Sirens of the Zombie Apocalypse (Book 1): Since the Sirens (14 page)

“Grandma are you ready to dive into all those people? That's
where we need to go.”

“I'll go where you push me Liam. I'm too tired to arm
wrestle you over it.”

The pair descended the road the last hundred feet, caught up with
the many other new arrivals queuing up at the edge, and soon entered
the perimeter of the park. There was a row of armed citizens and
police officers on the outside rim of the grounds, each holding their
weapons at the low ready position. A couple of horse officers were
also wandering around along with other civilians on horseback. Where
they found horses downtown was another of the mysteries of this
thing.

The park where the Arch resides is about a mile long and a quarter
of a mile across. It is a patch of greenery huddled next to the
concrete jungle of downtown St. Louis. As they approached the outer
limits of the grounds, Liam could see many dead bodies littering the
streets. Any school child could piece together what was happening
down here. People like Angie were attacking the police, and getting
put down like wild dogs. But seeing that many dead people—and
their blood—in the light of day was disconcerting. He gripped
the wheelchair handles with determination. He pushed through.

Liam felt reassured by the police presence, but not because they
had weapons—lots of people he'd seen today had weapons,
including him. He was reassured because these men and women
represented authority. A hope that society was holding it together
despite all the chaos. He gave the nearest officer a wave, and got a
nod in return. He felt like he had returned to society with that
little acknowledgment.

His faith in society didn't last long. Once inside the outer ring
of armed order, there was no organization whatsoever. The interior of
the park was anarchy. Liam could quickly deduce that. Surely there
would be police or Red Cross or SOMEONE in charge. People were
huddled in small groups all along the path, and well out into the
grass on each side of him. Kids were playing in the small pond to
their right. Liam knew that was forbidden from his own visits to this
place as a youngster.

There was a little parking lot near the outer line of police. It
was filled with police cars and trucks, as well as several civilian
vehicles. A large box truck was parked almost directly in the path he
was walking. The back door was open and a man was standing inside the
truck yelling at the crowd, “Guns! Ammo! On loan! We need you
armed!”

It was perhaps the most unusual thing Liam had seen today, and
that was saying a lot. The thought of police allowing this man to
toss guns out the back of his truck—it just wasn’t done.
Ever. And yet—

“Grandma let’s check this out.” She didn’t
reply, so he took that as an affirmative.

When he got closer he could see this was a truck from a popular
sporting goods store in town. Lots of police and civilians were
standing near the back, and the man was working with a partner to
take down some information from each person and then hand them a
rifle or shotgun. No money was changing hands. Liam could see a
cornucopia of firearms in the cargo area. If he was in a cartoon his
eyes would be swirling with longing and desire. He moved with Grandma
so he could drift into the queue.

It can’t hurt to try.

In a few minutes he was talking to the man holding the guns.

“Can I get a rifle? I want to protect my Grandma.” It
was completely true, but boy did he want a gun.

The man looked down and seemed to take a few seconds to size him
up. Liam knew at that moment what the man was going to say. His own
eyes flashed behind the man, spotting a large—no huge—tan
rifle sitting on its end, up against the wall of the truck. He
doubted he could even lift the thing...

“Look kid, I appreciate your situation, but we need
men
on this line. Police. Ex-military. You and your grandma don’t
belong anywhere near guns. You need to be inside the park staying
safe.”

And there it was. He was “just a kid.”

Liam could feel the emotions welling up inside as the man moved
onto another customer. An older woman got a gun after giving her name
and address. No other questions asked. So much for needing men he
thought.

He wanted to stay and argue but knew it was useless. He tried to
move out of the line while avoiding the concerned looks of the men
and women still there. Soon he was lost in the crowd, moving deeper
into the park. Anonymity brought relief.

Liam tried to keep the wheelchair on the straight and narrow of
the path, but couldn't help looking from side to side at the many
strange people who had washed up in this tidal basin of humanity.

