Sirens of the Zombie Apocalypse (Book 2): Siren Songs (15 page)

“All I can say is there aren't many people left alive who
know where the plague came from or who made it. I didn't have a long
list of candidates, and very,
very
few of them could
survive...this place. Even my best guesswork—and I hate
guessing—suggests there are only a handful of those candidates
left alive. Call them 'source vectors.' As heroes go, you are
actually one of the people closest to one of those source vectors.”

“Hayes.”

“Yes, Hayes. As a contact in the CDC, I believe he's
important in finding clues to how the virus was made, how it
replicates, and how it can be stopped. My research is incomplete
because he is a remarkably secretive person.”

“Can't you just ask him? You seem to have a lot of powers.
Go into
his
dreams and Scrooge the buh-jeezus out of him like
you do to me.”

“I have access to a lot of information about the infection,
but even I don't know everything, nor can I directly reach out to
someone like Hayes. I do believe a solution is out there, a cure, but
it is against my directive to give you any information that could
change the natural course of events. I can't draw you a map for
instance and say go find the X.”

“That would save us all a lot of time, and probably save a
lot of lives.”

“Always thinking of others. I respect that. I really do. But
if I interfered now I would become too much a part of this event. And
my directives forbid such interference. Liam would describe this as
something akin to my prime directive. That is why you are my champion
in this crisis!”

“Oh my. Lord help us all if I'm the best champion you could
find.”

“You'll do just fine, Marty.”

They rounded a bend to find a truck parked just off the road
inside the coal-black canopy. Marty could hear screams from inside,
muffled by the closed windows. She paused when she heard the noise,
unsure what she should do. She wanted to help, but she had no
weapons. Little strength. Not even a walker. Al took her hand and
walked them both closer.

“As before, I'm truly sorry you have to bear witness to such
evil, but this is one facet of your—” Al walked for a
long time, saying nothing to finish that sentence. Marty was just
about to remind him he was talking…

“—calibration.”

They were next to the truck. Some kind of SUV. Dark color. Lights
off. The screams were diminishing, but crying could now be heard.
Marty could imagine the victim having her blood drained from her,
weeping helplessly as it happened.

“Why are you showing me someone getting assaulted by a
zombie? As horrific as that may be, I've seen more than my fair share
already.” She tried to pretend she was being brave, but she
knew Al could read her mind. She was terrified.

“Brace yourself Marty. You aren't going to like this.”

“I never do. Let's get on with it.” The crying was
growing louder. But also—something else.

“I'm sorry for having to lay this on you but this is very
much like a chess game. Good vs. evil. Dark vs. light. That sort of
thing. You are my white queen, and you should know the truth of your
adversaries. But first you should know the absolute truth of your
allies. Their souls. It is this truth which will bind you, fortify
you against evil.”

Still, she hesitated. “Al, you know I've been praying my
whole life.
That
is what fortifies me against evil. Is this
really necessary?”

“You can pray if you choose. But God didn't hear the cries
of this poor soul.” He was nodding casually to the inside of
the truck. “How you respond to this girl's—situation—will
define your relationship with her from this moment forward.”

In a flash Marty knew who was inside the truck. She'd heard the
crying before.

Al walked next to the back window, inviting Marty to join him
there.

She walked as if in a trance. She heard the crying, but the other
sound was too incongruous to imagine if an infected person was
feeding on another. It was laughter.

“My dearest Martinette. Behold the final piece of your
triad. You three are going to find the cure.”

She looked inside the window. Al did something to illuminate the
scene, or maybe it was her imagination. No way to tell in this place.
But she could clearly see the two people struggling in the back seat.

She was right. She already knew the girl.

5

“OH MY HEAVENS! OH MY! NO!”

Marty's voice was not outstandingly loud anymore, but more and
more often she awoke from sleep as if she had fallen off a cliff in a
nightmare and woke up with a jarring SPLAT! Upstairs, Liam and Phil
both went rigid with the loud yelling in the basement. Liam knew
immediately who was making such a racket.

