speak for her.

  She shook it off as unreasonable. Hayes ran up to her, keeping her thoughts on the moment.

  “We have to go. All is set inside.”

  “What about Nick?”

  After a pause, Hayes shook his head.

  “He died?”

  “He was bleeding all over the place. There was nothing we could do for him. You saw that.”

  She didn't know what she saw. Though the wound was serious…

  “I should have tried to help him,” she said with sudden regret. “I was too worried about your revenge plot.”

  “Revenge? No, this isn't about revenge. This is about self-preservation. That's the only thing that matters.”

  “Spoken like a true NIS adherent,” she said with venom.

  “I was NIS, no doubt about it. I did bad things. I don't deny it. But when I saw what the NIS wanted to do after the virus mutated...”

  He stepped closer to her.

  “Victoria, if you believe just one thing about me, you have to believe I truly want to find the cure. Not for the NIS. Not even for myself—though I hope there's enough for me—but for those people over there,” he pointed to the refugees in the huge park. “My self-preservation is theirs as well.”

  Her emotion rushed out like a deflating balloon. It was hard to maintain constant anger and doubt at someone she had to work with. “Let's just go. I want to find Liam.”

  What if I infect him?

  Already emotionally spent, it went to the back burner.

  “We'll try Bosley's office, just like the note says,” he pointed to the door.

  “You think that's where he'd be?” She was sure Liam wouldn't go there.

  “No, not at all. We're going there to let them know the threats they're facing, and we'll tell them Liam is going to be instrumental in helping stave off the attacks from the outside.”

  “We're going to lie?”

  He looked taken aback. “Lie? Heavens no! We're going to save your boyfriend's life.”

  She looked at him with troubled eyes but allowed his words to sooth her.

  It's a very small lie. And, with Liam here, we really can save more lives.

  She said nothing on the walk along the mile-long empty avenue. The mature trees lining each side provided shade and a pleasant atmosphere. She could almost ignore the edges of the large crowd in the park on her right.

  When they entered the hospital, she still wasn't sure she was doing the right thing.

  What if I infect everyone?

  Chapter 10: Freefall

  They reached Bosley Deveraux's office at the top of the hospital tower without incident. The two guards at the elevator patted them down, even though Victoria left her rifle at the gun check on the main floor. The patting was something new. Last time she'd been on the floor, they weren't bothered. Of course, that time she was with Doctor Yu, instead of Douglas Hayes.

  Unless they just want to touch me.

  Worried that was true, she suffered the indignity in silence, then moved away as soon as they gave the OK. She never made eye contact with them but sensed the stares as she walked away. She was glad to make it to the camp administrator's office.

  Deveraux didn't get up from his desk. “Damn you, Doctor Stevens. What are you doing to my research facilities?”

  As on her last visit, the administrator sat looking at a screen with a video feed. It had been playing footage from the convoy now heading to St. Louis, but she couldn't be sure that was what he was watching this time.

  “Good to see you, too, Bosley,” Hayes said with his best attempt at charm. “And since when do I get patted down?” He acted offended, though he was faking it—just like his false name.

  “Since you started setting fires!” He banged on the desk.

  “Me? No, you've got me all wrong. She and I,” he pointed to Victoria, “were trapped in the security room when the zombies broke containment.”

  “And what were you two doing in the security room, if I may ask?”

  Victoria's face burned. The thought of doing anything improper with Hayes was repulsive. She was prepared for Hayes to run with that fiction, but he surprised her.

  “She was accosted in the tunnel on the way to her dorm. I saw her on the cameras and guided her in. She was instrumental in getting us to safety, and alerting the authorities on the defense wall. They came and got us, and cleared out the infected. Sadly, the only way to do that and still keep their men safe was to burn the insides of the building.” He spoke as if he were reading a prepared statement. To Victoria, it came across as the absolute truth. He'd only left out certain details…

  Deveraux looked at her for a long moment. Just long enough to make her uncomfortable. “I guess I owe you thanks. Doctor Stevens has made many advancements in the search for the cure in that building, and losing all that work would be
tragic, though losing him would be a global loss.”

  “My sentiments exactly,” Hayes responded with a smile. “But, Bos, we have a new problem.”

  The man slumped back in his high-backed swivel chair. “Just what I need. More problems.” He nodded to the screen but didn't turn up the sound. “The convoy is still stuck in West Virginia. They say the bridges have been stressed by all the heavy equipment passing over them. The repairs are taking a lot of time, and the whole effort seems in danger of failure.”

