Sirens of the Zombie Apocalypse (Book 2): Siren Songs (8 page)

“You have sixty seconds to hail your dad,” the agent
said in a very quiet voice as he passed him the microphone for the
large speakers. “Thank you, sir. Thank you!”

Just a dumb kid here, uhhhh yep.

Liam pinged the mic once as he stood right up against the guard
railing again. No crates to stand on this time. “Hello! I'm
talking to my dad out there in the crowd. I saw him just a moment ago
way back there,” he pointed over the crowd emphatically as if
the father were real.

“Dad if you can hear me I want you to know these are some
good men and women up here. These police officers are here to
help
you survive
this crisis. They have taken an oath to serve and
protect you. You can count on them to be good and true to their oath.
A good man, Captain Osborne of the Missouri Highway Patrol,
sacrificed his life to save me and many others as we escaped the
infected in downtown St. Louis.” Liam didn't know what he was
doing, but he wanted to let the police officers know he was on their
side and that they should be on the side of the crowd. It would
matter because of what he was going to say next.

“But even good men can make bad decisions. You can't turn
around. Not ever! I'll tell you why if you give me a chance!”

Liam knew the agent would be fuming, and looking back at him he
wasn't disappointed. Would the agent decide to cut him off now? Shoot
him in the back? Seemed a bit too dramatic. Better to ask forgiveness
than permission. He continued—

“Here's what you need to know dad. This roadblock was set up
to turn you all back, but there's no help back there. None. No army
units coming to help. No FEMA hospitals. No—” He felt
himself drifting, unsure.

Hey look, you're talking to all these people. Not scared are
you?

Liam recovered with a quote. Ironically it was one taught to him
by his real father, not the fictional one standing out in the great
crowd below him. “A great President once said we shouldn't ask
what our country could do for us, but what we could do for our
country. I say we need to get back to basics and simply ask, what can
we do for ourselves!” The crowd seemed to be warming. “We're
American's, dammit! We do what's right even when the chips are down.
Even when society itself is collapsing. That's what you always taught
me, dad.”

Some cheers and affirmation from the crowd now.

“Look around you. Look what you've been through. Do you know
where you're going? We're all lost right now. The people on this
bridge are lost same as you. Which is why we have to stick together
if we have any chance to ride this thing out.”

For the life of him Liam couldn't think of what to say next. He
wasn't a speechwriter. He could see the crowd was reacting positively
to his message, but what was actionable? Platitudes were nice, but if
they couldn't go home, where could they go? He had new appreciation
for why the councilman was running from this problem at top speed.

So, he once again said the best thing he could, hoping it was
enough.

“Dad, four days ago I walked out my front door with Grandma
Marty—she's 104 years old by the way for all you who don't know
her—and we went downtown because traffic was stopped on the
highways heading south. The situation at the Arch was...horrible.”
Liam noticed the crowd was listening in utter silence. “Tens of
thousands of people were protected by the desperate acts of heroism
by soldiers and police. But there were also people like you, just
average everyday people, manning the barricades against
the—infected.” Liam hesitated to use the Z-word, as it
tended to scare people. “We survived for a time. But then the
bad people came. No, not the infected. I'm talking about bad humans.
Looters. Criminals. Hoodlums. They tried to take over the Arch,
killing anyone in their way. They beat up my girlfriend. They would
have killed us all if not for the St. Louis police department. I
mentioned Captain Osborne. He led us all out of that disaster and
made sure we were safely moving south before he was killed by one of
the bombs from the Air Force.” Liam looked down and could see
most people were still listening. Certainly there was there some kind
of message here?

“You, my friends, have to take charge of your own lives or
people like this,” Liam was pointing over his shoulder at the
silent G-man, “are going to herd you around like sheep until
you fall down dead.”

How do I end this?

“Dad, look in the crowd. There are leaders among you. There
are police officers. Farmers. School teachers. Every ingredient you
need to survive. It can't be done by killing, stealing, or other
lawlessness. It can't be done by killing the men on this bridge, nor
can it be done by killing the people under this bridge.”