He whispered to Phil, “Grandma had another nightmare. She's
convinced her husband is talking to her in her dreams, but it seems
more like she gets beat up.”

“Well she did talk to my wife and daughter—both
dead—and she told me something else...” Phil paused, and
Liam leaned in, willing Phil to reveal his secret. “She told me
I had to help the trinity of dark angels. They were the only ones who
could stop the sirens. Maybe your grandma is seeing those angels?”

“She never mentioned any trinity. And the sirens did stop,
didn't they? They stopped that first day.”

“It makes no sense, Liam. I've been trying to figure it out
since she told me. I really want to know what it means. How I can
help. Who I can help. You know?”

“Well, someone is scaring Grandma in her dreams. I'd like to
get in there and give them a piece of my mind.”

Phil was peeking outside. “Oh man. The sound has definitely
caught the attention of our friends. Look at them moving this way. We
should probably—”

Muffled but terse discussion from the kitchen. They could hear
what amounted to an argument in progress. It escalated quickly and
then they heard Melissa practically yell. “NOOOOOO!”

Gunshots went off. Very loud. Inside the house.

“Stop shooting!” This time it was Victoria.

Phil tapped Liam to go see what was happening. He said he needed
to stay in the front.

One of the dads from the previous night—the same guy who
shot out the rear window—had once again rattled off some shots
into the back yard. Liam's look must have contained a question
because the man responded.

“That zombie was almost at the back door again. I didn't
want to take any chances.”

Liam didn't feel he had the authority to tell him he may have just
killed them all. Shouldn't that have been obvious to the guy?

Melissa suffered no such doubts. “You probably just
attracted every zombie from across the street. You should have just
ducked down and let the zombie walk by.”

“Who put you in charge little lady?”

Liam could see where this was going.

Phil ran into the kitchen. “We have to get everyone
downstairs. The zombies are coming.”

“How many?” Liam was afraid of the coming answer. A
movie quote echoed in his mind.

“All of them.”

Crap.

It didn't take long before they were secure in the basement. The
basement door on the main floor wasn't reinforced, but it was
nondescript. It's not like it had a sign on it saying “fresh
meat, this way!” Still, Liam couldn't help but feel they'd
reached their last move on the chessboard. Once they were discovered,
there was literally no way out of this basement for such a large
group. There were some small windows, but it would take a long time
to get all these people out through them. And then what of the
zombies standing right there in the backyard? They were in real
trouble, same as those people he saw days ago going down the spiral
of the pit quarry. Once they reached the bottom there was nowhere
else to go.

Looking around, Liam could see about a dozen or so children of
varying ages. Thankfully no babies who might cry out and reveal them
all. Some of the school-age children were silently crying however. It
couldn't be helped under such circumstances. He counted three sets of
parents, plus Phil, Victoria, Mel, and Grandma. About twenty people
against a horde. Was it even possible to resist such numbers?

Minutes went by.

Then ten.

Then they started hearing thuds on the floor above.

“They're coming in through the broken front windows. I'd bet
anything.”

Thuds continued. Then shuffling of feet across broken glass and
the linoleum of the kitchen. The table against the rear door could be
heard scraping the floor. It was being pushed inside by zombies
coming in from the back yard. The entire floor was crawling with
zombies; the floorboards were creaking above his head.

For a long time they waited, unable to do anything but listen to
the noises above and cringe whenever they heard unnecessary noises
from the kids.

Just how good was their hearing anyway?

Minutes continued ticking by.

Then an hour. The sun was coming up, trickling through the small
windows of the basement.

Kids were getting antsy with the new day. They were unable to
appreciate exactly what was happening above, or why so many playmates
had to be quiet for so long.

Another hour went by.

Giggles from two young girls in the corner.

A shush from a parent.

More giggles.

