Since the Sirens:

Sirens of the Zombie Apocalypse, Book 1

Copyright 2015 and Published by E.E. Isherwood

When the end came, everyone left alive found their own religion.

The dead, however, became militant atheists.

Table of Contents

Table of Contents

Chapter 1: CIV

Chapter 2: The Libary

Chapter 3: The Long Way

Chapter 4: Quantum Decisions

Chapter 5: Angie

Chapter 6: Coagulation

Chapter 7: Maple Syrup

Chapter 8: Victoria

Chapter 9: Last Rites

Chapter 10: Touristy Stuff

Chapter 11: Antibodies

Chapter 12: Heroes

Chapter 13: The Hole Nightmares Fall Out Of

Chapter 14: Intermodal

Chapter 15: Slow Grind

Chapter 16: The Tenth Circle

Chapter 17: Valkyrie

Chapter 18: Shadow Government

Acknowledgments

About E.E. Isherwood

Other books by E.E. Isherwood

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Chapter 1: CIV

Martinette Peters was standing in front of her oven, thinking about cooking. While she had done that very thing tens of thousands of times throughout her life, this morning was different. Troublesome.

Normally, her breakfast was prepared by Angie—the nurse who lived in the flat upstairs. But today she didn't come down at her normal time, and she wouldn't answer repeated inquiries on the intercom or telephone. Marty waited as long as she could to see if she'd show up, but after an hour she decided to try to cook something for herself. What was once second nature now required proper planning.

Bacon. Eggs. Toast. The same thing Angie had made for her the past two years. Every day. Without fail.

Standing in the kitchen she came to a sad realization. She studied the cabinets, the pantry, and her cooking dishes. Everything she needed was far above her. Either Angie had intentionally placed everything on shelves out of her reach, or she was growing shorter...

She walked from the kitchen, holding a bag of bread. That, mercifully, was within her grasp on the counter. The phone rang as she guided herself into her comfy chair. Was it Angie?

“This is the Metropolitan Police Department, City of St. Louis, with an emergency alert. Violent disturbances have been reported in multiple locations within St. Louis city limits. There is risk of violence or death to any participants or bystanders. If you are hearing this message, we urge immediate evacuation to safer jurisdictions. Follow instructions from city or police officials in your neighborhood. Be alert for additional emergency messages. (pause) This is the Metropolitan...”

While shifting in her seat, the robocall repeated through the answering machine. She screened everything these days, responding at her leisure, if at all. Despite having many friends and relatives, she seldom had energy for chit-chatting. At 104 years of age she assured herself it was okay to be picky.

The announcement finally ended with a beep, leaving her to her thoughts.

As if I'm going to run for the hills!

She glanced at the two-wheeled walker in the corner, tennis ball-swathed feet fresh and yellow—she hated using that big device. If she was going to chance an escape, which she certainly was not, she'd use the smaller, quad-footed cane sitting by her side. Though despising that thing too, she grudgingly admitted it helped her get around more effectively than grasping at walls and furniture while patrolling the cozy single-level flat.

Ignoring the instructions, she resumed cross-stitching under the timeless rhythm of the wall clock. Angie would call sooner or later, and then the day would start properly.

It wasn't long after the phone alert when she heard a great banging sound from the front of the apartment. To her hearing-amplified ears it sounded like someone had fallen down the stairs leading to the upstairs flat. Over the years she'd heard many things dropped down those stairs, including many by her own grandchildren who just loved playing on them despite her stern admonitions. Over those years she had also come to know the sound of someone tripping up the stairs, or falling down the steep flight. This was a case of the latter.

“Probably Angie, I sure hope she's OK.”

Getting up, she patiently grasped her cane, pushing up on the armchair with her free hand. Normally it was Angie, her friend and nurse, who would come down to help her when she had trouble getting out of her chair after being comfortable for too long. They had an intercom system rigged in every room so they could communicate between floors. This time she was able to make the transition from sit to stand unaided.

She lamented that if someone up front was counting on her to help them quickly, her kyphotic back and sub-five-foot stature would incite panic once they realized how slow she was. Her gait was a slow shuffle at best—foot, foot, cane. It was, however, very steady most of the time. That at least would give the desperately injured some modicum of hope of eventual rescue.

She hurried—in her own way—to the potential fall victim. At a snail's pace she passed her curio cabinet and shelves of fine China in her dining room, and emerged in her front living room. She steadied herself on a big armchair then pushed off to the last stop; the pair of doors at the very front foyer of her home.

Perhaps her family was right about needing a smaller place to live, but she wasn't ready to abandon the home she'd shared with her husband of 68 years. No way she was going to be consumed by a dank retirement home. No, her next stop would be Heaven. However, as a compromise with her family, she allowed them to hire Angie as her full-time nurse. She lived in the upstairs flat, and Marty's heart sank at the thought of her assistant lying at the bottom of those steps.

Lord help us!

When Marty reached the door she was gratified to hear noises on the other side, though she couldn't explain why her first thought was that Angie would be dead after such a tumble; she could tell Angie had fallen now. Soft moans and scratching at her door indicated this was indeed an emergency. She steeled herself to see the fallen victim. The door opened inward into the Marty's flat so there was no fear of further hurting Angie with the door itself.

“Oh my, Angie. Are you alright?”

Angie had fallen down the stairs sure enough, but she had larger problems than a mere fall. Her skin was ashen and her eyes were bloodshot—or bloody, it was hard to tell—and her usual perfectly manicured hair was sitting in greasy knots. Her light-colored nightgown was soaked with sweat, and had many red streaks and blotches from top to bottom. The 60-ish nurse now looked almost skeletal and her emotional state wasn't the expected embarrassment or agony from the fall, but was instead...anger? Her right foot was clearly broken from the fall—it was now pointing in the wrong direction.

Why isn't she screaming?

While she scoffed at the warning on the phone, she was aware of the panic sweeping the nation and she was even aware of the mystery Ebola-like sickness which so troubled many of her family members. They were at her flat just last night urging her to come stay with them until it all blew over. She demurred, declaring she felt perfectly safe for the time being. She assured them if things got really bad she'd oblige them on their offer. Secretly she felt it couldn't possibly get bad enough for her to leave. For someone who had lived through the Great Depression, World War II, Vietnam, and the War on Terror, she did not panic or scare easily.

She wasn't panicking now, but she was hasty about shutting the door.

“I'm sorry Angie. You aren't looking right. I'll call 911 and get you some help.”

Before she could get the door fully closed, Angie stuck her arm and shoulder into the void to reach for her, preventing a good seal.

“My lands!” It was as close as Marty came to cussing.

2

A woman of 104 would find it impossible to kick or shove a person lying on the floor hard enough to get them back through an open door. It would be difficult for someone half her age. Recognizing this, Marty released the door and did the only sensible thing she could at that moment—she began walking away.

Perhaps it was habit, or maybe just a little bit of panic creeping in, but she began walking deeper into her flat rather than step out the front door to the relative safety of her front porch. As she moved for several seconds she realized her mistake and partly turned around to see if she could still slip out the front door—and was disappointed to see Angie slithering into her flat, blocking escape that direction. She had a malicious look to her that Marty had never seen before on her friend's face. And she was struggling to get off the floor.

“Angie you are hurt badly and aren't yourself. Please wait where you are and I'll call a doctor.”

Pushing herself, Marty had several moments to consider her options as she moved deeper into her domicile. She knew Angie was probably infected with heaven-knows-what, though it was beyond her reckoning how anyone sick or healthy could lay there with a broken ankle and not make a peep. She understood she was now in mortal danger. Working her cane with her left hand, her free hand was in her pocket holding her Rosary again. At her age Death was never far away, and the Rosary was an important reminder of her faith she always kept close, but this was not how she wanted her story to end. She needed a plan.

She could easily lock herself in any room of the house—a bathroom would be the best choice for now—but she couldn't help wonder how strong Angie might be. If she could survive a broken ankle and not complain, what if she could survive banging her head on the thin wooden doors? The growling sounds of the sick woman behind her spurred her to continue onward without stopping to consider potential side routes.

“I'll just be a moment Angie,” she said aloud.

She walked into the kitchen at the back of the house, looking around frantically for something to help her. Her heart was beating hard at the effort to simply walk at such a brisk pace. She scanned the kitchen table, the oven area, and the open door to the basement—Liam lived down there, but he was gone for the day to the library. She would never be able to get down all those steps. Her eyes finally fell on her impressive collection of kitchen cutlery and she again chuckled to herself at a funny thought.

Maybe I could fight her with a knife? Ha!

She knew it would be futile to try to fight. And her painfully slow progress forward brought her near the back door, her only real option left. Going into the backyard was a definite option, but that would put her outside her own house for who-knows-how-long. What about food, water, her pain medications, the telephone? Could she survive until Liam returned? The shuffling noises entering the kitchen made up her mind for her.

With great aplomb she slid out the solid back door, quickly pulling it shut behind her. The exterior screen door slowly followed suit. Did she hear a bang on the other side? She was now on her back porch. The concrete area was a flat, open space with a small awning overhead providing limited shade for a few chairs and one large freestanding porch swing she kept around mainly for the grandchildren. She liked this flat for a lot of reasons, but a big one now was how few stairs she had to use. The bright-eyed Marty who moved in all those years ago never imagined she'd still be here at 104 with a disdain for steps.

She hobbled now, her back starting to flare up in pain, to the closed window near the back door so she could get a look back inside at her squatter. She had to put her face up against the glass to see through the glare of the morning sunshine. Her cane with its four small feet waited patiently at her side.

Angie was right up in the window looking back at her!

Oh my! Poor Angie.

Getting a better look at her, Marty could see Angie had to be standing on her broken foot. She was banging herself against the window quite forcefully, the interior screen frame already having become ripped and bent. The only thought she had at that moment was how much pain the poor lady must be suffering with that broken foot.

Marty moved away from the window to consider what to do next. She quickly ran through a Hail Mary prayer, not for herself but for Angie—clearly the more endangered soul. Next she sat in the sturdy armchair on her back porch. She knew she'd have trouble getting back up, but there was no choice but to take a quick rest. And think.

She looked around at the wider world. Her backyard was immaculate of course, with crisp cut grass, well-tended flower beds, and a beautiful hedge separating her backyard on both sides from her less tidy neighbors. Her children and grandchildren took turns coming over and caring for her property. She loved the time she got to talk to them about all their problems and just be there for them. She cherished those visits and looked forward to them each week. And they thought they were doing her the favor!

She saw no neighbors, which wasn't terribly unusual. Most of the kids and many of the young adults would probably be inside on their video games or whatever newfangled technology was out these days. Or they could all be inside suffering like Angie. That thought was left hanging as the grasshoppers played their music for her.

“Those police called a few hours too late. I let Liam go out today without a care in the world,” she said to herself after a few minutes of reflection. “I need to get back inside so he has a safe place when he returns.”

She would have to save herself. She was very comfortable with the notion, as it would prevent her from becoming someone else's problem. She hated depending on others for things she could do for herself. Even worse was depending on others for things she HAD done herself, but was physically incapable of doing now.

I'm starting to feel old. Finally.

She had no guns or other weapons, and even if she did it was unlikely she could successfully hold a gun and use it. The thought of her lifting a shotgun and heroically reentering the house would have given her a laughing fit on any other day. Today it just made her mad.

She thought if she were ten years younger she might be able to sneak to the front door, open it, and lure Angie out the front while she walked back in through the back door. Today, just walking to the front would probably give her a heart attack, and running from the angry nurse on the return trip would probably kill her, one way or the other.

Perhaps there was something in the garage she could use? Could she make it out there and back?

Do I want to go there?

3

She had mild difficulty getting up out of her chair, but the banging on the window did give her extra motivation. Soon she was up and walking down the walkway to the garage. Out of habit she looked at the bird bath and made a mental note to ask Angie to add more water. She quickly caught her mistake.

At the far end of her small yard was her one-car garage. A small wooden structure she seldom visited these days. It was painted a tidy white, had a sloping black asphalt shingle roof, with a tiny window on the rear wall as well small portals on each of the sides. The walkway led down the center of the yard, but snaked to the right side of the garage as it neared. When she reached the service door she made a horrible realization—the key to the small door was hanging on a wall inside her house! Martinette had never cussed her whole life, it just wasn't her style. Instead of cursing, she prayed.

Because she was already there, she looked into the garage through the tiny window in the middle of the door, and saw light. The main garage door was already open.

It meant more walking, as she had to continue down the path, open the small metal gate to the back alley, and then turn left to access the front of the garage. It was then she noticed almost all the garages on her block had their bays open, many with detritus tossed as if sneezed out. She and many of her neighbors had been robbed.

Looking in, the previously pristine space was a tornadic blast of her belongings. Marty hadn't driven in twenty-five years so she didn't even own a car, but Angie's car should have been sitting in front of her—it had been taken. So had anything else of value. The boxes of power tools. A couple of the grandkids' fancy bikes. The Snowblower. It was June for heaven's sake.

It's only stuff. It isn't important.

Looking at what was left, she had to find something which would help her get back in her house. What a mess. Trash cans. Old lumber scraps. Bags of soil. All manner of car cleaning products, lawncare accessories, and pre – World War II shovels, spades, and other old tools she was unable to categorize. Her husband never gave up on a good tool.

At that moment the emergency tornado sirens began to howl. The deep and unmistakable wail of the sirens informed all within earshot something important was happening. It couldn't be weather—it was a clear day. They were supposed to warn of a tornado, but mostly the trumpets sounded only during their monthly readiness tests. Unfortunately for her, one of these siren towers was located just around the corner—reminding her that though she wasn't quite deaf, she could still be made to feel deaf by eardrum-splitting decibels. She wondered how long they would last... Finishing her scan of the garage, her eye came across something that gave her hope.

A lifetime ago she had her picture taken with her future husband on the back of a tall black horse. She couldn't remember the exact year. Maybe 1927? She would have been sixteen or seventeen. Upon seeing the picture years later her daughter asked when she took up horseback riding. Marty laughed and said she and her beau were just posing on the back of that horse; she was tossed up there for just that one picture. She wasn't a horse person, and hadn't touched one since.

She allowed herself one unguarded moment to savor that pleasant memory.

She was fond of cowboy culture however, and she shared that love with her husband—a man who spent many of his retirement years painting scenes from the American West. At some point early in their marriage they spent time at a dude ranch of sorts in Arizona. While they weren't out rustling cattle, they did stay at the ranch, watched the cattle being brought in, and were close enough to all the action to appreciate the lifestyle. It was kind of a lite version of the full dude ranch experience. It was for those who chose to stay under a real roof, have access to real running water, and get up at hours of their choosing.

One of the many things they enjoyed was the roping class, designed to show guests how the cowboys prepared their ropes to snag a steer or do their fancy rope tricks for the tourists. Both took to roping so much they practiced quite a bit that week, and were able by the end to throw rope, spin loops, and earn a “good job city slickers” from one of the hands walking by. It was a proud moment for the pair. They were so enamored they bought a couple ropes from the place, intending to keep up the training just for fun.

However, when they got back to civilization, they got distracted starting a family, and had many children and grandchildren before they even noticed the ropes hanging on their garage wall. They brought the ropes down once more and tried to recall how to spin them, but were only modestly successful at the most basic loop spin. They had a few laughs together thinking of that wonderful vacation, but the ropes were quickly packed away and forgotten once again.

Thirty feet of her past was coiled innocently on the floor of the garage. What thief would know what the thick rope was for, loop already tied with the famous Honda Knot, especially here in the big city? She used a rake to hook it, so she didn't have to bend down to pick it up. It felt good in her hands, and she savored the memories of its origin and of the last time she'd seen it. She drew strength in the thought her husband was helping her from above. She leaned against the wall of the garage considering how to advance her cause.

“I'll only have one chance. I'm already pooped,” she said to herself. Below her snow-white hair, sweat was beading profusely.

She looked around for the one other tool she thought she might need—the long handle of a broom, without the brush attached. Easily done. Definitely going to need that.

And she was off, slowly making her way to the back porch again. The infernal siren was still blaring, adding anxiety to her already desperate plan. At the halfway point she paused for a rest and considered whether she shouldn't just go out the front gate, down the narrow path between her flat and the neighboring home, and just keep walking until she found help. Forget about Angie for now and just find assistance. Lots of risk either way.

“Lord give me strength to make the right choice,” she said to anyone listening. Marty seldom prayed for herself, but now she allowed herself to ask for a little help. After a minute's pause she decided her best chance to see this day to the end was to take charge of her own problems, and recapture her home. Even if she didn't live through the night, she wasn't about to spend her final hours on Earth sitting on a deck chair listening to Angie claw away her kitchen window.

“Please Lord, turn off those trumpets!” It was, for her, a near-scream.

4

She closed the distance to the back of her house, the rope heavy across her shoulders, and the broom handle held tightly under the arm not working the cane. She saw herself reflected on the glass of her back window, walking up the path with those accoutrements. She admitted she did not look very intimidating.

Martinette was a survivor in the truest sense, and she plumbed her memory for strength now. At 99 years of age she was walking happily between a parked car and a local eatery where she'd gone dozens of times before—and promptly tripped over a parking curb. She reached out to catch herself as she fell forward, and unceremoniously broke both arms. After the surgery to mend the breaks and assemble the casts she was shipped off to the nursing home. Later, people who didn't know admitted they assumed she was going to fade away and die after such a calamity. Needless to say she fought hard against the odds and walked out of there six weeks later. That was five years ago—a lifetime to someone celebrating turning each and every calendar page after making it to 100. This was a minor speed bump in comparison!

So on she went, pulling up to the door and window. She tied off her rope and then took a seat in the same chair she used a few minutes before. She was winded now and her back was fast becoming a major distraction. She almost never used pain meds, but using them now would be justified.

The plan was simple, as it had to be for a woman of her rapidly declining abilities. She would tap the window with her broom handle to get the attention of Angie who was now banging on the back door, hopefully drawing her over to the window one more time. She hoped it would give her an opportunity to open the screen door, then push open the main door so it stood open wide, and finally re-shut the screen door. From there things would get interesting.

As with most major events in her life, this one began with a prayer.

“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.”

She tried to stand up and realized her back was nearing its limits. With great effort she did manage to stand, but this would likely be her last unassisted “up” of the day.

“As if I don't have enough problems!” No one heard her over the sirens.

Standing and wobbling a bit, she quickly righted herself and made for the small segment of brickwork between the door and the rear window. She had the rope looped over her head, the broomstick in her left hand, and the cane in her right. From there her best guess was she could just reach the window with the stick and still be close enough to the door to open it. She considered whether Angie would even hear her banging on the window over the din of the emergency klaxons.

Trust in the Lord.

She let go of her cane and stood unassisted as best she could. With all her strength she swung the broom handle with both hands. She had very little arm strength, and her whole body was already taxed to its breaking point—but it did make a satisfying bang on the window glass. Was it enough? No second chance to be had, as the stick flew out of her hands and landed harmlessly in the grass just off the concrete porch. It was now or never.

She maneuvered herself to open the screen door, and was dismayed to see how far open she needed it just so she could gain enough leverage to open the heavier inside door. It was taking too much time! She gave the door a push and was relieved to see it slowly swing open into the kitchen. Now all she had to do was move out of the screen door's path and close it before Angie returned from her screaming attack on the window. It disturbed Marty deeply to hear such anger and pain, but it also scared her half to death knowing she didn't have anything between her and the inside of the house but a slowly closing and flimsy aluminum screen door.

It latched shut with a satisfying click, but now she felt the panic rising. There was Angie, flailing to the door soon thereafter.

Oh heavens!

Standing there she nearly forgot what she was supposed to be doing, but she regained her wits enough to pull the rope from around her neck and get it into position. She had no idea what to expect of this plan, as she had absolutely no experience breaking screen doors. Would the whole thing collapse outward? Would Angie kick it open? Would Angie accidentally hit the latch to open the door like a normal person? So many variables ran through her head as she stood inches away from danger.

And then the screen lining ripped near the top where Angie was beating it with her fists. This encouraged her to instinctively lean into the broken screen as if to push through it and try to step out. As Angie's head came out of the screen, Marty pulled a simple rope trick that any of those ranch hands would applaud unabashedly, city slicker or not—she looped the lasso loop over Angie's poking head and pulled it tight. If Angie noticed it she gave no indication—but continued trying to free herself of the door. Marty grabbed her cane and started walking as fast as her orthopedic shoes would carry her, knowing Angie was absolutely going to make it outside. It was all part of her plan.

The other end of the loop was tied to the only thing of any weight close enough to her back door – her porch swing. It was a freestanding model that could be moved around pretty easily by a couple of people. She'd seen it moved many times over the years, but usually it took a pretty good effort on the part of the movers because it was shaped so awkwardly. By tying off the rope to that swing, she ensured Angie would be encumbered by the apparatus and if she was really lucky, it would hold her long enough to walk around front and backtrack through the house to shut the rear door again.

Lots of ifs.

5

Marty's plan started out exactly as she intended.

Angie came screaming and flailing out the door, and there was a remote opportunity for Angie to grab Marty before she was able to clear the distance the rope allowed Angie to run. While Angie stumbled, stood up, and lunged at her—she was silently lifting and pushing her cane, trundling forward to save her life. She managed to get clear of the rope's length but was dismayed to see how easily the swing was shifting under the weight of a plague-driven nurse. Angie was slightly above average in height and weight for a woman of her age, but the sickness seemed to give her some added oomph even as it took away some of her mass.

It wasn't long and Marty was out through the front gate of the yard, making her way between the two redstone flats. She was very dizzy from the effort, and suddenly had to lean against the house for a full minute while she regained her bearings and settled her vision. She didn't make it very far up the corridor, and she sensed it, despite her groggy condition. Angie meanwhile had been moving angrily in her direction the whole time. She had made it through the gate—Marty had left it open in her haste!—and had managed to drag the swing half the distance from the porch. Marty could hear the swing slide off the concrete into the grass, hoping that would slow her down as she rested.

The fog lifted just enough, and Marty was able to take one step at a time, constantly leaning against the wall to steady herself. The relentless fury of the sirens was clashing in counterpoint with the angry screams from Angie. Marty was definitely panicking now, in danger of falling over for the last time right there.

Angie had made more progress down the narrow corridor, with twenty feet of rope behind her linked to the swing. Just as it appeared she was close enough to claw her prey, the porch swing contraption ran up against the gate—and would not fit through. Not even close.

Martinette was too dizzy to turn around, but she heard the thunk of the chair frame against the fence. She couldn't even manage a little smile at her good luck. She could only focus on her feet below her, and her hand on the wall to her right. One foot. One foot. One hand. Repeat. Her feet seemed to be in molasses.

“Lord I don't mind if you call me to you today, but please let me make it inside so Liam doesn't go outside again to look for me,” she said softly half to herself, half to her Redeemer.

With colossal effort she reached the front corner of her house. She leaned to her right to view the front of the house, while also positioning herself to turn her head and see Angie furiously thrashing back the way she'd just come. No time to delay. She turned her head back to the front, and began her final push to the front door, up the small ramp her grandson had built for her so she could avoid the two steps up to her front porch and entryway.

The ramp was built with sturdy hand railings which provided a solid purchase on the incline, but even so she was seeing stars when she finally had the door handle in her grasp. She was swaying dangerously. The handle was on the left side of the door, and currently was all that was keeping her on her feet. This was it. She pushed the latch—and it was locked! Of course the keys were inside. Angie does most of the door-locking these days...

Maybe I could sit a spell?

No!

Steeling herself for one more task, she grabbed her cane—no, her cane had fallen somewhere in the corridor on the side of the house. She looked down and noticed she was holding her Rosary with her free hand, rather than the cane. Marty was devoutly religious, but depended on that cane too. The only explanation she could summon was that she thought she was going to die back there and made the switch from the worldly cane to the spiritual talisman to prepare to meet her maker. She now assumed her time had not yet come. Back to business—

“Looks like I'll have to do it the hard way.”

She propped herself against her door, then dragged herself leftward along a few feet of the brick facade, leaning hard the whole way. Then she was in front of Angie's door. The entry doors for the upstairs and downstairs flats were next to one another. The door handle for the upstairs flat was on the right side of the door. Looking now at her hands, she could see she'd scraped them good and hard the last few minutes. She was really out of it. If Angie's door was unlocked she knew the interior door was open—and she could reach her own flat. If...

She pushed the latch and pushed the door—and it was also locked!

Have mercy!

She considered sitting down and letting the end come. It wasn't suicide—forbidden by her faith—rather an honest end to a hard day.

Teetering between sitting and standing however, she remembered something through the dizzying haze and stress of the moment. Angie had often complained about her front door sticking when she tried to push it open. Several handymen had been through over the years trying to fix it, but none of them seemed willing to replace the whole door frame. They were confident each time they had loosened it for good. Later it would stick again. Sometimes you had to really push hard on the door and depress the latch at the same time to get it to dislodge. It was no problem for the relatively young Angie, but for her... If Angie's door was unlocked, she would still have to use strength to get in.

She looked to her right again—no sound was coming from the corridor. Was that good or bad? She tried the latch, giving it a half-spirited second attempt and a little shove. It would not budge. The stars were swimming dreamily in her eyes. She took a moment to lean her head directly against the door and rest.

She came into focus just in time to look to her right and take in a horrible sight. Standing at the corner of the house was Angie—still with the rope looped around her neck, the end hidden somewhere around the corner. The swing chair could not have fit through the gate; Angie was free of it. The sick nurse reoriented on her quarry and began closing in for the kill.

Marty had no time for a prayer. It was pure instinct and perseverance driving her at that moment. She knew in her heart that door was unlocked—Angie was a trusting soul unafraid of the outside world, going in and out with great frequency to do her chores. She smashed the latch with both her tiny wrinkled hands while pushing with everything she had against the door itself. It would only work if it was really unlocked. If if if.

Marty spilled through the door as the sound of rage from Angie quickly grew louder, even eclipsing the incessant sirens still abusing the neighborhood. Only by the grace of God did she manage to hang on to the door handle so the heavy door didn't throw her to the ground as it opened. Now all she had to do was close it again. Physics was on her side. The door was heavy enough that as soon as she pushed it on its way to closing, it also forced back the hands which had reached the door just a few seconds too late to affect its trajectory. Angie was unable to make the sharp right turn at the door jam to put her hand into the diminishing gap. The door slammed, and was quickly double-locked.

She didn't remember the stumbling walk from the front of her house to the rear. Couldn't remember if Angie stayed in the front or moved to the back, observing her through the side windows. She had no recollection of closing the back door, and pulling the curtains shut on the kitchen window. She didn't know how she reached her bed and fell in fully-clothed, shoes and all. Rosary in hand, she would barely recall the little prayer she said before finally losing consciousness.

Dear Lord. Please help Liam find his way home safely.

She fell asleep to the sound of trumpets.

Chapter 2: The Libary

“Where's Liam? Where's Liam?” That was the sound of Liam's worst nightmare the past few months. Mom and dad and their incessant, demanding, infuriating repetition of that question. It was almost like they were afraid to let him out of their sight. As if he were still a five-year-old. In a mad stroke of irony, it was the one thing that made staying at his great-grandma Marty's house bearable. She didn't ask stupid questions.

He ran out of her house this morning as soon as possible, just as he'd done most of the previous three weeks, to find refuge among his own kind online and do important things like slaying the undead and e-chatting with his friends back in civilization. His home away from home away from home was the public library.

“I'm going to the libary Grandma. See ya tonight!” He reveled in mispronouncing the word library, though his reasoning wasn't to antagonize his sweet old great-grandmother. He butchered it on purpose because his dad said it was a special broken word that was “more obnoxious than bloody fingernails on a chalkboard.”

Shouldn't tell me your weakness dad!

Liam knew his father's second most-hated word was nu-cue-lar power—but it was harder to fit into everyday conversation. So, as a sarcastic homage to his father, he continued the tradition. Today Grandma only answered him with an affirmative grunt as he walked out the door to relative freedom.

Though it broke the unwritten teenage rule of time management—awake all night and sleep all day, like Vampires—today he reached the library just as it opened at eight o’ clock. He wasn't interested in small talk, or chatting up strangers, so he didn't care to know the name of the well-dressed somewhat older woman who unlocked the doors and sat behind the counter every day, but she at least recognized him with a wave. He figured it was the blue jeans and soft-drink-logo shirts he liked to wear.

“Good morning and welcome back. I didn't expect anyone today.”

He didn't think to ask her why. He was anxious to avoid any chit-chat and get to the computer area so he could set up shop. He passed by with a hurried wave in her direction.

When he arrived in the technology area, the computers were still turned off. He turned on the PC where he had taken a seat. While he waited for it to spin up, the woman came along and turned on the half-dozen or so other computers. He could see she had a frown on her face, but Liam kept his nose in his phone, trying to begin text conversations with his other friends who should be coming online. Normally there would be three or four of his friends from school—a cabal that would meet in one of their homes during the summer. Liam was the exile, since he was staying with his grandma in the city this summer.

“Where is everyone?” he wrote to the lone avatar sitting on his screen.

“Dunno. You have the game loaded yet?”

Liam wasn't in a rush to get things started, since he knew he'd be at the library all day. As the computer came online, he logged into the server for World of Undead Soldiers, and leisurely prepared his soldiers while he was waiting. His friends should be crawling out of bed and joining up soon.

He sat there fiddling with things for another fifteen minutes. He and his lone friend wanted to give the other guys a chance to link up before they headed into the wilderness. It was always harder to jump in on the run.

At last they made the call. The other guys weren't going to make it.

He thought it was highly unusual all three were missing, but it was no reason to cancel the engagement.

All thoughts turned to the battlefield as he and his friend were immediately “in it” fighting for their lives with their reduced group of players.

Liam's sense of time went away as the game consumed him.

An hour went by when he got some texts from JT, one of his AWOL buddies.

***

“I got the guns. Where u want them?”

“Dad?”

“Oh srry Liam. That was 4 dad. Hope you guys are running 2. Like a real adventure!”

“cya”

***

Is this a joke?

The texts showed up on his phone in one blast, as if they were delayed.

He tried to reply but got a 'network busy' message.

He thought about asking his in-game friend what he thought of those texts, but the computer game screen was frozen. Forced to observe the real world, he felt a sudden and powerful vibration. Some of the computer monitors rattled and a couple flashed off and back on. But the important thing was the connection...

Losing connection to the internet happened rarely with modern technology and infrastructure, but when it did it always happened at the worst possible time. Looking at his screen he could see a host of undead and supernaturals just coming into view. The game world would continue running while his character just stood there and died.

“Crap!”

He knew he'd said it too loudly in the library, but looking around he saw no one else who might have gotten offended. There were no other patrons besides himself.

Even the woman behind the desk was out of view.

Suddenly, and to his great delight, the screen unfroze. His character was still alive! He re-joined the battle, to the relief of his friend who was getting his butt handed to him in the storm of creatures. Together they stood a chance.

His attention was once again focused on the screen. The cause of the outage already a distant memory.

2

Another hour had gone by before he came back into awareness of what was happening in the real world. The lights were flashing, as if the library was closing.

Did I play all day already?

He knew it was impossible, but the flashing lights always meant the day was over. He looked for a window to confirm the presence of daylight.

The day was going off the script.

Without haste, he messaged his friend in-game to let him know he had to drop out. The library was apparently shutting down early today. His friend responded with an expletive-laden tirade suggesting Liam tell the library to stick something illicit in a dark orifice.

With a chuckle he stood up and stretched.

Then the power went off, killing the dull fluorescents on the ceiling of the entire building.

His only thought was he was glad he exited the game cleanly. His character was safe in his stronghold until he returned to the game tomorrow, next week, or next year. If the power went out while he was in battle, he would have lost all his loot and would have returned to his stronghold with nothing. It was a major downer to have to start from scratch after such an event.

Instead of moving toward the exit, he texted his friend a long message about a portion of the adventure they'd just experienced. He looked forwarding to getting back together so he could check out some new weapons he'd picked up while they were fighting the beasts.