Will the police understand I'm talking to them?

Was that a good ending? Only one thing left to do. Liam made a
theatric turn to the people on the bridge. He had spent days with the
police. He didn't fear them. “My friends up on this bridge,
your oath is to serve and protect these people. I ask you now, will
you let these folks pass so they have a chance at living another day,
or will you turn them back to certain death back in St. Louis?”

Much like on TV, there was a long dramatic pause.

5

Liam was holding his breath. Really. He fully expected the agent
to sic his two guard dogs on him, then they'd pull him screaming and
kicking into their van, and “disappear” him. The law
enforcement people would start shooting at the crowd to make them
disappear as well. End of problem.

The police did exactly what he hoped. They removed their officers
from the highway below. The refugees started to pass under the bridge
once again. It was the only thing they
could
do with a clear
conscience just as Liam had gambled.

Instead of shooting him in the back, the agent came up to Liam and
began talking. He had regained his composure and was using a low
voice, as if they were sharing a moment between old friends. “I
commend you for your methods. You were able to win the crowd with
your deceptions. I underestimated you kid. I assure you that will
never
happen again.”

“Thank you, sir. The only reason I had to step up and mimic
your methods was because they believed your lies. There's no help
coming is there?”

He made no effort to answer.

“Can you at least tell me if this crisis is all over the
country?”

The agent looked directly at Liam's face as if he was going to say
something, but instead he reached into his pocket, pulled out a small
camera, and snapped his picture. After capturing his quarry in
digital format, he relaxed and continued. “Yes, the crisis is
everywhere. The whole world is fighting the Double-E Virus in
addition to the other problems of
good governance
.”

Liam's reply was unusually quick “Oh, you mean like blocking
escape routes and sending people back to be eaten by the zombies?”
Victoria reached for Liam's arm, as if giving him strength. Or maybe
holding him back.

“Zombies? Is that what you're calling them kid? Seems
suitably
juvenile
. They aren't zombies from the movies.
They're living people with a terrible disease. My—” He
paused while seeming to think it over, “—superiors assure
me a vaccine is being rushed through FDA approval even now. So relax.
No one is going to be eating these people's brains. Though now
they're going to be walking out into the countryside with no food, no
water, and no medical supplies. Thanks to
you
.”

What if he had sent them to their deaths to the south? Even
without zombies to worry about, feeding this many people in a
survival situation would probably be difficult. But some problems
were bigger than others. “I came from the north. I've seen the
infected, the zomb-eeeeeeees, killing people by the hundreds. I know
it has to be safer outside the city than back up this highway with
those things.”

“Mr.—what's your name?”

“This is my friend, Sam Stevens,” said Victoria, “he's
my neighbor from over there,” she was pointing in a random
direction, which luckily wasn't where Liam lived.

“Sam, huh?” Agent Duchesne gave a tight-lipped grin.
He made an expressive show of holding his camera in front of him, to
let Liam know his photo would soon be plugged into the proper
database and he'd then know everything about him, including his real
name.

“Shouldn't you guys be shredding hard drives or something
right now?”

The agent's response was predictable. He took a snapshot of her.

“Give me a warning next time and I'll smile!” Victoria
seemed to be enjoying herself.

Without fanfare the agent spun around, gathered his protection,
and got back in his van. Liam wondered if he just made an enemy. He
seemed suitably creepy and power-hungry, but in the light of day it
seemed ridiculous. “Making enemies” sounded like a Spy
vs. Spy cartoon.

I only wanted to help my fellow man. That can't be a crime, can
it?

Rather than being a cartoonish evil man shaking his fist at Liam,
the agent was simply driving away. He gave no clues about what he
would do next. In many ways it was worse not knowing. He had no doubt
that was by design.

