Sirens of the Zombie Apocalypse (Book 2): Siren Songs (29 page)

His science teacher would call that a conundrum.
Humanity needs groups of survivors of a sufficient size to hold off
the zombies and work together to rebuild. But if the group gets too
large, the capacity for “THAT guy” to manifest himself
and ruin the whole thing grows, too.

Drew didn't seem like the weak link. “It's
fine with me, but we should see what Mr. Lee says. He's building a
specific group for this adventure.”

That seemed to mollify him, but events were moving
fast. From his vantage point on the wooded hillside, Liam could see
the trucks moving along the valley road. One MRAP and two Humvees.
“Drew, will you help me with this stretcher? We have to move
now. Those trucks are nearly here. They might spot us.”

Unless they were very lucky, the odds of being
spotted with so many other campers around seemed pretty low. They
also had some additional cover from the trees. Still, Liam felt
moving out was better than waiting around to see if Hayes got out and
walked right to them by random chance.

Leave nothing to chance. Thanks for drilling
that into me, Dad.

“Grandma, I need you to lay down on this
stretcher. Drew and I are going to carry you into the woods to hide.
Mr. Lee should be back soon and he'll join us.”

Marty had done enough things the past week well
out of her routine; she was able to roll with anything it seemed. In
just a couple of minutes they were moving into the woods out of the
camp.

A very young Scout was selected to tell Mr. Lee
they'd started up the trail.

They were joined by four pre-teen boys who
insisted on coming along as security. Their sharp sticks seemed
menacing enough, though Liam had serious reservations they would be
able to hold off a significant number of zombies. Or a single bad guy
with a gun.

Still, you go with the army you have. Not the one
you wish you had.

That sounds like a dad quote too.

He began walking up the trail with his mates, the
fate of his parents foremost in his mind.

4

The Boy Scout reservation is an island of
undisturbed forest nestled in the suburbs of St. Louis. It is bounded
on the north by the interstate Liam and Grandma had crossed. In the
west it was bounded by a small blacktop road. On the east and south
sides, it was bounded by suburban homes. Because it was ringed by
fairly sizable hills, the valley was shielded against easy access by
the zombie waves coming out of the city. They stuck to the highways
and main roads, where prey was more accessible. Still, the miles of
forest on the reservation was an excellent place to get lost—or
hide.

On a nearby tree-covered hilltop the Scouts had
constructed a three-story wooden watchtower with stairs leading from
one level to the next. Each twelve-foot by twelve-foot level was
empty but bounded by a slatted railing, like you'd find on a backyard
deck. It provided a convenient destination as it was essentially the
only structure built outside the main valley. But it was a bit of a
joke as a watchtower because it was built inside the canopy of trees,
making it useless for any function but walking up and down stairs for
exercise. Nothing beyond the hilltop itself could be seen through the
full foliage of the trees.

The path leading up to the summit was steep but
well-traveled, making it easy to keep a steady pace the whole way for
the boys. They only needed to set Marty down a few times on the
mile-long ascent. When they reached the tower, they helped her walk
up the three steps to the first level and then sat her down on the
top step.

“How are you, Grandma? How do you feel?”

“Oh I'm fine, Liam. Our walk over the hills
earlier today took a lot out of me, but I'm doing OK. This time going
up the hill was much easier thanks you strong young men.”

The younger boys immediately went to the top level
of the tower, as every Scout before them had done—laughing and
hollering the whole way up. It wasn't long before they came back
down, in complete silence. “There are plaguers over the hill!”
They were quiet, but forceful in the statement.

Liam and Drew went to the top level to confirm the
report. Indeed there was another wooded valley on the far side of the
hill, narrower but otherwise similar to the one they'd just escaped.
Zombies had found their way into the woods and were meandering around
the open spaces down the hill.

“Yep, zombies are here.”

Most of them were in the valley. But some were
moving up the hill, directly toward them. Did they see the kids
running and laughing as they went up the tower?

