Sirens of the Zombie Apocalypse (Book 1): Since the Sirens (6 page)

He looked up and saw the shooter in a house across the street.
Rather than shooting at him again, he was waving out his open window,
making the sign for Liam to keep moving.

Are these things in every house?

He rose to wave his thanks to the good Samaritan, and then ran as
fast as he ever had.

3

Liam finally reached the corner of the street. He crossed to the
proper side, and then paused to look back in the direction he had
come. He half expected to see a wave of crazy people pouring out of
the houses he had just run by, but he was relieved to see nothing of
the sort. If he didn't know anything was wrong, the block would look
positively normal. Well except for the corpse of the Yoga girl
visible if you knew where to look.

Turning now to the new street, his ears were throbbing from the
volume of the emergency sirens above him. He walked with his hands
over his ears to try to reduce the vibrations, until he realized he
could pop his ear buds back in. That brought it down to a
constant—though still overwhelming—hum in his ears.

He only had to go a short way down the street before he came to
the alleyway. Like most streets in this part of town, the flats lined
the main streets, and each block was cut lengthwise down the middle
with a small, paved alley. This is where each house had a detached
garage and homeowners parked their vehicles. Liam's plan was to go up
the alley to a point behind Grandma's house and then see what he
could see of Angie and then plan from there.

But before he could even step foot into the alleyway, he noticed
Angie's car parked at an odd angle right in the middle of the street,
a hundred or so feet beyond the alley. Knowing Angie's car might be
necessary for any kind of escape, he opted to go check it out. It
would also simplify the Angie problem. He thought it would be nice to
just run her over and be done with it.

Wow. Seriously Liam? Murder?

As he walked toward the car he wondered to himself if it
was
murder? Did the gunman who saved his life murder that crazed woman?
Was she a person? He had read so many zombie books he thought he knew
the difference between a living, breathing person and the walking
dead zombies—but did he just see one? Was that woman already
dead when she attacked? Or just really sick? Either way, she meant to
harm him. Killing her was self defense. But what of Angie? Was she
sick or
dead
? It wasn't so simple in real life.

He knew something wasn't right about the car. It had been
abandoned. It was parked diagonally in the middle of the street and
both the front doors were wide open. He approached from the passenger
side because it was closest. He wasn't the least surprised to see the
seat on that side was covered with blood. Lots of blood. Something
bloody was sitting in the space below the front seat, but he couldn't
get himself to look at it directly.

That is
not
a foot.

He looked over to the driver's side; it was mercifully clear of
any blood. However, he could see the door was wide open over there,
and there were no keys in the ignition. He took a look around the
block, but saw no clues as to what went down here. He backed away
from the car, turned around, and slowly jogged back toward the alley
and began making his way behind the houses.

Not a foot. Not a foot. Not a...

4

He imagined the discussion he'd have when he finally saw Grandma.
Rather than their usual rehash of the weather, he'd be able to tell
her about being shot by a speeding car, being assaulted by a Yoga
student, almost getting run over by a speeding car, seeing something
disgusting in Angie's disturbingly abandoned car, and he could even
toss in the bit about the internet being shut down this morning and
the librarian's freak out. Oh yeah, and he could share how he saw his
104-year-old grandma escaping the clutches of an insane nurse on the
front porch of the house. “And how was your day Grandma?”

It only took the collapse of civilization to give us something
interesting to talk about!

Soon he'd have that conversation with her. Right now he needed to
focus on how to get past Angie. He didn't have any weapons, but he
would need something. She didn't seem to be in the mood for talking.

Again Liam wondered if he could actually kill the nurse. As much
as he detested the idea of being forcibly assigned to Grandma for the
summer, he had to admit he liked the friendly nurse from upstairs.
She had a knack for talking to Liam—she said she had a
granddaughter about his age so that gave them a common frame of teen
reference. While they never sat down over coffee and chit-chatted, he
didn't mind running into her at the house. That made it all the more
difficult to contemplate doing harm to her.

Glad I don't have to put Grandma down.

That thought heaved his stomach and made him light-headed for a
few seconds. He had to stop walking and lean against a nearby fence
pole.

What the hell was THAT?

His mind and body were rebelling at the mere thought of doing harm
to Grandma. At least he knew he wasn't a cold-hearted robot, but he
wasn't sure what to make of these newly discovered feelings. Perhaps
it was safe to say even though he never really knew what to say to
her, he didn't dislike the old woman. She was comforting, in her way.
After all, he'd known her his whole life...

Liam pushed those feelings aside for now, as he had more important
matters at hand. He was coming up to the correct house. The sirens
made it impossible for him to hear if Angie was rooting around out
back, but for once he thanked the sirens for covering his own
approach as he tried to sneak up and get a look into the backyard of
Grandma's house. He couldn't see Angie, so he passed his own garage
and went behind the next house, hoping to catch a glimpse of her from
that angle.

Before he could get his bearings, he noticed a couple men at the
far end of the alleyway come out of a garage carrying some stuff. A
third man riding an ATV pulled out of the garage. It was also piled
with stuff. None of them looked like they lived in this area. None of
them appeared happy to see Liam. They dropped what they were carrying
in their hands and swung rifles around. They weren't pointing them at
him, but their message was clear—beat it!

He hastily entered the neighbor's yard, forgetting for a second
they might not appreciate his intrusion. The men might come looking
for him, but he doubted it. They looked like they were cleaning out
garages, not looking for young boys to murder. Wow, the thought—and
it's normalcy in this situation—blew Liam away.

This is not at all how I thought the world would end.

5

He spotted movement ahead. Angie was randomly walking around in
Grandma's backyard, not thirty feet away. She was hidden from the
alley because she was almost directly in front of the garage.
Fortunately Grandma had fences lined with many flowers and bushes,
making it nearly impossible for anyone to see through without effort.
It was unlikely Angie would notice him sneaking around the yard next
to her. But he didn't know what to do next.

