Sirens of the Zombie Apocalypse (Book 2): Siren Songs (7 page)

“I need to talk to the person in charge!” He was
walking hand-in-hand with Victoria, trying to project anything but
the fear he felt in his stomach. He didn't know what he expected, but
was surprised when they ignored him outright. He could tell who was
in charge though. There in the middle was a pudgy guy ordering people
around. He was standing right by the truck with the huge
loudspeakers.

“Excuse me! I need to talk to the guy in charge.” Liam
was walking right up to the man. Amazingly, none of the cops made any
move to stop him all across the bridge.

I'd say that is another pretty big tactical fault!

After introducing himself in his most polite voice, Liam
immediately laid into him, letting him know everything wrong with the
proposition of halting this crowd. He was not very eloquent. The
stress of everything made his already poor social skills degrade to
the equivalent of slipping on a banana peel.

Fortunately, Victoria jumped in. “I think what my friend
here is trying to say is that you can't enforce a blockade if there's
no viable escape for those trapped by it. This crowd can't simply
turn around and go home. Their homes have been overrun. If you block
these good people from continuing down this highway, there's going to
be a lot of bloodshed. Even a seventeen-year-old can see that.”
Then she turned quiet. “We've been seeing it ever since we left
downtown St. Louis.”

Liam noticed the man was sweating profusely, either suffering
because of the heat or was agitated by his obligations here—or
both. He seemed to cringe when Victoria held out her hand to shake
his.

“You two are from St. Louis? You shouldn't even be here.”
He seemed to make an effort to put part of the truck between himself
and the two kids so as to avoid shaking hands. “My name is Jack
Crosby. I'm a councilman up in Arnold, but you're right—we have
to prevent further bloodshed.” His hand was twitching
intensely.

Whoa, this guy is baked!

Liam asked, “Why this bridge?”

Jack explained. “After the crowds swept over the bridges
into Arnold and tore the place apart, people down south got scared.
They made calls for help. Then I got a phone call from...” he
paused for a long time. “I got my orders from...” He
seemed unable to decide. “They gave me a hundred reasons why
this roadblock made sense. Why the rioters couldn't be allowed to
pass out into the rest of the state of Missouri. Now if you'll excuse
me—”

Liam could see the sweat beading up on his forehead.

Victoria continued. “Sir, you realize what you're doing here
is completely without hope don't you? Just look at all the people who
have already walked under this bridge.” She pointed further
down the highway. “A thousand men with machine guns couldn't
turn this entire crowd around. Not without killing them all. That's
not what you want to do here today, is it?”

His pause was a heartbeat too long for Liam's taste, but the man
conceded cold-blooded murder was not why he was there.

“I do have orders though. I
have
to try.”

“Orders from whom?”

Jack ignored Liam, fidgeting with the controls of the sound
system.

“Orders from whom!”

The speakers went live as Jack turned toward the crowd.

3

“ATTENTION FELLOW CITIZENS!”

Liam and many nearby officers flinched. Jack reduced the volume to
a more tolerable level. Still loud enough to hear it well down the
highway. The crowd was standing still and quieting down. A minor
miracle.

“My name is Jack Crosby. I work for the city government. I
know y'all are tired and thirsty and are looking for help—”

Victoria whispered to Liam, remarking that ol' Jack neglected to
say
which
city he was from. She gave Liam a wink. An Arnold
city official would not be popular right now.

“—but by decree from the Jefferson County Sheriff’s
Department I order you to return to your homes and await further
instructions.”

No surprise that the crowd erupted in screaming and shouting. He
was still talking, but no one was listening. If there had been cars
on the highway the crowd would have already turned them over and set
them alight. They were in riot mode, though still not willing to give
the roadblock a go head-on. Liam looked around at the men and women
on the bridge, and saw them eying their rifles.

Jack dropped the microphone and walked away. He appeared to be
rubbing his hands—was he literally washing his hands of this?
Liam and Victoria were left standing there.

