Sirens of the Zombie Apocalypse (Book 1): Since the Sirens (5 page)

As he was standing there, he could feel the hair begin standing up
on the back of his neck. He had a strange feeling that car was
running from something evil, and that “something” was
very close behind him right this very second...

He turned around fully expecting to see something horrific, but
was pleasantly surprised to see nothing out of the ordinary, not even
other moving cars—as long as he ignored the tornado sirens. And
the drunk man in the front seat of the car at ten-something in the
morning...

His momentary feeling of panic faded, but he had a spring in his
step as he made for home. He downed one of his drinks almost without
taking a breath. He considered going back to the shop and getting one
to replace it, but he had a sudden desire to get home. Something
was
very weird about the morning.

It took another twenty minutes of walking to finally reach his own
block. Several other cars had passed, though none as fast as that
orange one. Several times he saw people running out of their houses
to jump in cars or load junk into vehicles parked out on the street.
Clearly something big was going on, but he couldn't figure out if it
was a big tornado—thus the sirens—or what. He couldn't
even guess based on what he'd seen. He'd get it all sorted at
Grandma's. Sure she didn't have internet or even a cell phone, but
she seemed pretty well-informed most of the time. She would probably
be sitting in her sewing chair listening to a radio right now,
probably with Angie close by.

In fact he had this image so firmly in his mind's eye it took him
several moments to digest what was going on when he finally saw his
grandma's house. There on the front porch was Grandma. She didn't
have her cane or anything—just looked like she was dragging
herself along the front facade near the front doors.

First she fiddled around with her own door and then slowly moved
to Angie's door.

Liam was standing a couple houses away, on the sidewalk on the
opposite side of the tree-lined avenue. Several cars were parked
along the curb, making it difficult to get an unobstructed view from
so far away. He began moving quickly—not quite a run yet as he
wasn't sure what was happening—but, he was going to help if she
needed it.

Grandma was standing at Angie's door, leaning her head against the
wood. Was she trying to get in the wrong door? Liam had never known
her to have even an ounce of dementia—but this certainly seemed
like a start.

He was getting ready to call out to her when he saw Angie—or
someone who looked like Angie— groping her way out from between
the two houses. She had a rope or something trailing behind her and
she began screaming maniacally when she rounded the corner and saw
Grandma.

Then things happened so fast it forced him to stop in his tracks.
Grandma looked over and saw Angie, and then she threw herself hard
against that door. Somehow it opened for her and she seemed to tumble
out of view. Angie was running full-bore at her but inertia took her
wide of her target; the door slammed hard.

Liam stopped and pulled up behind one of the large trees.

OK. Something is seriously wrong.

He chanced a look at Angie. It was definitely her. She was
slamming her fists on the heavy wooden door, making no attempt to use
her own keys to get in, or use the door handle. Liam wondered what
the hell was she doing in her bathrobe? He'd never seen her come down
from her apartment looking less than fully dressed, with makeup to
boot.

The tornado sirens made it difficult to hear distinct sounds, but
he knew Angie was not throwing out words. She wasn't cussing or
yelling insults, she was merely pumping out a guttural scream—it
was horrible and inhuman.

In a flash she seemed to tone it down. Instead of beating the door
she appeared to sniff the air and move sideways along the front of
the house—back the way she came. The drapes were drawn over the
windows though it looked like she was peering inside anyway. A few
minutes took her back around the side of the house, and out of his
view.

Liam was only armed with one beverage can, a laptop, and a cell
phone. Thinking he would simply call Grandma to find out what had
just happened, he was disappointed to discover the network was down
again. He'd have to go in to find out.

He wasn't a weakling, despite being 15 years old, but he could
honestly compare himself with the crazy nurse who had pursued his
grandma and knew he could never subdue such an apoplectic person
without hurting her. Up and down the street he could now see random
people running, walking, or scrambling into cars—then speeding
away. The President was describing
this
disaster, not one far
away —and for once in his life he wished he'd paid attention to
the news.

The librarian—she mentioned Ebola or something.

He took stock in his surroundings, trying to see things as they
were. Gunshots had been a curious anomaly twenty minutes ago, but
were now prolific within the blare of the sirens. It still wasn't
clear what the threat was, but he knew he needed to hunker down. Like
Grandma minutes before, he now had to figure out how to get into her
house.

2

Liam was fairly confident he could outrun the nurse in a foot
race, but he ruled out going right to the front door as Grandma did.
Angie could be on the side of the house waiting to pounce, and he
suspected both doors were now firmly locked. He wasn't sure why, but
he felt an almost primal fear of Angie, based on her erratic
behavior. She had some kind of sickness, that much was clear, and he
wasn't going to get anywhere near her and risk getting infected. He
needed to look at another way in that didn't involve Grandma opening
those heavy doors again. He didn't want her running back into Angie
either. Liam couldn't recall ever seeing her walking without her cane
like that.

On the backside of her house there was a small cellar door which
led to the lower level—Liam's living area. If he could reach
the backyard, evade Angie, and have enough time to use his cellar
key, he could get in and help Grandma do...whatever it is she's
doing.

He had just stepped into the street when another car approached at
high speed. He didn't know the make or model, but it was a
modern-looking and sleek reddish sports car. It was also going much
too fast for the small street, and made no effort to slow down as the
driver spotted Liam. It veered dangerously close to him as he
lingered between two parked cars. Without thinking he raised his
middle finger at the driver. An act he was sure the driver had
witnessed.

That’s for trying to kill me!

The car sped down the street, broke hard and turned crisply to the
left at the first cross street.