My god. We're doomed.

Another shush.

Then a clear pounding on the basement door.

Everyone froze.

More banging.

Phil moved first, steadying his rifle in front of him, pointing up
the steps. The others with guns did the same.

Phil's instructions were hurried and very quiet. “We want to
try to get as many as we can in the doorway. If we can stack them up
in front of the entrance to the stairwell, we might be able to block
it so none of them can fit through. It's our only hope.”

More banging. More shuffling. More angry moans.

Liam was considering backing them all into the secret room. It
would put them out of reach of the windows, but it would give them a
little more safety in a fallback room. Though it might be the last
fallback they'd ever have...

A new sound overtook them.

From up above they heard something that sounded like a helicopter,
but it was starting and stopping in odd sequences.

Buzzzzzzz. Buzzz. Buzzzzzz.

They listened some more, unable to pin it down.

Buzzzzzz. Buzz. Buzz. Buzzzzzz.

It was getting closer.

Buzz.

Then silence for almost a full minute.

Buzzzzzzzzzz. Buzzzzzzzzzzz. Buzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

The door above was perforated by powerful gunfire.

They all dove to the ground. A few ricochets sent stray rounds in
odd directions inside the house, including some that blew big holes
in the cross beams supporting the floor above their heads.

The buzzing continued for another minute or so, along with the
crunching of wood, plaster, glass, and the breakage of all the
minutia of life now being destroyed on the main floor above.

The noise was deafening, but Liam was also screaming. The rear
windows of the basement were starting to drip with blood. The gun was
ripping apart the zombies and sending them out the back of the house
into the yard. Some were falling directly below the back of the
house, smearing and splashing those windows with blood.

The gun would sweep one side of the house, then stop. It would
start up again on the other side of the house. The basement door was
near the center of the house, so it was perforated on almost every
pass. The final straw for the door happened when a zombie was pushed
through the frame by the kinetic force of the bullets. It came
tumbling down the stairs like a rag doll, and crumpled at the base of
the steps.

And then silence from the guns. Silence continued for seconds,
then minutes. All the while the children were screaming at the top of
their lungs. Irreconcilable. Liam had stopped screaming at some
point.

Victoria was stacked on top of Grandma, who was on the floor
against the back wall. They both seemed all right. They were stirring
as the silence from the weapon above continued.

He wiped away the tears from his face, and made has way to the two
women. He was dismayed to see blood was dripping into the room from
the ruined floor above them. The shaggy carpet was soaking in it. He
was deathly afraid to look up for fear of being dripped on. He
imagined he was in a zombie movie he'd seen, where a drop of infected
blood fell into the eye of one of the heroes—ruining him. He
wondered if that was his fate.

“Don't look up! Don't get the blood on your face!”

He didn't know if he could be heard over the screaming kids, or if
it was necessary advice.

It was a long time before things got quiet enough for Liam to be
sure he was heard.

Victoria managed to get to her feet. She was wiping her face with
one hand and holding Grandma steady on her feet with the other. She
looked at Liam as she asked the twenty-dollar question.

“What. The. Hell. Was that?”

6

“That, my friends, was a high-powered machine gun. If I had
to guess I'd say there are Army units on your street, Liam.”
Phil never mentioned experience with military gear, but Liam wasn't
about to doubt him on something so obvious.

A loudspeaker began booming. “This is Douglas Hayes of the
CDC. Liam Peters! You and your grandma need to exit the house
immediately. Bring nothing with you. Please leave your other friends
inside. They will not be harmed.”

“What do we do Grandma?”

Marty was already up and moving to the steps. “If they just
cleared all those zombies we have to get out of here while we can.
Let's go before they hurt any of these good people.” Grandma
turned to Phil. “Thank you for driving us here. Best of luck to
you. Mel, you too. Good luck.”

Liam looked at Phil. He nodded. “We'll run like hell as soon
as we can. Don't worry.”