Should I pick up the microphone and say something to these
people? What would I say?

The question hung heavy on Liam. Could he insert himself between
these people and a government politely requesting they go home and
die? What would he be authorized to say? Come to my place. I have
chips? The responsibility of touching that microphone was huge. He
had a new respect—sort of—for the sweaty politician
currently fading into the background of this scene.

His answer would have to wait. A black van slowly moved from the
assembly area and glided into position just behind the speaker-truck.
It had no markings of any kind, not even manufacturer badges. Three
men emerged from the back door.

Government men.

It was obvious two of the men were working security for the third.
The two large men on the flanks wore equally large black rifles with
oversized scopes, slings of ammo, bulky vests, dark sunglasses, and
ear pieces. Liam saw their type in numerous action movies. They moved
with that cat-like grace big men carry when they are true
professionals at their craft. Probably ex-military. The guy they were
protecting was dressed exactly as you'd expect from a G-man type.
Black slacks. White shirt. Sport jacket over the shoulder. Smart tie
around his neck. Mirror shades. The only incongruity was the brown
cowboy boots. Maybe that's how they did it in the corn fields of
Missouri?

Mirror man walked directly up to the microphone, picked it up, and
pinged it one time for a mic check. He had slicked back jet-black
hair, was clean shaven, and looked to be about fifty. His face was
otherwise average, but his gray eyes revealed a man who was supremely
focused on his task. Not once did he look at Liam, Victoria, or
anyone else on the bridge.

“Hello.” He spoke into the microphone. “Hello,”
he calmly repeated.

If he didn't see it happen Liam wouldn't have believed the crowd
could actually be “talked down” from the
foam-in-the-mouth fury they expressed minutes earlier. Slowly the
crowd stepped back from the edge of chaos. Merciful silence was
returned.

“I'm Special Agent In Charge Duchesne. I'm with the
Department of Homeland Security.”

The two security men happened to be standing precisely where Liam
could see both of them at the same time. He thought he noticed the
slightest glance to their leader from both of them.

“My job here today is to help protect you citizens in this
time of crisis. I know you're scared.” He paused to let that
sink in. “I know many of you have walked through some ugly
situations—including roadblocks set up by idiots like Jack back
there.” He was pointing over his shoulder. Jack was probably
running for his life now. “I'm here as part of the Federal
effort to ensure our citizens get the best care their
federal
family
can provide. We're all in this together.”

The agent went on; a very accomplished speaker taking control of
the situation. The crowd heard what they wanted to hear. Someone in
charge who was going to tell them what to do. Agent Duchesne began
listing facts and figures about survival rates in the city, locations
of FEMA hospitals, and even said the US Army had a brigade of troops
moving up this very highway from their base in Arkansas to help
protect them. He then began listing resources they had set up for
food disbursement throughout Jefferson County. Liam wanted to believe
it. The government was here to help right?

“And we're working on the vaccine for the sickness. That
will be given out at the FEMA centers. You just have to turn around.”

Victoria looked at Liam, apparently studying what she saw on his
face. “You don't believe him do you? What he's saying is horse
hockey. You know that
right
? We didn't pass any food
distribution centers and we've been all over the place. Have you
heard of a vaccine?”

No, but I
want
to believe.

Liam looked down at the crowd while he was digesting. Something
amazing had happened. They were all standing there talking to each
other, as if they were discussing the weather. Did they believe what
the agent had told them? Stuck between false hope and hopelessness
they seemed to be selecting false hope. They had to know it was all a
long shot. An impossible shot.

Don't get involved. This is for the adults to handle.

He found himself wishing his dad was there. He'd know just what to
say to make this situation resolve itself satisfactorily. He
desperately wanted to avoid being the one making the decisions.

Get involved. You can't let this happen.

He thought of the teens pushing the chicken. Who would speak for
them? He looked down into the crowd and saw women, children, the
elderly. Would they really turn around because this guy said it was
the right thing to do?

