Zombies Ever After: Sirens of the Zombie Apocalypse, Book 6 (30 page)

“Are you OK, Grandma?” Debbie asked her.

“I’m fine,” she said with suitable ambiguity.
She wasn’t fine, but she didn’t like to complain. “Just
a little shaken.”

“The stink, like, made everyone go crazy for a few minutes.
You were lucky.”

They both faced the horde, but could also see down into the water.
The implication that she should have gone over the side with the
dazed Mr. Franks was obvious. The very back of the gator stuck out of
the water on the far side. Duncan was nowhere to be seen, though many
ruined bodies moved in the putrid waterway.

“Come on, let’s get you up.”

By the time she was on her feet, several other people had run up
to offer help.

“How did you get here so fast, Miss Debbie?”

Several arms reached for her as she eased her way down the berm.
It left her free to listen to the girl.

“After I met you in our house, I, like, felt a connection
with you. I wanted to go with you when those men, uh, took you with
that woman, but, like, I didn’t want to be a buttinski.”

Marty giggled weakly. It would be the first teenager in a long
time that wanted to spend time with her.

Go easy on Liam. He came around, in the end.

“I’ve been looking for you ever since. I, like,
searched houses, and stuff.”

“This whole time? Thank you, Debbie.”

“Well, I, mmm, didn’t find you until today. They gave
us these spears,” she bent her back so Marty could see the
rust-colored spear lashed to her back, “and told us to walk to
the levee. That’s when I, uh, noticed you in that green cart
thingy.”

She seemed embarrassed.

“It’s OK, child.”

“Well, I didn’t want to be geeky, and fangirl on you,
but I happened to be watching when that wave of puking gas came over
us all. I tossed my cookies right away, I mean, like,
right
away. But I felt totally fine after that. I watched your driver take
you down the hill, and I started running right then. I stopped when I
thought you were going over the top, but I started again when I saw
you jump out. That was, really brave, you know?”

For her part, the young girl seemed to have made a miraculous
transformation, though her soft spoken voice betrayed the look of
woman warrior she tried to convey. The layers of clothing might be
designed to fend off the bites of zombies, but she would still have
to take her spear and jam it into the face of a zombie. Marty was
unsure the girl could do it...or if she realized what would soon be
required of her.

They began their way back up the levee. “Please take me over
to that man,” she said as she pointed to the general.

The gunfire picked up as people regained their senses after the
tsunami of horrid smells dissipated. By the time she’d reached
the summit, many of those who had run down the backside had also
returned. The nearby tank adjusted its turret and fired its machine
gun as it sought targets. A man on top operated a second machine gun,
though he fired less frequently.

The general was in his front seat, with his door opened. His face
was pale, like maybe he’d gotten sick, too.

“Hello, Ms. Peters. I thought your goose was cooked.”

“That makes two of us. I guess it wasn’t my time.”
She pointed up.

“Well, you jumped out at the right time,” he said with
a weak smile.

“I wonder. I think...” Her mind was a little fuzzy, so
she wasn’t sure she could make the claim. But something told
her she’d seen it correctly. “...that Duncan pushed me
out. I wasn’t right, either, and I wasn’t holding on as
tightly as I should. I felt someone push my back, and I tumbled out
of that seat, onto the dirt. It was still a miracle I didn’t
break anything, but that cart was near to the ground.”

“Well, maybe Duncan knew what he was doing, even though he
was overcome,” the general offered.

“Then Debbie came and got me.”

Debbie and the general smiled at each other.

“Marty, I want you off this levee. We don’t know what
else is coming. I expect it will get worse before we get an upper
hand.” He looked at Debbie. “Can you walk her down
there?” He pointed to the inside of the front gate where the
military vehicles and their families had come through. “Someone
can give her a ride to a safer place in the town.”

Marty saw the uncertainty on his face.

She thought of Al’s words. Something she was missing. Was
she supposed to leave? What would she do about Liam? Leaving was an
option, and soon it might be a requirement, but for now she had time.
And, she knew what she’d do with that time.