But when he hit send he got another 'network busy' message. He slammed his phone on the laminate table a bit harder than he wanted.

This blows.

That's when he stood up, finally getting frustrated at the intrusions of the world upon his game time. He grabbed his backpack—containing his extra laptop he kept for those times when the library computers were filled with other patrons—and moved toward the exit.

When he arrived at the glass doors he saw the librarian standing, looking outward in silence.

“Ma'am, what happened to the power? Is the library going to be open tomorrow?”

Turning around, she looked at him like he was crazy. Liam could see she'd been crying. It was an unmistakable puffiness combined with smeared makeup.

“Don't you know what's going on?”

“Yeah, the power went out.”

“Not that. I mean with the city. With Ebola. With zombies.”

Liam looked past her. Everything appeared normal; he really couldn't identify anything unusual in his field of view. He noticed nothing out of the ordinary when he walked in this morning, so he had no help there. And zombies? That was the craziest thing he'd ever heard. What would some librarian know about zombies?

“I don't see anything unusual.”

“Don't you listen to the news? NPR? Anything?”

“My dad says NPR is run by the government so you can't trust anything they say.” Liam was content to believe his dad on this point, because the few times he did listen to NPR he was bored to tears. His conclusion was anything that boring had to be propaganda.

“Does your dad also think the cable news, nightly news, and radio news is also propaganda.”

“Well actually—”

“It doesn't matter. Do you have anyone taking care of you? Where are your parents? Can you get home from here?”

Liam considered the many possible answers to those questions. He decided to keep his response as simple as he could.

“I live with my grandma about thirty minutes from here.” He pointed in the direction he was going to walk.

“You should take care of your grandma. Keep her from getting sick.”

Liam looked again out the window and saw nothing to support this woman's claims. He saw the crazy look in her eyes, the smeared makeup, and her position in front of the door and absently wondered if she presented a threat to him.

“My grandma is 104. She is probably sitting in her comfy chair right now knitting or crocheting or whatever it is old ladies do. I'm sure she is safe and sound—”

And then to placate his strange captor, “—but I'll go check on her to be sure, thanks for the advice.”

He stepped back as if waiting for her to open the door.

She took the invitation, unlocked the door, and then held it open for him to exit. Once he was through, she stepped out as well, locked it and then raced to the lone car on the lot. Liam heard her lament coming into work at all today. In moments she jumped in her car and went speeding down the street, opposite of where he was heading.

Liam was left scratching his head.

He began walking, but was in no particular hurry. Even with the freakishly distraught woman egging him home, he didn't see anything out of the ordinary in the neighborhood; she was plainly crazy. He put in his ear buds and was comforted by a rock song almost as old as his father—Supertramp's Take The Long Way Home.

Long way home indeed. Too bad I can't go home.

Before letting the music further distract him, he thought of Grandma. He had told the librarian the truth. He was absolutely certain he knew what she was doing. The same thing she was always doing. The same thing she'd probably be doing until the day she died. Sitting in that dang chair knitting, quilting, or whatever the heck she called it.

In Liam's mind, if she wasn't plugged into technology, even if she was technically doing something—she might as well be doing absolutely nothing.

3

Walking back to Grandma's was a downer for Liam. He knew it meant the day would be spent in his dreary basement living quarters playing on his laptop or just listening to music. By no means would he spend the day on the same floor as Grandma, and risk having to come up with things to say the whole time. Too much energy required. Just because he was on loan to her this summer didn't mean he had to be in her pocket the whole time.

Ha! On loan. That's what his father called it. More like a prison sentence. A 15-year-old boy and his 104-year-old great-grandma had nothing in common as far as he could tell. Computers. The internet. Wi-Fi. Texting. Liam tried to explain all this to his technology-challenged grandma—he dispensed with the “great” in casual conversation—but she never seemed interested. Even showing her videos of fuzzy bunnies and cute little kittens evoked a “that's nice” but not much else in the way of conversation. He ran out of ideas.

He returned again to “Where’s Liam?” She was a breath of fresh air compared to the inquisitions of his mom and dad. Where are you going? Who are you meeting there? Will there be girls? Drinking? Drugs? And on and on and on. The constant nagging was part of what drove him insane, and helped contribute to the massive fights he'd been having with them. No doubt it helped expedite his banishment to Grandma's for the summer. A cooling off period for everyone involved. It had already been a few weeks and he still hadn't communicated with the ‘rents. It was fine with him. His biggest worry was that he'd have to see them both on his birthday in a few weeks.

One day at a time.

His parents stopped paying for his monthly cell phone service as punishment for one of his latest exploits—he couldn't remember which—and they wouldn't even turn it back on for his time at Grandma's. Talk about cruel and unusual. But once there, his grandma insisted his phone be turned back on so she could communicate with him using her standard telephone. Liam had to grudgingly thank her for helping him regain such an important piece of his technological repertoire. It linked him with Grandma, but more importantly it linked him back up with his friends.

When they weren't discussing their games, he and his friends were constantly talking about horror movies, TV series about zombies, and similar supernatural thrillers. They all read the same kind of books too. Liam was interested in lots of genres of horror, but capitalized most of his non-game time reading the classics on the end of the world; The Stand, Earth Abides, Alas Babylon, and countless zombie thrillers. Of course he and his friends visualized themselves as the heroes who saved the world. They even played video games where they could be those heroes. When they talked theoretically about what would happen if the world did end, most of Liam's friends believed they would meet the fall of the civilization standing up, facing the harsh new realm with a cool and detached form of heroism. They would be the guys taking out the zeds, zacks, or whatever. Chasing away the corrupt government. Exterminating the barbarian cannibals. And they'd naturally be coveted by buxom women!

Liam was filled with bravado in front of his friends, but privately wasn't so sure he was ever destined to be more than an extra when the movie version of the demise of society was filmed. Most books packed in characters who defied all the odds to survive. Some had quirky skills that just happened to be what was needed at that particular moment—sort of like the old gardener who had used a spade for fifty years and could miraculously detach zombies from their heads with it. He knew that just didn't happen.

Liam recognized he would probably be an infected loser when the end came. Books only show the heroes. Everyone else gets sketched into the background as mindless automatons, though each one has a story as rich and detailed as the hero. As humans succumb to infection, either by malfeasance, poor clothing choices, or just dumb luck, they instantly transferred from the “important” column to the “afterthought” column in book after book.

The guy who thinks he can shoot a crowd of infected at point-blank range.

The girl who tries to run away only to stereotypically trip and fall.

The unsupervised child who innocently lets the undead into the house.

THOSE guys.

I don't want to be THOSE GUYS!

At that moment Liam heard gunshots from somewhere to his right. He yanked off his ear buds. He knew the sound from his time at the gun range with his mom and dad. You just can't mistake the sound of someone banging out round after round from a gun. Then a second and third chain of rat-tat-tats started to hammer. Must be a bank robbery or something, he thought.

At least I’d recognize the zombie uprising before some librarian.

Then a tornado siren began to howl – coming from the direction of home. He could also hear another one starting up somewhere behind him. Clear skies overhead. The morning kept getting more and more weird.

Unperturbed, he decided to drop into the little corner market for his daily infusion of whatever energy drink was on sale. It helped him survive the tedium of living at Grandma's. He'd need an extra or three if he'd have to hole up until tomorrow.

Walking in he could see a few patrons up near the checkout counter. They were all huddled around a small radio. Liam immediately recognized the voice of the President of the United States.

“—you must stay in your homes to survive this crisis. I have authorized all governors to deploy the National Guard in their home states for the duration of this event. Please listen to local officials, who will follow this broadcast with instructions specific to your area...”

Liam wasn't fully listening. He tended to ignore politics and political “stuff” such as messages from the President. His takeaway was that some disaster was happening somewhere and that those people should be doing something.

He walked to the refrigerated section to grab the drinks he needed. The lights were off—all power was off in the store—but the large front windows helped him see well enough. As he was staring at the selection of beverages in the darkened coolers, he heard two people arguing in the next aisle, a man and a woman.

“I told you the President was going to ruin this country! But did you listen? Noooooo.”

In response, the woman made a sound with her mouth very much like she was throwing up. She then said, “You never did like him. Everyone hates him, that's why he can't get anything done for this country. You'd probably like to see this country in ruins if it meant he got the blame for it.”

He heard the words, but he wasn't really listening to what they were saying. More political nonsense he didn't need to absorb. Of more importance at the moment—what flavor energy drinks to grab. He pulled out what he needed, and headed for the register.

He started to pay but the attendant would not peel herself away from the radio. He held up a five to cover his drinks and slapped it on the counter and walked away. It wasn't something he'd do any other time, but he was getting frustrated at people acting so abnormal this morning.

I don't have time for all this BS.

When he returned to the light of the day, he stood near the front door as his eyes adjusted. He could see a man sitting in the passenger seat of a car parked almost in front of the store, drinking out of some kind of hard liquor bottle. The man turned and looked at Liam with half-closed eyes, then went back to looking straight ahead as if he were on a long drive. Liam felt embarrassed for the man, but otherwise had no desire to engage or even acknowledge him. He began walking toward home.

He hadn't gone a hundred feet when he heard, and then saw, an orange sports car—a Barracuda he guessed—roaring down the narrow two-lane street from behind him as if it were on the open highway. The vehicle thundered by with enough force he was buffeted by the strong turbulence.

What the hell?

It was going the same direction he was walking, so he jumped into the street to see where it went. Several blocks down it hit its breaks hard, squealing maniacally, then banked left down a side street out of sight.

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.

Chapter 3: The Long Way

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.

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...

Chapter 4: Quantum Decisions

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.”

Marty looked around. Everything was so perfect, it just HAD to be Heaven. But if it wasn't—she had a sudden fear that if this wasn't Heaven, it might be...somewhere else.

Al reassured her they weren't in the bad place.

“We are merely taking a stroll in your mind. Your recent trauma has led you to me, or me to you. Hard to say. This is a way to reunite and look at what comes next. Are you ready for what comes next?”

She admitted she had no idea what he was talking about.

“The plague. The infected dead. The chaos. Are you ready to help your family survive this thing or not?”

“Al, my love, you might not have noticed, but I'm 104. My days of doing much of anything important are well behind me.”

“Said the lady who single-handedly fought off a horrific infected woman who was once your nurse. Not many people would have been able to survive that. You're a fighter. Have been since the day we met. That was really amazing how you remembered that old rope.”

“I felt your presence helping me figure it out.”

“My dear, you figured that out all by yourself.”

Her mind had to be playing tricks on her. Marty's religious beliefs were very strong, and she didn't believe in ghosts or spirits or anything supernatural walking the Earth. But she desperately wanted to believe this was real. He was real. Even so, she continued to think of the physical world.

“What of poor Angie? Is she still alive?”

“I don't think so. I think her soul has moved on. Her and many like her are succumbing to this sickness.”

They prayed together. Al and Marty. Just like the old days. Somehow she was on her knees, and they both prayed to the Creator for guidance. When they were done, Al took her hand and helped her back up, and they walked over to the patio and sat together as if it were just a normal day for them. It could have been any day from among the 70-plus years they had together. If it wasn't Heaven it sure felt like it to Marty. But it also made her sad to sit there with him, knowing he couldn't be real.

“But I'm real enough my dear. I'm here to help you face this challenge. People out there are going to need you. Liam is out there right now. He is young and reckless, but you know deep in his heart he would stop at nothing to protect you. He is probably riding a fire truck here right now.”

They laughed together.

“But why would anyone risk their life for an old woman? It doesn't make any sense.”

Al had a twinkle in his eye when he looked at her, but said nothing else on the matter.

They sat there for a long time, chair next to chair, hand in hand. Marty didn't want it to ever end, but knew it would.

“I have to go, and so do you my sweet Marty. I wish I could tell you everything is going to be alright and that everyone you love is going to survive this catastrophe. But you've seen things outside your window. Things will get worse. Then they will get much worse. The sick will get sicker and the survivors will become more and more desperate as their reality splinters. You have to look deep in your heart to help your family get through this. You are very special—that I'm here talking to you tells me that. You can help them. You can help everyone.”

“I'm an unlikely hero. I can barely stand up on my own anymore. And someone is going to be saddled with taking care of me...”

“You don't give yourself enough credit. In another universe you passed away peacefully in your sleep today. The opportunities for you in this one are still endless. You could live to be 120!”

Marty was full of questions, but at that moment a huge buzzard dropped out of the sky and landed hard right in the birdbath, chasing the bluebirds away. Its bald head was covered in blood, as if it had been digging inside something—fresh. She tried to look away, but those eyes were looking right at her. All the while the dripping blood made the pristine birdbath water run red.

Al appeared unimpressed. “I'm so sorry you must endure this filth.”

“What caused this disease?” She asked Al as he got up and pulled her out of her chair.

“My love, you were always whip smart. That was one of the things I adored about you, and still do. That is the right question, but the wrong time. The really important question right now is how can you survive the disease?”

“OK, how do we—”

2

“Grandma!” Liam was not quite shouting, but loudly whispering if such a thing was possible.

He ran up next to her bed and was comforted to see she was alive. She had been mumbling in her sleep as he approached and woke soon after. He tried not to think again of the possibility she might have been dead. Being alone scared him more than the plague right now.

“I'm so glad you're here. Things aren't right outside.”

He briefly considered mentioning he saw her out front struggling to get away from Angie but something made him avoid the subject and instead focus on his own encounter with the sick nurse.

“I ran into Angie and she chased me around the house, but I managed to jump the fence and get inside the cellar door before she could touch me. She has some kind of sickness.”

Grandma gave him a clear-eyed look, but continued to lay on her bed in silence. He noted she was still fully clothed, shoes and all. She was holding her prized Rosary, which wasn't unusual—but both her hands were on her chest grasping it, as if she had laid down and never expected to wake up. It was very disconcerting for him.

Liam watched her for a moment, expecting some kind of reaction, but she remained silent.

He didn't push the issue.

“Well I walked back from the library and it is just as crazy everywhere else as it is in our yard. There are speeding cars, people shooting guns—he left out the bit where they were shooting at him—and sick people running through the neighborhood. Oh and there are thieves rifling through garages in the alleyway.”

No response.

“Grandma do you know what's going on?”

But she had dozed off again.

Liam removed her shoes, considered trying to get her under the covers, but settled for finding a comforter and throwing it over her. She must really be bushed to nap when so much was going on outside, but Liam understood her advanced age gave her the right to sleep whenever she dang well pleased.

I'll just wait until she wakes up and then we'll figure this thing out together.

The hours began ticking away.

Liam listened at the windows. The city outside was in full on collapse the whole time.

3

Liam spent much of the afternoon resting from his ordeal getting home. If he wasn't checking in on Grandma he was fidgeting with the radio, trying to understand what was happening. Other than the emergency alert message—playing on all stations—there was no useful information forthcoming anywhere on the dial. They all said the same thing. Evacuate to safer jurisdictions. None of the radio personalities knew precisely where to go...

As the sun set over the city, Liam was checking the rechargeable flashlight he found in Grandma's cupboard. Liam's father was a bit of a Type-A and had insisted she have a fully stocked larder at all times, as well as a plethora of survival gear such as flashlights, sewing kits, fishing kits, and all manner of camping supplies. He also made sure she had a high quality tool box with an appropriate quantity of quality hand tools. He told Liam he knew Grandma would likely never use any of them, but anyone who was watching over her or helping her out would have everything necessary. Dad often dug into the tools fixing things up in the house.

As he was looking things over with his bright flashlight, he idly wondered if he himself was a piece of equipment in dad's toolbox for Grandma? Did dad send him here to protect her? Was he that smart, or just lucky? He always seemed to have a way about him that said he was looking ahead to what may come. Like buying insane amounts of ammo when it went on sale. Mom always said he was crazy, but never made a serious effort to dissuade him from purchasing his “life insurance” as he called it. Liam found it unnatural to ascribe any positive qualities to his father given their recent falling out, but he knew his dad did right by Grandma at least—giving her these supplies. Now he had a fighting chance to help her.

So what was he going to do next? Hunker down with Grandma inside her house? It seemed the most obvious solution given her advanced age, and the hostility he found on a simple neighborhood walk. Yet he was hearing the gunfire outside, and the men ransacking the garages didn't inspire much hope in things staying friendly on the block. No wonder that man was perched in his window with a hunting rifle. Staying home and riding things out was an option, but probably not a good one.

The other option was getting Grandma out of the city, or at least somewhere safer than this house. Where could they go? Liam was just a kid during Hurricane Katrina, but he had a vivid recollection of the people stuck in the New Orleans Superdome. Were St. Louisans lining up downtown at their football stadium this very minute? It didn’t seem like a good idea to have so many people in one place with a disease going around. It seemed incompetent, even to a boy of fifteen.

He could get a glimpse of more incompetence by listening to the radio. The broadcasts were decidedly unhelpful about instructing residents on how to survive this crisis, as all stations parroted the same line about “waiting for instructions” from local officials. The window for useful help was closing quickly.

Enough with the “preparing,” just tell us what to do.

Liam considered getting Grandma out to his mom and dad's house. Would they be pissed he took Grandma on an underage car ride? Grandma hadn't driven since the 1980's, and she probably couldn't even reach the pedals anymore. If they did drive out of the city, it would have to be him. On the other hand, maybe dad would drive into the city. That would solve his problems by handing the responsibility to his father, but something about that notion didn't sit well.

Liam tried to think things through. Was there somewhere better to drive Grandma? Maybe over to Illinois? It was a shorter distance in terms of time spent in the crowded city compared to driving south to mom and dad's. Once over the Mississippi River it was open country. At least they could avoid the plague victims over there. The big problem was Grandma couldn't just live in a car or tent somewhere eating baked beans until things got back to normal.

Liam hesitated to finish his thought, but he knew he had to look at all options.

I could just leave her.

It sounded harsh as he thought it. Could he leave Grandma on her own? What if he told himself he was going to get help and then come back and rescue her? Even as the thought entered his mind he knew he would probably never come back once he was out, especially if things were worse out in the wider world. Maybe if the military settled things down...

Leaving Grandma would free him up to travel light and fast, but the idea of ditching his grandma for expediency didn't sit well with him.

Oddly, he thought of his father at that moment. He knew his dad would do everything in his power to save this woman, and he knew it would let his dad down tremendously if he walked in the door saying he left Grandma to fend for herself because “she was inconvenient.”

Oh great. I'm now my father.

But, he had to admit that sometimes—just sometimes—dad got things right.

He was startled from his reverie by the presence of Grandma in her doorway. She was awake at last.

4

“Grandma!” He ran over and gave her a hug before he knew what he was doing. Under normal circumstances he liked to keep his distance.

“I'm happy to see you too Liam. I think we are in a bit of a pickle together.”

He filed that as understatement of the year. Gunshots nearby accentuated the issue.

“Help me over to my chair if you would. I'm still a bit wobbly from my—” she clearly hesitated here as if deciding to expand her thought. “—fainting spell. Those tornado sirens nearly made me jump out of my shoes.”

He helped her to her chair, then sat down nearby and began speaking in the nervous cadence of someone who has been waiting a long time to talk. He told her about the walk home, in all its detail.

“Whoa! Take a breath. You are saying someone shot at you? Are you OK?”

Oops, he forgot to edit that part out.

“How long have I been sleeping? I know it's dark outside. Is this still the same day?”

“You slept through the afternoon. I've been getting a bunch of stuff together in a backpack so we can escape somewhere. I've just not figured out how to travel or where to go.”

Grandma was thoughtful for a few moments.

“OK Liam. I want you to get out of the city. You can get out before it gets too bad.”

Here it was. Liam recognized she was giving him his out. He could walk away with her blessing, and it would be a logical story when he reached mom and dad's. She told me to go! He turned it over in his head. Looked at it from multiple angles. But always he saw his father shaking his head. Would dad leave her at the most desperate hour like this?

Hell no!

“I'm sorry Grandma, but I can't leave you. We have to get out together or stick it out here together.”

“You know that doesn't make any sense. I'm an old woman. I'll probably be dead before you know it and then you'll be stuck here after things have gotten much worse than they are right this minute. You have to get out while you still can.”

“Grandma, I'm not leaving you. My dad would never leave you. My grandpa would never have left you. Great-Grandpa sure as heck wouldn't have thought of abandoning you. I'm staying.”

Grandma merely nodded, giving him a grim look. Studying him.

Liam wondered for a moment if she was proud of him for making his decision. Or was she disappointed he was putting himself in danger at her expense? Hard to tell with the look she was throwing his way.

“Well then we have to decide what we're going to do to survive. I'm afraid staying here could be a problem. If there are robbers about we won't have much hope of stopping them from coming in, and the sick people like Angie aren't going to make getting out of the house very easy either. The police were saying we have to evacuate to safer places, but didn't say where to go that was any safer than here. The most obvious place is somewhere out in the country where there aren't as many people. Maybe your mom and dad's place?”

Liam considered. He had thought along the same lines and was proud he had come up with essentially the same ideas. Getting to mom and dad's did seem the most sensible plan, even if he did have a little fear of showing up at the house after illegally driving across town. Many of the miles he'd logged in pursuit of his learner's permit had been driving dad to Grandma's, so he knew at least one route home fairly well.

“Can we take Angie's car? I don't think she'll need it. It was parked on the next street over. Not sure why she put it there, but it was covered in lots of blood and had a foot in the front seat.” Liam made a horrible face at the last bit. “I think someone stole it from the garage. Or maybe she was sick while driving home? I don't think we'll ever know for sure.”

“Also, there are no keys inside it. I checked because I thought about driving it back here.”

They both looked at each other with the realization.

“We have to go up into her flat and find a spare set of car keys.” Grandma said it without enthusiasm. Liam guessed she was worse off than she admitted about losing her friend.

5

They agreed to spend the night in the flat. For Grandma this gave her time to recuperate after her ordeal. For Liam it gave him a chance to pack up everything he would need to help get them out of the city. This included such valuables as her mostly full bottle of Ibuprofen, some water, her walker, and a few bites of food. Just enough for a long drive through the inevitable traffic.

After packing the essentials, they sat down to eat a heaping dinner of spaghetti and meatballs—his favorite. If they were leaving, it made sense to try to use any remaining food they could. The electric was out, but the gas for her old stove was still working.

Packing his backpack was initially exciting—a “real adventure” his friend texted him earlier in the day—but as he realized this was a true emergency, with real bullets being fired, his excitement withered. Now he wasn't relishing going outside one bit. He was quietly moving the long noodles on his plate, but hardly eating them. That seemed to get Grandma's attention.

“Eat Liam. You will need your strength.”

He looked up and resumed eating with a little more zest.

She began talking again, her tone a bit more somber. “Liam I want to talk to you about something important. I know you and your family have your ways, but I want you to seriously consider returning to the church.”

Inwardly, Liam groaned. He knew Grandma had lamented the choices of his family to stop going to church every Sunday—his mom and dad often talked about it—but he saw that as extra free time he didn't want to give up. Sunday services were a bore he dreaded each time he went. He was unwilling to make promises to her based solely on the mysterious disruptions outside. Surely the government would get things fixed and everything would be back to normal. What then? And was it right to profess faith in God only because you need something? How wrong would it be to tell her he found God, but not really mean it? He saw this as a massively complex question his brain was unable to process with spaghetti hanging off his lips. He felt the shadow of silence growing long. He needed to say something.

“I'll think about it Grandma. Really. I will.”

That should do it.

He went back to eating, hoping to indicate the conversation was over. But he felt Grandma giving him a hard stare.

He was thankful she dropped it, though it made the rest of the evening a bit awkward.

Before she finally went off to bed she pointed Liam to one more piece of their survival gear. “I want you to go downstairs, way in the back in the farthest corner and look for a black plastic box up in the rafters. It is something your father put there for me.”

As instructed Liam made his way into the dark basement, struggling even with his flashlight to weave through the piles of old junk his grandma insisted be kept down there. Not one to let go of old stuff, she had quite a collection of aging rocking chairs, long-since-replaced light fixtures, and many pieces of furniture, tools, and equipment left by her late husband.

And there in the corner, high above everything else, was the promised black box wedged up into the rafters. Liam had to use an old walking stick to poke it from its perch and make it fall into his waiting hands.

The box was very heavy. Surprisingly so. But Liam held tight.

As he walked it up the steps he had a pretty good idea what it was. For years his father had taken him to the local shooting range to practice with a variety of weapons. First it was BB guns, then airsoft guns, and finally the ubiquitous .22 caliber rifle. In fact it was his late great-grandpa who had insisted on giving it to him when he was still a toddler. It was auspicious timing, as he passed away not long after...

Liam knew the size and shape of firearm cases, and this was clearly a container for handguns. Roughly sixteen by sixteen inches when viewed from the top, it was about eight inches deep, and he knew it would be packed with gray insulating foam inserts to keep the contents from shifting inside.

He set it up on the coffee table in Grandma's living room. Using a small light, Grandma produced a key which unlocked the safety gun lock which was securing the container. It popped open and just as Liam suspected there was a handgun inside. Two in fact.

Picking up the first gun with both hands, Grandma placed it on the table.

“You probably didn't think your old grandma knew anything about guns, eh?” She was smiling as she said it. Liam wore a blank look on his face.

“This is heavier than I remember. This is a Ruger Mark I Target .22. The other one is identical. Your great-grandpa bought both of these way back before you were born. There had been a break-in on our block and Al told me he wanted me to be ready in case something like that ever happened again.”

Grandma sat back in her chair as she continued.

“Oh those were the days. Simple times. We took these guns out to the country a few times, and I even shot them. Can you believe that? Got pretty good too. But like so many things in life, it just became too much trouble to practice, to maintain them, to think about them. Someday I'll tell you about my lasso rope that fell into similar disuse.” She chuckled a little at her own joke.

“Anyway, a few months ago your dad was here telling me I needed to be prepared for anything that might happen in the city—you probably don't remember all that rioting business last year? I told him I was fine and that I even had two handguns. Well he was not impressed. He had me show him where they were, and then he took them and said he was going to clean, service, and make sure they were working properly for me. The next week he had them both back to me in this case, with this small box of 1000 rounds to go with it. I'm sure he knew I would not be able to use these anymore, but he told me where he was going to put the box and he said it would be there 'in case of emergency.' I guess he was pretty smart about that!”

Liam sat looking at the shiny black objects sitting there. In the darkness he could only see the harsh lines of the Mark I, but he knew it well. In fact, he was beginning to believe his father was smarter than he ever let on. How else could one explain that Liam had spent considerable time training on a Mark I with his dad? He never thought to ask him where it came from, but it sure seems likely he got it from Great-Grandpa too. And now at this critical moment, he would be carrying the same model he had trained on. Did this make him the gardener with the deadly spade?

Everyone has a skill.

Dad always said the .22 was the best training round because it was so cheap and had very little recoil. He said eventually Liam would graduate to more powerful rounds, but if you could master the .22 all the others would fall in line. It was all about stance, awareness, and a steady arm. Plus the danger of breaking any of the cardinal rules of gun handling was minimized during the learning period with the tiny round. He assured Liam it was still quite deadly of course, and assassins had used the small and quiet caliber to good effect for many years.

Liam never pushed for bigger guns because he absolutely loved going out and “plinking” with the little gun. At least he used to enjoy it. Lately his dad would drag him to the range no matter if Liam wanted to go or not. Looking back, he realized he was acting like a whiny baby each time he complained he didn't want to go shooting.

Now he looked at them with a silent appreciation for the lessons he'd been taught.

“I just hope we don't need these Grandma.”

“Me too.”

“Why don't you hit the hay and we'll get started at first light. I'll be sleeping right out here on the couch. I hope you don't mind that I don't go sleep downstairs?

“Not at all. Why don't you keep one of these by your side from now on?”

Liam picked up the gun. There was no mystery to it. It was just another item in the toolbox pre-positioned by his own father.

Liam couldn't help but feel a longing to see his dad.

A distant explosion faintly rocked Grandma's china cabinet.

“I can't wait to see the sun rise again,” said Liam as much to himself as to Grandma.

“I'll pray for us before I go to bed Liam.”

“Thanks Grandma.” He was an agnostic—didn't know what he believed—but was respectful of Grandma's overwhelming faith. “And I meant what I said about considering going back to Church.”

She gave him a kindly smile, turned around, and was off to her room.

The last thing he remembered of that night was the sound of a car speeding down the street at high speed, followed by the unmistakable sound of squealing tires under extreme braking. He held his breath waiting for the sound of an impact but it never came. Thirty seconds later he remembered to breathe again.

He didn't get any quality sleep that night, but it did serve as the deep breath before his own journey. Was it destined to end in extreme braking? Would he and Grandma meet their demise as raw sounds in someone else's bedtime story?

He drifted to sleep while jumping fences—Angie close behind.

Chapter 5: Angie

Liam woke up dreadfully tired. When he did sleep, he had horrible dreams of zombies, lots of running, and pulling the trigger on a gun that would never fire as he was overwhelmed by plague victims.

The actual gunfire, speeding cars, and screams from nearby houses insured his slumber was sporadic and infrequent all through the night. He also heard a big explosion nearby, but was absolutely unable to pull himself out of his comfy sofa cushions to check it out. He was glad to get things moving at the first sign of light outside.

He went to Grandma's door and found her already up and sitting in a comfortable chair.

“I'm an early riser.” No complaining about the noise. “Two houses behind us blew up last night and burned to the ground. I was watching to make sure the fire didn't spread.”

Liam looked out her back window while asking, “Did you get any sleep at all?”

“Oh, I got enough. I slept most of yesterday.” It was true enough, but not really a straight answer. Nothing could be done now. “And I made you some eggs and bacon. Have to get rid of it.”

Liam wasn't a morning person, or a breakfast person, but he took the time to shovel down the home cooked meal.

“Sorry for eating so fast. I just want to get up there and get it over with.”

“I understand. I can make you plenty more if you're still hungry.”

“No Grandma, but thanks. You stay here and I'll be right back. Shouldn't be that hard to find Angie's keys in her small apartment.”

Grandma gave him a little salute and watched him walk away. She said she would conserve her energy and stay in her chair to wait for him. “And be careful up there.”

“The zombie from up there has already come down.” As he said it he realized it was in poor taste but he couldn't take it back. Instead he hurried to the front of her flat, through the access door to Angie's stairwell, and then up the steep flight. The door at the top was already open, giving him access to the upstairs living area.

It was still fairly dark because the drapes were thick and dark. Very little of the early morning light was making it through. He didn't have his flashlight with him. The floor was covered with debris, so he had trouble moving to a window to let in some light. When he finally did pull back the curtains he was stunned at what he saw in the tiny apartment.

Blood. Lots of blood.

There were lots of clothes scattered on the floor, along with sofa pillows, what looked like a tablecloth, and smatterings of shoes, purses, and other accessories. It looked as if Angie's entire wardrobe had spilled out onto her floor for some unknown reason. For a further unknown reason, everything got covered in blood.

It made Liam shudder to think of Angie losing all that blood while knowing she was still walking around somewhere outside. It didn't seem possible any disease process could produce such horrible results.

Is she really dead?

He wondered if a zombie could be someone who was still alive? He'd read books with many different definitions of zombies. Some were back-from-the-dead undead. Some were recently dead who reanimated in a fashion, but remained dead. Some were alive, but infected with something that made them as good as dead. Would the people walking around his neighborhood fit into any of those neat boxes?

He still had a job to do up in the apartment, and he began to hover around the edges of the room where the blood was absent and some semblance of order still remained. He could still detect some of the personality of the woman who, until recently, was someone Liam admired.

Here was a picture of Angie with her granddaughter—a pretty blonde with her arms slung around her grandma, giving a big hug. Liam picked up the simple desk frame to get a better look in the low light. He purposefully turned away from the main part of the room with all the gore on the floor. He wasn't without feelings, but true empathy didn't come naturally to him. However, the events of the last 24 hours had awakened something urgent inside him—he suddenly, desperately, wanted to know if the girl in the picture was safe somewhere. He knew it wasn't likely he'd ever know.