To his right was a large black family, it looked like the entire
extended family was huddling together. Old ladies. Several middle age
men and women. A score of children. Very scared. Liam couldn't
understand the fear here amongst all the armed police.

To his left, among the hundreds of people, he spotted a young boy
much like himself—only he was with his mother and father. Liam
felt a little jealous because that boy had his parents right there
with him. He tried to be happy for him, but his heart wasn't really
in it.

He rolled Grandma past an old cathedral, though it was clear the
place was full and not taking in new tenants. Hundreds of people
gathered around the front doors, hoping to get in. Liam kept moving
toward the Arch itself, which was further inside the grassy parkland.

Dozens of other vignettes emerged from the crowd. Wounded men.
Coughing and hacking women—danger! Small children walking
rudderless. The aged. The infirm. Mentally challenged.

And pets of every stripe! No one wanted to leave without their
pets. Dogs were the most common, but small pet carriers were prolific
as well—probably holding back the cats. There were even some
big birds on people's shoulders. Liam couldn't identify many, though
he did know a Macaw when he saw one. For some reason the pets put an
odd thought in his mind.

“I wonder where all these pets go to the bathroom?”

Grandma might have heard the question, but if she did she kept the
answer to herself. Liam merely pushed on.

It wasn't far before the path revealed the larger scene beyond the
park and well beyond the Arch. Liam could now see the Mississippi
River—a disgusting brown, churning itself under the downtown
bridges at high speed. Small boats were flitting about in all
directions, their purpose unclear. Several aircraft were buzzing
above. Those were definitely military.

Liam stood there for a full minute, finally disturbed by a weak
voice.

“I need to get in the shade Liam.”

Liam obliged, angling her back from the crest of the sunny hill
and toward one of the many tree-lined and shady paths through the
park. All the benches were taken, but many trees had some space on
the concrete—most people chose to sit under trees or in the
open grass off the walkway. Liam carefully observed several of the
trees to find one that was best suited to Grandma's needs. Some had
large groups of scary-looking men, as if an entire biker gang agreed
to meet there. Some had large family groups. One had a score of
priests and nuns below it. Liam searched for a tree with enough open
space so Grandma could get the shade she needed without asking people
to move. He knew it was a tall order given the size of the crowd, but
he was patient.

He settled on one that had a couple families—one with a baby
stroller—as well as a woman lying half on the grass and half on
the path. It looked like she was sleeping—which was just fine.
She wouldn't give them any trouble.

“Here you go. Shade as promised!”

Grandma didn't say anything again. Liam figured the trip was too
much for her. Perhaps some shade would help her sleep for a bit.

As he was rolling her next to the tree, Liam couldn't help but
notice the sleeping woman was closer to his age than he thought. She
was wearing some kind of elegant black dress, completely out of place
in the sweltering heat and humidity of this park-turned-refugee-camp.
The knee-length dress had hiked up her thigh as she lay on the grass,
revealing more than was appropriate for a 15-year-old teenage boy,
for sure. Liam was immediately embarrassed and tried to focus on
pushing the chair into position next to the tree, but the distraction
conspired to force the wheelchair off the pavement. Liam felt the
chair drop off the small edge and he knew immediately what he'd done.

So did the girl.

2

“What. The. HELL!”

The girl yanked her hand from underneath the wheel and sat up to
take stock of her attacker. Liam thought she looked like she had been
sleeping a long time. Her long brown hair was a ratty mess, managed
only by the grace of a black headband. Her face, as pretty as it
might be, was covered on one side with dirt and grass. Her makeup had
been displaced, making her eyes look dark and sunken. The green eyes
were still striking—Liam had to look away immediately. The
yelling reinforced his decision.

“That was my hand! Who the he—” she noticed Liam
was pushing a little old lady in the wheelchair.

“Oh, sorry ma'am. I meant no disrespect. This wasn't how I
expected to wake up.” Looking around, she continued, “Though
seeing all these people now, I don't know WHAT I was expecting.”