Why can't I just have a nice relaxing
afternoon?

He and Drew moved back down to the bottom level.
For now the zombies were out of sight.

“Grandma, we might have some company.”

“Oh dear.”

Drew and Liam hashed through their options. They
could continue to carry Grandma around the woods, hoping to elude the
zombies, but other than the trail back down the hill toward Hayes,
there were no others. If they went off the trail, it would make
carrying her difficult in the sloping terrain and dense underbrush.

“We could go back down to camp and try
hiding.” Drew presented this as question.

The only other option was to stick it out at the
tower, hoping if any zombies made it up the hill, it wouldn't take
much to put them down. His concern was for the safety of the boys
he'd brought along. If the zombies trapped them on the tower, or if
there were more zombies in the woods than they could immediately see,
it could be the end of them all. Liam didn't want that
responsibility.

One of the boys tapped Liam on the shoulder.
“Liam, look over there. A plague—I mean a zombie!”

The creature was walking along the path they'd
just come up, cutting them off from the relative safety of the tent
city. It was just one, but there could be more. Almost certainly
were.

“OK, we'll stay put. If we're quiet they may
leave us alone. That will give Mr. Lee time to get here and then
we'll see whether we need to fight or not.”

Ten minutes later he knew things were not going to
be peaceful and quiet. Several zombies came up the hill, almost
invisible in the underbrush until they were a stone's throw away.
They made for the group sitting on the first level of the tower. He
watched as the first wave of them made enough noise to pull in those
behind them.

Liam had his little hand gun, with a few rounds in
the magazine, but he knew it was only useful as a last resort. It
wasn't a loud gun by any definition, but it did make a distinctive
crack that would be unmistakable if anyone within earshot was
listening for it. If they were going to do this, he didn't want to
survive only to see Hayes coming up the other side of the hill.

“OK, Drew and I will be the first line of
defense. We'll stand here at the top of these steps and use our
sticks to...impale...any zombies that come up to us.” He
blanched at the thought of all the blood it would create. He knew it
had to be done. “Can two of you guys give us your sticks?”

After taking the sticks of the two volunteers, he
asked them to pull the two wooden poles out of the stretcher canvas
and sharpen one end of each. They would make perfect spears. Each boy
whipped out a pocket knife and set upon the stretcher as if their
lives depended on it. The remaining two boys with their sharp sticks
were to patrol the first floor behind Liam and Drew, ensuring none
got over the railing around the platform. Marty was moved to the
second level. Liam didn't think they would create a stack of dead
zombies on this hilltop, but he knew better than to assume.

As he watched the handful of zombies appear out of
the brush, he thought back to the experiment he'd seen with the
zombies from Chicago. Those could climb. What kind of trouble would
they be in here if these zombies happened to have come from a bus
full of Chicago natives? He gripped his small spear a little tighter.

“Hey guys, if you see anything unusual, like
they start climbing over the railing, let us know. Expect the
unexpected!” There were five visible zombies now, all within
about twenty yards of the tower.

What am I forgetting?

Drew drew first blood.

He was closest to the lead zombie. He braced
himself, watched the pacing of the plain-dressed man, and plunged his
light spear directly into its eye. He almost fell forward as the
zombie tumbled backward. His stick was stuck inside the brain pan.
Liam had to turn sideways to hold Drew, and Drew held tight to his
weapon as it slid out with a wet slurping sound. He fell backward and
pulled himself up the steps on his backside.

Liam couldn't help himself. His stomach was empty,
but he threw up anyway.

The next zombie pulled up as his mate thudded to
the ground.

Since Liam was the most prepared, he called out he
would take it. He too braced his feet and readied himself for the
impact, but when the zombie arrived his head moved higher than Liam
anticipated, and the point of his stick went through the left side of
his throat and neck. The profuse bloodletting caused him to throw up
again, even as he wrestled with the stick to pull it out for another
thrust. The zombie was not cooperating.