“My dear, let’s do as the general asks. If you take me
down there, I’m sure we can find some help. I’d very much
like to go back to your home.”

It’s where Liam will return. At the very least I need to
leave him a note.

Her mind planned what she would write, but without having the
slightest idea where she would go, her note was destined to be blank.

3

“My great-grandson, Liam, usually walks me like this.”

Debbie steadied her arm as she paced her down the gravel road on
the inner slope of the levee. It wasn’t very far, but they
weren't moving very fast.

“He was the boy that came from, like, the hospital, right?”

“Yes, dear, he was injured rescuing me in St. Louis.”

“I heard you all talking when he woke up. So, that pretty
girl with him was his...girlfriend, right?”

Marty looked at her and winked.

“Well...I thought so. They both ran out together the day he,
um, woke up. Then I guess they left together the next day?”

“That’s correct.”

“So they’re not coming back?” she asked with too
much nonchalance.

She searched her feelings. The dream she had with Al placed both
kids out in the middle of the zombie horde, alive, but in great
peril. Was that allegory, or was it literal? If the latter, how could
she have possibly known that? Al never made much sense, but lately,
he made less sense than usual. Whatever the explanation, she was
unable to answer Debbie’s question with authority.

“Why do you ask?” Her voice carried concern.

Debbie looked at her, and her eyes grew wide. “Oh, no
reason. Well. I guess there is a reason, but it’s stupid. Just
ignore me.”

She turned forward and continued down the ramp. Marty sensed that
Debbie wanted her to pursue her answer.

“They’re coming back. I’m sure of it. I just
can’t say when, dear.”

“Good,” she said with cheer. Then, looking at Marty
with horror on her face, she followed up with, “No! I didn’t
mean it like that.” She physically rubbed her hand over her
face, like she wanted to wash away her effort. “I, like, am
happy to help you out is all. I’ll take care of you until they
make it back.”

Marty was glad for the help but was concerned for the girl. She
hadn’t said two words in the days they were in the house—her
face had been glued to her phone as she punched keys on it—but
now she seemed to be a different person. Was it fear? Bravery?
Confusion?

“That’s delightful. I would love to have the help.”
It was the truth, but she was wary. In the Old World she would have
never thought twice about the motives of someone so eager to help
her, but here, now, everything had to be questioned. The very thought
turned her inward for the remainder of their walk.

Finding a ride was easy. Getting back to the house was easy.
Debbie remembered exactly where to go, and the young woman driving
the SUV was eager to deliver them and get back to the front gate. Her
husband was one of the soldiers up on the levee.

When they got inside, the silence was comparatively shocking. The
levee was on the far side of town, and while the noise of the battle
was constant—like roofers nailing in shingles two streets
over—it was far enough away to be filtered out.

No one else was in the house, which was a switch from the last
time she’d been there.

“My dear, where are all the kids?” She didn’t
expect all the young people to be there, as they had been asked to
fight with spears, but the younger kids surely wouldn’t be out
there, too.

“Oh, they, like, moved them all to the middle of town. In
the town center, I think.” She finished with an upward
inflection, making her statement sound like a question.

“Shouldn’t we go there, too? I think maybe we should.”

“No, you can sit in your comfortable chair, like you were.”
She helped Marty to the same chair where she’d spent her days
while they were all together.

When she was down, she kept her face steady and calm, though she
felt something else. A deep-seated fear that this wasn’t going
to end well.

“Debbie. What’s wrong?” She didn’t know if
that was the right tact to take, but something was wrong. She just
couldn’t pin it down.

“Oh. Um.” She hesitated. “What do you mean?”

“How old are you, Debbie?”

“How old am I?” She seemed to think about it.
“Seventeen, I think. I don’t know the year.”

“Seventeen. That’s a great age. Liam’s friend
Victoria is seven—”

“Don’t talk about her, OK? I’m going to take
care of you, Grandma.”

“Until Liam returns, right?”

Debbie’s face was sweat-covered and full of confusion. The
inside of the house was much warmer than the outside air because it
had been sealed like a tomb. Not as hot as the motel where she almost
died, but not much better.

