Sirens of the Zombie Apocalypse (Book 1): Since the Sirens (10 page)

And with that, he opened the door, took a few steps to clear it,
and Grandma closed it. Liam was quickly over the fence into the next
yard. And the next. And the next. In a couple minutes he was in the
last yard, ready to jump the last fence before the run in the street
toward the car. His brain started running a little sideshow in his
head. It showed all the ways he could fail. Tripping. Ambushes.
Gunfire. Getting run over by other cars. His heartbeat was revving to
keep pace with the images in his head. No matter what he did to
settle himself, he couldn't push them away.

He knew he had self-doubts about his abilities, just like anyone
would, but he was haunted by his recent mishaps as “the guy who
blows it.” More images spun up in his mind, no doubt fueled by
every zombie book and movie he'd ever consumed. Would he get out onto
the street and trip and break his ankle, to be easily hunted down by
a sick person? Would he be the guy trying to start the car over and
over, only to have a zombie pull him out through the window, or have
one of the marauders in the area put a bullet in him just to get his
working car?

And PS if I die, Grandma dies too.

He had a vivid vision of Grandma standing in her kitchen where he
last saw her. She was still there looking out the back, waiting. His
vision faded, but he was glad because his next thought was that Angie
was somehow in the house with her.

It was too much to digest, and he had to sit down in a flowerbed
to give himself some cover while he kept his heart rate from
exploding, and his brain from panicking. Nothing like this had ever
happened to him.

So many things can go wrong!

He could see the car, and it didn't look like anything was going
on in the immediate area. Now was his chance if he could settle
himself down. He tried thinking of something peaceful—the lake
where he spent a lot of time as a child—but that only reminded
him of another incident where he almost drowned. So he focused on the
moment, and studied one of the wild yellow flowers nearby. He ignored
everything else for several minutes, until his heart rate was back to
normal. When he was ready, he willed himself to stay in the moment.
He ran.

He was up and over the final fence, and he felt strong as he
cleared it. He landed well and was running hard for the car in just a
few seconds. The hundred yard dash took much longer than he
remembered in grade school gym class, and his awareness was crystal
clear as he sprinted. There were wisps of smoke in the air, drifting
from the two burned out houses behind Grandma's. It smelled of wood
and synthetic housing materials, giving it on balance a foul smell.
There was a very slight breeze. The sun was signaling it was still
early morning, but moving closer to late morning. It happened to be
fairly quiet in the neighborhood just then, gunshots and screams were
ebbing low.

Liam remembered all these things because of what happened next.
Angie was there. She had been hanging around in the alleyway and had
a good bead on him as he was running down the street. She tumbled
around the corner nearby, and began another earnest pursuit.

It was a replay of yesterday, and all Liam could think about again
was falling down, twisting an ankle, tripping on his own feet, or
some similarly stupid calamity. He slowed down a bit and became
hyper-aware of the ground over which he was jogging. Scanning for any
sign of distraction which could end him.

He looked at the distance to the car and knew he could outrun the
lumbering and injured nurse, but he wasn't sure if he could close the
door and start the car before she was upon him, possibly breaking
windows to get inside. It was time to use the gun to remove all those
hypotheticals.

He pulled out the Ruger from his waistband, toggled the small
safety on the grip, and aimed for the center of her mass. He had done
this a thousand times before, though he had never shot anything
living.

Is Angie alive?

He had mere moments to bobble that thought in his brain, and then
he pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened.

He pulled back the slide, thinking he needed to chamber a round,
but in doing so he made the horrible realization that the gun was
quite empty.

OH MY—

She was on top of him, Liam with his arms extended in front, and
Angie with her arms extended toward him. The nurse was slightly
taller, and weighed a few pounds more even in her “condition.”
Liam did have the advantage in dexterity though. As the blood-covered
woman pushed into him he dropped his useless gun and was able to grab
both her arms and use her momentum to pull her forward as he
sidestepped her and stuck out his foot to give her a trip.

