Sirens of the Zombie Apocalypse (Book 2): Siren Songs (33 page)

“Boy Scout, eh? What you got in the back?”

He didn't want any snoopers if he could help it,
but that seemed nearly impossible to avoid. “I'm trying to get
my 104-year-old grandma to my home about ten miles thataway.”
He was pointing straight ahead.

“You live around here?”

“Yes, sir. I live at Hwy M and Interstate
55.”

Liam knew how to work the odd cultural phenomenon
shared by residents of the St. Louis area. Everyone in the metro area
gets judged by where they went to high school. You say your school,
and a stranger says theirs. In that instant both parties know quite a
bit about the other. Social status. Geographic location. Whether they
were religious. Whether they were good at sports. By a lucky
coincidence, most of these young men went to the very same high
school where Liam was soon going to be entering his senior
year—assuming school ever started again. None of them had been
on the track team, but most had been football and baseball players.
They asked about coaches, teachers, and the condition of their old
playing fields.

One of the men, named Ty Owens, seemed to be the
leader of this motley outfit. He had a mouth full of chaw and an
International Harvester hat beaten all to hell. But Liam realized he
was just as scared as he was about what was happening.

“I hear ya. Yeah, once things started
falling apart my buddies and I all made for the biggest farm in the
group,” he pointed over his shoulder, “which turned out
to be my daddy's place. We brought our families here and have been
stopping people trying to get any news of the outside world for the
past week now. Can you tell us anything?”

Liam actually laughed. “Where do I begin!”

He told them about his journey out of the city
with Grandma. He breezed over his encounters with zombies—they'd
dealt with a few during the initial wave—and focused on Grandma
and Victoria. He then told them of the fall of the city of Arnold.
The collapse of St. Louis. The mess on the highways, and of strange
military convoys. He specifically told them to avoid Hayes if he came
through with his MRAP. He also took a chance by revealing more about
the Boy Scout redoubt.

“The camp where I'm coming from is filled to
the brim with industrious people who survived the initial collapse
and zombie hordes, but they have no food. I'd suggest you go there to
find refuge, but I don't know how long they will survive there.”
He made as if nodding at their guns. “They could also use help
with security.”

“But no food, eh?”

“No, they are in the woods without much
chance for agriculture. It's a good place to hide from the zombies,
but longer term they are going to have to rethink their position.”

“Once I get Grandma home and get my parents,
I'm planning on going back there. Unlike most of the world I've seen,
they are the only ones actually working together to survive. Well,
and now you guys.”

“You're welcome to stop here on your way
back. We'll help you in any way we can. Just be careful out there.
We've seen some real characters go through here. Some with guns
blazing.”

They gave him a few freshly picked strawberries
and allowed him to go on his way.

They allowed Grandma her privacy, and for that
Liam was most appreciative. “Goodbye Grandma,” they said
while they waved him through, “nice to meet y'all.”

For the first time in his life he thanked his
father for moving them so far out into the suburbs they were
bordering on rural.

I need to start keeping a list of things to
thank Mom and Dad for when I see them.

6

Marty fell asleep as soon as she was positioned
inside the tiny trailer. She wasn't entirely comfortable, but it beat
that miserable ride in the back of the military truck.

Soon she was dreaming.

Marty's vision focused as she became aware of her
altered state, but it was very dark. She waited while her eyes
adjusted to the low light. As if on cue she heard the clops of
running feet heading in her direction. A small group of young people
were in a narrow corridor between two tall buildings.

“Help!” One of the young women cried
out from the back. Four or five people ran by Marty as she stood
there. Only one stopped to look back. As her brown hair swished away
from her face, it was evident to Marty she was watching Victoria.

“I'm so sorry,” was all that Victoria
could get out for her beleaguered fellow-runner before she resumed
her own escape. Even in the darkness Marty could see the girl on the
ground had been brought down by one of her pursuers.

Before she could get moving again, one of the
infected pounced on Victoria from the shadows, pushing her to the
ground, both tumbling—Victoria screaming in surprise while the
attacker merely snarled. They came to a rest at Marty's feet, causing
her to stumble backward into some trash cans.

The plague victim was on top of Victoria—he
was much larger and quite aggressive. She screamed wildly for a few
seconds, but then seemed to reconsider. She quieted down, to just a
quiet whisper of crying. Her eyes were closed.

“Victoria, don't give up.”

A final yelp was soon lost to the victory bark of
the dead man pawing away at her. The man's teeth were hovering over
Victoria's jugular. It was only a matter of time…

Marty looked away—and was grabbed and pulled
into a dark doorway.

It was Al. Finally, he was back.

“I was beginning to think you'd left me.
After seeing Clara but not you, I thought I was on my own.”

They were inside the building. Al was leading her
through dark hallways, but appeared to know where he was going.
“There are many layers to this battle. Clara represents a
difficult one for me to solve. This memory is far more important to
you. The clues it provides are manifold, if you're willing to see
them.”

“This is a memory? But Victoria didn't die
in a dark alley. She was killed in Liam's home.”

“Are you sure? About either?”

Al wasn't known for speaking directly about
anything. Was Victoria attacked in a dark alley? It seemed impossible
or she would never have survived that night. No one gets up and walks
away from an attack like that. Could that memory be real? She knew
for certain Victoria was killed by Hayes. She'd seen it with her own
eyes.

“Al, stop. Where are we going?” Marty
realized with some genuine shock she was being pulled through the
darkness of the structure and was running the whole way. Was it
magic?

“Not magic. That's ridiculous Marty. We're
in your head, remember? Anything is possible. But right now we have
somewhere we need to be. There's something I must show you as it
happens.”