“I have to help you, Grandma. I, like, have to show him I
can do it.”

“Liam?”

“No! The President of the United States!” She smirked.
“I’m sorry. I’m tired. You need to rest for a
while. When Liam gets here, we’ll get you to safety.”

Debbie sat in a chair across the room. Marty assumed she’d
pull out her phone and start texting again, but the girl seemed true
to her word about being tired. She crossed her arms and lowered her
head to her chest, as if to sleep.

Marty had been leaning forward in her chair, hoping to convince
Debbie not to leave her there. But now, in the face of the girl’s
obvious need to rest, she let herself lean back into the soft
recliner seat. It would be very difficult to get out of the plush
chair without assistance, but if she was going to do it, she needed
to park her weary muscles for a little while.

She wasn’t exactly in danger, but not safe, either. Debbie
was disturbed, but she didn’t sense anything malicious about
her. Maybe a good sleep would do the girl some good.

Minutes later, a distant tornado siren cranked up. It was eerily
similar to the tornado sirens she’d heard on that first day,
back in her home in St. Louis. Those sirens screamed for an hour, and
they announced the end of the world.

These sirens only howled for sixty seconds.

Nothing trumps the end of the world.

She hoped.

As Marty and the young girl walked off the levee, John Jasper
cleared his head. The defensive line had been scattered and weakened,
but the zombies were too uncoordinated to take advantage of that. A
comparable human force could have run themselves over the open bridge
in the middle, and have been among the confused defenders in a
relatively short time. The zombies, on the other hand, hit the ditch
from end to end, almost at the same time. It weakened their punch.

He looked at his people. Several men and women had partially, or
completely, stripped off their clothes and were doing who-knows-what
in the grass on both sides of the levees. Many others were recovering
from being hunched over—tossing their cookies, like the
general. Others ran away. Some fought with each other. A critical few
went toward the zombies.

Some stripped, puked, then fought.

It could have been worse.

He reestablished contact with his units. First, by voice. Tyler,
Xander, and Rando were all nearby, though Rando had run to the base
of the levee before returning. After ensuring they were solid, he
worked on getting in touch with his vehicles.

The Bradley that had nearly driven into the ditch reported that
they'd gotten themselves together—they were back in the game.
He thought about using the other Bradley to pull the first one off
the berm, but in the end, it wouldn't really matter. It could fire
its main gun—the deadly M242 chain gun—and its lighter
machine gun from where it sat on the dirt pile. He wasn't going to
risk an extraction unless the situation out in the field stabilized.

He took a deep breath. He'd survived the critical initial contact
with the enemy. So what if he'd thrown up. At least he didn't run
from battle or drive himself over to the enemy side. The wave of gas
created by the zombies affected everyone differently, it would seem.

“Alpha-1 and -2, focus fire on those approaching the ditch.
How copy, over.”

They responded in the affirmative, but it illustrated a new
problem. Alpha-2 couldn't fire anywhere near the immobilized Bradley
in front of it. And, because of where the Bradley sat on the mound,
it couldn't fire down and hit the zombies closest to the ditch in its
sector.

Alpha-1, on his left, executed his orders perfectly. The Abrams'
machine gun swept just over the top of the berm behind the ditch, and
it made a satisfying swath of destruction hundreds of yards into the
first echelons of the endless zombie horde. The walkers had
approached behind the runners, and the crowd was growing. As best he
could tell, the runners had all fallen into the water...lost from
view.

The job of his military units was to keep the followers from
jumping in and clogging the pipes.

Minutes later, tornado sirens spun up from the town at his back.

“Yeah, why not. Let's call them in,” he barked.

Someone is really trying to screw me over.

The emergency sirens turned off almost as soon as they got to full
strength, which gave him some relief. It cleared his head so he could
focus on the driving melody of gunfire. The louder the music, the
more zombies fell. He likened it to Death Metal—a musical genre
he hated each time his men cranked it. It was the right soundtrack as
he watched the zombies get shredded up and down the line.