Liam spent several long seconds checking both directions of the
street to ensure no more cars were approaching. It was becoming
deadly to spend any time at all out on the roads. He moved across and
down the street, using the parked cars as cover to shield him from
Angie. It was only a minute or so before he heard squealing tires
again. Another car was coming from behind him.

No, the same car. It was the same red sports car making another
pass down his street.

Liam panicked. He knew why the driver had come back.

He threw himself between two parked cars, though he figured he'd
already been spotted. He had about ten seconds to formulate a plan.
Hiding was his first choice so he moved off the road so he was
shielded by one of the parked cars; he wanted some steel between
himself and the potential enemy.

The rumbling vehicle approached and decelerated with the telltale
sound of disc brakes grinding and tire rubber grabbing the asphalt.

“Where are you boy? I’ve got something to show you.”

The tone was very obviously malicious. Liam felt he had to know
where the car had stopped so he would know if anyone was getting out.

He popped up slowly, and tried to look through the window of a
parked car. He knew right away he’d made another mistake. It
would have made more sense to look underneath the car. Too late. He
was spotted. The car was directly on the other side. And the
passenger-side door was opening.

Liam went instantly from squatting fright to explosive flight. He
ran back up the street, behind the stalking red menace.

The passenger door slammed shut, and the car squealed as it backed
up the street. There were at least two people inside, both cackling
like hyenas.

“You can’t run boy!”

Gunshots followed. The passenger was shooting a handgun in his
direction, sometimes hitting and breaking glass on nearby cars.
Laughter followed each shot.

Liam was running as hard as he could, but far too slow to outrun a
car. He was unwilling to run toward any houses lest he make himself
an easy target out in the open. Instead, he got an idea to stop, let
the car pass, and then cross the street in front of the sports car.

The move had the intended effect of surprising the driver and
shooter. The car had to stop before it could move forward again. The
angry driver popped the car into drive as it was still moving
backward; the wheels were spinning forward even as the car was moving
backward. Still, Liam had plenty of time to cross the street and then
run in the other direction. This put the shooter on the wrong side,
as long as he didn’t move to the back seat...

The car readjusted, moved forward again, and caught up to him in
seconds. However the driver merely yelled obscenities at him and then
accelerated away to continue down the street. The passenger continued
to fire his gun randomly out his window. They’d evidently
gotten bored of this game. A relief too as Liam had sprinted himself
to exhaustion.

I could have been killed. On my own street!

He lay there for a few moments recovering his wits. Still on the
ground, he peeked out from behind a parked car to see if more
vehicles were coming. All looked clear. He moved fast on the far side
of the street, wary of seeing Angie, but she must have gone into the
back again as she was not in the narrow corridor between the two
flats. He ran with purpose further down the street.

His brain was in overdrive trying to process the many disparate
pieces of his day. Internet shutting down was unfortunate, but
probably not unheard of. Library shutting down in the early morning
was definitely abnormal though. President giving a speech wasn't
weird, or even interesting, but taken together with everything else
his speech was clearly a piece of it. Finally his own street had gone
bonkers with speeding cars, dangerous gunmen, and a nurse in a
nightgown trying to claw at his grandma. And those damned sirens!

The tornado sirens were on a tall pole at the end of his block. He
would have to walk practically underneath them to go around the
corner and then back up the alleyway to the rear of Grandma's flat.
He could cut between one of the many houses on his grandma's block
and save himself the longer trip around them all, but he wasn't sure
if other houses had their own hidden hazards. Now was not the time to
anger a neighbor. He pulled up to one of the large trees, and took a
look around. He had freaked himself out just thinking about the
possibilities.

He could see into several of the houses on the other side of the
street; there were people standing in their windows in several of
them, looking out at him. They didn't appear to be sick or crazy like
Angie, but he really couldn't say with certainty. It was creepy.

One of the houses definitely had a sick person. The front screen
door was closed, but the inner door was open. Standing there was a
diminutive woman, with a pale face, cropped hair, and a light blue
t-shirt. She was sort of hovering in the doorway behind the thin
screen. From his vantage point Liam couldn't hear her over the
sirens, but she appeared to be howling or yelling or something of
that nature. Had she seen him yet?

He had to take his chance and keep moving.

No sooner than he made himself visible again, the woman animated
and began clawing and banging at the screen door. Liam was aware he
had stopped again, but he couldn't look away. The woman viciously
tore away the screen and managed to pummel her way through as the
tiny latch tore off the door frame. In moments she cleared the debris
and was walking quickly, directly at him, a small grassy yard and
twenty-four feet of roadway separating them. Liam's brain was telling
him to run, but he had detached himself from his own body and could
only watch the end as it happened.

The woman, barefoot and with black stretch pants—had she
just come from a Yoga class?—was entering the street. No cars
were blowing through to run her over.

That would have been nice.

Her shirt was sweat-drenched and had several blotches of red. Her
neck had a grievous injury, blood had exploded all over that side of
her head and shoulders. And yet she was up and moving toward him.

She was well across the street when he finally reattached himself
to his own body. He even managed to take a step sideways as if to
begin running for real—

Then a shot rang out and the woman's chest exploded outward.
Miraculously this didn't even slow her down.

I can see right through her!

The second shot ravaged one side of her head. She was dangerously
close. Liam absently wondered how close the bullet came to him as it
cleared the woman. Yoga lady walked a few more incredible paces,
tripped on the near curb of the street, and slammed directly into one
of the large Maple tree trunks. She formed a pile of flesh and bones
at the base.

Liam could only stand there in awe. What was wrong with him? He
completely locked up at the danger.

Then another shot rang out, slamming into the tree next to him.
That finally woke him up.