He took a deep breath, then resumed his circuit of the main living area. He tried to think where a woman would put her car keys in her own home. His keys were always in his pocket or on his nightstand, so he thought to check the bedroom, but turned up nothing.

He walked back out the bedroom door and noticed Angie's cat was hiding amongst some of the clothing on the floor. Not in the middle of the room, but near the edge of the cyclone of destruction. The little guy was probably scared to death. He moved to kick off some of the clothes which were on top it—and saw with horror that the cat was not only dead, but lying in a pool of blood with most of it's insides ripped out.

Liam couldn't help himself—he threw up.

Disgusting.

Standing there trying to recover, he noticed the keys were hanging right next to the doorframe on the way out of the apartment. Had he known they were there, he could have avoided this whole mess. If if if.

He hurriedly grabbed the keys from the hook and rushed out the door toward the stairs.

It was the last memory he had for a while.

2

Marty heard the sound of someone falling down the stairs. It had been a scarce 24 hours since the last person fell down those stairs—so there was no mistaking it this time.

Liam had gone up into Angie's apartment to retrieve her car keys, but she hadn't considered whatever made Angie sick could have still been up there—waiting to pounce. Maybe it was something simply floating around in the air as a pathogen. What had she done? What kind of caretaker was she?

The front room's door was wide open into the stairwell. If Liam was now sick he could come right through and it would all be over for her. She was paralyzed with indecision. She could try to close the door. Or do nothing. Such a dumb mistake.

She knew she couldn't just sit and wait to die, so she repeated the previous day's motions—pushing herself out of her chair, grabbing her walker, walking through her house, and then found herself once again near the door to her neighbor's home. She knew Liam was lying just around the corner.

Putting on a brave face, she wanted to see Liam before she shut the door on him forever. And so she looked.

Marty hadn't even considered the possibility he simply fell down the stairs on accident, but that looked like what happened. She could see the blood on the bottom of his sneakers. He was knocked out, but breathing normally in the early morning light within the foyer.

With the realization, all the strength she felt was sucked out of her. Now she was an empty, weak, shell. She needed to sit down immediately. She managed to make one quick detour to grab a comforter from her sofa, walk it back to Liam, and drape it as best she could over him. She didn't want him to catch a draft on the open floor.

Since she was in her front room she scraped her way to the sofa, turned around, and plopped onto the cushion. Her slight frame scarcely made a dent in the fabric. She let go of her walker, and it stood up off to her side.

I'm not even half the woman I used to be.

It was a common refrain in her mind these days. She knew her days were numbered. The number of years left to her were probably less than the fingers on one hand. She no longer played the denial games of her younger self—she only spoke the most brutal and honest truths to herself. This was one of those times.

“Oh Liam. I'm so sorry your mom and dad left you here with me. I'm sure they are thinking the same thing right about now. They thought they were doing me a favor by putting you in my care. Giving me someone to help around the house. Someone to talk to. Someone to care for. Everyone needs that.” She sighed deeply with exhaustion in both body and spirit.

“If you were with your parents right now I would probably just sit in my chair until the end.”

Looking at the crucifix on her wall, she wondered seriously if that was the attitude she should take. Her Christian upbringing taught her to care for those less fortunate, stay strong in body and soul, and enter the Kingdom of Heaven after a life well-lived. Nothing could have prepared her for this situation. Plague. Chaos. Sick people. What does the Bible say about surviving the end of the world? Sure Revelation is replete with end-of-world imagery, but it was no guidebook for how to endure it.

Was it was suicide to knowingly stay put, acknowledging survival in the coming storm was impossible? Just cower in the disintegrating neighborhood until the food and water runs out. Then the end would be quick.

Isn't it also certain death for a woman my age to go into the storm?

Even several minutes of prayer brought her no closer to an answer.

She weighed her chances of staying in the house by herself, sending Liam out without her. She could survive for a week or two under the best of conditions. She had plenty of food thanks to her well-prepared grandson—Liam's father—but she knew it was only a matter of time before hungry and less prepared neighbors began scavenging. And it wouldn't be hard to take from the oldest lady on the block. That says nothing about thieves or brigands from beyond the neighborhood. Sick people like Angie would also ensure she could never leave again. Staying or going, being on her own was certain death.

Thinking of Liam passed out on the floor in the next room also gave her more to worry about. If she went with Liam out into the city, she would be slowing him down to the point she would surely endanger him. She couldn't even manage him in her own house. What would she do when people, plague, and the sick were making life difficult for them? There was absolutely nothing she could contribute.

I can't even shout anymore.

Tired, she stared off into space for an indeterminate amount of time before she heard Liam stirring.

That brought her back into the present, and the question she still couldn't answer.

3

Liam was laying on the floor at the base of Angie's stairs when he came to. Grandma had tossed a little blanket on him, or at least he assumed it was her, though she was nowhere to be seen. From his position on the floor he was looking up the stairs. His headache let him know the full story of his rapid descent.

Yep, I'm THAT GUY.

He slowly sat up, anticipating a pounding headache. Fortunately, it wasn't as bad as he feared. He remotely considered everything that could have happened on his way down—broken bones, broken neck, even death—and felt pretty fortunate. He wondered if dialing 911 would reach a live person anymore.

His first tried to make his way to the first riser so he could sit in an upright position and take stock. Next, he stood to test his legs. He felt a little dizzy, a little achy in his noggin and along much of his right side, but overall he was fit for duty.

I got the keys!

He moved back into Grandma's house only to find her sitting on the big sofa. She looked very tired when he first saw her, but she looked up and gave him a big smile. The warmth returned to her demeanor.

“I'm so sorry Liam, I shouldn't have sent you up there. I wasn't thinking about your safety.”

“Don't worry Grandma. It was my fault I slipped on...something, and tumbled down the stairs.” He then looked away from her as he remembered what he saw up there. He wasn't sure if telling her about all the blood was the right thing to do.

“Do you want to know what I found up in Angie's apartment? Besides the car keys?”

“Oh, I guess so, since you made the effort to go up there.”

“Well, there is a LOT of blood. And lots of her clothes were in the middle of her living room. And her cat...was no longer alive. But mainly there was a lot of blood. I couldn't tell if it was her blood or what. It was kind of scary.”

“Were there any clues as to how she got sick?”

“Dunno. How do people normally get a plague like this? Sneezing? Coughing? Sharing germs?” He hesitated here for fear of voicing the one method he hoped would never prove true. The most common fictional method for people to become zombies—biting.

“Ummm, Grandma, did Angie looked like she'd been bitten by anything? Maybe her cat?”

Or maybe a human...

“I'm afraid Angie was so bloody I really didn't see any one place where she might have been bitten. She was just bloody all over.”

Liam wasn't looking for bite marks on his walk home. Now he couldn't even remember the color clothing the Yoga girl was wearing, much less if she had bite marks on her. The adrenaline rush and confusion had clouded his memory. He remembered the bloody look of her eyes, and it matched the blood-drenched stare Angie gave him.

“Grandma do you really think we should leave? This sickness seems real bad.”

She spoke aloud about the message on her answering machine, “It said to seek safer jurisdictions. The message didn't say to hunker down and wait for authorities. It didn't say the army was coming to help. It didn't even suggest order would ever be restored. And then those tornado sirens blasted for an unusually long time, as if to amplify the severity of the warning. The hour-long blast was a big shout to get out Liam.”

She paused to let that sink in.

“The phones are dead. Radio only loops the President's message. I don't think help is coming, and it is going to keep getting worse in the neighborhood if we stay here. Yesterday they were robbing garages. Tomorrow they are going to start robbing people's homes.”

Liam knew she was right, even though he really wanted to stick things out in the safety of the house. Going back out into the growing chaos wasn't something he relished. But his embarrassment on the steps proved even his own home could become a deathtrap. He considered whether just breathing the same air up in Angie's apartment had exposed him to whatever this sickness was.

“Grandma I was packing last night so most everything is ready. I was really hoping we'd wake up and things would be getting back to normal and we wouldn't have to go anywhere, but it doesn't seem like that's going to happen.”

The sounds of the neighborhood had begun picking up as the sun rose, and hadn't slowed down once it was well in the air. First it was just distant gunfire and squealing tires, the same as most of the night. Then it started to increase in frequency and volume, as if it were getting closer somehow. Recently he could hear discrete gunshots, some very close. And the screams. Those were picking up as well. Just getting to Angie's car could be a challenge if things got much worse.

“OK Grandma.” He reassured himself, “I feel OK. We have to get our stuff and get out of here.”

Liam grabbed the backpack he prepared last night and staged it by the front door. His most precious items were the two handguns. One he carried in a holster inside the belt and waistband of his pants. The other, along with the ammo, he stuffed into his pack. He would have to carry everything because Grandma wasn't able to lift anything but her walking cane.

Liam took a minute to consider his plan. First he had to find Angie, and make sure he wasn't going to accidentally let the sick nurse back into the flat. Then he would run out of the house, cut across several yards, and emerge on the road where her car was parked—avoiding other sick people or criminals as needed. A quick run to the car, keys in the ignition, and finally a high-speed return to pick up Grandma.

Sounded easy. But he knew any dumb mistake would gain him notoriety as THAT GUY again. It was something that made him double his efforts to think of everything that could go wrong with his plan.

I'm sure I'm missing something.

4

Liam looked out every window in Grandma's flat and Angie was nowhere to be found. He could think of several places she could be hiding, but he hoped she decided to move on to find other humans to attack.

Rather than overthink things, he let Grandma know he was going to run out the back door, and that she should shut the door behind him right away. He would be running for the car.

“Good luck Liam. I'll be praying for you.”

Liam knew she would. “Thanks Grandma. I'll take all the help I can get!”

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.

Chapter 6: Coagulation

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.

He finished up and looked out into the parking lot. The streets in this area were pretty empty, but this parking lot did have one large delivery truck parked smack in the middle of the tarmac, and there were several cars gathered around the rear end of the container, as if they were taking stuff out of it.

Liam decided he didn't want to know anything about what was going on there. He admitted he was anti-social, but he was also feeling a ticking in his brain telling him it was dangerous to walk into any unknown situation out here. It was safer to drive away as fast as possible.

His plan was simple. There was one highway that ran from downtown to the south—Interstate 55. With a little effort you could find highways going southeast or southwest, but there was only one that went in the direction Liam needed to go. That made things easy for someone new to driving.

It also made things simple for everyone else. As they drove near the on ramp for the highway, they were greeted with a massive traffic entanglement at the bridge interchange where the surface road went under the highway. Cars on the highway were stopped, cars going up the access ramp were stopped, and people everywhere were out of their cars and standing around. Infected people were wandering around too, though they were put down as soon as they showed up. Some cars were exiting the highway from the north, and they headed into the network of side streets. Everyone was pointed toward the south.

Liam pulled over to consider his options.

The first thing he did was turn on the radio. He slapped himself for not doing it sooner.

Only one radio station on the AM dial was live as far as he could tell. Every other station on the AM and FM bands was running the same emergency response message along with the President's radio message. Apparently the stations were ordered to play that nonsense rather than something that could actually help people on the ground. Or maybe the radio people were on the run too?

The one station on the air was headquartered in downtown St. Louis, and they apparently had a reporter on a high-rise roof somewhere because they were describing traffic in the downtown area.

“And we are looking at southbound 55 and we can tell you it is snarled as bad as all the other highways we can see from our vantage point. Southbound is completely stopped. Northbound is also a mess coming into St. Louis, but everyone should be aware once you reach downtown there is nowhere to go. The bridges to Illinois are all blocked by the state police and what appears to be National Guard units. They are turning people back to the Missouri side of the bridges.”

“As we've said before, you should try to get out of St. Louis while you still can. Just don't try to escape through downtown.”

They began talking about the north side of the city so Liam tuned out.

“I bet the entire interstate is parked from here all the way out to mom and dads.”

Grandma didn't respond at all. Looking back he could see she was alert but casually looking out the window.

The radio continued.

“We have reports from some people talking to our roving reporter on the ground that there is a Red Cross station down by the Arch. While we can't see anything from here, we can't see everything down there because there are a lot of trees. There could be medical help down there. If you can't make it out of the city, that might be a good place to rest.”

Liam wasn't planning on going downtown so he really wasn't listening to the details.

“...and we've heard a rumor there is a big FEMA camp over at the Gateway speedway just over the river in Illinois. If you are in the Illinois listening area you might find help there.”

The two announcers then began some banter between themselves about their own homes, which Liam found annoying. He needed something that would help him RIGHT NOW.

He was beginning to understand a little more of the big picture however.

This chaos had spread everywhere in the bi-state area. He had hoped—with the usual futility of the past couple days—that once he reached mom and dad's he would be safe.

What if it's everywhere in the world?

2

Liam was drawing a mental map of the city. The most famous edge of the metropolis was the Mississippi River as it passed downtown St. Louis and its crown jewel the Gateway Arch. That was basically the eastern border. To the north he was less clear of the geography, but was pretty sure the Missouri River was up that way. The south was his neighborhood. He knew that to get out of the urban and suburban sprawl they'd have to cross the Meramec River—a relatively small river compared to the giant Mississippi where it drained out. Taken together, three sides of St. Louis were bordered by rivers. They were aiming for the southern river.

Grandma's home was a couple miles south of downtown St. Louis, so it was impressive that the highway was already choked to death going outbound from the city's center. Was every car in the city already out and parked on this stretch of highway? Was it the same going north or west? If so, it meant almost no one had actually escaped from the city. Everyone was on the road, but still within the gravity well of the collapsing star.

What's keeping everyone bottled up?

The radio had no answers. He decided to push further south on some of the comparatively empty side streets and see if Interstate 55 was more accessible in that direction. He knew it was a long shot. The further south he went, the more cars he found on the roads with him. He had sat in enough traffic jams with mom and dad to know when a highway was stopped, drivers would try just about anything to find alternate routes. Now as he approached the highway at each exit and entrance complex, he saw many more cars use the exit ramps and dive into side streets. Always south.

Without working electricity and street lights, gridlock increased with every major intersection as they went further south. Liam was beginning to realize there were just too many cars on the roads. He had to keep rolling over to smaller and smaller streets. He was considering using one lane alleys if he had to.

While driving on a side street through one of the old neighborhoods of south St. Louis, Liam noticed the flashing lights of a police car behind him. He immediately panicked, as now was NOT the time to get in trouble with the law. Not when he needed to get Grandma out of the city.

“Oh no! Grandma I got pulled over by a cop!”

“Were you speeding?”

“I don't think so. I was just kind of driving around looking for streets without a lot of traffic on them.”

“Mmmm huh.” She seemed to understand but she said nothing further. She rolled down her window. Liam assumed it was so she could talk to the officer herself.

Let her deal with it.

Liam was respectful of law and order so he pulled over as quickly as he could. He had his seatbelt on so he felt confident he had covered all his bases. He looked in the back seat to see if anything was out of the ordinary. He knew he might get in trouble for his guns so he took his out of his waistband and stuffed it next to the seat by the middle console. The other was safely in his backpack next to Grandma.

He felt like he was missing something—that seemed to always be in his head—but this was his first time getting pulled over so he didn't know what to expect.

He did not expect having a gun placed in his face, followed by a calm voice asking him for his money.

“I'll take your wallet, thank you very much.”

The dark man wasn't a police officer, but for once Liam held his tongue and didn't point that out to the prospective thief. The gold chains and multiple watches were the big clues, if the gun in the face wasn't hint enough.

Liam held his hands up to signify compliance. He said his wallet was in his right front pocket.

“Well GET IT, I don't have all day.” The man gave a little giggle at his statement.

He then noticed the blood on the passenger seat, and the foot sitting prominently in the floorboard.

Why did I leave that there?

“Looks like you had a passenger. What happened to him?”

“I don't know sir. It was there before we jumped in the car.”

“We?” It was then the man noticed the small woman sitting quietly in the back seat. He moved a step closer to the back so he could see directly into the interior.

“Well it looks like you two make quite the couple. I'll take that fancy necklace around your neck. And that backpack looks quite juicy.” It was lying open at that moment, and the snacks and drinks were clearly visible to the marauder. Liam silently cursed himself for being so dumb.

“No, Grandma needs her meds. Please don't take it.”

“When I need your opinion I'll ask for it, BOY.”

He slapped Liam's head by reaching inside the back window and hitting him to make his point.

Liam knew it was stupid to think it, but he didn't want to be taken advantage of like this. Instead of being scared, it made him angry.

Grandma meanwhile was gathering the pack by forcing in all the contents which had spilled out.

“Sir, please leave her medications. You can have the rest.” He thought he was being smart. She didn’t take any irreplaceable prescription meds, but maybe the guy would feel sympathy.

The man moved back to the front, directly outside Liam's window.

“You don't get it. I'm taking it all! If you say another word I'll kill you both.”

Grandma piped up, “I'm getting it all together for you.”

Liam sat there stewing in his impotence. Could he start the car and speed off without getting shot? He doubted it. But maybe if he pushed him back...

On impulse he tried opening the door to push the guy backward. Thinking about it later he wasn’t sure what he was intending, but he was shocked to see he didn't surprise the guy at all. In fact the man was so agile he hastened the door as it opened. Then he side-stepped it, gave Liam a stiff punch to knock him dizzy, and then he reached in and undid his seatbelt—dragging him out of the car and onto the street.

Liam's last memory of the incident was the soft murmur of his grandma's voice.

“I have your backpack ready sir.”

And then he blacked out.

3

When Liam woke up he was still lying on the pavement. Face down on the warm asphalt surface. The side of his face was awash in pain, but he could move his jaw and didn't feel anything crunchy in his mouth, so he assumed he was going to live.

For the second time in the day, he sat up to take stock of his surroundings.

He looked around and noticed the police car was still behind him. He looked at his own car and saw the malicious criminal lying on his back near the rear tire. Did they get in a fight? He couldn't remember any details of their encounter.

Did I win?

He stood up and was relieved to see Grandma sitting in the back seat. He ran over to her thinking she was dead, but no, she apparently had fallen asleep. Her head scarf had come undone and slid down to her neck. The backpack was still sitting right there with her.

With another bad headache making his life miserable, Liam moved back to check the condition of the thief. As he lay there it was obvious he was dead. His eye was a bloody mess, but otherwise his face and the rest of his body looked quite normal. He wasn't infected or anything.

I must have blacked out after the fight.

Liam looked around and saw cars moving on distant streets, but no one seemed interested in him. He thought about saying a prayer of thanks for his good fortune, but like so many false starts in his recent past, he didn't know if he believed his prayer would be heard by anyone. But he secretly hoped there was someone listening. Perhaps even the same God Grandma believed in.

For now he said a quick thank you to anyone who would listen, and then jumped back into his car and started it up.

He thought about going back to check out the cop car, but didn't like the idea of stealing from anyone. If he was caught ransacking a police car...

Instead, he put the car in gear and drove quickly away from the scene. It all happened so fast he didn't have time to be afraid. He looked at himself in the rearview mirror as he drove, and realized he was looking at a survivor. He just survived an encounter with a hardened criminal. He survived multiple encounters with Angie the plague victim. He even survived falling down a flight of stairs.

But it all seemed so random. He knew any of those incidents could have ended his life, making this whole survival schtick the mockery he knew it to be. He saw the survivors of this thing as big hulking men carrying heavy weapons, hefty swords, and wearing full police riot gear. How else could one truly survive such crazy times?

He was wearing jeans and a Mountain Dew t-shirt, and his partner was a dressed in a light blue pantsuit pushing a cane. Hardly the stuff of legend.

Whoop de do. We've survived for 24 hours since the sirens.

He found the highway again, and was disappointed to see the traffic was still stopped cold. Cars continued to pour off the exit ramp, pumping themselves into the arterial streets of this part of the city. But even those streets were nearly clogged now. It wouldn't be long before everything was in total gridlock.

Liam became very wary of getting caught in the terminal flow of traffic. He turned around to give himself some room. He needed a chance to think through his next move. It was obvious they weren't going to make it going south on the highway or any of the side roads. He pulled over when things thinned out.

Could they walk out of the city? Indeed he had seen many people walking along the highway, but how far could Grandma go on foot? She could walk pretty well for her age, and he had seen her walking for short distances without any cane at all. But those were rare instances when she was at 100% health and rest. Now, she could barely stay awake while sitting in his back seat.

How far could we both get on foot?

Not far.

As he sat there, his hands began shaking. His mind was reliving the incident with the thief.

How close to death did I come?

He felt himself being pulled out of the car and tossed to the ground. He imagined himself being shot. He imagined Grandma getting pulled out of the car. He imagined...

NO! I will not imagine that!

He silently began weeping. He couldn't help himself. He was slightly embarrassed that Grandma would hear him, but once it started he was unable to check it. His head collapsed on the steering wheel as he let the emotions of the past day consume him.

In the back, Grandma slept on.

For the first time in his life, Liam actually envied her.

Chapter 7: Maple Syrup

Liam sat exhausted in the front seat of the car. His tears had dried and he found himself staring out the front window. He knew it hadn't been long since he'd pulled over—glancing back he could see Grandma was still asleep. But now he needed a plan.

Time for the “big guy pants” as his dad would say.

Once again he turned on the radio to see if he could glean any useful information. Earlier the radio mentioned the Red Cross might be downtown near the Arch, which he took as enough of a good sign to seriously consider heading that way.

Going south didn't seem possible given the traffic situation. Going west might be possible in a pinch, but that would take him into the bulk of the population of the city—enough reason to avoid that way. North would take him directly away from his goal, so that made no sense at all. Finally, he figured his best bet was to drive east into Illinois, where the population was low, then turn south and try to come back over a bridge back into Missouri near his home. It would require going through downtown, which made him anxious just thinking about it, but then they would be in open territory over in Illinois—a fact which suited him just fine after his encounter with the thief.

All the stations on the radio were filled with emergency broadcast loops. The AM station previously broadcast freely had returned to the standard government messaging. They advised listeners to evacuate the city, but never gave any clues about how to do it, or where to go. A week ago he wouldn't have listened to a government broadcast to save his life. Now his life did depend on a government announcement, and he was dismayed to discover they had no answers for him.

Totally useless!

With no help from the radio, he knew he would have to make a choice soon. He gently woke up Grandma to see what she would think of his downtown plan.

She looked around, including out her window, and into Liam's backpack.

“He's gone Grandma. He didn't get our stuff either, but I'm not sure what happened. I was laying on the ground and when I got up the crook was dead. Then I jumped in the car and got us out of there.”

“Someone shot him Liam. I must have passed out from all the excitement. I'm so glad you're OK. I'm not doing a very good job taking care of you, am I?”

“We're both alive. That's all that matters now. Someone shot the Yoga woman for me too. I think I have a guardian angel. I've learned an important lesson; the rules are changing. I'm going to be smarter from now on, so I can protect you and me both.”

Grandma leaned forward just enough to touch Liam's shoulder with reassurance.

“We make a good team.”

“Well teammate, we need a new plan now. The highway to the south is completely stopped. All the main roads going south next to the highway are also filled with people trying to escape. It didn't look like any of those people were going to be moving anytime soon. The radio also has nothing useful on where to go. I figured we'd try to get across a bridge downtown and then drive south on the Illinois side of the river.”

“Sounds like a good plan Liam.”

“Will you help me navigate downtown? I'm afraid I don't know where to go.”

The extent of his driver's education with dad ended at Grandma's house. The rest of the city was a blank space as far as roads went.

“I'll do what I can.”

Liam pulled back onto the road, guided by Grandma to find a route downtown. Unlike the stream of cars going south, the road in front of him was mostly devoid of traffic. He wasn't willing to use the term “good luck” just yet. He knew just how fast luck could go down the toilet.

Liam felt a hint of a smile on his face as he sped through the dying city. Heading for freedom.

Looking in the rearview, Grandma's face was much more stern.

2

The street was a major thoroughfare in this part of the city. It had two lanes of traffic in each direction, with a breakdown lane in the middle. There were very few cars going in either direction, but there were a few. The massive backup of south-bound traffic hadn't reached this far north yet.

Ahead, Liam saw several cars on fire, sitting in various parts of the roadway in front of a row of apartments. Strangely, other cars were moving among the burned out hulks, seemingly unconcerned with the incongruity.

Liam was gaining his sea legs on this terrible ocean. He immediately stopped the car, and began looking for alternate routes where he could turn down a side street and avoid even being near the scene of such destruction. Grandma was in the back seat, watching ahead as well.

“Grandma I'm turning on a side street. I don't think we should go anywhere near those burning cars.”

“I'm with you.”

Liam drove forward a hundred or so feet before making a left turn, then a quick right turn to run parallel to the main road he had just left. This took him into a more residential area. There were a few cars parked along both sides of the street, but there were also a lot of trash cans rolling around, along with lots of trash and debris—as if many of the houses had simply thrown their contents right out their doors.

More ominously he saw odd characters walking aimlessly around the area. Sick? Infected? Lost?

Liam wasn't stopping to find out. He hit the gas a little harder. He looked at the speedometer and saw he was pushing fifty mph down the narrow lane. Not bad for a 15-year-old with a learner's permit!

Time slowed down again.

Liam reacted to the broken front passenger window by dropping his head as low as he could. It was instinct. As they sped along, several gun shots exploded from the right side of the street—from up in the houses lining that side.

Both windows on the passenger side blew out.

Then the rear window blew out.

The headrest on his seat crumpled from another shot which came in from the side.

That was close!

Grandma fell over sideways in the back seat, covered with tiny pieces of safety glass.

Liam chanced a sideways glance but didn't see the shooters. He was going much too fast. Instead he refocused on the path ahead to ensure they didn't have an accident. Shots continued to ring out behind them, and he could see in the side mirror a couple of men had run into the street behind him to try to shoot them, even as he drove away.

Only a few seconds more...

He hit a right turn borderline too fast, just able to maintain control of the car as it righted itself into the new street. He scraped a car on his side as he couldn't quite make the turn cleanly. The four-door sedan had never been put through such stress-testing.

Rather than being scared, Liam was mad as hell again. It was unheard of to be shot at by brigands right out in the open like that. Bad people were using this disaster as an excuse to—do what exactly? Were these bad people showing their true colors, or good people gone bad due to the chaos? It had scarcely been 24 hours since law and order ceased to exist. Things were going downhill fast if this was how it was going to be. He had a few moments to ponder things before the wheel needed his full attention.

He focused on the upcoming left turn back onto the main street and he was pleased to see they had gone far enough to travel past the burned out wrecks. Were the men on the previous street the same ones who burned the cars on this one? Why would anyone randomly destroy cars and shoot at people they didn't know? Liam absently wondered why they didn't just shoot out his tires and force him to stop. Were they really that focused on killing him, to the point they were no longer rational? He had no explanation that fit the circumstances. He wasn't going back to interview them.

Pardon me. Could I ask you a few questions?

They quickly overtook another vehicle—a blue two door sedan—with a family inside. They looked at Liam as he matched speed for a second, and then he resumed accelerating past them.

The open road was just as dangerous as everywhere else. Even a friendly-looking family couldn't be trusted as far as he was concerned. He could trust no one but himself and Grandma.

In the distance, he got his first glimpse of the Gateway Arch as it twinkled in the mid-day sun. He had many memories seeing it as a kid—how many times had his parents excitedly pointed it out as they were driving? It was a source of fascination and pride for locals like him. As he admired the national landmark, a snarl of traffic came into view on the street ahead.

Will anything be easy ever again?

3

The traffic wasn't as bad as it appeared at first glance. A major intersection in this part of the city was catching traffic from the nearby highway, as well as the growing traffic heading downtown. Several other drivers must have gotten the same idea to head downtown once they realized the highway out of town was toast.

Once through the busy intersection they made good time for a few minutes before once again coming upon a jammed intersection. This time it was worse.

They were only a couple miles from downtown. They could see the big Anheuser-Busch brewery that was a cultural icon in this city. As they came over a small rise they could see the traffic ahead was completely stopped. As cars came up on the end of the traffic jam they stopped and passengers got out and joined the people ahead of them on foot. Liam could already see a few cars wander in from behind him, about to make sure he never left this entanglement.

His survival instinct kicked in. He turned the car hard to his right to avoid the cars in front of him. Angie's severely damaged car jumped the curb and came to a stop in a tiny parking lot for a fast food joint. He heard a loud pop. He backed his car sloppily into a spot up against the building, allowing himself a clear shot to drive in any direction he chose—except into the traffic jam itself—should he change his mind about joining the sea of walkers going downtown.

Several other cars took his lead. Soon the little parking lot was full, as were several other open spaces on this side of the road. He was silently impressed with himself for thinking of something that was so useful to his fellow travelers. It felt good to lead, even if it was just a bit of luck on his part for thinking of it.

His pleasure faded once he exited the vehicle and saw the condition of the car. Angie had some pride in her vehicle and took care to keep it washed and waxed at a local hands-on car wash. If she saw her car now she would fall over dead.

Not funny Liam!

Three windows were totally blown out. Several bullet holes peppered the passenger side, including a couple up near the engine. It was a miracle nothing was permanently damaged under the hood. He walked around and inspected as much as he dared. One bullet had mangled the locking assembly of the passenger-side rear door, making it impossible to open it. He reached in through the broken glass and grabbed his backpack. As he pulled back he noticed the front tire had gone totally flat. Liam imagined it made the car look sad.

“So much for getting to Illinois.” He said it out loud, but mostly to himself. They were now committed to the only place anywhere which seemed to offer some help. The area down by the Gateway Arch.

Grandma exited on the far side. She shook herself free of the glass. She reached back in to grab her cane and then casually leaned against the exterior of the car to wait for Liam to gather his stuff.

Louder, he joked, “I guess we don't have to worry about locking the door.”

“Or worrying about the rain,” Grandma quipped. She gave herself a little giggle.

One of the people in a nearby car had wandered over and gave a little whistle when he took in Liam's damaged ride.

“Whoah! You guys must have hit some turbulence!”

Liam wasn't really in the mood to deal with strangers, but just couldn't resist bragging about it.

“Yeah, a couple of dip-wads a few miles back were shooting up cars. I just put the hammer down and blew through their trap.”

He looked at Grandma to see if she would scold him, but she was looking the other way.

The man gave another whistle. “Yeah, we had to drive through someone's lawn to get around some fellas holding up cars about three miles south of here. I guess we are all lucky to make it here.” He then told Liam “good luck out there” and started walking away.

So much for basking in the glory.

With pack on his back he walked around to Grandma. She was silently looking at the crush of abandoned cars and beyond toward the Arch.

“Do you think you can walk to the Arch from here Grandma?”

She was silent for many moments before responding.

“I don't see any other option at this point. I'm going to need your help, but I think I can do it.”

She held up her cane so she could bring up the feet closer to her face.

“I'm going to need your help too cane. Don't let me fall!”

She chuckled a little at her own joke, then slammed the cane back to the ground and started walking—slowly—away from Angie's wrecked car.

Liam looked at the Arch. The safety of the port was only a couple miles away. So close yet so far away.

4

After the excitement at Grandma's house, the struggle to escape Angie, getting beaten up by a criminal, and the stress of actually driving the car in the chaos, the walk toward the Arch was positively anticlimactic.

“When we get downtown I hope they're serving hot dogs and soda, like a baseball game!” A small girl behind them blurted that statement to everyone in the area.

Liam was holding Grandma's arm as he walked, but turned partway around to look at the child's parents, seeing a tight-lipped grin as they gave her affirmation about what she would find down there. Anything to keep the children happy.

Liam recognized the body language and tone from his own interactions with his parents. Sometimes it was just easier to go with a lie than explain an ugly truth. There were almost certainly no hot dog vendors downtown, and even if there were, the pressed meats would already be long gone with a group this large.