Angie fell to the street, her face absorbing the brunt of the
impact, though she let out only the smallest grunt. Liam regained his
own balance, wiped the nasty blood off his hands using his jeans,
reached down to pick up his gun, and resumed his sprint for the car.

In moments he was in through the open passenger door. He pulled
the door closed behind him, pushing the lock down in one smooth
motion. He tried to ignore the fact he was sitting in sticky
congealed blood. He definitely ignored what was sitting on the
floorboard in front of him.

I don't see the foot.

He shuffled over to the driver's seat.

As he put the key into the ignition Angie stumbled up next to the
passenger side window. Her forehead was devoid of skin from her
latest fall, and the bone and blood gave her an even more unholy
expression. And she was looking directly at Liam through the very
thin glass of the car door.

The car engine turned over quickly, but it took Liam a few seconds
to orient himself with the gear lever on the console, so he could
slap it into “drive” and get moving.

Angie began banging and screaming obnoxiously outside the window.
A million thoughts clouded Liam's mind at that moment, but the one
that stood out most was how glad he was Angie seemed oblivious to
tools. One strong rock would be enough to break the door's glass and
end this whole affair.

He solved the shifter, put the car in gear, and smashed the gas
pedal. The car lurched ahead, requiring a quick steering adjustment
to keep him on the pavement, and then he was pulling away from the
scene.

He turned around at the next intersection so he could backtrack to
the front of Grandma's house. He sped by Angie who had been loping
along the street in pursuit. He briefly thought about swerving to
“take her out” but he couldn't quite convince himself it
was necessary. He wanted to pick up Grandma and just leave the nurse
safely behind.

I did tell her to meet me in the front, didn't I?

As he rounded the corner he was more than a little worried he had
left that part out of his plan with Grandma. When he got close, he
didn't see Grandma at the front door.

He pulled up to her house, avoiding the few cars still parked on
the street, pushed the emergency brake, then jumped out of the
still-running car and ran for the front door, hoping against hope she
would appear at the entry as he ran toward it.

Please! Please! Please!

5

He wasted no time standing at the front door. If she wasn't there
already she wasn't going to get there in a hurry. He moved to the
back of the house on the run.

He slammed the rear door after coming through, quite out of
breath.

Grandma was indeed still camped out in the kitchen, right where he
left her. He decided now wasn't the time to chastise himself.

“OK Grandma, let's move up to the front door and we'll jump
in the car. I parked it out front.”

She was very understanding, or maybe just didn't notice the
oversight.

They both began the trek up to the front of the house. Liam felt
like it took ten minutes. The entire time he could think of nothing
else but someone walking along the street, seeing the open car door,
and jumping in and driving off. He also imagined zombies seeing the
open door, stumbling in, and hiding in the back seat like a bad
movie. He did everything he could to push these thoughts away, but it
only added to his anxiety. Then he wondered if he was on the verge of
having another panic attack.

He hung on to Grandma's arm as they both moved slowly to their
target. She was using her cane, so all things considered she was
moving pretty quickly. Liam had to resist the urge to physically pull
her.

Liam opened the front door and held it wide while he helped
Grandma through the portal and onto her front stoop. He reached down
to grab his backpack and slung it over one of his shoulders.

Liam took an opportunity to look around, but saw no one in the
immediate vicinity. It was now or never.

They both inched down Grandma's ramp and then the walkway to the
street curb. It wasn't long and they were both standing next to the
car. Liam reached over to open the door to gain access to the back
seat. He was careful not to push her in, though his brain was begging
him to do just that so they could escape.

Once she was inside the car, he threw his backpack in the space
next to her, slammed her door, and jumped into the driver's seat.

He dropped it into gear, smashed the gas pedal, and they were
quickly accelerating up the street, away from Grandma's house. He
suddenly knew exactly why every car that went through here seemed to
be speeding. He eased up to allow himself to catch his breath.