They ran for several minutes. While scary on the
face of it, Marty was reveling in the feeling of the wind at her
face. She'd not run with any speed in probably 60 years, and seldom
any further than the length of her backyard with her children.

They came out in a large space, outdoors. It was
the same celestial waterfall she'd seen back on that railroad bridge
as they escaped St. Louis. She remembered the whole event with
clarity now that she had returned. The waterfall, she knew,
represented all the known planets in existence—each drop was in
fact a tiny representation of a planet. Marty couldn't even guess at
the number she was seeing. The waterfall began high up; she couldn't
see the top. It descended into a small pool of water surrounded by
vibrant green grass and several types of strange flowers. The pool
drained down off a cliff, out of sight. It was much as she remembered
it, but there were some changes.

Next to the waterfall she noticed a large glass
window centered on a dark metal door set into a rock face. Al was
walking directly to the window. When he looked in he put both arms up
on the door frame as if catching his breath.

“We aren't too late.”

Marty walked to the door, trying to look in. Al,
noticing this, moved out of the way. Inside Marty could see a
well-lit room with a small wooden table in the middle. She thought
she recognized the table, but she had no frame of reference for what
was sitting on it.

“No, you wouldn't Marty. That is one of the
very first personal computers. My oh my, Marty, you really haven't
touched a computer have you? You're seeing what your mind projects
when you think of a computer. Wow. That is an original 8088, I
think.”

“But what does it mean?”

“I'm sorry, Marty; I don't have time to
explain it all, but I'll show you what I can. First, I want you to
notice all the other windows in this room. Do you see them?”

She looked through her window and could see
several other doorways with their own portals. They were all darkened
and she couldn't see anyone standing as she was, looking in.

“But they're there. Each window you see is a
representation of someone trying to access—what's inside that
room. I know you want to know what it is. But I cannot influence you
at this critical juncture. I can only tell you that the key to
getting into the room is held by you, and it is tied to the memory
you just processed back in that alley.”

“Victoria? But she's dead, right?”

“Then how did you see her memory?” He
had a bit of his old smile as he said it, though he was much more
serious than he'd been in their past meetings.

“She's still alive? She wasn't attacked in
that alley? But she was definitely shot in Liam's house.”

It was par for the course for Al. He never gave
her a straight answer. She was left grasping at straws.

Looking away from the old computer and focusing on
Al once more, she took a stab at piecing together his cryptic hints.

“So, Victoria is still alive. I saw her in
that truck on that dark road being attacked. I saw her in that alley
being attacked. I'm seeing her real memories, just as I saw Liam's in
an earlier vision. This is incredible. It means Victoria didn't die
when she was shot.”

She perked up as she said it.

“You got it, Marty. You already know Liam's
heart. You are seeing the truth of Victoria. You are creating a triad
of heroes. Focus on that. Don't let go of that thought. Ever.”

“Yeah, but what good will that do? An old
woman and two youngsters. How are we heroes? What the heck are you
not telling me?”

“Oh, Marty, my dear. There is an entire
universe of information I'm not sharing with you right now. I wish I
had the time. All I can say is that everything you're doing,
everything you're seeing, these memories, your real life existence,
and the people you're fighting—will help you understand how to
get into
that
room,” as he said it he was pointing his
thumb through the glass window, “before anyone beats you to it.
You three are the key.
Only
you three.”

With that she woke up. She found herself in the
bike trailer once more.

“Victoria is still alive.”

Ahead, her chauffeur responded by putting more
effort into cranking the pedals.

We're coming Victoria.

The last hour of Liam's bike ride brought him into
territory that was more and more familiar. Houses he recognized.
Potholes to avoid. There was very little activity, alive or
otherwise, on the roads winding though the wooded properties of the
area. It gave him plenty of time to think, while keeping his eyes
open for trouble.

He tried to summarize the crazy chain of events
which brought him here.

Victoria's death.

Getting kidnapped and imprisoned by Hayes.

Seeing behind the curtain at the CDC Camp.

Spending the night in the woods with Grandma.

Surviving the day with the Boy Scouts.

And now, an early morning bike ride home to avoid
Hayes and his search party.

Seems so simple when you draw out a list. But the
first was the most painful. Liam felt like he'd been spinning wildly
these past few days without Victoria at his side. He'd only just met
her, but she had given him a glimpse of the future. Someone strong to
help find the light in these dark times.

Why am I remembering this now?

The quiet countryside reminded him of jogging
along these roadways in peaceful times. Before the end. Back then his
biggest fear was a careless driver. Now, the men and women lurking in
the creeks and cornfields were constant reminders that even a simple
relief stop could turn fatal. He looked down to watch his feet turn
the cranks. When he coasted he could hear the whine of the tires on
the asphalt.

If he wasn't pulling such precious cargo he could
almost coast and ignore everything wrong since sunrise. Just him, the
bike, and the sky.

But not her.

His mind was a turbulent mix of emotions and
scheming when he caught sight of his own street. His house was up the
hill a ways, and hidden by trees of the secluded neighborhood, but he
was home.

Out loud he said, “We made it.”

He took a moment to collect his thoughts as he
rolled to the stop sign at the end of Riverside Drive.

So much had happened since he'd last seen his
parents. Were they home waiting for him? What if they weren't? How
would they greet him? What would he do if they were still away? If
they were home, what would they think of the dead girl in their
foyer? Maybe Phil took care of the body. What if she
changed
?

He couldn't settle himself down. Each question
produced two more.

Deep breath.

He had done so much since the sirens. He even felt
a satisfying pride peeking out from his psyche. Not many people would
have been able to rescue Grandma
twice
amidst the backdrop of
the Apocalypse. Liam practically did it on his own.

Well, he did have help from time to time.

Of course, his helpers often ended up dead.