As the police blockade pulled back, Phil and Mark came up to meet
Liam and Victoria once again. After explaining what they had done up
on the bridge, Phil briefly explained what they'd been doing. “Liam,
you're a genius. My solution was to gather everyone with a gun and
move under the bridge in small groups, and then we were going to
storm the backside of the roadblock with guns blazing.”

Liam didn't know how to respond. The energy drained out of him
after so much mental effort. He put his foot up on the side rail of
the bridge, and looked down. Victoria had her hand on his arm, and
leaned against him. Under the bridge the mass of humanity continued
to walk out of the city, many of nearest waved up as they slid out of
view. He felt a sense of pride he helped make that happen. Then he
saw that metal chicken again. It was laying off to the side,
abandoned in a drainage ditch.

Well, maybe someone learned something here today.

Marty watched as Liam bolted out of the SUV, bounded up to the
front door, and rang the door bell. She knew his keys were
confiscated when he came to live with her.

She took a hand from Victoria as she got out of the back seat.
She'd spent a lot of time swishing back and forth over the vinyl
seat, and her stomach was a little out of whack. She'd have to get
something to eat fairly soon to keep up her strength. She wondered if
she'd be able to keep it down.

“Here Grandma, hold on to me and I'll walk you in.”

“Thank you dear. Give me a minute to stand here and rest
before we walk up there.”

The two women were separated by 87 years and a lifetime of
experiences, but they did have one thing in common—a fondness
for the young boy eagerly waiting to see his parents.

“I haven't had a chance to thank you for helping me get Liam
out of the city.”

“Well, he handled himself pretty well. I didn't have to do
too much.”

Marty turned to give her a look. “My dear, you did the most
important thing. You played it smart. That meant Liam didn't have to
do anything stupid to try to rescue you. I tried to do the same, so
he wouldn't have get hurt rescuing me either. It was easier for me
since all I could do was sit and hang on.” She chuckled at the
image of her in that big wheelchair.

She had an agreement with Victoria that should Liam ever have to
make a choice to save only one of them, it would be Victoria. Liam
didn't know about it, and Marty wondered if Victoria would renege
when things got down to it. She had already shown a willingness to
lay down her own life—saving the rest of their lives back at
the Arch—but in the future such heroics could spur Liam to do
just about anything to rescue her, no matter how dangerous. She knew
Liam was becoming romantically interested, and Marty admitted she
handled herself very responsibly in some pretty dangerous situations
the past few days.

I've met 100 young women that would be worse for Liam. Few
better.

“Do you really think there's a cure out there?”

Marty cleared her throat. “Hmm, well, I
feel
like
there's a cure. Someone made this virus. Someone must know how to fix
it. Right?”

Victoria seemed surprised. “How do you know someone made it?
Did they say that on the news?”

“When you get to be my age you just get a sense of things.
There's a natural rhythm to life. I guess if this was a natural
plague the rhythm would be there. Deadly yes, but part of nature. It
wouldn't feel so overwhelming. But this. Walking dead? Does that
sound like Mother Nature to you?”

“I guess not. But why? Even if this was man-made, who would
benefit from killing off the human race?”

Marty actually laughed. For most of her life she had avoided
politics. Avoided conflict with family members sporting political
views contrary to her own. But she read the papers. Watched the news
channels. The world was full of bad people. Some were religious. Some
were fiery political scions. Some were nations that just oozed evil.
She formed opinions. Had thoughts on why bad things happened in the
world. She could list a dozen groups that would benefit from throwing
the world into chaos. Just as Jim Jones convinced his followers to
drink poison, so too would many organizations willingly kill almost
everyone on Earth to advance their sick goals. But she wasn't ready
to unload all this onto Victoria. Wild speculation would do no one
any good.

“Oh I could think of a few groups that wouldn't hesitate to
kill off mankind, but the real question isn't who would do this.
Instead, the questions is who
could
do this. A few grumpy men
sitting in a bunker somewhere probably couldn't come up with a virus
this destructive.”