Would there be any help at all downtown? After what he saw on the roads of the city, Liam was pretty sure he knew the answer to that, but still he had hope, and tried hard to listen to the conversations of his fellow travelers to see if they knew more than he did about what was ahead.

The friendly crowd of walkers continued to grow. If he didn't know where he was, Liam would have believed he was in a crowd heading to a baseball game. He and his father didn't make a habit of it, but whenever Liam's dad got free tickets to a game he would take Liam for a father-son adventure at the ballpark. The only differences between that crowd and this one was the colors—not as much Cardinal red today—and what people were carrying. He could definitely see lots of coolers and bags of food, as well as firearms. Open carrying of guns was something you would NEVER see on any normal day in the city limits of St. Louis.

He looked carefully now and saw that more than a few men and women were carrying things slung over their shoulders, covered with fabric or trash bags. Some just carried their rifles right out in the open, which made it even more obvious that others were also carrying rifles, but had chosen to pretend they were something else. Liam didn't understand what they were trying to prove.

They passed a man standing off to the side of the crowd, holding a cardboard sign for the walkers to see. “God did this to you. Repent!” Liam wondered what Grandma would think about such an insensitive statement, but if she saw it she said nothing. He wasn't willing to blame God for the plague; he saw God in context with boring Sunday sermons or with high praise from family members. Never did either suggest a benevolent being could inflict something like this on mankind.

The man's sign was getting other people talking about the root cause of the catastrophe. Liam tried to overhear the conversations of people as they walked nearby. The first person he could clearly hear was talking about some clues he received on his shortwave radio.

“...a frequency I don't get. The guy lived in Minnesota or Wisconsin, he wasn't very forthcoming about that. He sounded like he had watched too many movies. He called the sick people zombies, as if they were something real. He then said you can only kill them by destroying the head. Ha! This isn't Night of the Living Dead, or whatever that movie was called. So we ignored him and went on to look for other operators. Sadly, the only other one we heard was farther north in Canada, and all we got out of him was that people were killing his livestock. He said he had no weapons to get them to stop. Nothing we could do to help him of course.”

The guy was moving much faster than he and Grandma, so Liam couldn't hear much more of his conversation, but he noted the man was walking with a big revolver in a holster on his left side.

As people walked by he heard several other theories. It was now the de rigueur subject.

“I heard it was a medical experiment gone wrong.”

“No, a friend of a friend said she knew someone in the police department. This was a terrorist attack.” And then, speaking so quiet Liam almost didn't catch it, the person said, “It was the same guys who did nine-eleven.”

“It was our own government.” A half-dozen people had different iterations of government conspiracies.

“It was the maple-syrup lovin' Canadians.” Liam heard several people talk about Canadians as if the threat was real, but he couldn't quite take them seriously. Normally he wouldn't dare insert himself, but he had to know. “Excuse me, why would the Canadians cause this plague?” The woman who spoke of it responded calmly and easily, “They want our stuff of course.”

Liam determined it was best to avoid laughing. Soon the woman and her entourage had moved far ahead.

He heard a host of other theories, just in the few minutes since he'd passed that sign. “It was the Republicans. They always wanted us city people to die.” “It was the Liberals. They was foolin' around with science and unleashed this Ebola-thing on us by accident.” “It was the Snowballers.” “It was the Communists.” “It was the anarchists. They want government to go away.” And so on and so on. The crowd consumed each theory, readily adding more and more. The truth was, no one really knew.

Several people were carrying large hand-printed signs, with variations of the “Repent! The end is here” motif. One said “This is the tribulation!” He had no idea what that meant, but Liam was surprised to see the people carrying such signs appeared completely normal. Almost calm. There were no crazed-eye preachers anywhere in sight.

Holding onto Grandma, he realized they were both now floating along with the crowd, and everyone was equally clueless about why they were there. It made him feel small and helpless.

People power-walked by them, barely giving them a notice. Liam reflected on his own mindset. Would he notice an old woman and a young boy such as himself if he was walking in this mess by himself? How many people in this procession were going to be dead soon?

Don't panic.

He craned his neck to look around the crowd, which over the last several minutes had started to thin out. Everyone was moving along the sidewalks of both sides of the street, as well as on the grass-covered median. Liam guessed they'd been walking along for an hour now, which would put them about halfway there. Grandma was puttering along, but she was slowing down, stopping to rest more than Liam liked.

He knew she needed her rest, but an odd feeling had been growing in the pit of his stomach, a sense that it wouldn't be wise to fall too far behind the main crowd. He was disturbed to see fewer people behind him than ahead. It wasn't empty by any stretch of the imagination, but things were thinning out.

“Grandma, I know you're tired, but we have to keep moving.”

“I know Liam. I'm so tired though. I really need to sit down.” She remained standing—there was no place to sit other than the curb of the street and Grandma would have to nearly squat on the ground to sit there.

Gunshots rang out from somewhere behind them. Not close, but not as far as he'd like either.

Liam gave her a drink of water and a grain bar, hoping to give her a quick boost. He knew enough about the 104-year-old set though to know there was no word for “boost” in their lexicon.

He didn't want to scare her, but he wasn't going to lollygag either. Once she had taken a drink and pulled down a few bites he practically pushed her along.

“OK, up and at 'em.”

Grandma said nothing, but didn't pick up the pace as he'd hoped.

I refuse to panic!

He looked over his shoulder, afraid of what he'd see.

5

While dragging Grandma along, a middle-aged woman in a business suit, sans the jacket, came ambling by. She seemed distracted until she spotted Grandma while walking by.

Without prompting she took Grandma's other arm and together she and Liam were able to support her much better as they walked along. Liam gave her his thanks, but Marty said nothing. Liam knew that could only mean she was REALLY worn out.

“I think she is really tired. Thank you so much for helping her.”

The woman just said she was glad to help, but volunteered no additional information. She was looking ahead and into the traffic jam as if searching for someone. Liam assumed she had lost a friend.

They moved like this for about fifteen minutes or so. Then the woman abruptly stopped and told Liam to wait against a bridge abutment just as they went underneath it.

This gave Liam a chance to look behind them again; he was horrified to see almost no one. There were a few stragglers, mostly elderly walking without helpers. Some people had just stopped to sit or lie down, perhaps giving up. And far down the street he thought he could see a few of the really sick. Really. Sick. It was best left unsaid as to what disease they had...

He felt like the lone gazelle dropping behind the herd. Ahead of him he could see the last of the main group walking away. They were very close now to the park that surrounds the Arch. Maybe a quarter mile. Gunfire was coming from that direction, though a few shots were echoing down side streets almost all the time now.

He didn't see the mystery lady. Not ahead. Not behind. Not even in the nearby cars, which were sprawled everywhere on the street and in every available parking area in sight.

Oh crap! We're in for it now.

Liam looked at Grandma and considered his options once more. She appeared to be totally out of hit points. Could he force her to push on? Should he try?

A deep, dark voice advised him to sit her down under this bridge and then just walk away.

Another voice argued she was his responsibility no matter how difficult things became.

Where did his obligation to save her outweigh his obligation to save himself? Wasn't his life—at 15 years old—more valuable to save than hers?

Why would the thought even cross my mind?

“Grandma, I'm not going to leave you here. We have to keep moving. Can you walk a little further?”

“Oh Liam. I think I'm a goner. My head is spinning and it's very hard to see.” She was hunched over even more than normal, holding herself up with a combination of her cane and leaning against the concrete bridge pylon.

“I don't think I can go another step without falling over.”

“Well then I'll carry you!”

Bent over and gasping for air, she cocked her head so she could look up at her tall grandson and give him a look he knew very well. It said “Liam you are one crazy boy, but I love you anyway. And no, we aren't doing that.”

Liam considered pulling a stunt he saw in a movie—just grabbing the small woman and tossing her over his shoulder and carrying her no matter what her protests said. He knew he could lift her and carry her, but couldn't assure himself that he wouldn't break her ribs.

And then the mystery woman returned. She was running around cars inside the traffic jam, as if she were trying to find a suitable path through the obstacles. She was pushing something.

A half minute later she was close enough he could see what it was. She had a huge wheelchair in front of her, and she brought it right up onto the sidewalk where Grandma was swaying.

“Did someone order a ride?”

Liam stood incredulous while the woman moved behind Grandma and then helped her fall backwards, gently, into the chair. The seat itself was immense, obviously it was designed for an overweight client, and Grandma's pixie size made her look like a child sitting there.

But she was sitting.

“Where did you find this?”

“I've been looking for this since I first saw you. I saw it on one of those lift things that stick out the back of a trailer hitch. I work with nurses, and travel to hospitals, so this type of thing sticks out when I see it. You have to hurry with her. She looks like she needs some medical care.”

The woman looked over her shoulder at the few people wandering about on the route they just traveled. Some were lying down, but now it was clear some of those on the ground were being set upon by others who weren't normal. She voiced Liam's fears.

“I think you have to hurry.”

“Will you come with us? We can make good time if we both push her.”

“You'll be fine. I'm going that way,” she was pointing west. Not the same way at all.

“Hurry!”

And without a further comment, she dove back into the traffic jam.

“THANK YOU!” He shouted to her as she was nearly across the street.

She lifted her hand but kept moving.

“Can you believe our luck?”

Liam tossed her cane across the back arms of the chair, then began pushing her, nearly running when the sidewalk wasn't too bumpy, and never once looking back.

A faint scream told him every detail about what was happening back there.

Chapter 8: Victoria

The chaos of the Gateway Arch grounds was unexpected. As Liam pushed Grandma in the wheelchair, both could see thousands of people crammed into the verdant landscape under the 630-foot monument. The Gateway to the West was now the Gateway to the East for these people—a gateway to safety over in Illinois. But there were so many people, and they didn't look like they were moving. Going into that throng was going to be a test for them both.

“Grandma are you ready to dive into all those people? That's where we need to go.”

“I'll go where you push me Liam. I'm too tired to arm wrestle you over it.”

The pair descended the road the last hundred feet, caught up with the many other new arrivals queuing up at the edge, and soon entered the perimeter of the park. There was a row of armed citizens and police officers on the outside rim of the grounds, each holding their weapons at the low ready position. A couple of horse officers were also wandering around along with other civilians on horseback. Where they found horses downtown was another of the mysteries of this thing.

The park where the Arch resides is about a mile long and a quarter of a mile across. It is a patch of greenery huddled next to the concrete jungle of downtown St. Louis. As they approached the outer limits of the grounds, Liam could see many dead bodies littering the streets. Any school child could piece together what was happening down here. People like Angie were attacking the police, and getting put down like wild dogs. But seeing that many dead people—and their blood—in the light of day was disconcerting. He gripped the wheelchair handles with determination. He pushed through.

Liam felt reassured by the police presence, but not because they had weapons—lots of people he'd seen today had weapons, including him. He was reassured because these men and women represented authority. A hope that society was holding it together despite all the chaos. He gave the nearest officer a wave, and got a nod in return. He felt like he had returned to society with that little acknowledgment.

His faith in society didn't last long. Once inside the outer ring of armed order, there was no organization whatsoever. The interior of the park was anarchy. Liam could quickly deduce that. Surely there would be police or Red Cross or SOMEONE in charge. People were huddled in small groups all along the path, and well out into the grass on each side of him. Kids were playing in the small pond to their right. Liam knew that was forbidden from his own visits to this place as a youngster.

There was a little parking lot near the outer line of police. It was filled with police cars and trucks, as well as several civilian vehicles. A large box truck was parked almost directly in the path he was walking. The back door was open and a man was standing inside the truck yelling at the crowd, “Guns! Ammo! On loan! We need you armed!”

It was perhaps the most unusual thing Liam had seen today, and that was saying a lot. The thought of police allowing this man to toss guns out the back of his truck—it just wasn’t done. Ever. And yet—

“Grandma let’s check this out.” She didn’t reply, so he took that as an affirmative.

When he got closer he could see this was a truck from a popular sporting goods store in town. Lots of police and civilians were standing near the back, and the man was working with a partner to take down some information from each person and then hand them a rifle or shotgun. No money was changing hands. Liam could see a cornucopia of firearms in the cargo area. If he was in a cartoon his eyes would be swirling with longing and desire. He moved with Grandma so he could drift into the queue.

It can’t hurt to try.

In a few minutes he was talking to the man holding the guns.

“Can I get a rifle? I want to protect my Grandma.” It was completely true, but boy did he want a gun.

The man looked down and seemed to take a few seconds to size him up. Liam knew at that moment what the man was going to say. His own eyes flashed behind the man, spotting a large—no huge—tan rifle sitting on its end, up against the wall of the truck. He doubted he could even lift the thing...

“Look kid, I appreciate your situation, but we need men on this line. Police. Ex-military. You and your grandma don’t belong anywhere near guns. You need to be inside the park staying safe.”

And there it was. He was “just a kid.”

Liam could feel the emotions welling up inside as the man moved onto another customer. An older woman got a gun after giving her name and address. No other questions asked. So much for needing men he thought.

He wanted to stay and argue but knew it was useless. He tried to move out of the line while avoiding the concerned looks of the men and women still there. Soon he was lost in the crowd, moving deeper into the park. Anonymity brought relief.

Liam tried to keep the wheelchair on the straight and narrow of the path, but couldn't help looking from side to side at the many strange people who had washed up in this tidal basin of humanity.

To his right was a large black family, it looked like the entire extended family was huddling together. Old ladies. Several middle age men and women. A score of children. Very scared. Liam couldn't understand the fear here amongst all the armed police.

To his left, among the hundreds of people, he spotted a young boy much like himself—only he was with his mother and father. Liam felt a little jealous because that boy had his parents right there with him. He tried to be happy for him, but his heart wasn't really in it.

He rolled Grandma past an old cathedral, though it was clear the place was full and not taking in new tenants. Hundreds of people gathered around the front doors, hoping to get in. Liam kept moving toward the Arch itself, which was further inside the grassy parkland.

Dozens of other vignettes emerged from the crowd. Wounded men. Coughing and hacking women—danger! Small children walking rudderless. The aged. The infirm. Mentally challenged.

And pets of every stripe! No one wanted to leave without their pets. Dogs were the most common, but small pet carriers were prolific as well—probably holding back the cats. There were even some big birds on people's shoulders. Liam couldn't identify many, though he did know a Macaw when he saw one. For some reason the pets put an odd thought in his mind.

“I wonder where all these pets go to the bathroom?”

Grandma might have heard the question, but if she did she kept the answer to herself. Liam merely pushed on.

It wasn't far before the path revealed the larger scene beyond the park and well beyond the Arch. Liam could now see the Mississippi River—a disgusting brown, churning itself under the downtown bridges at high speed. Small boats were flitting about in all directions, their purpose unclear. Several aircraft were buzzing above. Those were definitely military.

Liam stood there for a full minute, finally disturbed by a weak voice.

“I need to get in the shade Liam.”

Liam obliged, angling her back from the crest of the sunny hill and toward one of the many tree-lined and shady paths through the park. All the benches were taken, but many trees had some space on the concrete—most people chose to sit under trees or in the open grass off the walkway. Liam carefully observed several of the trees to find one that was best suited to Grandma's needs. Some had large groups of scary-looking men, as if an entire biker gang agreed to meet there. Some had large family groups. One had a score of priests and nuns below it. Liam searched for a tree with enough open space so Grandma could get the shade she needed without asking people to move. He knew it was a tall order given the size of the crowd, but he was patient.

He settled on one that had a couple families—one with a baby stroller—as well as a woman lying half on the grass and half on the path. It looked like she was sleeping—which was just fine. She wouldn't give them any trouble.

“Here you go. Shade as promised!”

Grandma didn't say anything again. Liam figured the trip was too much for her. Perhaps some shade would help her sleep for a bit.

As he was rolling her next to the tree, Liam couldn't help but notice the sleeping woman was closer to his age than he thought. She was wearing some kind of elegant black dress, completely out of place in the sweltering heat and humidity of this park-turned-refugee-camp. The knee-length dress had hiked up her thigh as she lay on the grass, revealing more than was appropriate for a 15-year-old teenage boy, for sure. Liam was immediately embarrassed and tried to focus on pushing the chair into position next to the tree, but the distraction conspired to force the wheelchair off the pavement. Liam felt the chair drop off the small edge and he knew immediately what he'd done.

So did the girl.

2

“What. The. HELL!”

The girl yanked her hand from underneath the wheel and sat up to take stock of her attacker. Liam thought she looked like she had been sleeping a long time. Her long brown hair was a ratty mess, managed only by the grace of a black headband. Her face, as pretty as it might be, was covered on one side with dirt and grass. Her makeup had been displaced, making her eyes look dark and sunken. The green eyes were still striking—Liam had to look away immediately. The yelling reinforced his decision.

“That was my hand! Who the he—” she noticed Liam was pushing a little old lady in the wheelchair.

“Oh, sorry ma'am. I meant no disrespect. This wasn't how I expected to wake up.” Looking around, she continued, “Though seeing all these people now, I don't know WHAT I was expecting.”

Grandma was magnanimous, looking down on the young woman. “Please child, Liam just lost control of my chair—it was an accident. We've been on the road all morning and we're just looking for some shade.”

“I'm very sorry for running you over.” Liam pretended to attend to Grandma as he apologized.

As the woman stood up, Liam could see she was about his height, maybe a little less than his 5 foot 8 inches, and she had an athletic look about her. Her calves had real definition—not that he was looking at them! Her profile reminded Liam of any number of girls on his high school track team. Something about how they carried themselves gave it away. It was an intangible quality, but Liam had seen it many times in runners. Was she a runner too? He'd have to—

“Hey. Crash Cart. You finished?”

Bollocks.

Liam was caught checking her out.

“Yeah, I'm uh, just wondering why you are dressed up like that?”

Good save.

She gave Liam a disapproving scowl but asked a question rather than address his.

“Do you have any water or anything? I've got nothing but what you see here.” She held out her arms and then swished them down and in front of her, as if presenting her clothes as her only possession.

“Grandma has the only water, and we're saving that.”

“Nonsense. Here you go dear—please take a little.” She pulled a water bottle out of Liam's backpack, which she kept next to her on the ample seat of the wheelchair.

Liam wasn't surprised. Grandma would try to help anyone she met. She couldn't help the thousands of other people in this park, but she could help this girl.

“Thank you. My name is Victoria.”

“Victoria huh?” She paused, just for a couple extra seconds. “My name is Marty, but you can call me Grandma like everyone else seems to do. I'm 104 by the way. You were going to ask. This is my rescuer and great-grandson, Liam.”

Liam gave her a nod, trying to stay relaxed, but he was deathly afraid he'd say something stupid, or look at her minimal but sufficiently curvaceous chest accidentally—

Oh crap!

He found it impossible not to look. The dress wasn't even low cut, but it was a dress after all and it complimented her figure. She was adjusting a mobile phone inside her bra. It was too much. He decided to sit down on the pavement next to the wheelchair, keeping his eyes forward, looking at people walking the large path next to him.

“Thanks for the water. Hope neither of us have the plague.” She followed that with some nervous laughter. She used just a splash of water on her face, and made a desultory effort to untangle her hair, then took a seat opposite Liam on the far side of the wheelchair. It took everything Liam had to avoid looking at the legs now stretched on the pavement close by.

3

“You asked why I'm dressed like this.”

A long sigh.

“I'm from Colorado, but I came here a month ago. I just graduated from high school and got picked for a summer internship at a local medical school. I guess I’m pretty smart. As you know things have been getting bad for the past several weeks. Fuel shortages. Food shortages. Stuff like that. But in the hospitals it's been much worse. Medications became hard to find. Shipments were lost. Petty theft right out of the controlled medical closets. I'm no more medically qualified than you guys, but they put us pre-pre-med students to work with patients as the crisis became more acute. They had me doing as little as possible with truly sick people, but I've seen enough bad things in the past couple weeks to last a lifetime.”

She paused as if digesting an unsavory thought.

“Two nights ago some of my new friends were going out to one of the few night clubs still open here in the downtown area. They insisted I go with them and I was too tired to refuse. I'm not 21 but nobody was carding anymore.”

Liam noted she just graduated from high school, so she couldn't be MUCH older than he was.

“—and the place was full. I guess the stress was affecting everyone. It was wall-to-wall packed. We joined some colleagues from the program at one of the large tables and spent a couple hours dancing, talking, yelling—you know, stuff girls do out on the town. When trying to forget...”

Her voice was clear but distant.

“I looked down at my watch at one point and was shocked to see it was already two in the morning! The place seemed to have no intention of shutting down, and I don't think the crowd ever thinned out the whole time we were there. There were tons of drugs and alcohol right out in the open, but that wasn't for me—I don't drink.”

“I was ready to leave for the night and go back to my dorm. Mostly because I could barely stand after so much dancing, but also because of the stresses in my life continued to creep in, even there.”

Victoria stood up and stepped a few paces away from the tree, then turned around to face them both. She seemed to be bracing herself for the next part of her story.

Liam got a better look at the young woman, and was almost afraid to let himself gaze in her direction. He had next to no experience around girls in a social setting. He steered clear of them in school. There weren't many girl gamers who enjoyed the types of games he played, and none of his friends had girlfriends either. He just had too many other things to keep himself occupied.

With Victoria, he found it hard to talk or listen to her without actually looking at her. He willed himself to play it cool and actively listen and nod, wondering if he would again find it too distracting. However, this time he was struck by her silver chain with a small religious cross hanging around her bare neck. Liam couldn't define the reaction to it, but he found himself less intimidated now, and could actually look at her without most of the usual awkwardness. He was trying to understand where the feeling had come from as she continued on with her story.

“Soooo, several of us were preparing to leave when we heard a 'pop pop pop' over the headache-inducing music. I didn't know what they were at the time but someone screamed “gun!” and panic ripped through the place like wildfire. We weren't at the door, but we were walking in that direction when this all went down, so we saw the security guy come running our way—his gun still in his hand. He was being chased by...some really sick people. Then things got out of control.”

Victoria was visibly shaken relaying her story, but it was already familiar to Liam after his morning. The plague victims had gone insane—become zombies if you fancy that term—and had found a nice cache of fresh meat. Somehow a small group of the sick stumbled into the front of the club and started with the bouncer—his arm had several bite marks as he ran by Victoria and her friends. They then entered the club and made it impossible for anyone to escape through the front door. They got busy attacking the unarmed and, in many cases, immodestly-clothed patrons of the hot and sweaty place.

Victoria explained she had two key advantages over most of the people in the room: She saw where the infected came in and she knew they weren't just sick, they were “bat-stuff” crazy sick with that double-Ebola stuff. While the first instinct of some of the revelers was to help the injured, she knew the only sensible course of action was to get the hell out of there. So she ran.

She ran through the swirling crowd, directly into the back hallway—where she had been passing the EXIT sign all night on her way to the restroom. Several people had already punched out the back, but none were her friends. She joined the lucky few in the alley.

There she saw more plague victims—were they just wandering around downtown? A couple of the club patrons had fallen under the teeth of those loiterers before the rest of the escapees understood what was going on. The threat wasn't just in the club – it was outside as well.

“So I ran some more. First out of that alley, and then out into the main streets. I had to keep myself clear of the buildings so they couldn't grab me from the deeper shadows. None of the sick are fast, but they aren't slow either. I broke the kitten heel off these shoes so I could run even faster.” She pointed down to her black shoes, now covered in road grime from her escape.

“I didn't realize nearly all the lights were off downtown at two in the morning. It was eerie to say the least. But the lights of the Arch were still on...so a small group of us started to make our way down here. Along the way, plague victims continually seeped out of the darkness to attack us anew. Guys tried to fight them—trying to protect us girls I suppose—but they always ended up getting brought down. Since we had no weapons, all we could do was run. So that's what I did.”

“God help me I ran. I left all my friends behind. I left everyone whom I had shared the dance floor. Some weren't as fast as me. Some were kind of overweight—they didn't get far at all. Others tried to get into buildings to hold them off. Maybe they survived. But I just kept running. I betrayed everything I believed about being a good Christian. A good person. I didn't try to save anyone but myself! How selfish am I?”

Liam didn't know how to respond. He wasn't a religious person, but could respect the devout of any faith. She had taken her desperate running as a sign of weakness in her faith, while most people—including him—would see her actions as just the opposite. It wasn't like she could carry the slower people on her shoulders.

Liam looked up at his grandma, suddenly aware of the implications of Victoria's story. Would he be forced to run and leave her behind? Could he leave her behind? The thought had crossed his mind a few times in the last day, though Victoria's plight made it all the more real.

“I'm not sure how long I kept going. It was a bad dream. Sometimes I ran toward the Arch. Sometimes away. It always depended on where the sick were moving, and who they captured. And then, finally, I had a clear shot and reached the last street before this park. In the dim light I saw several police officers on horses, armed to the teeth. They watched me run by but said nothing—maintaining some kind of silent vigil at the edge of civilization. I was so tired at that point I didn't even think to tell them what I'd seen or where I'd come from. There were a few other people running behind me, but I just dashed into the park—oblivious to anything but what was ahead of me. I ran all the way to the river before I stopped. Now I really wish I would have made even a token effort to save someone else.”

She shook her head, as if tossing out the bad thoughts.

“I was so amped up that first night I was scared to be alone. I just walked around aimlessly in the small crowds under the Arch until dawn. Eventually I found myself staying close to the police officers near the edge of the city. At least I knew they had guns and could protect me. Several times they did.”

“In the late morning tornado sirens across the whole city began to wail. The panic it caused down here was amazing. People started running in all directions. I watched as some jumped in the river only to get washed away. Many people left the park as others came in. I was one of those who left.”

“All afternoon yesterday I tried to walk back through downtown to get back to my dorm, but always there were people running from the sick. “Don't go that way” they'd yell. “Follow us to the Arch” others would call. I was probably on every street within ten blocks of here, looking for safe passage. Never found one. As more people took to the streets, it cut down on the number of infected initially—since people were killing them on sight—but toward evening there were more and more sick people lurking in the shadows and fewer and fewer healthy people fighting them. I'd been on my feet for almost 24 hours straight; I was reaching my limit.”

“It took a few close encounters to realize I'd have to wait under the protection of the police down here or I'd end up dead. By the time it got dark I was safely inside the park, trying to find someone in charge so I could ask what to do next—but that person doesn't exist apparently.”

“The last thing I remember was collapsing next to this tree, right here. I sat down to lean myself against the trunk, and fell asleep instantly. I woke up when you ran me over.” She was pointing to Liam, but without much hostility this time. Maybe even a wisp of a smile.

Victoria was looking around as if she was seeing the place for the first time.

“How did all these people get here? Where are they going? Is anyone helping the sick? Is anyone rescuing those still trapped in the buildings downtown? Where is the medical tent?”

It was Grandma with the answer, “Sweetie, I think you know more than we do.”

Victoria crossed herself and said softly, “Then God help us all.”

Grandma responded with a similarly solemn, “Amen.”

4

The trio settled in after Victoria gave them a little more back story. Liam also told her of their adventures, up to the point where they reached the Arch. She seemed impressed he was able to get the aged woman safely to this point, which made Liam feel proud despite all the doubts he'd had along the way.

Grandma fell asleep as they traded details of their stories, and the afternoon crept on. Liam and Victoria were sitting in the grass, a bit away from Grandma so she could rest and recover in relative peace. The crowd was thick everywhere now, but was very subdued given the situation. From time to time they heard gunshots on the periphery of the grounds. Liam assumed it was the police cordon being tested by the infected. He couldn't see anything nearby to suggest zombies were in the park yet.

“So what are you guys going to do next? Are you going to try to get over to Illinois?”

Liam looked out through a line of trees and could barely see the two bridges that bracketed the Gateway Arch grounds. He didn't see traffic moving in either direction. He observed the bridges when he walked in from where he parked his car and never saw any traffic moving across, so he was pretty sure the bridges were closed. He didn't mention that to Grandma as he didn't want to worry her with all the other problems they were wrangling.

“I don't think the bridges are open right now. That could make getting to Illinois difficult, especially for her. I don't think she's ready to swim across.” He laughed a bit at his own joke, but the truth was he did wonder how they could sneak across. He didn't want to admit he may have come downtown for nothing.

Victoria gave a wan smile and shared her own plans.

“I had hoped to get back to my dorm room to at least get a change of clothes, but then I want to try to get to the airport and get a flight to Colorado.”

Liam hadn't even thought about airplanes since this whole disaster started, but he had a feeling getting a flight wouldn't be that easy. One recent news event did break through his gaming-fueled social isolation; the Ebola crisis. He remembered how they stopped all flights from the affected countries to prevent the disease from spreading to the United States. It worked, or so they were told. The disease never broke out in America, despite a few isolated cases. No cordon is ever 100% effective.

But was there some parallel with this new disease? It had been described as both the flu and “Ebola-like” by people over the last couple days. Did it simmer somewhere overseas only to explode at some point because the proper protocols weren't in place? The CDC guys said it surprised even them. Something to chew on, though Liam knew it was unlikely he'd ever get the truth.

The talk of Colorado jogged a memory of another family member; his dad's mom. Liam's minor claim to fame—actually he was more embarrassed than anything—was being related to a politician. Grandma Rose ran for, and won, a seat in the US House of Representatives the year before. She wasn't around much—she lived in Colorado—so Liam knew very little about her other than she had sent $100 bills for birthdays for as long as he could remember. His dad mentioned her once recently, while talking to Grandma Marty on the phone. Liam didn't ask what his dad had said, but he could hear Grandma talking with him about Rose and Colorado.

I wonder if she will survive in the Rocky Mountains?

He imagined Colorado would be safer than most places, with its remote mountain ranges and sparse population. Liam doubted Grandma Rose would be out in a tent in the mountains staying safe, but if Victoria ever made it home, he might at least ask her to look her up.

Although he had his doubts about her chances of making it back home anytime soon, he opted to say nothing to dampen her spirits. He even found a pang of jealousy sneaking about, because he didn't want her to find refuge while he labored in the chaos of this city.

The ill-feeling passed quickly. He knew he would be happy for anyone who escaped, especially this pretty girl conversing with him.

She continued to talk about the details of her life, but Liam wasn't really listening anymore. His mind was in overdrive to answer the only question of consequence.

What are we going to do next?

5

Liam snapped back to the present when a Catholic priest began hovering over Grandma, saying a prayer and putting ointment of some kind on the backs of her hands. Her head was slumped over as she slept. Clearly there was some kind of mistake here. Liam stood up; Victoria did as well.

“Excuse me, my grandma's not dead.”

I’m 99% sure.

The Priest was an old black man, with white hair and sad eyes. He was in black pants with a black shirt, with only a white collar to give him away.

“Hello my son. This is just a precaution. She doesn't have long with this plague going around.”

There was an anger building inside Liam he didn't quite understand. No matter how well-intentioned, he did not like the idea of this Priest essentially giving up on Grandma.

He stood there and watched the Priest, not really knowing what to say or do.

The commotion must have jostled Grandma awake, and she took things in stride.

“Father please. I'm not dying!”

Thank God!

The Priest looked at her for a moment, seemed to finish his prayer, and then he walked away with a final “Go with Christ.”

Grandma crossed herself, but said nothing else.

She looked at Liam and Victoria.

“Don't let them bury me.”

She winked at them, and then began rooting around in the backpack by her side. It gave the two youngsters time to continue their conversation.

“I wish I could go back to sleep.”

Liam thought for a second before replying, “Well it seems like you had a good night's sleep under this tree. At least until we found you and ruined it for you.”

Both of them gave an honest laugh at that.

“I tell you what I really wish for today—my Bible. I know it probably seems silly and puritanical, but, you know, I like to feel the presence of God with me—watching over me. It always helps me find peace to read through the challenges of all those men and women during ancient times, especially the Old Testament. It makes me feel part of something larger, and not just one girl alone in all this trouble.”

Liam's mind was racing. He wondered if he should say something suave like “You're not alone anymore” or if he should just play it cool and say something neutral along the lines of “I wish I could find comfort in a book.”