  Hayes took a seat in one of the chairs in front of the desk and put his feet on the edge of the desk like he owned the place. “You only see what they want you to see. I guarantee they aren't holding things up because of some rusty bridges.”

  “Then what?”

  “Oh, probably too many infected. Or too many people falling prey to the zombies. Or, worst of all, maybe the convoy is already here.”

  The two men stared at each other. Victoria couldn't see Hayes' face, but Bosley's eyes were rigid. His eventual response was measured. “And why would that be the worst of all, doctor?”

  Hayes looked up to Victoria with a smile, then turned back to the desk. “Because, sir, it would mean our time in this dangerous hellhole called the Zombie Apocalypse might be coming to an end.” Victoria could hear the smile. Deveraux did not return it.

  “I don't get you. You do such good work in the lab, but you are a complete jagoff everywhere else.”

  “See! That right there is why I need to get up here more. The socializing.”

  Victoria was unsure how to feel. Hayes was always a jerk, that much was true, but Deveraux more or less threw her and Liam out the last time, after they had suggested the zombie disease was much worse than anyone knew. A fact he seemed determined to ignore on both visits.

  “Why did you really come here, doctor. I'm a very busy man.”

  “I can see that. Watching TV and drinking Scotch can take a lot out of a man.” Hayes reached to the desk and lifted a napkin which had been placed over a clear glass of a golden liquid.

  “Screw you. Do you have any idea what I have to deal with here? Lists of dead. Threats of infection. Diminishing medical supplies.”

  “Don't forget, you're almost out of food,” Hayes prodded.

  Deveraux actually rolled his eyes. “Yes, that, too. And now I have my most hopeful line of research go up in smoke because you and this slut wanted to play sneak and slide in a private room.”

  “Hey!” Victoria shouted, though Hayes was already speaking.

  “I told you, there's nothing going on like that. In fact, we came to ask about her boyfriend, Liam.”

  “You met him a couple days ago, with Doctor Yu,” she said with accusation.

  Deveraux reached for his glass, then downed the remaining two fingers of Scotch. He set the glass back on his desk with great care, apparently thinking as he did so.

  “Liam won't be coming back, I'm afraid to say.” He clicked some letters on his keyboard and the computer monitor flipped from images of the convoy to a still image of an old man walking along the main avenue outside the hospital.

  “Hans Grubmeyer,” Victoria let slip.

  “Yes. After you left my office the last time, you asked one of my nurses for some proprietary information about elderly people in the area. She explained where you'd gone. From there it was easy to piece everything together. We watched all the people who went in. All the people who went out. Our counter-surveillance operation is small but efficient. We watched Liam and his friends leave the compound, and we know he hasn't come back in. None of them have. They're dead.”

  Hayes was quiet. She watched him, waiting for the snarky response.

  “A shame about the research, though. Your appearance in camp really helped take us to the next level.” Deveraux looked at Hayes with a frown. “If it were up to me...”

  Victoria turned to Hayes and used his fake name. “Doctor Stevens? What's going on here?”

  Hayes stood up, stretching like he was bored, then turned to her. “This is the end of the line for you, I'm afraid.”

  “What? No! We have to save Liam. Together. Like you promised.”

  But it was obvious. She'd been led into a trap. Hayes had betrayed her.

  2

  “Um, no. That's not what's happening at all,” Deveraux said with a pleasant voice. “You are being arrested for destruction of government research. This is the end for both of you.”

  Hayes looked hurt, but she felt a tiny bit of relief when she saw his expression.

  “Aw man, I thought you and I had an understanding? I bring you terrorists like Victoria, and you let me do my research in peace.” He winked at her.

  “We're way beyond agreements, Douglas Reginald Hayes. She said you were the most dangerous person within a hundred miles of here—”

  “Only a hundred?”

  “—and you walked right in my office.”

  “She'll be so pleased.”

  “Yes. She will,” Deveraux said with growing anger.

  “Will someone please tell me what the...heck...is going on here?”

  Hayes responded to Victoria with mock seriousness. “Deveraux is doing the bidding of one Ms. Elsa Cantwell.”

  “Elsa? From the invitation? She controls him?”