Yes, but don't get involved. Someone else will save the day.

The agent carried on with more soothing words. All lies.

Why is no one stepping up? I can't be the only one seeing this?
Where is Mark? Phil?

He knew they were somewhere below, but he had no idea what they
were actually doing down there. He was supposed to be the diversion
for them, but they didn't seem to be doing anything to divert.

Don't do it. Don't get involved.

Do it. These people need someone giving them the honest truth.

BUT IT COULD GET YOU KILLED!

Worse. You could get them killed.

Liam squeezed Victoria's hand, stepping forward.

If I do nothing now, I kill them. I know that in my heart.

To his relief, Victoria didn't let go.

4

Liam wasn't that far from the man speaking, so he didn't have much
time to think what he was going to do. He realized he probably should
have thought of that before he committed himself. Was he going to
push the man aside and heroically begin a speech as if he were George
Washington? Maybe organize the police to hurl the man over the side
of the bridge so the crowd could “have at him.” That's
how they do it in the movies.

Reality was less structured. There were two guards with guns
standing right there. Not to mention the other fifty police officers.
He took a few steps forward toward the side rail of the bridge—it
was a wall of concrete about three feet tall. The police had set up
some steel cases at various points on the bridge—ammo
crates?—and he hopped up to the one nearest him. People down
below could clearly see what he was doing. Victoria stood next to and
underneath him, but still held his hand.

He did the first thing that came to his mind and began wildly
flailing his arms as if trying to get the attention of someone way
back in the crowd. He thought he might start screaming “This
man is a liar!” but he thought it might only antagonize the
agent. Better to be seen as a confused kid than a man with a plan.

“Dad! Dad! Can you see me?” He shouted.

Where am I going with this?

The agent halted his speechifying, unable to ignore the young man
to his left gesticulating and yelling in a crazed fashion. It gave
Liam the opening he didn't know he was looking for. “Hey! Can I
use that microphone? I see my sick dad over there!”

Not too thick you fool.

The agent was clearly processing this new information, and was
reaching a conclusion Liam wasn't going to like. He turned around
from the crowd and gestured to one of his guards using the “finger
across the throat” motion. Then he pointed to Liam.

He looked twenty feet below to those closest to him on the
roadway. In that instant he saw a family of four and knew what to
say. “I have information that could save your lives but this
man won't let me speak. Help me!” Liam was yanked off the crate
and was subdued forcefully to the ground by one of the guards. He
could no longer be seen by the crowd, but Victoria began shouting at
the security guy to let him up, insisting they were hurting Liam. She
was putting on a show for those below.

With a knee in his back he was unable to continue watching her. He
was looking at the cigarette butts, chewing gum, and other debris on
the pavement of the bridge near his face when he heard the chanting
from below.

“Let him speak!”

“Let him speak!”

“Let him speak!”

Liam knew as soon as he'd heard it he'd won the first round of
this battle. The people down below would not stop until they knew the
kid on the bridge was safe and was allowed to speak. The chant went
on for another sixty seconds before the agent finally relented.

The security agent simply removed himself from Liam's back. He was
left laying there to collect himself. Victoria pulled him up. She had
a nervous look on her face, but also the makings of a smile. “You
better go talk to your dad,” she said with a wink.

That's it. Victoria was a genius.

Liam resumed his story when he got up, this time speaking to the
agent in charge as he moved his way. “I just need to get a hold
of my dad and I'll be out of your hair. I have information that could
save his life.” It was a thin transition from what he had told
the people down below, but it was all he had.

Liam could see Agent Duchesne was a smart guy, and that they were
both walking a precarious line with the mass of frightened humanity
below. If Duchesne wanted this crowd to turn around he'd have to
allow Liam “the frightened kid” time to call for his dad.
Similarly, Liam would have to speak in a way that wouldn't be
threatening to the very driven agent.