What came out was a surprise to both of them.

“I'll find a Bible for you.”

“Oh no, you really don't have to. I'll grab mine when I go back to my dorm.”

“Of course,” he felt a little stupid for having made the comment, but what's done was done.

Quick to move on, he asked her more about Colorado. He was thinking about how he could follow her back to her dorm and team up with her to get to the airport. Grandma could come along and they would all get out of the city by way of Colorado.

What am I thinking?

Many times over the last couple days he had incidents where his brain betrayed him, either making him too slow, too cocky, or too scared. Sitting here with Victoria he felt he was exploring new territory when it came to his mind going off the reservation. It wasn't just that he found her attractive—he found lots of girls attractive, though he was normally deathly scared of making that fact known to them—but with all the tension and stress of the last 24 hours he saw this girl as someone worth his time, and even worth his life. He knew he would do almost anything to save Grandma—but he knew, and she knew, there were some things that would just be the end of her. She wasn't going to magically get out of her chair and run away from a horde of zombies. In many ways she was living on borrowed time. In contrast, Victoria represented his new-found willingness to lay down his life to ensure the vivacious girl goes on living, no matter what the personal cost.

But I've only known her for a couple hours!

Liam admitted that was all the time he needed.

Chapter 9: Last Rites

Liam and Victoria had both settled down next to Grandma, as Liam needed to catch a little shut eye after his long day. Victoria seemed in no hurry to leave, and even offered to watch over them while they slept. This made Liam very happy.

It felt like only minutes went by when Victoria shook him to wake him up.

“Liam. Check this out.”

Liam opened his eyes to find another Priest with Grandma. This time she was awake and talking animatedly to the Priest. Liam realized she knew him.

“We must be very careful. The park is filling up to capacity.” He looked at Liam and Victoria crouching next to him, “Do either of you know where the Arch service dock is located?”

Victoria piped up in the affirmative. Apparently she knew where it was because she jogged in the park from time to time.

A runner! I knew it.

Whispering now, the Priest gave them instructions to move to the dock after it got dark and he would be there to meet them.

Liam absorbed the message, but didn't really understand it until he had a chance to speak with Grandma.

“That was Father Cahill. I've known him since he was ordained—about the same time your father was born. He was administering last rites on me,” she giggled, “I think he was the third one today! Look at all this oil on my hands. When he saw who I was and realized he knew me we started talking. That's when he told me he has something he wants to show us. I'm not sure what this is all about, but I trust him with my life. I trust him with my soul.”

“Did he say I could come too?” Victoria asked with just a touch of anxiety.

“Of course dear. As far as I'm concerned you are welcome to stay with us as long as you need.”

Liam said nothing, though he felt a glow in his heart get just a bit brighter with that statement.

“OK, I'll stick with you guys until they get this all sorted out and I can walk back to my dorm.”

They settled back down as the evening wore on. Realizing the danger of showing food or drink in the unsettled crowd, they were able to surreptitiously eat and drink just enough to feel something in their stomachs. So many others clearly didn't even think far enough ahead to have one afternoon's worth of food or water. Many were walking around begging, or just shouting to whoever would listen that they needed this or that. With so many unprepared people, having food could become a liability. The crowd had been placid for most of the day, at least the several hours since Liam arrived, but the atmosphere was slowly changing as the “pleasant afternoon” of waiting evolved into the “long night with no food or water.” Or sanitation.

A crowd this big normally would have banks of port-o-potties and scores of support staff to keep them operational. This crowd had now ballooned to the tens of thousands, and there was nowhere for anyone to privately do their business. Naturally this meant everyone just did it wherever they felt like it. Without any leadership to tell the crowd what to do, people just did whatever they wanted. It was a recipe for disaster.

When Liam, Victoria, and Grandma got up in the fading light of dusk, they found the thirty foot wide paved path was filled with people who were sitting on every square inch of pavement, save one small channel of walkers right in the middle. It made it very difficult to move the huge wheelchair without often begging sitting or sleeping people to move just a few feet further out of her way.

It took a half an hour to go the short distance to the dock area. It sat in a depression that was hard to see from the main path, although there were a few people loitering about the area. There was simply no way to hide anything in the park with so many people.

They could see a small doorframe next to a closed garage door in the dock area.

Once again, the trio pulled to a stop and began waiting.

Even if the doors opened, there would be no way to get in without everyone seeing them.

“Grandma, how are we going to get in?”

“The Lord will provide.”

Victoria and Liam both said “Amen” although Liam had his doubts.

2

Their prayers were answered in short order—sort of.

“Hello my friends.”

Father Cahill had been lurking in the crowd and came to see the lady in the huge wheelchair. Liam noticed he had removed his white collar, though he couldn't fathom why.

“All through the day I've been collecting the aged and the infirm and bringing them through this door, but earlier there weren't as many people in this part of the park. Now you can see they have flooded all over, including right here at this dock. I can get you in, but this might be the last time we are able to get anyone inside without there being some trouble. I doubt we are going back out either. Are you sure you guys want to ride this thing out inside the Arch museum?”

The three looked at each other and nodded their heads in the affirmative. Whatever was inside had to be better than sitting under a tree with an increasingly desperate crowd. Plus, Liam believed there might be someone in charge who knew the situation. He might be able to figure out how he could get Grandma to safety if he could get some time with that person. It was a long shot, but currently the only shot.

“Alright. I have one other person I'm going to try to get inside. He is that older gentleman sitting near the door. My plan is to go help him up, then knock on the door and hope they open it for me. When you hear me knock, move quickly over there. I'll try to get them to hold the door open for you guys. The closer you are to me the better, if you catch my drift.”

He scuttled off and Liam and Victoria arranged Grandma in her chair and all three faced the door fifty feet away. And they waited.

The Priest seemed to be having trouble getting the old man to stand up, and some men and women sitting in the vicinity seemed to be helping the old man to his feet. Liam could see what was going to happen now that several more people were paying attention.

“Let's make our way in that direction.” Liam was worried there were now too many people involved.

“Victoria, will you push the chair? I want you to push it inside no matter what happens to me. Can you do that?”

“Yes. But let's all get inside.”

That's the plan.

They changed positions while keeping one eye on Father Cahill and the old man. He was now up and standing, but the Priest seemed hesitant to do what he needed to do next. He was holding the old man up, as the gentleman's arm was slung around his own neck. He noticed Liam had moved his group up toward the door, gave Liam a nod, and then pivoted to the door and gave it a loud knock in an apparent secret cadence so those inside knew it was him.

“Pick it up guys, and don't stop.”

Liam had instructed Victoria to push hard on the wheelchair, as obviously Grandma wasn't going to be picking up her own speed. Things were in motion now.

The knock attracted the attention of several men near the door, already alerted by the commotion with the old guy. Some who were sitting were now standing, and some who were standing were now moving toward the door. Everyone in earshot of the knocking was curious.

The door opened with a flourish, and out popped two chiseled men with sleek black rifles. They pushed past Father and his ill friend and held their guns in a menacing fashion for anyone who fancied a peek inside the door.

Victoria pushed Grandma right up to the closest man and yelled “We're with Father Cahill!”

The man with the gun made no movement to open a path for the wide and loaded wheelchair. He just stood there. His friend was looking in another direction, gun trained on some of the men who were closest.

Suddenly one of the guys also yelled “We're with Father Cahill!” Then it was a chorus.

How did this happen so quickly?

Victoria looked deflated at the turn of events. There was no way to prove who they were. No way to prove they were with the clergyman unless he came back out.

The two gunmen began stepping backward, as if to retreat back into the small door. However, just as they were starting their motion, Father Cahill was there. He yelled in the ear of the nearest man and pointed to Victoria and Liam. The two men once again moved out from the door and pointed for Liam's group to get inside.

With much relief Victoria plowed ahead. The wide chair was just able to fit into the door, though the wheels scraped ever so slightly as it went through.

Liam punched through too, though he felt the crowd surge behind him. He was secretly glad he didn't have to sacrifice himself to get the three of them inside. He wasn't even sure he would have been able to sacrifice himself. Not against two guys with that kind of hardware, or a hundred scared civilians.

Where did all those people come from?

In the dark it was hard to gauge numbers, but he guessed there were maybe thirty or forty people near the door by the time they got in, meaning there was a sizable crowd angrily looking at a closed door right about now. Would it take them long to figure out they could break it down?

Every disaster book he'd ever read was now screaming the answer to him. The death clock had started ticking again—how long would it take for this stronghold to fall?

3

“Thank you Father. You could have easily left us out there.”

“No problem my son. I'd do anything for your grandmother and anyone important to her. I'm just sorry I don't have more to offer you than a dark cavern for sanctuary.”

“Are those people going to break through that door?”

The two security guys said nothing, but they did begin moving some heavy equipment from the garage area over to the door they'd just come through. The biggest item was a riding lawn mower—apparently this was an area where they stored equipment for maintaining the Arch grounds. There was very little light coming from a few flashlights that had been pointed at the ceiling, but Liam could see there was a lot of equipment in the space.

The five of them left the guards to their task and started walking up the hallway to the main museum area.

Between the two legs of the monument was an underground area dedicated to ticket sales, two tram-loading areas to get up and down the legs of the Arch, a large museum dedicated to frontier living, and a little gift shop and a candy store. In the middle of it all was a large waiting area with plenty of seats around the walls so people could wait for their turn to go up in the structure.

It was this central area where the hallway dumped them. It was now filled with sick people, along with lots of elderly folks, and even a few young parents with very young children. It was a group where Grandma would fit in perfectly. Victoria rolled into the room and they found an area along the outer wall where they could park the wheelchair and have a little room to sit next to it. The dull light of some dim bulbs hanging from the walls provided light in the subterranean space.

Father Cahill helped the older man sit in the same area, though he made no effort to talk to them, or even look at them. He merely slumped against the wall clutching himself as if he was very cold. Liam did not like the thoughts swirling in his head with regard to all the sick people in his field of view. Did all these people have the plague?

Though he didn't voice the question, the Priest seemed to sense the reticence of both Liam and Victoria as they looked around the room.

“I'm afraid we don't know who has the sickness, if that's what you're thinking. It was the first thing I thought of when I started bringing people in here. Heck, when I saw the growing crowds up top I was thinking it. What is the disease process? Is it airborne? Passed by direct contact? By fluids? My best guess based on hearsay is people either get bitten by another infected person, or they just seem to get the flu which becomes the Excelerated-Ebola—a.k.a. E-Ebola. Don't ask me why it is spelled like that. Without proper medical facilities we aren't able to make even the most basic medical checks of these people. We can't even take someone's temperature. However, they wouldn't survive for very long up top in the heat of the day—so on balance myself and the other clergy decided it was worth the risk. I guess if we all have it we'll all die together down here.”

Liam wasn't reassured.

“There is a preemie baby somewhere in this room that we had to get out of the heat, and that's why we brought in several very young children in addition to those who are clearly sick, or the infirm like your grandma.”

“Who you calling infirm? I'm only 104.”

Liam gave Grandma a big smile, as she was returning to her feisty self again.

“Of course. I meant these other infirm people,” he said in a very quiet voice.

Grandma and the Priest obviously have known each other for a long time, and could joke about her age, even in the worst of conditions.

He motioned to the far side of the room, near the entrance to the main museum.

“Those folks over there are the families of the police officers up top. The only condition given by the police who volunteered to protect the crowd was that their families be given refuge in a defensible position on the Arch grounds.”

“Oh man. You mean the police aren't actually on the job?”

“Technically no. The entire St. Louis city police department is working today, but that is only on paper. The Archdiocese had contact with the brass over at City Hall as we tried to coordinate some kind of refuge here at the Arch, but they made it clear they couldn't order their officers to do anything as of the President's speech yesterday. City government has come undone. We were able to work out a compromise of sorts with some of the officers who were willing to bring their families here. The department supported the effort because they knew there wasn't much else they could do.”

“But what about the rest of the city?”

“I'm not sure. You'd have to ask one of the officers.”

Liam considered that as advice for later. He felt compelled to understand the wider world, as it could offer clues as to how they could escape the city.

Father had continued while Liam was thinking.

“—and finally there are a few Red Cross and CDC folks back in the candy shop. They are using the tables back there as a kind of command center, although they are just the managers and not the field personnel—so they have no medical supplies to go with the medical people.”

“Well that's just great.” Liam wasn't in the mood to cut anyone any slack when it came to protecting his family from the plague. He saw the people back there standing around talking.

“How can they fight the disease if they have no resources?”

“Liam my young friend, I think it is safe to say no one here is fighting much of any disease.”

Yep, that's just wonderful.

4

Since they carried very little, there wasn't much effort required to settle in for the night. Victoria was still very protective of Grandma's food and water, but risked doling out more to her in the near-darkness of the interior. Liam was watching Victoria and noticed she took none for herself.

Liam had a short nap sitting under the tree earlier in the day so he wasn't yet ready to settle in for the night. He asked Victoria to keep an eye on Grandma while he went to look for answers.

The first stop was the candy shop.

There was just enough light that he could get around all the people on the floor of the open room. There were many more people crowded in there than he initially thought. Other than a few coughs and a baby crying, most people had chosen to remain silent as they waited for...who knows. It was unnatural. But Liam figured nothing like this had ever happened before, not even close, so no one really knew how to act or what to expect next.

The medical folks were still standing where he'd seen them earlier. Others were sitting around a couple of small tables, but Liam was shocked to see what they were doing.

Getting drunk.

“Hey. Excuse me. Can I come in?”

A young looking man with suit pants, a white shirt, and a horrible tie was among those standing at the door and motioned him in.

“Come on in friend.” He saluted Liam with a bottle of beer. Others in the group did the same. It did not inspire confidence.

“Ummm. Thank you.”

They pushed out a chair for him to sit, which he did. He felt very uncomfortable with all the eyes on him, and the room fell suddenly quiet. He decided to get it over with.

“I just arrived here with my grandma and a friend. I'm tired as hell but I'm trying to find someone with answers.”

“Grandma huh? Was that the old lady you were pushing in that wheelchair earlier? I saw you guys come in.”

“Yeah, that's her. She's been through a lot but we're safe for now.”

“I don't know how safe we are.” A slight chuckle, “How old is she? She looks to be about a hundred!”

“One hundred and four to be exact!” Liam was very proud of the fact, though he really couldn't explain why, once it had come out of his mouth. If she was a lot younger their escape would probably have gone a lot smoother.

“I was wondering if you could tell me what's going on? I mean with the plague.”

Everyone at the tables looked around at each other, as if deciding who would answer him. It was the man with ugly tie who spoke up first, and Liam noticed he downed a good portion of his beer before starting his reply.

“I'm Douglas Hayes from the CDC.” He waited for a few seconds to let that sink in, then he continued, “and you are?”

“Liam Peters.”

“OK Liam, I know what you're thinking right now—'big shot CDC guy who has all the answers' but I'm sorry to disappoint you. I know very little about what's happening outside this room...I'm more of a middle manager,” he waved his hand as if presenting his colleagues and said, “we are all more or less middle managers.”

He pointed to a plain-looking red-headed woman and said her role was to scout out locations for constructing tents and generators as part of the advanced team dedicated to St. Louis. Another person was responsible for shipping the equipment from Atlanta. He went around the room, assigning roles to them all—roles which definitely were more logistical in nature than medical.

The only person even remotely connected to information turned out to be a middle-aged Indian-looking “IT support person.” She called herself April.

Mr. Hayes gave her the floor.

She had a British accent which Liam found fascinating, “I'm afraid I know absolutely nothing for sure, as I've been telling my friends all day. But the CDC isn't very tight with email or internal file security—I know that probably sounds crazy—and I've been able to glean some information by looking—accidentally—at some critical correspondence inside the agency.” She gave a nervous laugh as she drained the final portion of her beer.

“The main lesson I learned is that this plague has caught everyone off guard, including the CDC. I've hacked into the accounts for people all across the chain of command, and it is always the same—emails full of confusion, anger, and impotence.”

Douglas continued, “anyway, we were sent here as part of an advanced team that was supposed to get the jump on the plague in a city that hadn't already succumbed. Most of the East Coast is already gone. St. Louis was deemed far enough west that our bosses thought it would provide good intel on how it spreads, and hopefully offer help in mitigating that spread. They were able to get us out here, but with the breakdown of transportation networks they weren't able to get our gear here, and no one knows whether the medical teams ever departed Atlanta.”

“We got here late yesterday afternoon and have been waiting ever since. None of our cell phones work reliably anymore, but earlier today they were working well enough, and we got no response from anyone in our chain of command back east.”

“So now we are sitting here drinking beer, waiting for the double-E train Doomsday Bug to roll through the city and make our jobs obsolete—”

Victoria walked in the door just as the words were said. Her response, standing next to Liam, was to make the sign of the cross—signifying she was praying in the face of such bad news.

Hayes, seeing this, went on, “—and that won't help I'm afraid. You won't find god, religion, whatever, in the cities anymore. At least those on the East Coast. This is it folks, the end of mankind.”

Victoria was unperturbed. “Then we need prayer more than ever.”

Hayes chortled, then seemed to recompose himself. “We'll see, won't we?”

In the face of such bad news, Liam didn't know what to say. He'd read enough to appreciate the moral dilemma of whether God was present when such evil was consuming the world, but that was only in books or in the movies. In the real world it was a lot more ambiguous. He admitted to himself he couldn't visualize entire cities of zombies. What of all those people? Did these intoxicated people really represent the final, best efforts of the government? His dad always mocked government ineptitude, but these guys were caricatures of the theme. Everyone might die because they did nothing.

Did they have any answers at all?

“So do you know anything about the plague itself? What caused it?”

“Dunno.”

“Where is it from?”

“Dunno.”

“Can anyone survive it?”

“Dunno. Hey kid, don't you get it? We don't know anything.”

“But you said you had access to secret network files and all that. Surely there has to be something valuable in there?”

The IT woman spoke up, “That's just it. There were no files. Lots of emails looking for guidance, but very little actionable intelligence and almost no files relating to this outbreak anywhere in the system. Absolutely nothing about patient zero—the source of the whole thing.”

“I don't get it. What are you saying?”

“I'm saying—we're saying—the CDC not only doesn't have any clues about the origin of this disease, but as best we can tell it didn't have any idea it existed until it had already scoured through most of the East Coast. We were caught totally and utterly flat footed.”

Liam felt mad more than anything else. He expected to glean some clues on how to save Grandma and instead he was told that the one group in charge of solving this hadn't even deployed their researchers to start researching.

“So you guys are essentially worthless?” Liam couldn't help himself.

Hayes' eyes went cold. He glared at Liam for just a second before laughing it off, “Whoa there partner! We did the best we could.”

Liam didn't want to let them off the hook, but knew he was being unfair.

“So did any of your teams get out to study the disease?”

“Oh yeah, lots of teams went to the East Coast. Some teams even went out the front door of the CDC headquarters into Atlanta as it succumbed. But everything happened so fast there was no time to make any headway against it.”

“There are no reports in the system. I've looked. Teams go out and never report back in.” April looked disappointed, as if she had spent a lot of energy on this task.

Liam turned around to leave, as he obviously wasn't going to learn anything from this group. But something occurred to him as he was saying goodbye.

“Oh one more thing. This is my conspiracy theory father talking, but is there any way someone could have deleted all the files in your system? Could that be why there is no data on this?” He laughed a little, indicating his belief it was a crazy thing to suggest.

The room became very quiet. Liam sensed the change in attitude. Did he say the wrong thing?

Douglas stood up, pulled at his tie, and looked around at his colleagues.

“Congratulations my smart-ass friend. It took us 24 hours to figure that out.”

The implications were obvious and stunning.

“So you're saying that not only is the CDC not fixing this disease, but it may have had a hand in causing it?

Hayes answered as he walked deeper into the room, away from Liam, “Why do you think we're just sitting around drinking?”

Looking at Victoria, he saw her once again making the sign of the cross.

He thought about mimicking her, but the moment passed.

5

Liam and Victoria returned to Grandma and told her what they had learned in his discussion with the “experts” on the disease. Grandma was nearly asleep so she didn't say much. Victoria shared her thoughts too, though they both were talking in whispers so as not to wake anyone else – or scare them.

“They said the entire East Coast was gone. Wow. Wouldn't we have heard something on the news about massive plagues in all those cities? Did they mention Denver before I came in?”

“I should have asked them about Denver. Sorry. Would we have heard about all the sick people on the East Coast? I don't know. I don't watch the news, so I can't say whether there were clues about what was really going on. Maybe they thought it was just the flu or something? That wouldn't be big news, even if it was pretty bad. Would it?” Victoria, for her part, had no better idea on what had happened, but she did share one story she gleaned from her brief time back at the medical school.

“This story didn't make sense when I heard it, but after what you just told me I think I can see some truth to it. One of my friends had a class about a week ago where a nurse practitioner told a story she swore was true. She said another friend of hers in Boston was working late one night when she had to go to the morgue to deliver—well you can guess. Anyway, she got there only to find several police officers cordoning off the door to the morgue, stating that no one was allowed to go inside or come out. When pressed, the police officer said they got called in with a report of mischief inside the morgue. They figured it was students pranking the nurse on duty with the old “he ain't really dead bit” but when they got there they found several corpses really were “alive” and there were no interns pulling the strings. They pulled back the sheets from over the deceased and found each of them thrashing around in their restraints despite having the most grievous wounds you can imagine. My friend said they ran out of the morgue, shut the door, and gave the order to seal it. Everyone else was pushed off the floor and nothing was ever heard about it again. The next day the morgue was completely empty, but otherwise open for business.”

Victoria finished her story and the pair sat in the darkness of the cavernous chamber in silence.

“Did your friend say how long ago that happened?”

“I didn't think to ask, but we talk almost every week and she didn't mention it the previous week, so I have to assume it happened anywhere from a week to two weeks ago.”

“So in that time period the plague must have exploded on the East Coast and it was hidden from view. That doesn’t seem possible to me.”

“Me either. But seeing dead people walking around has changed my perspective on a lot of things.”

“Let's get some sleep and maybe tomorrow things will look a little better.”

Both settled uncomfortably onto the concrete floor, leaning against the hard wall. Liam offered his backpack to Victoria as a makeshift pillow. She accepted his gift readily, but a minute later she returned the favor by suggesting they lay near each other so they could each share the cushion—on opposite sides. It still wasn't much more comfortable, but it made Liam infinitely happier.

Thirty minutes later, nearly asleep, Liam heard and felt a “crump” sound coming from outside. An explosion? Several cops had been sleeping on the far side of the room, and they ran up to the exit doors and went out into the main crowd under the Arch. Fussy babies and coughing from the disturbed survivors sprawled on the floor amped up in the commotion. Liam intended to stay awake and discover what they found out there, but the day caught up with him and he fell asleep. His final thought was of the CDC folks.

“Why do you think we are drinking?” Hayes had said. He thought he understood his meaning, but it jumped out at him in his half-sleep. Maybe they weren't drinking because they were afraid their bosses had scrubbed the records. Maybe they were drinking because they knew what was in the records which had been scrubbed?”

He couldn't decide which scenario was worse.

Chapter 10: Touristy Stuff

Liam, Victoria and Grandma were all shocked awake at first light by the booming voice of one of the police officers on the other side of the large space.

“ATTENTION PLEASE! ATTENTION!”

He yelled a few more times and waited until he was sure everyone in the place was awake with eyes on him.

While everyone focused their attention on the loud officer, Liam stole a glance back toward the candy store and wasn't surprised to see it was pitch black inside and none of the CDC people were awake. Liam wasn't entirely familiar with the concept of a hangover, but did know that rough mornings followed late night partying.

Or they just up and ran.

He tried to laugh that off, but it had struck a chord of truth.

The officer began his announcement.

“Thank you everyone. Good morning. I'm captain Osborne of the Missouri Highway Patrol. I'll get right to it. Last night we almost lost the entire park. The cordon many of you saw on the outskirts of the grassy area under the Arch has been pulled back inside the park. We were able to stabilize the lines as we made them shorter, and we were also assisted by several military units, including one tank and several Marine Corps Amphibious Assault Vehicles. As of this morning the lines are holding. That's the good news.”

He paced a bit as he spoke.

“The bad news will take me much longer I'm afraid. First, there are more infected than we ever imagined. Even as our lines consolidated we could see the sick increasing in strength down many of the roads surrounding this park. Since we still don't know how this thing is spreading, or if these infected citizens are alive anymore, we can't take chances letting anyone in. We have no choice but to keep killing them. That said, it is entirely possible we'll all run out of ammo before we can kill them all. Secondly, even though a few military units showed up, they made it clear they were both volunteers and probably classified as deserters from the main force sitting over in Illinois. They may have saved our bacon last night, but no one is coming to save theirs. Third, the military guys said they had orders to prevent anyone from crossing the river. They intend to keep the disease on this side and will use lethal force on anyone trying to cross back to them—their own men included.”

He took a deep breath. “So. Where does that leave us?”

“You might not be aware that my fellow law enforcement officers, my brothers and sisters you all passed as you came into the park, have been trying to keep this place secure from the infected victims so that we all have a chance of getting help by the Feds and get the hell out of this mess. Our families are here. Same as yours, and same as those people up top we are trying to protect. But now it looks as though no help will be coming.”

The room was deflating.

“We lost many men and women last night. Even though we held them off, and improved our lines, the endgame is that unless we fight our way out of here we are going to be trapped.”

Osborne paused a little too long and the crowd in the room exploded with questions, thinking he was done.

“HOLD UP!” He controlled the room again in an impressively short time.

“Let me finish. Our plan is to start organizing civilians for a breakout. We know there are plenty of men and women with weapons out there, and we think our only chance of escape with some sort of organization is to make those citizens aware of the impending collapse. To that end I need some healthy volunteers for some tasks we need done. We are woefully short on manpower. You'd really be critical to helping the police units up top, but you are ultimately helping yourself from the infected assailants out there.”

Liam and Victoria looked at each other, then at Grandma. She shook her head in the affirmative.

They took off without looking back, wanting to make a difference.

2

The pair waited in a line of eight or nine other people. There were a couple youngsters besides themselves, but most volunteers were quite a bit older and few looked overly athletic. Everyone could carry and use a radio however, which was the only condition for volunteering. Some more people dropped in behind them as the line shrunk.

Liam noticed the people ahead of him in line were given radios and then moved off individually with other officers waiting in the wings.

When it was their turn Liam and Victoria stood together, making it clear they were a team.

“Ah, finally someone who looks like they can handle some touristy stuff. I take it you two are together?”

They both stumbled on that answer.

“We aren't together together, but we are together,” was spoken at the same time as “Oh its not like that.” Liam and Victoria both looked at each other in a bemused fashion, to which the no-nonsense captain said, “fair enough. I think it would be best to have you both go together for this task though. Would that be OK?”

They both gave a too-quick affirmation which forced a laugh from the captain.

“Step over to officer Jenkins to my left and she'll get you squared away. And thanks in advance for doing a tough job.”

Liam had no chance to think about what just happened because Jenkins grabbed them and took them deeper into the area dedicated to the police force and their families. She began talking at an insane clip, as if she were on caffeine or speed or something.

“Thank you both for doing this. Here is a radio you'll need that to report back. I see you don't have the most comfortable shoes on. We'll try to find you a pair of sneakers. And...”

She babbled on for a full minute and Liam didn't understand nine words out of ten she said. He caught some points about guns and tactical deployments and one or two lines about the failed power situation. He wanted to stop her for clarification, but one look at her eyes told him she probably didn't remember what she had just said. They just walked along next to her as she lead them down a long hallway, then down a short stairway, and then to a metal door that was propped open. She handed Victoria a radio, which she said was on the proper frequency. She gave her a quick lesson on how to use it, and then tossed a spare flashlight to Liam, saying they would definitely need it. She then said goodbye and started running back up the hallway.

Victoria yelled at her backside.

“But what are we supposed to be doing?”

Jenkins stopped in her tracks but didn't come back. She paused and took a deep breath as if trying to steady herself in a whirlwind.

“Oh yeah. Sorry I thought I already told you. You have to climb the stairs of the Arch, get to the top, then look down into the park and report what you see. You two are our secret weapons. Go quick! Good luck.”

She was off and running again.

They cautiously entered the space behind the metal door, which was some kind of maintenance area. There was an obvious stairwell leading up, which was the unmistakable path up to the top. Liam with the flashlight went first. Victoria said she was able to see well enough bringing up the rear.

The long climb up the dark stairwell gave Liam plenty of time to wonder if the girl behind him was thinking about their mutually confusing interaction with the police captain. He knew his mind should be focused on survival and getting Grandma to safety and being smart about reporting from the top of the Arch—but he couldn't stop thinking of the big distraction behind him. They had both disavowed anything more serious between them. He didn't even realize something could be serious with her until he was saying there wasn't.

Why does she mean that much to me?

Behind him, the distraction gave no clues.

3

There are 1076 stairs leading to the top of the Arch. A world-record holder could climb to the top in less than seven minutes. Liam saw this information on a metal plaque commemorating the event at the base of the stairs.

“I think we can beat seven minutes, don't you Vicky?”

“Oh don't call me Vicky. I hate that name. And yes, let's go for the record. I need a real challenge these days.” She sounded very tired, as if heading up the dark tower had brought her demeanor down too.

Liam wasn't sure how to interpret her tone or what she had said.

What am I doing wrong?

He clammed up.

To pass the time, Liam tried to visualize the arch-shaped building they were now climbing. He'd been up in the Arch many times, but had never gone up or down the metal-framed maintenance stairs. They were off limits to the public. Instead, the monument was designed to allow patrons to reach the apex of the Arch using small trams—a sort of sideways subway with egg-shaped cars so small only 5 people could squeeze into each one. The builders installed a set of metal steps up each leg which could serve as an escape route if the trams broke down. It was closed to the public because it wasn't easy to climb all the steps, nor was it particularly safe—with steep ascents and harrowing descents going the other way. Today there was no power to run the trams, so the only way up was the lung-busting stairs.

As they neared the top they found themselves stopping frequently to catch their breath. It became obvious why the captain chose the two most athletic youngsters to even try this assignment. After minutes of silence, Liam needed to respond to her.

“I'm sorry I called you Vicky. It seemed to upset you.”

“No, I'm sorry. I had no right to get snarky with you. My life has been,” she paused here while she took a few steps, seemingly thinking it over, “sucky lately. You can call me anything you want, really, as long as you don't call me by that particular name. Fair?”

“Totally. I'll just stick with Victoria. I really like your name.”

Try not to sound like an apple polisher!

At long last they came to a door with a small window centered about two-thirds of the way to the top. A low light was coming through the window, indicating daylight was ahead. He turned off his light as he peered through. He was looking out into the tram unloading zone near the topmost observation area. He used the time to recover his breath and rest his muscles.

Liam took a long time. So long that Victoria tapped him on his back to get his attention and find out what was the hold up.

Liam turned around and put his finger over his lips to suggest silence. Then he pointed to the window and sat down hard on the topmost step. Victoria took her turn and spent a similar amount of time studying the scene.

Then she sat down next to him.

Liam was an emotional mess. The whole climb up he was desperately clinging to the flashlight, unusually afraid of the crush of pure black around them. His misstep with Victoria made him feel alone on the ascent. He thought reaching the top would be a relief. He now felt lower than ever. Seeing the scene through the window further beat down his mental fortitude. And he had no way to deal with the new problem. He felt a tear slide down his face and tried to wipe it away quickly. He didn't know if Victoria had been looking at his face, but the motion was unmistakable. The sniffle didn't help. She took his hand and they sat in silence for a few minutes. Her touch gave him strength, though he couldn't explain what exactly he was feeling at that moment. Protective of her? Was she protecting him? Were they helping each other cope?

“You want to know something funny? I left my gun downstairs. I put it in my backpack last night because I didn't want to sleep with it tucked into my pants. I figured it would keep waking me up as I rolled around on the hard floor. I really wanted to get some good sleep after our day yesterday. Everything happened so fast with the police request I didn't think about grabbing my pistol again. I thought I was going to be the hero and protect you and Grandma, but I'm turning out to be anything but.”