  “No one controls me, Missy. But Homeland Security is in charge of everything you see out my windows. She's the only one who can get me the supplies I need to keep my people alive.”

  Victoria spoke with dawning understanding. “He doesn't know?”

  Hayes responded. “No, he still thinks there's a Homeland Security.”

  That peaked Deveraux's interest. “What are you saying? Of course there's still a Homeland Security.” He pointed to the screen, though it still showed Hans. “The convoy is being guided by Homeland. The video feeds are Homeland. My food comes from Homeland.”

  Hayes laughed with scorn. “You must be dumber than I thought. Elsa is the one who burned the research. Elsa is the one who sent a team to kill Hans in his home. She's trying to kill me, Victoria, and, in time, she'll kill you and everyone in your precious camp. You can't sit up here and run out the clock on this disaster.”

  The camp director didn't try to hide his actions. He reached for a bottle he'd apparently set on the floor under his desk, then poured himself a full tumbler. With a deep sniff, he tipped it back and downed the whole thing in several big gulps.

  “You better watch that bad habit,” Hayes said to annoy him. Which it clearly did.

  “Your mouth is a bad habit,” he said lamely.

  “So where is Hans?” Victoria queried. If they knew where the old man had gone, it might give her a clue to where Liam had gone.

  “We don't know. He was last seen walking the streets, but he disappeared from his tail. No one took that old man seriously as an escape threat.”

  Hayes laughed.

  “Yeah, it's all fun and games, but you are under arrest, and when Elsa gets here we'll see if you're still laughing.”

  “When will she be here,” she said innocently.

  “When she's here. I don't make the timeline; I just run the biggest damned camp of refugees in the Midwest.”

  “She's playing you,” Hayes said with his normal charm.

  “Shut up. Just shut up!” Deveraux was sweating profusely. The hospital still had nominal power, but the air conditioning had been set extremely high. His condition—including glassy eyes and slurring speech—had nothing to do with heat.

  “Where is she, Bos, old friend?”

  “Old friend? We've only known each other for two weeks,” he laughed weakly. “And you lied to me the whole time.”

  “I meant that one day when we look back on this, we'd be old friends,” he said with a smooth cadence. “One day we'll look back on the time when we figured out that things weren't what they seemed.”

  “Ha! Her young beau came in here spouting about dead bodies being reanimated by this virus. Some kind of supernatural mumbo jumbo. Yo
ur research says people can carry the virus and not appear to be sick at all—”

  Victoria gulped, involuntarily.

  “—and suddenly a 105-year-old walks out of our safety. None of this makes any sense.” He looked at his empty glass. “And this convoy. I've been watching it for days. Praying it gets here before everything goes to shit.” He pointed out the window. “You haven't been down there. People are losing patience with us. With me. They want answers. They want to go home. They want food. They want. They want. They f'ing want!”

  Deveraux took his glass and threw it at the wall. In a stroke of irony, it hit a wooden picture frame for some artsy tapestry and plopped gently onto a nearby pile of papers. It was unbroken.

  “God, I can't even get mad properly.”

  “Sir, you have to let us go. I only want to find my boyfriend, and get out of here.” She didn't want to speak for Hayes. She didn't really know, for certain, what his intentions were.

  The man laughed wildly. “See! Who the hell wants to leave the safety of this camp? We are the only safe place left. And you want to leave. Why? Help is almost here.”

  She felt sorry for him. He seemed pitiful with his drinking and impotent in his anger, but he seemed genuine in his hope to keep his place running.

  Hayes remained quiet.

  “Mr. Deveraux. I've seen some incredible things outside of your camp. I've seen dead men walk. I've watched hordes of undead sweep over the healthy. I've climbed out of a grave. This man,” she pointed to Hayes, “was once my worst enemy. He shot me, in fact. But I believe him that Elsa is not with Homeland Security. She's with another organization.” She looked at Hayes, but he wasn't stopping her. “They're called the National Internal Security. I met one of their agents a while ago. He said they caused the plague, and I believe their goal is to kill us all. That's why I'm asking you, please, to let us go. We'll get out of your hair, and you'll never hear from us again.”

  A lie?

  “She said you were dangerous,” he pointed to Hayes, “but I think you are far more dangerous, young lady.”

  He keyed his phone. “Melanie, I'm sending my two guests back down. Please give them their weapons and direct them to the gate.”

  “Shall I tell your other party to wait, before going up?”