There were probably many kinds of weapons in the garages behind
any number of these houses, but the thieves in the alleyway put the
fear of god in him. He'd rather face Angie bare-handed than face
three men with guns and an angry look in their eyes.

His only real option was to get her attention somehow, then get
her to follow him out of her yard, giving him time to swoop in,
unlock the cellar door, and then seal the door to keep her out. He
formed his plan quickly, not wanting to delay to the point new
elements wander in—such as the men in the alley, the zombies in
the houses, or just trigger-happy neighbors who might think he
himself was infected. He'd read the stories...

He worked up a plan based around distracting Angie, getting her to
follow him as he ran between and in front of the houses, as a means
to getting him in the back door while she was elsewhere. Each
corridor between the flats met the backyards with two gates—one
for each neighbor's yard. He intended to guide her to a gate that was
closed so he could jump it and leave her in the corridor to rot.

Unless she can climb.

Before he could even think about starting, Angie was over the
fence and heading his way. She must have noticed him in the next yard
and somehow managed to get over the fence. The noise of the sirens
covered her approach as he was looking around the far side of the
house, waiting to begin his great plan.

She was ten feet away before his brain kicked in—much faster
than the Yoga girl incident—and he began to run up the corridor
toward the front of the neighbor's house. Angie was fast, not
running, but sauntering at a good clip.

How did Grandma outrun her?

He rounded the corner of the front of the house, not even
bothering to look behind him. He knew she was coming.

Liam quickly ran across both front yards, the small curvature of
the zoysia-covered hills inserted a threat into his brain that if he
slipped and twisted an ankle now, he would likely die twenty seconds
later. Even a minor mistake would be unforgiving. He did not twist an
ankle. Soon he was around the corner, chancing a look back he could
see Angie was plowing across the yards. Not relenting in the least.

He plunged into the corridor, pushing his hand into his front
jeans pocket to retrieve the key he would need to open the back door.
He made good time to the back fence blocking this side of the house
and took a leap, hoping to clear it in one bound like a stunt man. He
was anything but a pro as he grazed the top of the fence, dropping
the key in the process—it squirted backward onto the walkway.
It was now on the wrong side. He fell into the yard, wondering if
anyone saw his embarrassing mistake.

Unbelievable, he thought. He was THAT GUY from every horror movie
ever made. The idiot who gets killed because he couldn't handle
himself well enough to make good on his easy escape.

Liam stood up just as Angie was rounding the front corner of the
house. She paused ever so slightly, as if she had to reacquire Liam
now that he'd been out of sight for a few seconds.

Liam's brain was finally, thankfully, firing on all cylinders. He
jumped the fence in one clean bound, stooped down to pick up the key,
dropped it in his pocket, and turned around to jump back over. He had
bent over to get some power in his legs to spring up, he was off the
ground, and he felt hands on his back. The hands shoved him hard into
the fence, but his strength and momentum carried the day, though he
had some serious scrapes on his thighs and bruised his shoulder on
his second ill-timed landing.

He was on his feet again, running for his back door. Ahead he
noticed Grandma's porch swing was lying against the gate on the other
side of the house. It provided a ladder-like way to get over the
neighbor's fence. He didn't dwell on it.

The key opened the basement door. Without a second glance Liam
shut the door behind him, locking it quickly. For the first time
since he’d move in he was glad to be greeted by the aroma of
mold mixed with mothballs. On a whim he unplugged the nearby dryer,
yanked off the venting, and pushed the whole appliance directly in
front of the small door.

He sat down in front of the dryer to collect his thoughts.
Strangely, he felt nothing. No fear. No sadness. Nothing. It was just
a series of episodes culminating in him sitting here on this basement
floor, alive. For now, that was all that mattered.

It wasn't long before the sirens spun down. He estimated they'd
been going for an hour.

About the time it takes a dumb teenager to figure out his world
is broken.

As the shock morphed into quiet exhaustion, he drifted off into
thoughts of what he'd just lived through. He played the morning over
and over in his head, as if to confirm it actually happened.
Eventually he returned to the present and stood up. He realized he
had to get upstairs to check on Grandma. Looking at his watch, it had
already been twenty minutes since the sirens stopped...

Marty woke standing in her backyard, barefoot.

It was summer. It was sunrise. It was breathtaking.

A bluebird had landed in the birdbath not five feet in front of
her and was busy primping as if it didn't have a care in the world.
Certainly an old lady presented no threat. Soon other birds joined
the pool party, and she just stood there like a giddy school girl
watching the magic of Mother Nature within those tiny creatures.

“Welcome aboard Marty.”

A man's voice. Standing right there beside her was Al—short
for Aloysius, a name he hated. Her deceased husband was with her once
again—or she was with him. She really couldn't tell. It felt
like he was always there, just like the old days. In a sense she felt
that never really changed, even after he was gone. Al has always been
there beside her, but today he was there in the literal sense, and it
was so wonderful, she thought.

Al was young again! She could see his blond hair, the deep blue
eyes, the smile which charmed her from the moment they met. He looked
no older than the young man she met 75 years ago. He was dressed
smartly in his Army uniform—just like the day he packed off to
war. He knew how much she loved a man in uniform. And he was standing
right next to her again.

“Pinch me Al. I'm dead. I think I'm in Heaven.”

“Hiya Marty. How ya doin'?” The Jersey drawl was
exaggerated as he loved to do when he was trying to impress her. And
he called her by her nickname too, which he always did. She really
hated her name just as much as Al hated his. What were the odds?

“You aren't in Heaven, but I know how you feel. It's great
to see you again.”