She squeezed his hand and then let go as she began talking.

“Do you want to know something funny too? I never got my replacement shoes. I was hoping she'd find sneakers to go with my cocktail dress!” She pointed down to her dress pumps with the heels broken off. “I tried walking the steps in bare feet, but the metal grating made it unbearable. I'm surprised you didn't hear me yelping while I was trying it out. Too bad that cop on speed wasn't able to get me those shoes huh?”

They both had a quiet laugh at that, breaking the tension.

“OK, we can't go back down without trying to get in there. I don't think I could climb these stairs again. I say we think of a plan to deal with this guy and then do what we came here to do so we can go home.”

Liam replied, “I agree but what should we do? Once that thing sees us it is going to pursue us forever.”

They discussed their limited options and settled on the only viable plan available to the weaponless pair.

Liam took up a position next to the door while Victoria opened the door and yelled loudly at the dead park ranger. The man began moving down the curved floor above them in the tram unloading area, picking up speed as he came at his loud-mouthed prey.

The ranger came through the door at a good clip; Victoria crouched down behind the door and held it open. Liam, standing behind the door and above Victoria saw the ranger come through. It really didn't take much of a push to keep his momentum moving toward the steep staircase in front of him. He tumbled face-first down the flight while Victoria and Liam passed through the door and slammed it shut. It took about thirty seconds for the ranger to regain his footing, climb back up the stairs, and then wail at them through the small glass window. They had successfully switched places with a dead man.

Looking up the final stretch of the Arch, they could just see the apex with all its windows for the observation ports. They could not see the companion tram-unloading area over the top and down the other leg.

“I wonder if there are more undead on the other side?”

“All we can do is move forward and deal with things as they come. You ready to reach the top of this bitch?”

Liam realized he probably shouldn't have used that word in mixed company, but Victoria didn't seem to mind.

“I'm not one for cussing, but yes, after what we've been through I'm not going to be picky. Let's climb this female dog!”

Together they went over the top.

4

There were no more zombies on the other side. There was a lot of blood on the floor however. The best guess they could come up with was the ranger had attacked someone in the observation area and the injured party or parties had made it to the steps going down the north leg, leaving the ranger to wander around in this confined space until fresh meat showed up.

“My god there is a lot of blood up here.”

Liam's stomach turned at the sight of so much blood, remembering Angie's cat didn't help either. Or the foot. But he was able to keep his proverbial lunch down, a fact he was very grateful while in the presence of Victoria.

“Let's stay away from that tram station for now as it could be slippery.”

Liam agreed, but added, “We have to go down one of the sides. We know at least one zombie is waiting for us in the south leg. I wonder if there are any in the north leg?”

“We'll save that as a delightful surprise for when we're done up here.”

Liam thought to himself he'd like to be more prepared, but he had to admit there was really no way to know which was safer. Might as well focus on the task at hand. Victoria seemed to handle the chaos better.

They both moved to the topmost section of the Arch—designated with a marker stating they were 630 feet above the ground.

The interior of the observation area is about the width of a typical subway car or municipal bus. The floor has the same curvature as the top section of the Arch as seen from outside, but the windows are slanted at about 45 degree angles away from the interior and sit on a low shelf, so that when you look out the narrow portal you are practically lying on your belly. Small children often lay down on the windows, usually with a concerned parent holding their legs as if the glass was about to blow out.

The slanted windows gave Liam and Victoria a glorious view of the entire Arch grounds, as well as clear views in all directions with the exception of directly north or south, as those were blocked by the legs of the structure itself. To the west was the sprawl of downtown St. Louis. To the east was the river and numerous bridges linking Missouri with Illinois. One massive bridge to the north was new and modern-looking with twin piers rising high above, providing anchor points for hundreds of bundles of suspension cables. Liam, always thinking of his books, remembered a similar bridge from one of his zombie paperbacks. The name Steubenville stuck out. The heroes in that story died blowing the bridge. He shuddered at having to do such a thing. He wondered if he would ever have to resort to such desperation.

They got their bearings and focused their attention on the western half of the park, nearest the city. There were people on the riverfront side, but the captain had said the infected were coming almost entirely from the city side. Looking down, they both realized how hard it was to see particular people.

“Binoculars would have been a great thing to have up here.”

Victoria responded, “and a catered lunch would have really made this climb worthwhile.”

She gave him a big smile as she pulled out the radio and called down. Liam was relieved when a man answered the radio, and not the crazy-fast talking woman who sent them up here.

“This is Victoria and Liam. We're in position up in the Arch.”

After ensuring she wasn't still on the air she said to Liam, “I'm not sure what the protocol is, do I say 'over' when I'm done?”

Liam shrugged as he had no idea either.

The radio crackled, “This is Arch base. We want you to report if any of the lines are compromised. If you see a line buckling with too many...crazies...let us know before the line collapses and we'll send help to that position. Over.”

They both looked out again, trying to see if any of the lines were breaking. The muzzle flashes on the exterior lines of defense made it easy to see that outline. At that moment everyone seemed to be holding the plague at bay. Liam was happy to see the lone tank moving back and forth along a frontage street, using its mass to crush the undead in front of it. There were three Marine vehicles, each parked between buildings so they could send round after round down the long street corridors. Each time they lanced out, a small thread of plague victims would evaporate.

“No sir. We don't see any problems areas yet. Over.”

“Roger that. Please report in if anything changes. Out.” Victoria put the radio down.

“So how long do wait up here?”

Liam had no answer. But he could spend all day up here with Victoria if he had to.

His enthusiasm was tempered when he remembered Grandma was still downstairs, alone.

They settled in and waited. Each took turns moving to different windows to try to see if anything happened that would be of interest to the police below. It wasn't long before they made their first call.

“Hello Arch base. This is Arch—”

“What are we calling ourselves?” Victoria keyed off the mic, and wondered aloud.

“Arch summit?”

“—this is Arch summit. We are seeing a mass of zombies to the north pushing back the line up there. It looks pretty serious.”

“Thank you Arch summit. Will do. Out.”

They both watched as a small group of men and women moved through the crowd to a point on the northern line. Neither could see what happened in any great detail, but they agreed the line returned to where it was, and appeared stable.

“It's like white blood cells going to fight a virus.” Victoria said. “We are in charge of sending the white blood cells where they're needed. They attack and push back the deadly virus.”

Liam appreciated her analogy but looking down on the entire scene he thought she had it backward. Infected were stumbling down roadways as far as he could see. The little clump of cells below—mankind—was resisting the endless white blood cells being sent by the zombie host now controlling the rest of the city. It made Liam feel the futility of the thin ring of defense upon which they were depending for their very survival.

We have to get out of here.

For now though, he had a job to do.

A little later they noticed a single barge tow floating free in the river. From high above they watched it collide with the pylons of several upstream bridges, pausing on each leg as it scraped by, and then resumed its trek downriver. At the point closest to them on the water, they could see directly into the sunken hold. Even from such distance the tight mass of infected inside was easily recognizable, all moving without purpose in their open-topped prison. The boat avoided the last two bridges out of downtown and was quickly drawn away by the current.

“Well, that's one way to get rid of them.”

Hours went by as they watched.

Then the applecart went flying.

Victoria struggled to key the radio and make her call.

5

“Hello Arch base. Come in. This is Arch summit.”

It required a few repeated calls, but someone finally answered. It was a woman, but it wasn't clear if it was Jenkins again. They requested Victoria's report.

“We are seeing a large mass of people on the north side moving toward the south. They are shooting live people. We can see flashes of guns down, aimed at each other. Crowds are running away but there are just too many people down there to escape. I say again, these are people shooting other people—not zombies.

“Crap. Hold on a second. Over.”

The radio was silent for a long minute.

Liam and Victoria continued to look down. The mass of renegade people had come in near the water of the riverfront, where the cordon was thin. They were moving directly for the Arch.

As if learning the fact at the same time, the radio crackled, “We see them. They are here. Looks like several gangs and other criminals. No Boy Scouts out there. You guys better get down from there. Out.”

“That's it?” Liam didn't know what to expect of their mission. Did they give the police the information fast enough to make a difference?

One last look down they could see the cordon was holding most of the way around the park, but in the north it took confusing twists and turns. It was destabilizing. Liam had read about this a hundred times in his books. The point where mankind does something stupid to allow the infection to destroy a perfectly good sanctuary.

“OK Victoria, now it's time to think about which side we are going to go down. Do we choose door A and go back down the way we came, with a raging sick ranger to deal with? Do we choose door B and go down the blood-filled stairwell with an unknown number of zombies? Oh and as a special bonus, we can come out at the base of the north side where even now a gun-toting crowd is closing in?”

“Can I choose door C and jump out a window please?”

“They gave me a parachute, so yeah.” Liam gave her a big smile because she was also smiling.

“It’s good to see we both still have our sense of humor intact, despite the insanity down there.”

“Yeah, I just want to get back to Grandma now. I have to get her out of the Arch before those criminals break in.”

“You think they will make it into the Arch museum? What about all the police?”

“I think the police will fight hard to protect their families, but look at the swarm of attackers. There's just too many. And if the northern line falls, we'll have bigger problems than armed criminal gangs.”

Looking at their options, Liam considered.

“Do you think we could open the door and let the ranger back up into the observation area, and then give him the slip as we run back down and shut the door?”

“It’s worth a try. I like that better than exploring the north leg, waiting for a sick person to jump us the whole way down.”

They made their way to the south leg unloading zone only to find their friend was no longer at the door. It had been several hours since they left him, so perhaps it was inevitable he would have moved on. But that meant he was somewhere on the 1076 steps below them.

“Want to change your answer now?”

Liam thought about it and decided he'd rather face the one zombie he knew was down these steps than an unknown number down the other leg.

“Let's just go down this way and deal with him when we find him. We'll just have to move slow.”

“Do you want a drink of water?”

“Do I ever! You have some?”

“No, I was just asking.” Victoria smiled at her joke. Liam couldn't help but laugh too, although he made like he was going to punch her in the arm for saying something so mean.

Then, he started down the dark staircase with the flashlight. Despite multiple layers of danger around him, he felt infinitely better than his walk up the steps earlier. He had his friend back.

Victoria, with the radio, trailed behind.

Chapter 11: Antibodies

Liam was a testosterone-fueled 15-year-old, but he retained enough common sense to know when to be scared. The steep stairwell in the narrow space of the upper Arch was bad enough to do in the dark. Knowing there was a dead man walking somewhere below them—well that just sent the fear right out the window. If there were windows...

He noticed Victoria was trying to stay as close to him as possible now, even though she was a step behind him all the time. His initial optimism as they started the descent had worn off, though he was still glad he wasn't doing this alone. He thought he might go insane if he had to try.

And if the light went out?

He looked down at the light, as if to will it to stay on. It remained bright and steady. The walk down went much faster than up, but it was still very taxing on their legs. It was just a different kind of pain. And they had no food or water since they first started the day's adventure. Liam was parched.

The staircase wound itself in the Arch leg around the machinery of the mechanical tram sharing the space. Rather than one continuous set of stairs, it was broken up with dozens and dozens of landings so it could bend with the curvature of the structure. They expected to find the zombie on each landing as they went down. And each vacant landing heightened their anxiety. Was he on the next one? Was he still in the stairwell at all? Was he attacking Grandma at this very moment?

Liam tried to balance the prudence of a cautious descent with the pressure of escaping the leg of the Arch before the whole structure was overrun with the armed attackers they saw swarming below. He vaguely wondered whether the mindless infected were worse than the men and women preying their vulnerable peers. It was a toss up in his mind.

About twenty minutes later they found themselves in the machine shop at the base of the stairs where they'd started. Liam's stress level was off the charts because the ranger HAD to be somewhere close. They couldn't have missed him on the stairs. The same door was open that lead up the hallway into the main waiting area. The zombie had to have gone through there. It couldn't have been hiding anywhere else.

“How did that thing get past us? Do you think he was hiding?” Liam didn't figure that was a behavior of a normal zombie, but then what was the normal behavior of a dead person? Seeing a real life zombie made him realize "normal" and "zombie" could never be used together.

“No, he couldn't—”

The screams gave away the game.

Lots of screams now from up the hallway.

Liam and Victoria were running to catch up to the park ranger, but when they entered the main waiting area it wasn't him causing all the commotion, it was the criminals. They had already breached the north entrance, breaking all the glass doors, and were yelling and screaming back and forth with the police officers nearby.

Looking again, he did see the park ranger after all. He was making trouble for some of the sick people on the right side of the room, nearer to the candy store. Well away from the police or the looters. Well away from help. While it was a matter of life or death for those closest to the crazed ranger, it had already become a provincial backwater in terms of importance relative to the battle in the rest of the cavernous room.

Liam and Victoria were still in the south hallway where it was very dark. They shut off their light and tried to establish some sense to what was happening in front of them.

The looters came in from the north, across the room from the pair, and controlled that entrance and the tunnel leading to the north leg of the Arch. The police were on their left, holed up in the museum. In between everyone was the large waiting area filled with the elderly and the sick. The sight of sick people laying on the floor, and the screams from those now being assaulted by the park ranger, seemed to give the looters a reason to pause.

“I have to get Grandma.”

Victoria offered no objections.

Grandma was still where Liam left her very early in the morning. It was hard to tell her condition, but she was sitting in her big wheelchair. She was maybe fifty feet away from where he was hiding but only several feet away from the park ranger and his probing teeth.

Liam ran out of the darkened hallway, straight for Grandma. There were a few old people in the middle of the room trundling toward the south exit. He felt bad to use them as distractions, but they gave him the cover he needed from the criminals on the far side of the room.

While he was on the run, one of the invaders yelled, “These people are infected! Kill them all to save yourselves!”

Then the screaming really started. The intense sound of gunfire escalated and quickly squelched the screams. Liam knew he was exposed, but they were shooting the people closest to them first. It gave him some time.

He had covered the ground to Grandma in just a few seconds, suppressing the fact he had just crossed a room full of flying bullets. He could see she was awake and clutching his backpack as a shield of sorts against the maliciousness of the looters. Liam said nothing, but grabbed her chair, spun her in the right direction, and started pushing her for their lives. The park ranger was nearby but not the major threat. Not by a wide margin.

He was now one of the few people on this side of the room still standing. Having to push the wheelchair made him even more of a target. Doing a slalom through the bodies on the floor brought him down to an intolerably slow pace. He didn't dare try to go up the ramp of the south entrance. He could see people being shot in the back as they went toward that exit.

Instead he aimed for the same hallway he'd just left. Victoria would still be there—he hoped—and together they could get Grandma to the safety of the maintenance room. As he pushed the wheelchair he willed himself to be invisible.

A little prayer slipped out as he huffed.

“Please God, help us.”

Grandma surprised him by praying as well. Later she would explain it was her final Act of Contrition. She thought Death was upon her.

2

As Liam was making back across the room, his allies in the police department sprung into action. They moved out of their space in the museum so they could get a sight picture on the looters who were profiled by the light coming in through the north entrance way. With heavy shotgun slugs and service revolvers they were able to convince the looters to stop shooting the civilians in the middle and focus instead on the deadly blue snake coiled in the dark space.

Liam and Grandma were home free. With one final push around the corner, Liam was able to take a breath. He had escaped the carnage in the main room. Victoria dropped in behind him and together they ran to the relative safety of the machine shop down the hall. None of them could hear very well after the loud exchanges of gunfire in the hollowed out space.

They reached the end of the hallway, descended a short flight of steps—Grandma helped by Liam, and the wheelchair helped by Victoria—and then they were through the final door to the maintenance room. The chair had to be folded down to fit through the door, and they opened it again on the far side so Grandma could sit down. They closed and locked the door, though Liam figured it wouldn't last long against bullets if they were found.

“I think I left my cane back in that room. Liam would you mind?”

Liam looked at her, but she was smiling innocently. She had in fact left it behind, but she was just joshing him about getting it for her. He was thankful they still had the chair, which had replaced the need for the cane anyway.

Once they were safely in the room—as safe as one could be in this situation—Liam opened his backpack and drew out a water bottle and some grain bars for himself and Victoria. For several minutes they consumed what they needed after their arduous climb and descent. Grandma waited for them to finish before asking what was going on.

“Victoria, let her hear what's on the police radio. That will make it clearer than if we tried to explain.”

After fiddling with it to get everything right, the radio started to blurt out the situation with the police department—it was a chaotic blast of yelling and cursing. It wasn't anything like they expected on a police channel. Through the noise, they picked up some fragments.

“They have moved into the Arch's north entrance. My husband and the boys are trying to hold them off, but we are trapped.”

Almost immediately this was followed by; “—the south team has managed to organize citizens, but we have very little cover. Trying to evacuate citizens south.”

A third voice; “North gate. We have a new situation here—” But he was squelched by other voices. There was no discipline.

Liam felt bad for the police, but knew there was next to nothing he could do to help them. He was just a kid trapped in a stainless steel room.

While the chatter continued, he grabbed his gun from his pack and put it back in his waistband holster.

“I'm never taking this off again.”

Liam considered his next sentence carefully.

“Victoria, do you want my other gun?”

She looked at him in the harsh light of the flashlight and seemed to think about it for a few seconds, but ultimately demurred.

“I appreciate the offer, but I think you two should have your own guns. I'll be the plucky comic relief.”

“The what?”

“I just don't think I want a gun Liam, but thanks.”

He tried to give the gun to Grandma, but she said he should just put it back in his backpack for an emergency. She said she wasn't sure she could even pull the trigger anymore since she was getting weak in her old age.

Taken together, Liam was underwhelmed by their appreciation for their chances of surviving this crisis. He couldn't fathom ever being separated from his gun and didn't understand why anyone would choose to be unarmed. Grandma maybe, but Victoria?

And perhaps the most important realization of the whole exchange was that Liam was now wholly responsible for protecting them. One boy with a couple pop guns against a world gone mad.

You said you wanted to be the hero.

3

They continued to listen to the radio for another half hour or so. During that time they came to the understanding the police in the museum had been able to survive against the infringing looters, but neither side could get the upper hand. The radio chatter was a little unclear, but it sounded like a number of the sick and wounded lying in the middle of the waiting area had begun to show signs of reanimation—which was causing havoc on both the police and the looter contingent.

Up top the battle had gotten very serious. The renegade urban gangs had lots of firepower and were able to push well into the park—up to and including the north leg of the Arch. But from there they weren't able to push further because the citizens on the rest of the cordon, organized by the captain and his police volunteers, had been able to hold their positions. The looters and gang members also had problems behind them, as they had infected follow them through the breech and were now nipping at their heels. Unable to push into the Arch and unable to get all their members safely inside the cordon, they now found themselves fighting enemies on multiple sides. It made them desperate and nearly suicidal inside the Arch. Even the police admitted they were in serious trouble inside the museum.

At dusk, chaos was firmly entrenched up top.

Another report from the radio operator called “north gate” changed the trajectory of the battle almost single-handedly. Earlier he had reported he had a situation in the north, but he failed to elucidate. As the radio traffic died to a trickle, he gave his report in-depth.

“This is north gate. I'm in direct line of sight to thousands of infected pouring into the north part of the park. As best I can tell they are being attracted from who-knows-how-far north by all the gunfire. There are a few remaining civilians who are hiding in the parking garage or nearer to the river, but the swarm of dead are overwhelming anyone who stands in the way. The gangs pushed many civilians into the path of the zombies, which in turn has infected lots of people near your interior lines. You guys should be prepared for this.”

The reply was from the captain himself.

“Thank you Ben. We owe you one. Hope to see you again so we can laugh about this over a beer. Over.”

“Me too cap. I'm OK for right now. But I'm not sure how long I can hang under the bridge without being spotted. Maybe I'll fly away like batman.” He let out a nervous laugh, which was reciprocated by the captain as they signed off.

The trio listened to the radio for a while longer, expecting at any time to hear the whole park had been run through by the dead. They never heard from the north gate again, but several other stations kept reporting in. Things were not going well for the good guys.

Then the communications were cleared by someone calling himself Raptor HQ. The radio chatter from the police stopped cold.

“This is Raptor HQ. US Army. We are the blocking force located on the east bank of the Mississippi River. All bridges are under our control. No. I repeat N-O personnel will be allowed to cross the bridges, use boats, or otherwise transit across the water by order of General Hodges, II Corps, United States Army. We've had several, shall we call them volunteers, disobey orders and cross the bridge and river to support you. Those men and women won't be disciplined, but they won't be allowed back either. Be advised I also have orders to terminate the infected now surrounding your position. I'll give you all the time I can. Say 60 minutes. Out.”

It appeared the Army could see what was happening too, and took this delicate moment to remind everyone in St. Louis they still weren't allowed across the river.

It was Osborne who spoke for them all, breaking all kinds of radio protocols.

“This is Captain Osborne with the Missouri Highway Patrol. On behalf of all of us laying down our lives to protect these citizens, let me just convey...”

He went on to teach Liam a whole host of new curse words. His ears were burning because Grandma was right there too, but given the circumstances of what was taking place outside, he didn't think she would be overly upset.

Liam stated what they all had to be thinking.

“No help is coming.”

Liam's world had been spinning out of control since the sirens turned off two days ago, but now he'd felt as if his rescue parachute was packed with bricks instead of silk.

It can't get much worse.

4

“Well, what do we do now? We can't exactly step out of this room and make a run for it.” Victoria was right, but no one had any better ideas. The stairs up the Arch were open, but going back to the top was pointless, and Grandma would never survive such a climb.

Looking around the room, they found various tools, workbenches, and maintenance equipment for servicing the top-to-bottom tramway. No weapons of any kind—not that anyone expected to find guns stashed away in a public piece of property like this.

It was Liam who found the way out.

“Hey, look at this grate on the wall. It seems to have a tunnel behind it, though I can't see where it might go.”

Looking at it closer, they saw a thick metal grate, about three feet wide by three feet high, with a stout-looking lock on it. It had an inner solid metal door. Next to the grate, in an obvious spot, were a couple of keys hanging on a small hook. It wasn't rocket science from there.

Liam offered to unlock and pull open the grate, push the solid inside hatch—it swung inward, and then crawl in with the flashlight and see where it lead. Victoria insisted she be the one to go, so Liam could stay with Grandma. Liam's first panicked reaction was that Victoria was going to find an exit and then run off and leave them, but he knew that was a crazy thought. He accepted her offer.

A few minutes later, the metal bars were on the floor and Victoria took the small police flashlight down the concrete duct. Soon she disappeared as she made a turn in the tunnel system.

Liam and Grandma were staring into the dark gap when some loud gunshots rang out from up in the museum, reminding them their fates may hang on who won the gun battle there. Finding this tunnel could put their fate back in their own hands.

There was virtually no light in the room, except for that illuminated by the EXIT sign over the one door leading out of the room. Liam was using his own flashlight to root around—he was looking for something that would help Grandma get down the tunnel.

She was sitting in her chair near the door, unable to do much but listen to the gun battle.

“I think the shooting is getting closer.”

“I have to find something you can lay on so I can drag you through this tunnel.”

“Oh no, I can't possibly go in that tunnel. Just leave me Liam. Get yourself and Victoria to safety.”

Liam knew she would say something like that, which is why he was more intent to find just the right thing to get her to go with him. As he continued to search, someone banged on the outside door. Looking in the window was a younger man with glasses and a horrible tie; Liam recognized him as Mr. Hayes from the group of CDC people the other night.

“Do we let him in?” Grandma mused.

“Yes, he's going to alert the whole place to this room.”

Liam ran over to open the door. As the man entered, they all heard gunshots—and felt them rattle their bones. Very close! Liam slammed the door shut.

The man's run had cost him his breath for the moment. He merely stood hunched over his knees trying to gain control of his body.

“Shot...us...all.”

The small diversion kept anyone from noticing Victoria was nearly back at the entrance of the tunnel. It was her light which finally made everyone take notice. A few seconds later she came scurrying out of the small space to make her report.

“This tunnel leads out. It has another grate on the other end—we'll need the key here—but it should be a simple matter of getting everyone down this tunnel and we'll avoid the museum and most of the shooting up on top. I think the exit is in a railroad tunnel. I could see the tracks with my light.

Liam continued his survey of the gear in the room with new zest. He finally found the 'something' that would get Grandma safely down the tunnel. He grabbed it off the wall, adjusted it, and then slapped it down in front of her wheelchair.

“It's your lucky day. Just lay down on this mechanic's creeper and I'll pull you to safety.”

She looked at Liam, then at the creeper, and finally at the hole in the wall. Maybe she was calculating her odds, or maybe just deciding if she really wanted to die in the Gateway to the West. Liam didn't really care. He wasn't going to give her a choice in a few more seconds. The escalating gunfire preempted any unpleasantness. She stood up out of her chair, and with Liam and Victoria's help on each arm she was able to settle onto her back, laying on the creeper.

“Victoria check the window. Hayes, grab the keys for that other lock and hold Grandma here while I break down her chair.”

Hayes had recovered enough to take stock of this quirky group. His voice was raggedy as he got the keys.

“Thanks for letting me in. I never thought it would come to this. Why did those men start shooting us? Don't they know we're trying to help?”

No one had time to answer. Gunshots, seemingly outside the door, were very loud. Everyone made for the tunnel.

Liam seemed to take charge. He finished breaking down the chair, and ordered Hayes to go first with the keys and with the chair.

“Victoria do we need two flashlights down there?”

“It'll be fine, there are a few turns, but it is very flat and uniform all the way to the end. It isn't that far.”

Hayes shoved himself in with the keys and wheelchair, not waiting to be invited.

“OK, I guess you're going next Grandma, you ready to roll?”

“I'm not getting any younger!” She loved that one.

Liam began pushing her on the creeper, but not before he heard banging on the door again and saw a shadow at the window. Victoria was closest to the entry and made a move for it when the face exploded against the glass. Gunshots tore through the upper part of the door, a couple ricocheting off the metal of the machinery in the room.

“Turn off your light Victoria. Hurry! Let's go!”

He saw her make for the tunnel, so he began pushing Grandma with haste. He stopped though when he realized she wasn't getting in with them. He chanced sending light back to Victoria. He saw tears on her cheeks.

“It was nice meeting you, Marty. Take care of her Liam.”

Then she slammed the grate closed and dropped the lock into place and locked it again. She tossed the keys into tunnel so Liam could grab them. She didn't have time to pull the solid inner hatch closed. She only needed the outer one locked. It took him a few seconds to realize what she was doing.

She stood there momentarily before speaking in a broken voice, “I have to do this.”

Then she ran for the stairs.

“Victoria!” He blurted it out without thinking who might hear.

Liam had an urge to scream her name again, go back for her—but he knew it would be pointless now. She had locked herself out, and them in. Whatever she was going to do, she was on her own.

He sat in the confined space for several moments as he thought about his options. In the end he knew there was only one. He started to push the creeper again, to get as far down the tunnel as he could before anyone else came in the room—perhaps with intentions to shoot them.

“Dang it. I really liked her.” Only Grandma heard him, but she said nothing.

He hated himself for thinking it, but his immediate reflection was that he wished he had gotten to kiss her before she left him, like they do in the movies.

I'm a pathetic hero.

The last thing he saw was the glow of her flashlight moving up the steps toward the top of the Arch. In true heroic fashion, she was drawing the shooters away, at mortal risk to herself.

The shooting at the door continued for a couple minutes. Apparently the gunmen weren't very good shooting door handles or the steel was very strong. By the time they were through, Liam was near the end of the tunnel. He could hear men talking to themselves and then they began yelling about the light they saw going up the metal staircase.

All the escapees slithered quietly to the end of the tunnel, making good on Victoria's sacrifice.

Chapter 12: Heroes

Liam and Grandma slid out the end of the service duct and found themselves inside a long train tunnel with a double line of tracks running through it. Several people were already sitting inside and were surprised to see three people come out of the dark hole in the wall. Liam was surprised no one bothered to ask questions. They just went back to whatever they were doing.

That was fine with Liam. He wasn't in the mood to jaw-jack anyway. He got Grandma out of the tunnel, then he and Hayes helped her into her wheelchair. The packed rock under the railroad tracks made it difficult to roll her around, but they weren't going anywhere for now, so she was content to be parked and then given time to relax. The act of lying down on the creeper and getting back up had once again sapped her of her strength.

Liam slammed his backpack down on the dirty rocks and then took a seat next to it. He was getting more and more upset at the turn of events leading to the loss of his new friend. He recognized the muffled sounds of gunfire coming from outside the tunnel on the grounds surrounding the Arch but wasn't in the mood to think about what was going on out there. For now it was more important to rest and formulate some kind of plan. Maybe a plan to save Victoria.

He was just turning to thoughts of going back in when Hayes sat down and began rambling about his situation.

“I can't believe those hoodlums shot us. We tried to tell them we were with the CDC and we were there to help, but that seemed to enrage them even more. The hell of it is we aren't even really WITH the CDC, more like glorified roadies who move the gear for the pinheads with the lab coats.”

He seemed to consider what he was going to say next. Liam couldn't help but be interested.

“I did learn something from the pinheads though...”

He looked around like he was participating in a conspiracy. Seemingly satisfied he wasn't being overheard, he continued.

“The virus causing all this was made in a lab.”

Liam, having read many books on zombies had an immediate retort, “Isn't that kind of obvious? A natural virus doesn't just explode across the world, kill people, and then bring them back to life, does it?”

Hayes looked at him with newfound respect. “You don't seem to be fazed by all this. I'm sorry you lost your friend by the way. She saved me too.”

“Well I'm not fazed anymore. Two days ago when I was attacked by a berserk Yoga lady I was pretty 'fazed.' After the next several zombies attacked me I started to get used to it. Now I guess I'm immune to the weirdness of it, even if I'm not used to all the blood yet. Not sure I'll ever get used to that.” He patted his stomach and closed with, “my stomach has issues with the sight of blood.”

“So you call them zombies too? I hear that more and more, but I don't really get it. Aren't zombies things that come out of caskets and walk around slowly moaning about brains?”

Liam had similar taxonomical reflections on this very topic, but he was convinced the things he'd seen would be classified as zombies by almost anyone.

“You are talking about old-school zombies. Originally I think that is what people thought zombies were—the dead who climb out of the ground and chomp brains of those too slow to run away.” He scratched his head, then watched as dust fell like rain from his mop. “I think there was an old movie that started people thinking like that. Later, the slow poke zombies were laughed away as not threatening enough. Today zombies can be almost any speed—” He went on to give his ideas on the various kinds of zombies.

Hayes seemed hard to convince. “But don't these people seem more like Vampires to you? The sick seem to go for a person's blood, not their brains.”

Liam's fear of blood was strong, but the more he thought about it the more it made some sense. Angie especially was a bloody mess, and her apartment was a nightmare of blood. The park ranger up in the Arch was covered in blood, as was the Arch observation deck. Unless he consumed an entire person up there—Liam thought about the impossibility of that—it meant whatever he attacked had bled profusely but was still able to get away. Was blood the key?

Still, Vampires? Liam wasn't ready to believe such supernatural nonsense.

“I think these people are dead, but some kind of infection is keeping them from turning off and staying dead. But I haven't seen anyone actually die and then come back to life...” He realized how little he knew about the infected people now causing so many problems for him.

“Last night you guys knew nothing useful about the sick people. Do you know anything about how the infection spreads?”

“Just what I've heard secondhand. Nothing from official channels. I've not actually seen any zombies yet so I can't confirm anything for myself. They say the plague infects the victim and makes them crave blood. They aren't sure why, but one consistent data point seems to be the biting by the infected, and their desire to consume as much blood as they can. The drained victim then gets up and looks for more blood. Possibly to replace their own.”

“Mmmm. That doesn't really tell me anything I don't already know. I've seen infected people attacking helpless victims since this all began. You don't know anything useful that could help us fight back, or stop the plague?”