He's going to pull me.

Liam was about to release his stick and let the
zombie take it when Drew launched his own spear for his second kill.
His aim was true, and another eye puncture ended the conflict
abruptly. Together they were able to pull their weapons out and
return to the top of the three-step flight.

Looking at what they'd just done with the spears,
he imagined them as stakes, and the zombies as vampires—he'd
just put a stake through the proverbial heart of these creatures. He
and Victoria had wondered whether it was more appropriate to call
these things vampires. They consumed blood like a vamp, and they
could be killed with one swift blow to the head with a stake. The
only difference he could see was that he didn't have to aim for its
heart. Of course he'd never had the time to experiment with where
else a stake might kill a zombie—he'd just assumed, based on
the literature, to aim for the head. Perhaps it was all academic
anyway. As far as he knew he was pretty much the only person who
cared what the things were called. Most people simply called them
infected or sick or plaguers.

He was desperately tired after his first
encounter. The adrenaline was pumping hard, but his exertion at
holding the spear while the zombie thrashed left him exhausted. He
wasn't going to complain. Three other zombies were making their
plays, and as one of the older boys he had to do his duty.

The most distant zombie appeared to be going for
the far side of the tower, where one of the younger boys would have
to deal with it from behind the relative safety of the railing. The
other two were closer, and heading for the same opening as the pair
before.

The two dead zombies were sprawled on the ground
just below the steps, the beginnings of the inevitable pile.
Currently they served as tripwires for the walking horrors now
approaching. Rather than step around the bodies, the zombies tried to
step on them. It was as if they couldn't be bothered to take a
slightly longer route to the humans directly in front of them. It was
their literal and figurative downfall.

As the first zombie fell over its friend, it
landed clumsily on the first step. It then tried to claw its way up
the steps, again as if standing would add too much time. This allowed
Drew to push in his stick once again, just as the pining creature
looked up at him.

Liam did nearly the same thing when the other
zombie was on the step looking up. Liam's stick got stuck in the
zombie, and broke.

Liam was embarrassed to be the one with a broken
spear, but the feeling only lasted a second. He turned around in time
to see one of the young boys lunge with his own little spear, but he
missed the head of zombie poking over the side rail. Instead, he sunk
it a little way into its shoulder. As his arms were extended, the
zombie grabbed him and pulled him whole hog over the railing.

Liam looked up, trees all around were rustling
with new arrivals.

That guy.

Liam threw down his useless stick and jumped down
the small flight of steps to solid ground. He was on the run while
pulling the gun out of his waistband. He only had his original nine
rounds.

Five seconds and he was running full speed.

Seven seconds and he was around the corner.

Eight seconds and he was decelerating to a stop,
thumbing the safety.

Ten seconds he was taking aim at the zombie now
wrestling the Scout.

Eleven seconds and he pulled the trigger.

Twelve and thirteen, he pulled two more times. At
least one of those went through the zombie's head.

It tumbled over.

Next to him, the boy was still holding firm to his
unbroken spear.

Liam grabbed him, pulled out the spear, and they
both climbed over the railing closest to them—putting
themselves into the safety of the little wooden platform once again.
There was no time for celebrating. Drew was screaming for Liam to get
back to the steps.

The forest was alive with the sound of rustling
leaves.

5

As Liam ran back next to Drew, he recognized he
had just saved the life of his young companion. Even if Hayes somehow
heard the shots and knew where to look, it was worth it to save a
life. It felt pretty good.

He was still carrying the spear he pulled from the
zombie he'd shot, and he decided he would stick with it unless it
broke again. He needed it more than the young boy, for now. Using the
gun would be easier, but the sound and lack of ammo made it a tool of
very last resort.

The two kids working the stretcher poles were
still at it. The ends of their poles were just starting to get
rounded with the blades of their knives. They were still out of the
game, and the group was already a spear short.