Grandma was magnanimous, looking down on the young woman. “Please
child, Liam just lost control of my chair—it was an accident.
We've been on the road all morning and we're just looking for some
shade.”

“I'm very sorry for running you over.” Liam pretended
to attend to Grandma as he apologized.

As the woman stood up, Liam could see she was about his height,
maybe a little less than his 5 foot 8 inches, and she had an athletic
look about her. Her calves had real definition—not that he was
looking at them! Her profile reminded Liam of any number of girls on
his high school track team. Something about how they carried
themselves gave it away. It was an intangible quality, but Liam had
seen it many times in runners. Was she a runner too? He'd have to—

“Hey. Crash Cart. You finished?”

Bollocks.

Liam was caught checking her out.

“Yeah, I'm uh, just wondering why you are dressed up like
that?”

Good save.

She gave Liam a disapproving scowl but asked a question rather
than address his.

“Do you have any water or anything? I've got nothing but
what you see here.” She held out her arms and then swished them
down and in front of her, as if presenting her clothes as her only
possession.

“Grandma has the only water, and we're saving that.”

“Nonsense. Here you go dear—please take a little.”
She pulled a water bottle out of Liam's backpack, which she kept next
to her on the ample seat of the wheelchair.

Liam wasn't surprised. Grandma would try to help anyone she met.
She couldn't help the thousands of other people in this park, but she
could help this girl.

“Thank you. My name is Victoria.”

“Victoria huh?” She paused, just for a couple extra
seconds. “My name is Marty, but you can call me Grandma like
everyone else seems to do. I'm 104 by the way. You were going to ask.
This is my rescuer and great-grandson, Liam.”

Liam gave her a nod, trying to stay relaxed, but he was deathly
afraid he'd say something stupid, or look at her minimal but
sufficiently curvaceous chest accidentally—

Oh crap!

He found it impossible not to look. The dress wasn't even low cut,
but it was a dress after all and it complimented her figure. She was
adjusting a mobile phone inside her bra. It was too much. He decided
to sit down on the pavement next to the wheelchair, keeping his eyes
forward, looking at people walking the large path next to him.

“Thanks for the water. Hope neither of us have the plague.”
She followed that with some nervous laughter. She used just a splash
of water on her face, and made a desultory effort to untangle her
hair, then took a seat opposite Liam on the far side of the
wheelchair. It took everything Liam had to avoid looking at the legs
now stretched on the pavement close by.

3

“You asked why I'm dressed like this.”

A long sigh.

“I'm from Colorado, but I came here a month ago. I just
graduated from high school and got picked for a summer internship at
a local medical school. I guess I’m pretty smart. As you know
things have been getting bad for the past several weeks. Fuel
shortages. Food shortages. Stuff like that. But in the hospitals it's
been much worse. Medications became hard to find. Shipments were
lost. Petty theft right out of the controlled medical closets. I'm no
more medically qualified than you guys, but they put us pre-pre-med
students to work with patients as the crisis became more acute. They
had me doing as little as possible with truly sick people, but I've
seen enough bad things in the past couple weeks to last a lifetime.”

She paused as if digesting an unsavory thought.

“Two nights ago some of my new friends were going out to one
of the few night clubs still open here in the downtown area. They
insisted I go with them and I was too tired to refuse. I'm not 21 but
nobody was carding anymore.”

Liam noted she just graduated from high school, so she couldn't be
MUCH older than he was.

“—and the place was full. I guess the stress was
affecting everyone. It was wall-to-wall packed. We joined some
colleagues from the program at one of the large tables and spent a
couple hours dancing, talking, yelling—you know, stuff girls do
out on the town. When trying to forget...”

Her voice was clear but distant.

“I looked down at my watch at one point and was shocked to
see it was already two in the morning! The place seemed to have no
intention of shutting down, and I don't think the crowd ever thinned
out the whole time we were there. There were tons of drugs and
alcohol right out in the open, but that wasn't for me—I don't
drink.”