Hayes gave a good laugh.

“Look at me kid. I'm just a driver. I know just about as much as you do.” He then looked away as if frustrated with his impotence.

Liam believed he knew more than he was letting on. He was clearly part of an organization that would know. Why wouldn't he know something? Every book on zombies he'd ever read would back up that claim.

I wish you'd had the balls to save us, instead of Victoria.

He wished he had the balls to say that out loud.

2

Liam and Hayes sat in silence for several more minutes. Grandma was nodding in the coolness of the tunnel but Liam was thinking about waking her up to move her further south, out of the area surrounding the Arch. With so many people fighting, it was no place for an aged grandmother to be hanging about. It wasn't a great place for a kid either.

He noticed a police officer was standing about 100 feet down the tunnel, at the southern exit. The northern exit was a tiny point of light in the opposite direction. There was no way to know who was up there, though Liam could see lots of people in the tunnel between himself and that pin point. The tunnel made a great shelter against the gunfire of the larger battle. That much was certain.

He decided the first course of action was to move Grandma further toward the southern exit, as that was the direction they wanted to go.

It wasn't easy to push the chair on the rocks, but he got help from Hayes and they actually made pretty good time. Grandma woke up, but seemed to nod back off fairly quickly with the rocking action of her ride.

When he was close to the exit, he noticed the officer had a shotgun and a radio.

Liam parked the wheelchair about thirty feet from the exit and let Hayes know he'd be right back. Then he approached the officer.

“Excuse me. I'm Liam. My friend and I were the lookouts who went up into the Arch to watch for the gangs.”

“Nice to meet you. I guess we both missed the action down on the ground.”

“What do you mean?”

“The captain put me down here to guard this tunnel exit, but nothing has happened. I could do more good up where the action is. What did you see from up top?”

Liam traded some basic information with the officer.

His name was Jones. He was a large black man with maybe too much gut poking out of his belt. Still, he was quite impressive. Liam didn't say anything to offend him, but he suspected he was put down here because he would make such a large target. Not the best attribute to have in a gun battle.

His radio gave him an idea.

“Can you call the captain inside the Arch?”

“Sure, but my orders are to hold here. I don't have anything to report.”

“Actually you do. My friends and I just came from inside the Arch museum. There is a service entrance that comes out inside this railroad tunnel. When we left the captain, he and his cohorts were trapped by a group of looters who took control of the north entrance. I think we can help get them out of there.”

The officer gave him “the look.” Liam had seen it many times over the years. It was the look an adult gave him to decide whether a kid could know what he was talking about when it came to something important.

“Dad, there is a car flipped over on our street.” The look.

“Mom, your phone needs a critical software update.” The look.

“Officer, I know how we can save your leader and all those family members.” The look.

To his credit, officer Jones got on the radio.

“Yeah, this kid—what's your name?—this Liam kid said the captain sent him up to the top of the Arch and now he says he can help our guys get out of the Arch museum.”

The officer went over some details with the man on the other end. Liam was grateful to be helping the officers in their sticky situation, but his motives were anything but pure. He was hoping somehow he could save Victoria. He was worried his last memory of her would be as a bouncing light going up to the sky.

I'm not going to leave her to die.

3

Officer Jones was going back and forth with the person on the other end for many minutes. When he was done he shared what he knew with Liam.

“Things are pretty bad up top. There are gang members and looters at both main entrances to the Arch underground area now, as well as at a third entrance on the city-side. Our boys are trapped in the museum. For your plan to work they would have to cross the waiting area in full view of both groups of armed criminals.”

He churned on that for a few seconds before continuing.

“But that isn't even the worst part. There is a big group of infected really chopping up the remaining citizens on the north side of the park. Our intel says they will be at the Arch sooner rather than later. The gang members aren't very good at killing zombies apparently. They don't die as easily as our guys and gals in blue.”

He was visibly angry making that realization, but went on with the facts.

“So our plan is to get any officers still available on this side of the park, go up the tunnel you found, and attempt to rescue the remaining officers and families inside the museum.”

“But the metal grate is now locked. How are we going to get into the maintenance room?”

Officer Jones smiled. “Leave that to me.”

Liam wasn't content to leave anything to chance. He'd seen everything fall apart the past couple days and trusted nothing to work as it should. But he couldn't exactly tell the police how to do their jobs, so all he could realistically do was tag along and hope they got the job done. And, if he was really lucky, he would emerge from the dark hallway just in time to save Victoria.

It took about fifteen minutes to gather four police officers, including officer Jones. Liam was disappointed that was the best they could do, and they seemed to sense his feeling.

“Don't worry kid, this is more than enough firepower to fend off the garbage shooting at our boys in there. See these?” He was holding out his weapon. “These are AR-15's. Since the rules of war have been turned off, we are using silencers today. We should make short work of those bastards. At least well enough to help our friends get out of there. We also have some other toys we're bringing to the party. It also helps that we'll have the drop on them. Thanks to you and your secret entrance.”

One of the new guys gave him a chuck on the shoulder. He was carrying a massive shotgun with a drum magazine of some kind. The man handed a battering ram to his larger compatriot.

Officer Jones slung the ram over his shoulder. Apparently they were going to use that to bash in the grate. Liam didn't doubt they could do it, especially given the bulk of officer Jones. He might be able to punch the thing apart.

As they were readying the plan amongst themselves Liam was standing off to the side, not sure if he should listen in or look busy doing something else. He decided there was one item he definitely wanted to pass on to these guys.

“Ummm excuse me. If you happen to see my friend in there, please help her get out. She's about my age. Wearing a black dress. Probably running from two gangers with guns. She ran up into the Arch to save me and the rest of our group.”

“If we see your girlfriend we'll grab her.”

He didn't correct her designation as his girlfriend, even though it wasn't true. He liked how it sounded, but it made him even more depressed at how things had transpired.

After a few more minutes of preparation the policemen gathered near the small tunnel entrance and were working the radio. Presumably coordinating with the group inside.

“Liam, do you have any weapons?”

He wasn't sure if he should tell the cops that he was packing a gun, but decided now was not the time to be worried about getting himself thrown in jail for concealed carry of a weapon without a permit. He knew better than to whip out a gun, so he used his words instead.

“I have a small pistol, yes.”

“OK, listen. Your job is to guard this exit so when we come back out we find your friendly face, and not anyone else. Do you understand?”

“I'd really rather go with you guys.”

Officer Jones grabbed one of the radios from one of his cohort and tried to give it to Liam. Liam pulled the police radio he'd been using earlier out of his backpack, showing he was already plugged into their radio net.

Jones continued. “I understand son. But trust us. We'll get it done. We need someone here to keep this door open or we'll be cut down when we come out. Make sense?”

Liam couldn't argue with the logic, though his heart still envisioned saving Victoria. That wasn't going to happen if he was parked here at this entrance as a glorified greeter.

“Don't use your radio unless absolutely necessary. But you can listen so you know when we're coming back.”

“Understood.”

Through it all Hayes had kept his distance from Liam and the police. He figured the man would want to help young Liam protect this exit, but he made no effort to move much past where they had placed Grandma near the exit of the railroad tunnel.

He's probably thinking about making a run for it.

The air outside the train tunnel was thick with gunfire, though the odd angles of the sound waves inside the tunnel made it hard to know where it was all coming from.

Liam also thought he could hear an increase in gunfire coming from the other end of the railroad tunnel. That is, from the spooky and dark section north of where he stood.

Why did I even suggest this?

Hero stuff. Remember?

4

Jones went in first. He had to go in on his knees and elbows since the space was too low for him to crouch and walk. He dragged the battering ram with him. The other three men entered the same way, though one of them was dragging a large black bag as well. Liam imagined it was a bag of weapons.

He checked his pistol on his hip, then stood on the wall next to the opening, holding the radio close to his ear so he could listen in without blaring it to the whole tunnel. There were other people about, but none were anxious to interfere with this operation.

The radio chatter began almost immediately.

“Jones here. We are through the grating and are in the maintenance room. No sign of the enemy. Moving to hallway. Out.”

A few minutes later a much shorter transmission, in a whisper.

“Jones here. In position. Be ready in five minutes. Out.”

Liam knew the basics of the plan, but had no idea of the tactics they would use to extricate those inside the museum. He tried to be patient and wait the five minutes. The radio chatter had completely stopped.

The void gave him time to think of how he could do something stupid. He thought about going up the tunnel himself, then ascending the stairs to try to catch up with Victoria and see if he could help. But he knew that by now she was probably down the other leg of the Arch if she kept running once she got to the top. If she got to the top. Ugg. Why did he have to think that?

But then he thought about where she could have come down. Was there a room on the north side of the Arch which was a maintenance shed like the one in the south? If so, was there a grate and a tunnel over there too? Did that duct come out on the other end of this same railroad tunnel? He almost started running up the tunnel right then and there. But he looked the other way toward Grandma. She was silhouetted in the harsh light of the tunnel exit, but he could see she had woken up and was talking to Hayes. Would it be smart to leave her alone and try to force his way into danger?

He couldn't make up his mind.

Then the radio blurted.

“Go! Go! Go!”

There were loud noises on the net, then it went silent again. Finally a long series of beeps and boops echoed from the device.

From inside the duct leading back to the Arch there was a lot of gunfire, followed by a lull.

“Infected have overrun both entrances.”

What the hell?

Then the screaming started getting uncomfortably loud in his own railway tunnel.

Looking north into the darkness, the tiny speck of light to the north was filled with thrashing people now. He couldn't make out any details, but the sound of gunfire was rolling in waves down the tunnel, as were the screams. Zombies were already here in the tunnel, though not very close as yet. Would he be called to defend this exit from a tide of the undead? It seemed unlikely he could make much difference given the small caliber of his gun. He suddenly felt very inadequate, and laughed at the foolishness of thinking he could get Victoria through the other exit—if it existed.

“This is Captain Osborne. We have all our people clear of the museum. We are heading for the train tunnel now. Out.”

Liam knew someone should be coming out soon.

More gunshots up the tunnel. To his dismay a bullet ricocheted by him, oblivious to most of the others. This was getting very dangerous. He took one step into the smaller tunnel, mainly to shield himself from stray bullets. He worried Grandma had no such shielding.

He was startled to death when someone tapped him on the back. It was a teenage girl, but not Victoria.

“I was told to come down this tunnel. Where do I go now?”

Liam was once again without words. He didn't want to send the teen out into the railroad tunnel because of the stray bullets but he knew she was the first of many people who would be coming through this exit so he had to move her out.

“Just go out and sit on the far wall. Keep your head down.”

The girl did as she was told. Liam also vacated the small tunnel so he could let her out. Soon there was a stream of kids, young adults, and the elderly coming through. Everyone who survived up in the museum was now pouring down. Everyone but the cops. He assumed they'd be bringing up the rear.

About fifty people eventually made their way into the railroad tunnel, and most took up positions crouched down along the far wall. The screaming in the north part of the tunnel had become fever pitch and much closer. Liam was on the cusp of praying for the appearance of some of the police officers to help stop the tide rolling down the railroad line. He could hear patient chatter on the radio. They were still OK on the inside, but what was taking so long?

A long ten minutes later a group of officers poured out of the tunnel, including Jones. His group did not include any of the three men which joined him going in. He found Liam and asked for an update of what was happening in the tunnel. The sound of screaming was very close from up north, and many people had run by and were congregating near the south entrance, as if unwilling to expose themselves to the outside yet.

“I think there are infected up the tunnel. I've been hearing gunshots and screaming almost this whole time you've been gone. It's too dark to see for sure. As if to prove his point Jones used his flashlight to look up the tunnel, but it was consumed in the large space. There were still lots of people moving up on the north end of the tunnel, though it was hard to distinguish who or what they were.

A few minutes later several more officers streamed out. This group included at least two of the guys that went in initially with Jones.

There were now about ten officers in the railroad tunnel. They split up to provide a line of defense inside the tunnel as well as a lookout or two near the exit to the south.

More officers were trickling out of the small tunnel, but he had yet to see the captain. Liam saw some of them grab people off the wall—probably family—and make a run for it out the tunnel exit. For some reason that simple act of desperation chilled him to the bone.

Minutes later several female officers emerged, including the one who was hopped up on speed earlier in the day. She didn't even notice him when she came out. The officer immediately headed to the civilians on the wall, apparently searching for someone.

Then some injured officers came out, dragging a couple wounded guys who couldn't walk out on their own. It looked like they had gunshot wounds.

Then no one came out for a long time. Besides wondering when the bombs would fall, it gave Liam plenty of time to think about all the grisly ways Victoria could have died at the hands of her pursuers. It gave him seemingly endless time to wonder about the far side of the main tunnel, as he was positive a wave of infected people was in the tunnel and coming for him. The gunshots and screams told him there were still people alive in that direction, though he couldn't tell how close they were.

Finally, he heard the captain.

“We have her. We're coming out.”

A couple minutes later a gaggle of officers came out including one who had no shirt on and looked like he had just run a marathon. The second-to-last person out of the tunnel was someone Liam recognized.

He hugged her the second she cleared the roof of the low tunnel. He couldn't help it. She didn't fight him, and seemed visibly relieved to be in his arms. She looked exhausted, which he guessed was true if she went all the way to the top again. She also had several abrasions on her face with dried blood below her nose—like she had been punched hard a couple times.

While he was trying to figure that out, the last person emerged. It was the captain. He looked terrible. Covered with blood, his arm had a bandage around his bicep, and he was straining to get out of the tunnel with a limp.

Once he cleared the tunnel he looked at Liam.

“We meet again Liam. Thank you for what you did here today. Your plan saved my people from certain death in there. Officer Jones told me of your situation and that of your friend, so I sent up my best runner here—he pointed to the guy with no shirt on—to see if he could find your girlfriend. He found her at the very top. Somehow she managed to incapacitate one of the bad guys on the steps, but the other one beat her up pretty good I'm afraid. He was so distracted hitting her he never saw my man coming. We brought her back down. It was the least we could do to return the favor. You are a real hero Liam.”

Liam stopped hugging Victoria long enough to walk over to shirtless guy to shake his hand. He really wanted to go back and hug Victoria again—she's alive thank God!—but his survival senses were pegged to the wall right then. Gunfire outside was intense and constant, people out there were running hard toward the water of the river as he looked out, and the screaming and gunfire inside the north part of the tunnel was also becoming obnoxiously loud—the turmoil was moving closer. The smell of gunpowder was thick. The war from up top was raging everywhere.

We've run out of time.

As if to prove his point, a zombie slithered out of the tunnel behind the captain and bit hard into the back of his ankle.

5

The captain turned around and shot the bloody being several times in the back, and in the back of the neck. The bullets got the attention of the thing attached to his foot, and when it let go, the final series of shots went into its head. Liam could only stare in horror as its head exploded.

The loud bangs and sudden violence of it brought him back to the moment.

The captain looked down at his leg and pulled up the bottom cuff of his pants to reveal a very tall tactical boot. Then he gave a relieved chuckle and looked directly at Liam with real pride.

“Don't worry son. I've been fighting zombies my whole life.”

What does that even mean?

The question was on his tongue but Osborne was already onto the next crisis. He was giving orders to his men, shouting above the cacophony of the engulfing disaster. Liam's ears were still ringing from the sound of the captain's point blank shots, so he simply grabbed Victoria's hand and pulled her up the tunnel to where Grandma was sitting. She and Hayes looked like they were waiting for the bus, but she was clutching Liam's backpack in a way he recognized as fear. Victoria stood next to him, but was swaying.

Liam guessed there were about twenty officers still in the fight. Most of them were facing the dark of the tunnel, using their lights to observe the din in that direction. Sometimes people would run by screaming, but more often now it was a zombie that slinked out of the confusion. The far exit had become mostly obscured by dust and smoke from multiple concussions of weapons. More than a few times bullets ricocheted to Liam's end of the tunnel, but no one was hurt by them—yet.

Once the captain had his men where he wanted them in the tunnel he moved to the opening on the south end. He put two of his female officers in charge of using zip ties to try to secure the exterior gate of the small service tunnel, and told them to be ready to shoot anyone coming out of that tunnel now.

He saw Liam and his friends and stopped to see how they were doing. He also let them know they were going to need to help out when the time came to run—which he said was going to be soon.

“This tunnel is about to get dangerous. We have to move somewhere more secure. Get ourselves room to breathe. Can you both shoot?”

Liam nodded in the affirmative, but Victoria was silent.

She turned to Liam.

“I'll take that second pistol if you aren't using it. I don't want to ever be unarmed again.”

Liam looked at the captain. “We'll both be ready sir.”

Osborne gave him a small salute and then began walking away. He caught himself when he saw Hayes didn't have a weapon.

“You have any kind of weapon?”

Hayes claimed he was too important to risk his life fighting like this. He painted himself as a valuable resource in fighting the disease for the CDC and thus needed to be protected. Liam was listening as best he could to the exchange, and was just about to tell the captain that Hayes was only a driver for the CDC, but the veteran officer wasn't fooled.

“So important you and your friends were willing to spend your time getting drunk in the candy store? I don't think you're as important as you think you are. Neither the zombies nor the gang members will be stopping to ask for your credentials—you can bank on that.”

He moved away quickly, meeting up with the remaining officers now guarding the large opening at the head of the tunnel.

Hayes looked back at Liam, but he avoided his gaze by pretending to talk to Victoria.

Why didn't he just tell the truth?

He realized he just picked up an important life lesson. In a world where no one can check credentials, anyone can be anyone.

6

The final plan was kept simple. About a quarter mile to the south the train tracks entered another short tunnel before they left the Arch grounds via a long trestle. The captain figured if they could reach that tunnel, it would put them in good shape to keep moving to the south, out of the worst of the massive scrum taking place all around them. It would also get them clear of the impending military assault. He mentioned that as a casual addendum, as if unconcerned they were nearly out of time.

Some of the officers expressed concern at leaving so many people to their fates up top, but the captain made it clear where their loyalties were now.

“I know you all took an oath to serve and protect your communities. I did as well. But our communities are gone. What we have now, pretty much everywhere except this little bubble containing us and our families, is anarchy. Our community is now down to our families, and the friends we pick up along the way.” He nodded in Liam's direction.

“Our only hope of seeing another day is to get out of this fighting so we can take a breath and figure out what comes next.” He cinched a bloody rag around his upper arm, gave a grimace in doing so, and continued with his pep talk.

“I want us all to move as fast as we can over to that next tunnel. This one is about to push us out anyway with all the shooting and screaming behind us. I'm sure we can hold them off for a while, but we only have the ammo in our pockets—so if we're going to make a move, we have to do it now.”

“Grab your families and line them up here. We leave in five.”

Liam was checking his weapon, ensuring the safety was still on, and reminding himself how to click it off when he needed it.

Victoria was holding her Mark I, but was still in a daze.

He leaned over to her.

“Hey, you OK? Have you ever fired a pistol before?”

“Yes. My dad took me and my sister to some indoor shooting range back in Colorado several times. We didn't shoot a gun like this one, but we did shoot pistols with magazines.”

“That's good. That means you'll have no problem with this. In fact, this is probably much easier to shoot than anything you used with your dad. The trigger is very soft. My dad did something to modify it so “even an old lady could fire it” as he would say. You just gently squeeze this trigger here and point it in the direction you want to shoot. I'll warn you though that the ammo we're using is very light duty. It will do fine against any petty criminal, but I don't think the infected will even feel this unless you pop them through the eye or nose. Or, if you are at point blank it should go through their skull. My dad and I talked about these guns last summer and he said they were deadly in the proper hands, but you really have to know what you're doing. I wish now he had just given me a bigger gun.”

“Wow. My parents gave me Bibles for my birthdays. Yours gave you guns. Kinda cool actually.”

He felt a rush of pride, then remembered he was mad at his parents. Sort of.

Victoria continued, “Where do I put it? I don't exactly have pockets in this dress.”

Liam took off his belt and handed it to her.

“I don't need it. Trust me.”

He then gave her his holster, which fit the belt and the Mark I perfectly. She wrapped the belt around her midsection, then dropped her gun into the snug holster. A little snap could hold it in place, but Liam suggested she leave it open as she'd likely need the gun soon.

“It ain't pretty I'm afraid, but it will keep you in the fight.”

Victoria looked up at him with wet eyes.

“I'm so sorry Liam. I just left you guys in there. I thought I knew what I was doing, but I couldn't outrun those two... They caught me at the top. I fought like hell... but paid the price.” She gave him a tired smile, though her swollen lip and bruised cheek made it visibly painful for her to do so.

Liam was about to respond, but she kept going.

“I was so sorry to leave you guys. But I had to save you. I needed to save you.”

She leaned into Liam, and rested her head on his shoulder and began to cry.

Liam attributed it to her trauma up in the Arch, but she clarified.

“I don't want to die in this horrible place. I want to see open sky again. I want run to the next tunnel. Then never stop. I want to survive. I want you to survive. I want Grandma to survive. Someone has to survive.”

Liam didn't know what to say. He'd never had a girl crying on his shoulder, and his emotions were in upheaval for so many reasons.

The smoke.

The noise.

The tension.

Then the earth rumbled. Everyone looked around like frightened deer in headlights. Then they got serious about moving closer to the exit.

The police had nearly gathered everyone together.

The captain yelled at the top of his lungs.

“ONE MINUTE!”

Liam gently pushed Victoria off his shoulder and held her in front of him. He was able to look her in the eyes and make a promise.

“I'm not going to let you go. We're going to get through this together. I promise.”

Should I kiss her? Would I be taking advantage of her?

His mind was unable to process all the permutations of emotions swirling around his head and heart at that moment. He was frozen.

Victoria gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, solving his mental dilemma. And then, wiping the tears from her eyes with her free hand she yelled to Liam.

“TOGETHER?”

Liam echoed with “TOGETHER!”

He tucked his Mark I in his waistband. His pants were tight enough it would stay there pretty well. He felt he could take on the world.

They each took hold of one handle on the back of Grandma's wheelchair and pushed her into position along the side of the tracks, facing south out the entrance. The rear guards of officers had closed the distance to be with the main group. Children were hanging on to their parents, the youngest were carried by those with the strength to hold them. Most kids were crying from all the commotion and noise. Behind them all was a seething mass of plague victims coming out of the dark and smoky tunnel. There were no living people left to delay them.

The captain and a vanguard of officers with shotguns were standing right at the cusp of the portal.

With a flourish the captain turned around to everyone and gave his most rousing and succinct speech of the day.

“RUN LIKE HELL BOYS AND GIRLS!”

With that, they all plunged into the chaos.

Chapter 13: The Hole Nightmares Fall Out Of

Liam found himself under the wide open sky for the first time in nearly a full day and was a little disoriented by the bright sunshine, heat, and fresh air. The open air amplified the noise of gunfire, panicked screaming from every direction, and the angry howls of military aircraft of all types above them. He stumbled a little as he pushed one half of Grandma's wheelchair along the rocky railroad grade.

Victoria was on the other handle of the chair, while Grandma did her best to hang on with one hand while also hanging on to Liam's backpack. On any other day the scene would likely have garnered a few laughs by anyone who saw them, but not today.

Today they were surrounded by a few dozen men, women, and children making a break from one tunnel to another—and thus the trio working the wheelchair wasn't even considered unusual.

Liam noticed many details in the fresh air. A couple pulling along a young teen girl, who was in turn pulling along a small border collie that wanted nothing to do with the run. A nun, black habit and all, with jogging shoes easily outpacing almost everyone. A young police officer, barely older than Liam it seemed, pausing to fire at nearby threats with his sidearm.

The railroad tracks run along a shallow trench below the main park surrounding the Arch. Liam couldn't remember seeing the railroad tracks from the park above, so he figured they were designed to be well camouflaged. He could see the gigantic stone staircase which wrapped around and over the tunnel ahead. It helped people get from the park, over the tracks, and down to the nearby riverfront. The tunnel itself was a couple football fields-length ahead of them.

The remnants of the civilian and military cordon around the park were running down the hill from up top, either using the big steps, or dropping off a short wall onto the tracks, and then either turning into the tunnel or continuing forward toward the water of the river. Liam couldn't see much in the direction of the water. His worry was focused on what was behind the survivors as they came off the hill.

Fewer and fewer people were coming down. Those remaining were getting caught by the rising tide of infected behind them. The slow. The weak. The injured. Those out of ammo. The overly brave. They were fighting hand-to-hand with zombies out in front of all the others. They either got away quickly or were consumed. Most, Liam was sorry to admit, succumbed.

Liam's heart stuttered as a large vehicle tore through some of the small trees on the hill above him. It was the heavy M1A2 tank he'd seen from up in the Arch, but it had completely morphed into something out of a horror flick. It was belching out great clouds of white smoke, making it impossible to see behind it. And its color had changed from desert tan to Hell's red.

As it plowed over the hill it ran over several feeding zombies. Then it moved down, readjusting its path to avoid the stragglers in Liam's own group. It popped off a small ledge and was soon perched directly on the railroad tracks. It was close enough Liam could see the sheen of blood covering the entire lower half of the tracked monster. The tracks and road wheels were caked solid with—Liam couldn’t even describe the horrors. One detached foot in Angie’s car was enough to terrorize him. The deck was covered with body parts and torn clothing. It was difficult to tell, but there appeared to be injured zombies riding along—groping for the living inside the steel beast. Liam could imagine all the death the tank crew had witnessed.

He thought it was just going to continue onward toward the river, along with all the other people running in that direction, but instead it seemed to dig in its feet as it sat on the ruined train tracks. The massive smoke screen was moving along the hillside behind the tank, temporarily providing cover for those—like Liam—trying to run from the walking plague up there.

He continued to move Grandma down the tracks, but he was looking over his shoulder to see what the wayward tank was going to do. Just as it seemed the billowing smoke would obscure the vehicle completely, the wind shifted just enough Liam could still see most of the action.

The turret swiveled left, facing the large tunnel they'd just evacuated. There were zombies pouring forth from it like a broken sewer pipe now.

Do it!

The tank's machine gun barked above all the other gunfire in the area, and ripped viciously into the mass of lost humanity near and inside the tunnel. The tank had positioned itself perfectly to shoot inside the dark space. Liam wondered how many sick people each shell would pass through. Would a bullet reach the other end of the long tunnel, passing through zombie after zombie the whole length? The gun pounded in short bursts for maybe thirty seconds.

For its final act, the tank threw one shell from its main gun into the tunnel. Liam couldn't tell whether it killed anyone inside; the explosion happened somewhere deep in the blackness. The guttural boom of the gun was louder than the report of the shell detonating. The concussion caused incredible turbulence of smoke and debris around the hull of the tank, as if the whole thing was trying to shake off the blood and wreckage coating it.

The turret began to swivel back to the forward position. Liam watched as the hatch on top was opened briefly by a tanker, and he looked in Liam's direction, giving a thumbs up sign. Then the tank jerked forward, the hatch dropped, and it was moving away. It pulled the smoke screen like a curtain behind it. For just a moment Liam couldn't see any movement in that direction.

The Abrams tank had bought them a little time, plugging the hole and confusing the pursuit. However, the wave of undead was still there. And it wouldn't be long before the dead would be emerging as the smoke dissipated.

Liam saw the final survivors coming down from above. A rare few were police officers. Most were civilians with weapons. Some appeared to be hunters with long guns or shotguns. Others were dressed in black tactical gear, as if they were trying to be stealthy. And still others were flamboyantly dressed in wife beater t-shirts and ripped jeans. If Liam allowed himself to be un-PC, he pictured them as drug dealers, pimps, and the like. But, with zombies not far behind, they were all working together to try to exfiltrate the park, just like Liam's party. Just like everyone left alive here.

The captain was nearly at the tunnel when he stopped and turned around, urging his party to run harder for the safe haven in front of them. Liam was encouraged by his presence, but the look on his face as he peered back to where they came from made him once again feel a wobble in the pit of his stomach. He chanced a look back too; the smokescreen was nearly gone.

He saw scores of infected pouring out from the railroad tunnel behind them. Even after the terrible damage inflicted by the tank, more took the place of the fallen. The bright daylight made the blood on their faces, arms, and chests stand out so much more. The confines of the railroad grade ensured they would all funnel in the one direction they could see food—right to Liam and his compatriots.

Liam pushed the wheelchair to save his life.

2

The captain resumed running into the small tunnel ahead. There were already a good number of people holed up in there, including some with weapons. After some quick words, Liam saw how the captain arranged those with rifles along the two sides of the opening so they could protect the flanks of the group running in. It wasn't long before the first shots from up ahead rang out. Liam wasn't willing to turn around to see if anything was hit. He was too close to the goal now.

Liam watched ahead and witnessed Hayes as he beat Liam and Victoria by a full minute, gaining the tunnel near the front of the group. Apparently he wanted nothing to do with the slow pokes like Liam's trio.

Grandma was wheeled in among the very rear of the group, though several women and children were behind them. At the very back a few policemen were pulling rear guard duty, preceded by the grievously wounded officers from the museum who were being carried slowly by two of the biggest officers—including Jones.

They were moving too slow.

Any fool could see there would be too many zombies for the group to hold off, but still they kept shooting and reloading. Perhaps if they backed everyone into the tunnel and stood shoulder to shoulder?

Liam felt for his gun and considered going to the back to try to help, but knew he was woefully under-prepared for what was happening. He was happy to see the police give the thumbs up sign to someone above them on the outside of the tunnel. The captain motioned for them to come down while his men continued to pour lead into the infected crowd closing the distance.

The first guy to come down from just above the tunnel exit was a gang member. Liam could see him hang off the ten foot wall holding back the soil at the entrance and then drop down. He was dressed in jeans with his underwear showing in a silly fashion. He was carrying the distinctive AK-47 rifle. Once down he took up a position at the front of the tunnel with the remaining police officers and began adding his weapon to the defense of those inside. In small clumps other gang members dropped in from above, as well as many civilians with hunting rifles and other guns who Liam saw moments before running like hell on the hill above them. The group was gaining fighters like a snowball picks up snow. The tunnel was the only piece of cover in this part of the park. Everyone who saw it, ran for it.

The original fight between the rogue gangs and the police was pushed aside as life and death for everyone depended on getting as many guns as possible aiming in the same direction.

Soon there was parity between firepower and incoming zombies inside the channel of the railway culvert. Liam knew it wouldn't last unless the sick stopped coming. Looking out the tunnel he could see them swarming like locusts on the hill above. But it gave them breathing room to plan their next step.

Liam made sure he was close to the captain so he would know before everyone what was going to happen next. He wanted to make sure to give Grandma every chance he could.

One of the gang guys was talking to the captain, as were several “good ol' boys” with their camo-clad hunting outfits.

“Thanks guys. You saved our bacon here, but this can't last. We have to keep running to the south. There are too many of these things.”

It was so loud Liam couldn't hear many of the details they were discussing, but he did catch their intention to push further south down the railroad tracks while several volunteers stayed behind at this rail tunnel to hold off the pack of zombies as long as possible. They would then try to catch up.

Liam was impressed that both the gang members and the hunters volunteered to join the police in making that happen. He assumed their families were also heading south, as it appeared to be the only real route of escape left.

Liam tried to convey what was happening to Grandma, but she yelled back that all the noise was blowing out her hearing aid so she really didn't have a clue what was being said. Her smile told him she was fine. In fact she seemed to be almost calm as he looked at her.

“I'm glad you found Victoria again,” she said with a wry smile.

Oh, that's why.

Liam felt like the weight of the world had fallen off, now that he had something to fight for. He wanted to be 100% ready for anything, so he tried to think ahead.

He grabbed his backpack, dropped it on the rocks, and found his ammo inside. He pulled out the magazine from his pistol and ensured he was fully loaded. Victoria was standing close by so he motioned for her to give her gun to him to reload, which she did. He then pulled out her magazine to double check it. He knew it was full, but even so—

Liam was shocked to realize it was NOT full. He had just given it to Victoria and was right next to her while they pushed from tunnel to tunnel. She hadn't had time to fire it.