“Liam, I left my cane on the curb.”

He slammed on the brakes and brought the car to a stop. He looked
over his shoulder.

“Do we need to go back for it?”

Liam wasn't about to admit it, but he was scared to return. He
wasn't sure why, given that home was the one place in the entire
world he knew was safe at that moment.

“I think I'll be in a lot of trouble if I don't have
something to help me walk. I don't think either of us wants me to
have to hold onto you for the rest of my life.”

Liam couldn't argue with that. A better driver could probably have
turned around in the narrow street, but Liam decided to proceed
forward until he came to an intersection where he'd have plenty of
room to reverse course. He needed every bit of that wide space.

Now, back on their way home, he kept the speed low enough to be
safe. They arrived in front of her house without incident. Both could
see the four-legged cane sitting innocently on the grass right next
to the curb where she had boarded. Liam pulled up next to it, got
out, ran around the car, grabbed the cane, then ran around the car
again and hopped back inside. He tossed the cane into the front
passenger seat, and saw it promptly tilt off the seat so its base was
sitting on top of the bloody foot.

He had no time to consider that horrible scene. He pulled away
from the curb heading in the wrong direction now. Up ahead he saw a
lone figure standing in the street and he knew immediately who it
was.

He slammed on the brakes.

“Grandma, Angie is up ahead. What should I do?”

He secretly hoped she would let him plow her over and just be done
with it—essentially giving him the green light to do what he
couldn't do when he drove by her the last time—but he knew that
wasn't Grandma's style.

“Oh poor Angie.” She hesitated for a few moments,
though Liam never doubted for a second what her recommendation would
be.

“Let's carefully go around her and we can leave her
forever.”

So that is what Liam did. He drove the car slowly in her
direction, and she naturally gravitated to the side of the car to try
to gain access to the people she could see inside. Once she moved
away from the front of the car, Liam accelerated to quickly pass her.

As the nurse lumbered by, Liam and Grandma both saw the terrible
condition of her face. Blood had poured from the wound to cover her
eyes and cheeks, and totally drenched the front side of her already
blood-stained nightgown. Where she was getting so much blood was
beyond Liam's reckoning, but both of them gasped in awe when they saw
her up close.

Grandma said a short prayer for her friend.

Liam couldn't even muster the requisite Amen when she was done.

Despite the relief of escaping the house and witnessing the
horrific image of Grandma's most valued assistant, Liam couldn't help
but feel their problems were only getting started.

His free-associating brain summoned a line from an old Rolling
Stones song named, appropriately enough,
Angie
.

In his rearview mirror, Angie grew smaller and smaller.

Goodbye Angie.

Liam and Marty had settled into driving the car fairly quickly.
After avoiding Angie in the road they were dismayed to see several
other sick people wandering the formerly peaceful neighborhoods in
south St. Louis. Liam still wasn't ready to run anyone over, as long
as he had a choice. He would use other means if he had to dispatch
one of them.

And then he remembered.

“Oh crap!”

He looked in the mirror at Grandma, afraid she would chastise his
language, but she said nothing.

“I need to pull over and load my gun. I pulled it out when
Angie attacked me—did I mention that—on my way to her
car, but of all the stupid things I forgot to put rounds into the
magazine before I walked out the door. I'm such an idiot.”

He pulled over into a nearby parking lot for a large supermarket,
letting the car run while he grabbed his backpack, pulled out a box
of ammo, and loaded nine small rounds into the thin magazine. He then
chambered a round, and after some consideration, put the safety on so
he couldn't accidentally discharge a round while sticking it in his
pants. That was one accident he was determined not to suffer.

He went ahead and reloaded the other pistol as well. If he ended
up needing it, he was fairly certain he wouldn't have time to load it
at that point. Then, to be complete, he loaded the two spare
magazines. Be prepared! That is what years of Boy Scouts taught him.
He returned the backpack to the back seat next to Grandma so she
could grab water or snacks.