When did I fire this gun?

He couldn't remember if he had switched guns somewhere along the way. In fact he didn't remember firing any gun since they left Grandma's house. He tried to think of what might have happened, though the loud banging of the guns around him made it difficult to process data and think.

In the end he attributed it to not properly loading it in the first place. He resolved to be better about checking and rechecking his guns.

He slammed in three rounds, seated the magazine back into the frame, and handed it—with safety on—back to Victoria. He showed her the safety again and had to yell to remind her to toggle it off when she was ready to shoot.

The sound of gunfire was reaching epic levels in the tunnel. He knew the time to move on was at hand. But all the while, men and women were trickling in from above, both rounding out the shooters in the front, and fattening up the civilians in the back.

Liam prepared Grandma.

“We are moving soon!”

3

Liam happened to be looking directly north out the mouth of the tunnel when he saw a massive explosion well inside the park. Not quite on the central staircase, but a little north of it. The resulting shock wave pushed a warm current through the tunnel. Liam had no idea what caused the explosion but the captain seemed sure when he said, “HERE COMES THE AIR FORCE!”

The promised attack by the military was starting. Some of the people cheered, but Liam noticed not many of the police joined in. They undoubtedly remember the radio message both telling them to clear out and to forget about getting across the river to safety. Liam felt an excitement to see so many of the sick get destroyed, but it was tempered by the vibe coming from the police.

The initial bomb must have been a signal to fire freely at the massive gathering of infected. Liam dared to move closer to the exit and watched as the hillside above them began erupting in all manner of explosions. The captain ordered everyone to retreat as far back into the tunnel as they could. The men were still shooting the zombies in the railroad culvert as they continued their inexorable march forward into the hail of bullets.

“I don't know if the Air Force knows we're here, but if they drop one of those big boys in this area, we are going to be in a world of hurt. The shock wave will rip us all apart, even if it doesn't hit us directly. Those smaller explosions are from tanks on the Illinois side. I guess the Army wanted to use their toys too. And why not. We may never have a better chance to have so many plague victims in one spot like this. But I don't want to be collateral damage and you don't either. We have to move out!”

He pointed out the back of the tunnel, which lead to a railroad bridge carrying the tracks over some streets and then south into an industrial area along the Mississippi River. From there Liam guessed they ran along the river practically forever.

The captain organized a spearhead of his men and sent them ahead. He then had all the women and children, along with Grandma and the wounded, head out and follow his men. This time there was no speech. He wanted everyone out of the area pronto.

Another large explosion seemed to be directly under the Arch. Liam realized they were starting up north and probably working their way down south. Surely they knew any survivors would be down here, right? Were others up north?

His father's voice popped in his head, giving one of his “life lessons” on government. “Always keep in mind the only thing you can count on in government is that they make things worse.”

Confidence is low.

Liam loved the military because his dad loved the military. It was one of the incongruities of his father's otherwise total hatred of government. Together they were fond of playing military video games, reading books about military history, and they both celebrated their ancestors who had fought for the United States. However, on this day the military had made it clear they weren't going to let him or his family across the river to find safety from the vile shroud being draped over the city. That soured his opinion of them.

Still, he took pride in what the military was doing up the hill right now. As dad would say, “we paid for those bombs so they might as well be put to good use.”

The volume of sound continued to ebb and flow in the tunnel as he and Victoria pushed the wheelchair southward and out the back. He looked around for Hayes but didn't see him anywhere. He figured he was up in the spearhead moving away as fast as he could. The guy wasn't really his concern anymore and he had no regrets about that.

As Liam and Victoria pushed Grandma out onto the trestle, it gave him an unobstructed view across the river. He was stunned to a halt. Victoria didn't see him stop so she continued pushing the chair for a few paces before she could stop her momentum. The wheelchair stopped canted to the left, allowing Grandma to see the same thing as Liam. He imagined he was watching a movie about a global war. Dozens of aircraft swirled above, like an angry swarm of wasps.

Several huge planes were droning at very low altitude. They each had four propellers and were painted dark grey. Two of them were flying north, one behind the other, while a 'crump crump crump' sound was coming from the guns hanging out their left sides. Liam had read about the Spooky's, and he could see they had large guns pointing out their sides, throwing shell after shell into the horde back under the Arch.

Two similar planes were flying in the other direction just a bit higher. Above the jumbos were several formations of sleek fighter planes Liam couldn't identify. As he watched, a plane would split off and descend toward the Arch grounds and release its payload on the horde.

Every once in awhile a bunch of ugly planes—A10 Warthogs—would swoop in from over on the Illinois side and use their distinctive machine guns in their noses. Liam knew they were tearing the infected people apart by the hundreds every time they went by.

The scene was spectacular to observe. So many planes moving in such symmetry. The coordination required to keep them all from colliding was amazing. And they were all working together to kill the infected; that made Liam very happy despite the danger to his group.

He was about to turn and move when he saw the other side of the river. He could see a formation of M1A2 Abrams tanks at a high point near the riverbank—and was impressed to see them firing in unison over into the Arch grounds too. The smoke from their guns was the only indication they were adding to the destruction, as the explosions in the park were constant and deafening.

Several little coast guard boats were on the water, but they weren't armed as far as Liam could see. He had no doubt armed soldiers were on board however. There was no question they weren't going to be swimming to safety, even if he had a way to get Grandma across the water.

High up in the sky he saw the distinctive shape of several B-2 Stealth bombers moving in lazy circles. He knew nothing good would fall out of those things. That got him moving again.

“Since the zombies can't shoot back they can put all these planes out here for all to see. But nightmares are about to fall out of those dark shapes high up there,” he was finally able to talk at an almost normal level, though he still felt the urge to yell because his ears were ringing so much, “so we have to move fast!”

As he straightened Grandma's chair, he looked to his right—back into the city—and saw a massive new hotel a couple hundred yards away. It sat in the front row of buildings lining the western edge of the Gateway Arch grounds, and it caught his eye because it was circular rather than your typical rectangular skyscraper. He also noticed its base was thick with zombies too. The dead were coming from both the north and the south now, heading toward the survivors and their loud friends in the sky.

They are coming out of the woodwork!

He pushed Grandma with high enthusiasm.

They were several hundred feet further down the trestle when a massive bomb blew up directly over the last little tunnel in the park. Once again the shockwave hit them, warmer and with much more force than before. Liam turned around to see what had been hit.

“Oh crap. I hope everyone got out of there.”

There was too much smoke and debris to see much of anything in that direction. As curious as he was, Liam knew time was critical in getting as far away from the action as he could. How far south would they drop bombs?

He and Victoria did the only sensible thing they could. They ran like their lives depended on it.

Behind them, the nightmares kept falling.

4

The explosions never let up near the Arch, but after several more minutes of walking they could tell the military wasn't walking their barrage further to the south. Though safe was a strong word to use, Liam felt they were at least safe from those big bombs. Their group had become spread out, but all were moving on the tracks in the same direction.

Liam and his friends found themselves on a narrow railroad trestle, well above the street level below. The sick were thinning out the further south they walked, coinciding with the increasingly labyrinthine warehouse district below them.

While he walked, Liam saw—in real life—how the zombie infection was spread.

A pair of zombies had caught up to a man walking with a leg injury. He had a pistol but he unloaded the last few rounds killing the first. Liam paid special attention to how that played out because he was carrying a pistol too. Then the man tried to parry the second, which he was able to do pretty effectively for several minutes, but with his injury he could never get away cleanly.

The man appeared to be looking for some kind of weapon to use, but he was on a wide-open street. Other than paper and other floating debris, there were no weapons to be found.

The man finally ran out of energy. He was so close to a fence—he might have been able to jump it and get away. It looked like he just gave up. Death descended upon him and made short work of its victim. Unlike most zombie movies, it wasn't eating brains or pulling out intestines. Instead, blood was spraying profusely, and the man was screaming terribly as the thing seemed to chomp on his neck. Then, to Liam's shock, the zombie seemed to spend time preening itself, lapping up the fresh blood as best it could.

That was weird.

Liam was several minutes down the trestle when he looked back at the victim. He expected to see him reanimating, but the man still lay where he fell. His blood-soaked attacker had moved on.

A few more minutes of walking the trestle and he was barely able to see the man on the ground because of the surrounding buildings. Liam knew it was his last chance to observe any changes.

He asked Victoria to stop. He watched the dead man for several minutes while Victoria and Grandma were drinking some water. He was about to give up when the man sat up, then stood up, then walked away.

He explained what he'd just witnessed to Victoria and Grandma.

“So they drink the blood of their victims, but don't eat their brains?” Victoria had inadvertently stumbled into Liam's wheelhouse of knowledge about zombie lore.

“It would appear all the books and movies were just fiction, though some of them do seem to eat parts of the victim.” He was thinking about a certain foot sitting in a certain car. “No one had actually seen a zombie until this plague came along in real life. I think it helps people to think of these sick people as something less than human. ‘Zombie’ has become synonymous with brainless—somehow sick—humans. It was only natural they would also eat brains, as a subconscious way of reinforcing what they already lack. That is why I wanted to see what happened in sequence and how long it took. I think these things are more like vampires than zombies. They are clearly drinking blood while spreading the infection.”

Victoria was happy to engage him on the topic. “So they are more like Vombies or Zampires?”

“Hmm, I hadn't thought about it. Vampire-Zombies. VZ's? Like Veee-Zeee. Does that sound good?”

“Sounds kind of like the word for poop.”

“Yeah, let's forget that. VZ could stand for Venezuela. Maybe we call them...zuellas?”

Victoria said it, testing it out. “Zuellas. Yeah, I like it.”

Grandma, what do you think of calling these things zuellas?

“I think you two should have more respect for the dead.”

Properly chided, Liam resumed pushing and Victoria followed his lead. Eventually she added an addendum to their musings on what Liam had witnessed below. “Whatever you call it, you should have tried shooting the one you watched to try to save the man. It was the least you could do.”

“Believe me I would, but my little pop gun couldn't hit a barn at such a long range. My odds of hitting it and hurting it were basically zero. Remember I told you only a direct shot to the head at close range will kill a zombie?”

“Yeah.”

Grandma had an unexpected response.

“Besides, Liam has to protect you, my girl. You each must stay focused on what's important now. Don't get distracted by things you can't change. Know when to help your fellow man, but don't do anything that could endanger each other.”

She was essentially telling him not to be THAT GUY and do something they'd all regret. He knew it was good advice, even if he himself was prone to such regrettable actions. He held his tongue.

Victoria was similarly silent.

“Why are you two looking at me like that? I know I'm just the old lady along for the ride, but I'm also an observant old woman. I see the way you two are looking at each other, worrying about each other. It's OK. I get it, even if you don't.”

Grandma shifted in her chair, as if getting ready for a long speech.

“I've been watching things carefully since Liam and I left my house. Sure I've slept a lot, but I've also seen a lot. I listen more than you know even when my eyes are closed.” After a short chuckle at her own joke she resumed, “but you kids have to be aware of the new reality here. These police officers might be the last law and order you see for a long time. You are both too young to remember Hurricane Katrina back in oh-five. The storm raged through and the levees collapsed, letting water cover the city. I read all about it. The first thing washed away was 911. Looting was rampant. Rapes. Killing. Every manner of lawlessness. Even the police were killing people. Not many mind you, but there are always bad apples. And those criminals were all 100% sure society was still hunky-dory in the rest of the world.”

“What we have today is much worse than Katrina. This sickness is everywhere. Why the military won't let us across is a mystery because I'd bet my last dollar this plague is up in Chicago. If it isn't in East St. Louis it will be soon enough. There is no stopping it. Society is going to break down. It is breaking down. You've just seen it break down.”

“The only thing we can do—you, me, Victoria—is go on surviving day after day. We should try to stick with these good men and women, but that won't last unless we all get well outside the city. There are just too many infected people now.”

“You two have to care for each other. It won't be easy, but it's easier if you can tolerate being around each other. I think you do.”

Liam blushed. Victoria's face was bruised and swollen already, so it was difficult to read her, but Liam noticed a smile breaking through her distorted facial muscles.

“Just promise me one thing. When my time comes, don't either of you risk yourselves for me. Don't ever do that! Please promise me.”

Victoria seemed to acquiesce, but would only say “uh huh.” Liam also tried to remain vague. He would only commit to “I'll try.”

Would he really leave Grandma to such a horrible fate?

He was ready to tell himself he would never, ever leave her. But for the first time, his life or death equation was more complicated. What if he had to choose between Grandma and Victoria? Sure she was a girl he'd just met, but he liked her and liked being around her. He figured that was enough of a foundation for mutual survival, and—? He pictured himself having to choose. It hurt his head even thinking of it.

He resolved that he was going to ensure Victoria and Grandma got out of this together, and if possible, himself. He could not pick one life over another.

Yeah, I can live with that equation.

5

The group came back together when they were about a mile south of the tunnel. The trestle had gently brought them back to street level, but they were a good distance from any pursuit. Human stragglers were still coming down the trestle, but so far it seemed likely none of defenders were able to get out of the tunnel once the bomb went off above it. Repeated radio calls came up empty.

Liam was dismayed to learn the captain wasn't among the survivors. Officer Jones was here, as was CDC “driver” Hayes. Most of the families and children appeared to have made it, but the number of officers was much reduced. There were a few of the gang members still left, as well as a healthy grouping of regular citizens with firearms.

Left leaderless, the group was suddenly faced with competing interests. Many of the families of the lost officers were understandably distraught. The surviving police were sticking with their families.

The yuppie-looking guy with his wife and pre-teen daughter and her spastic border collie spoke up first.

“I live pretty close to here and have seen nothing but destruction since I left the house this morning. We should try to swim across to Illinois. There is no way we can escape the number of sickos we saw back at the Arch. They are going get through the warehouse district, then swarm this direction and eat us. Even if the Army kills every last one of them at the Arch, there is still a whole city of them to the west of us. We can't outrun them all.”

Liam could empathize. He'd thought about swimming many times.

“NO WAY! We should stay in a group and get our people to safety.” The gang member had a colorful dialect, but that was the gist of his statement. Liam noticed a couple young children were attached to him, as well as a woman who might have been his wife.

The big police officer, Jones, stated plainly the captain had intended they keep moving south—until they got clear of the city. He wanted to keep to that course of action. Then they'd figure out what to do from there.

Another guy, one of the hunters, seemed anxious to actually go into the city. If Liam didn't know better he'd say the guy had lost it—he actually wanted to hunt the zombies to help clean them out of the town. No one seemed anxious to link up with him.

The discussion went on, occasionally punctuated by a snap of a rifle. Infected were wandering everywhere now, though not in force. Victoria moved Liam off to the side.

“Well partner, what are you thinking?”

“I'd vote to stay with the largest group going south. It is where we need to go for one thing, and I trust the captain knew what he was talking about when he sent us in this direction. I can't imagine he'd have wanted us to swim to Illinois or head back into the depths of the city.” And then, to let her know he heard her greeting he finished with, “and what do you think partner?”

“I agree with you. Our best bet is to stick with a group and move south. As much as I want to go back to my dorm and grab my Bible and a fresh pair of clothes, there is no way I'm going back into that mess.”

Liam couldn't deny he was secretly happy she had decided to throw her fate in with his, but he also suffered some serious guilt about feeling anything good while the city itself was being consumed by a tenacious disease. He was unsure if that made him a good person for feeling bad or a bad person for having thought it in the first place.

“Sounds like we are on the same page. Let's go see who we're going with. Looks like a decision has been made.”

When they moved back into the main group, it became clear it was splintering apart. The bulk of the group consisted of the core unit of police officers and their families, along with a few of the pickup gang members. They were heading south.

A few men and women threw in with the local who wanted to swim to Illinois. A couple young families were going, but mostly it was single people, many without weapons. They decided they were going to give the river a shot in a couple hours when it turned dark. They said the only hope was to get out of the city as fast as possible, and the water was the quickest way to safety. None of them believed the Coast Guard would actually shoot them.

The last little group was with the crazy hunter. He actually recruited a young family and a second hunter to go with him. They were standing clear of the main group already, gathering their things. The husband was a bit on the heavy side, like exertion was foreign to him. The wife was very attractive and in much better shape. Their two young kids—one girl and one boy—looked to both be about kindergarten age. It seemed fishy they would want to go back into the city.

Liam couldn't help but get involved, even though he hated having to interact with the crazy man.

“Are you sure you guys want to go into the city? My girl-uh my friend here had come out of the city and she said she'd never go back because it is so incredibly dangerous. What are you hoping to do in that direction?”

The crazy hunter had his shotgun over his shoulder with his finger on the trigger, like safety was a dirty word to him.

“Easy. We are gonna to find a nice warehouse full of food to barricade ourselves in. Then live like kings until help arrives.” Liam noticed he looked sideways at the young mother as he said it.

Liam felt the air change and he suddenly knew what was going on with this little cabal.

He is going to kill the husband and take the woman. And the kids?

He'd read about this many times in his books about zombies and plagues, though now that it was happening he almost couldn't believe it. He suddenly lost respect for the young couple—couldn't help himself. Could people really be that stupid? Not see the obvious deception?

“I thought you said you were going to hunt zombies?”

He looked at Liam like it was some kind of personal challenge.

“What's it matter? I changed my mind.” He had a kind of leer to him that exuded ill intent.

Liam just couldn't let it go, though he looked around to ensure some police were still nearby.

“What if no help is ever coming?” and then directly to the young couple with their two young kids, “it would be better to stay with the largest group. Maximize your odds by sticking together. Stay with people who will protect you as long as they can.”

The crazy guy laughed. And laughed. And laughed. Then he started walking. The last thing he said over his shoulder was “Come on Mr. and Mrs.—let's go find that building. He's just a dumb kid. We'll protect you fine folks.”

Liam didn't know what he had said that was so funny, but he noticed the young family had changed their minds. The other hunter seemed OK leaving with the crazy man; he started to follow. The mad hunter did stop when he noticed the family wasn't dropping in behind. Liam watched as he pulled his shotgun off his shoulder and held it at a much more dangerous angle. Liam suddenly realized how exposed he'd become without the larger group around him. He could get shot by an insane guy just because he wanted to be the hero. The hunter looked at him intently for many seconds, but then he just hocked up a loogie and spit in Liam's direction, turned around, and started laughing again as he walked away.

“Better hope our paths don't cross again.” The hunter said it quiet enough to not be heard by the police, but Liam knew exactly what he'd said.

Victoria grabbed his elbow, drawing him back to begin following the main group.

His mind was racing. How many more stupid people were being taken advantage of by opportunists? Did chaos and disorder cloud people's judgment? Were people so far out of their comfort zone now they no longer knew how to function? Even at his young age, Liam knew enough not to pair up with a seedy guy with a powerful gun. Not when the police are in your own flaming group! He realized he was talking about THAT GUY again. Only this time it was THAT FAMILY, and they were trying desperately to get themselves removed from the script.

He felt himself getting angry, so he tried to temper it.

I saved the lives of THAT FAMILY.

Too bad they don't even know it.

He had very little time to celebrate.

The swimmers started walking away, and the main group resumed its trek south. Officers and gang members alike were taking point or covering their rear. He and Victoria each grabbed a handle and pushed the wise old lady between them. Liam saw the metaphor now that he viewed Victoria as his partner. They were all in this together, joined by fate through an elderly woman who until recently he couldn't stand to be around.

A massive industrial rail yard lay just ahead, draped in the long shadows of the afternoon. He hoped safety was waiting for them.

It had already been three days since the sirens.

Chapter 14: Intermodal

Marty was lying on the bridge, near a lone green sports car sitting on the deck with her. As she stood up to gain her bearings she realized she was in San Francisco. The distinctive Golden Gate Bridge was far out over the bay. She was on another large bridge, braced by large metal girders high above, though she had no idea what it was called. It was a bright and sunny day and the crisp blue water was incredibly beautiful. She almost forgot where she really was.

Her husband's avatar was next to her.

“Hello again Marty. You are on the Bay Bridge by the way.”

“You can read my mind?”

“Read? No, I'm in your mind. I'm with you inside your head. I hear your thoughts as you think them in this place.”

“Where are we?”

“That is a very interesting question my dear. San Francisco, California.”

“Al, even I know that. I can see the Golden Gate right there. You know what I meant.”

“I suppose I do. You should ask Liam. He knows this place. You and he are developing a special bond which I'm very happy to encourage.”

Marty searched her feelings. Of course she shared a special bond with her own grandson, though their relationship of the past few days was turning out to be quite different than the previous years of Liam's life all put together. Maybe something was changing.

“This isn't a dream, is it?”

With a gleam in his eye, Al gave her a big smile. “Are you sure?”

“I remember going to sleep in the train yard after the kids wheeled me down the railroad tracks away from that horrible battle at the Arch. Unless I'm mistaken I'm still sitting in my wheelchair, asleep. That means I've got to be sleepwalking or something, right?”

“You are asleep, but not walking. Let's leave it at that for now—we can't afford to get into the weeds. Some things you have to take on faith I'm afraid. While we are together I want to show you this car.”

He walked over to the little green sports car and Marty followed. The car itself was ancient. It wasn't as old as her, but she remembered seeing these back in the 1950's and 60's. It was a coupe with a white vinyl top and open windows, and the insides were covered with bird droppings and nesting materials. The green paint was well faded on the top, though it was still evident on the sides—bird filth notwithstanding. It appeared to have been on the bridge for decades, maybe much longer.

“This could possibly be the most important car you ever see. Do you know why?”

“I can't think of any reason. I've never seen this car.”

“I'm sure you haven't. It's OK you don't understand the connection yet. That it is here tells me you are very close to realizing your full potential in this world. I can't say much more than that or I could upset the delicate balancing act which is leading you down this path. But you should take great comfort at seeing this particular car, in this particular place.”

Marty looked at the car, then at Al.

“You look like Al, and my Lord how I wish you were Al. But you can't be. Who are you, really?”

“You are very smart indeed. No, having conversations with the dearly departed is generally frowned upon by...the system. In this place I can look like anyone you have in your memory, put you in any situation you can imagine, and if I'm really lucky I can guide you on your journey through this troubling time.”

Marty suddenly felt very tired. Even so, she was not content to accept such a deception without pushing back.

“Mr. whoever-you-are, will you please tell me why you've been masquerading as my husband in these dreams?”

“Dearest Martinette, I never intended any harm to you. The closest approximation to my true nature is what you would call an Angel. I serve the Light.”

She looked intently at him.

“You are an Angel of God?”

“I make no claim to understand my creator fully, though like you I hope to see His true face someday. In many ways I'm just as real and fallible as you.”

She crossed herself, knowing she would have to ask the next question.

“I mean no disrespect, but how do I know you aren't lying to me again by saying that? Who you serve.”

Al considered. He stood up.

He snapped his fingers, and standing there in front of her as far as she could see over the bridge were row after row of the infected. An impossible number. Most were missing limbs or had large chunks torn from their bodies. All were ruined in form and substance. Somehow they were standing there, unmoving, all the way to the other shore.

Al called out to them, “I serve the One True God. You shall bow in His name.”

And then...impossibly...they all bent to one knee.

And then...predictably...Martinette fainted and fell back to the ground.

Falling. Falling. Falling.

2

“OH MY GOD!”

Grandma woke up yelling forcefully. It must have been a nightmare or something, because she practically exploded awake, tipping dangerously forward in her wheelchair. Victoria was standing nearby and had the good sense to grab her as she leaned forward. It was a near-run thing. Would Grandma survive falling flat on her face like that? After surviving so much, that would be a horrible way to go.

Liam moved closer, and spoke softly.

“Grandma are you OK? You were having a bad dream.”

“No. Yes.” She looked around and reoriented herself on the rail yard. They'd found it after much walking and just as dusk fell.

“No, I wasn't having a bad dream exactly. Yes, I'm fine now that I know where I am.”

“Sorry. It's just that you made a lot of noise. We are kind of hiding here from...them.” Liam didn't know how to say it any more plainly without making her feel bad. Could anyone control themselves in a dream?

Liam and Victoria were crouched together next to her, listening to see if any zombies had become alerted by her nightmare. In the vast rail yard it didn't seem likely, but Liam took no chances—made no assumptions—anymore.

After several minutes, he breathed out a silent sigh of relief. Nothing seemed to have been attracted to them. They were hidden in the narrow corridor between two lines of train cars. The train yard offered many such hidey holes, and in fact most of the police group was in between the same two trains. Hiding and lying low. Resting after their run down the railroad from the Arch. By virtue of their slow movement with the wheelchair they found themselves at the very back of the line, though the biggest cop—Jones—was also back there with a shotgun. He was the rear guard.

Jones moved back toward Grandma, to check if she was OK after her outburst.

The group was near the end of one of the trains. At that moment a face popped around the last car, looking into the dark corridor between both sets of tracks. Liam could clearly see the black man's eyes—along with his red ball cap. He was a living, breathing, person. Jones was still walking back at the time, so Liam made a motion for him to turn around.

The man paused for a second before walking into the breach between the two lines of cars, with his hands and arms reaching outward to show he was unarmed. Now everyone could clearly see him. He was wearing a white t-shirt, and even in the low moonlight it was apparent he had a lot of blood stains on it. He did have a weapon. he was carrying an ornate gold-plated pistol in the waistband of his jeans.

Was this some kind of gang banger looking to kill them in the equivalent of a dark alley? Liam felt his pocket for his own pistol but made no effort to draw until he saw where this was going. Jones would be far more intimidating.

The man looked over his shoulder, back around the train cars, before turning his attention once again to Liam and his friends. He appeared to be studying the situation, making a decision. Jones stood where he was, but otherwise made no threatening gestures. His shotgun was held casually in the low ready position.

Seemingly satisfied, the man motioned around the cars with his arm again, signaling someone to come to where he was standing.

Liam's hand was now inside his pocket unlatching the safety. If there was more than a couple men he knew he'd probably be outgunned in this narrow space but he was going to help Jones no matter how futile.

Ten seconds later a teenage black girl ran around the corner, toward the group. She was followed quickly by a younger girl holding the hand of a third small girl. Then a couple of very young black boys came around. They were followed by a string of about ten black children of varying ages. A couple of grown women followed the procession. Impossibly another handful of small kids followed them, including one or two small white children. Finally another grown black man rounded the corner, the only difference in attire and appearance with his mate was the crazy amount of gold chains he was wearing. Liam couldn't help but remember a different encounter with a man wearing so many gold chains...

The men followed their charges, and while they looked at Liam and his pals wearing grim smiles as they ran by, they said nothing. Soon they disappeared down the line between the rail cars.

Liam's hand left his pistol as his blood pressure came out of the stratosphere. For several minutes he was sitting with high tension, wondering if anyone else in their group would be surprised by this unlikely mix of people running by, but thankfully no gunshots rang out. Well, not anywhere close. Gunshots were becoming so common as background noise in the distance no one paid much attention. Many shots were coming from on the nearby river—an ominous sign the swimmers were having problems.

It would be safe to say Liam and Victoria were both exhausted beyond words. They settled in next to Grandma, using Liam's backpack as their mutual pillow. Jones hunkered down low several paces toward the back of the line, but made it clear he was awake and on duty for them.

“I'll make sure he stays awake. I've been asleep in my chair most of the past few days.”

“No arguments here.” Looking over at Victoria, she had fallen right asleep.

It wasn't long for Liam to drift off.

He felt the world owed him a nice night of sleep.

3

Thirty seven minutes later, Liam woke up when Jones gave him a manly chuck on the shoulder, and a hand over his mouth. Jones was in his face giving the “quiet” symbol.

He did the same for Victoria.

Then he pointed underneath the last train car of the line next to them and made a motion suggesting they look and see what was on the other side.

In the low light of a partial moon Liam could see lots of undead meandering around an open section of the train yard. They were moving without a unified purpose, but were more or less moving south. It was impossible to know how many were drifting through the disjointed train cars all around them.

Liam privately thought this was some kind of nightmare. How likely was it they would be sitting here in the train yard with fifty other people, hoping everyone could be quiet so as not to alert the insatiable bloodthirsty zombies? He quickly calculated the odds of warning everyone, versus just sitting there doing nothing. A very small part of his brain was also running the numbers on grabbing Grandma and Victoria and fleeing southward down the corridor.

The shambling dead still hadn't noticed anyone. Were they able to see in the dark? Did they have hearing or smell that was better than a live human? No one really knew the capabilities of these creatures—other than their one apparent skill—finding blood.

In the minutes they sat watching, Liam became sleepy; he just couldn't help himself, and his mind was adrift. He absently wondered if they did have any superpowers, like any number of books he'd read on zombies. Some were fast. Some were strong. Some couldn't be killed except by complete decapitation. Some were supernatural spirits.

His mind jolted back to reality.

Zombies aren't real, are they? These are just sick humans, right? In real life the sick are just sick. Maybe this was all a dream?

He couldn't see much detail in the night, but if he didn't know who they were he'd have never been able to pick out a pack of zombies from a similar group of humans just standing around. Rather than the archetypical zombie running around shouting “brains,” these were just housewives, bankers, and students who got sick with a disease that seemed to cause them to wander around aimlessly. But he knew they only looked innocent and docile from afar. They have a plague so bad it keeps killing even after the host is dead. If they knew healthy humans were hiding so close, they'd be swarming to the buffet table.

“All we need to make this scene uber-surreal is the crazy priest who tries to reason with them because he believes they are still the children of God, and then gets eaten, and dies with that look of shocked surprise on his face.” Liam actually looked down the path to see if a Priest was coming. And there he was!

Oh.

He realized he was hallucinating. He had enough sense to know he could put everyone in danger if he let his exhaustion get the better of him, but he didn't know what he could do to stay awake even with the stakes as high as they were.

The sick seemed to float around gently in the cool evening air. The moonlight gave them a ghostly pallor. A dreamy look—

He felt himself nodding off once more.

His head tilted forward.

Victoria was giving him a little shove, telling him to stay awake without using any words.

They smiled at each other, then went back to watching the shadows dancing. Something had to give soon.

Liam jolted awake, but didn't yell. He couldn't believe what he was seeing on the other side of the rail car.

Victoria!

There, not fifteen feet away was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. She was dressed in a sheer pink nightgown, and Liam wasn't embarrassed this time as he drank in her curves. The gown absorbed the light of the moon and made her seem to glow.

Liam felt himself stand up to get a better view, like a peeping Tom at the girl's summer camp.

“Oh Victoria, you look amazing tonight. Why are you dressed like that?”

Victoria didn't respond verbally, but she smiled broadly at him and removed one of the straps of her dress, letting it fall off her shoulder. It revealed just a little more of her... Liam was pleased to see the shimmer of her gown was now drifting in his direction.

Now Liam was panting. He knew it was wrong to behave like an—an animal—but he felt no insecurities and was reveling in it.

And to prove it he shouted, “Victoria I'm yours!”

“What?” Victoria was by his side, shaking him violently.

“Liam, wake up!”

He woke up, unsure what had just happened.

“Oh Liam. Really?” Victoria seemed pretty angry, but she made the “be quiet” sign repeatedly with her finger as if to make this situation go away.

Liam glanced over to where dream-Victoria was previously standing. No Victoria. Instead, to his utter horror was a similarly-shaped blood-drenched teenage girl. It appeared as if someone threw buckets of the stuff on her. She was wearing—

No, that can't be.

—a pink nightgown beneath all the blood. And she was moving in his direction. Lots of “them” on the far side of their train car were heading his way now.

“It's not possible.” Liam said it to himself, but he wanted Victoria at least to hear him say it. “I was dreaming.”Almost at the same time, Liam heard a train horn blowing loudly, not far away. An engine was spinning up. A few moments later, as Liam was trying desperately to decide how they were going to hide from the wandering pack of zombies, a repetitive “bang bang bang” sound got closer and closer to them. When the train car behind them banged, Liam knew what it was. The train was starting to move and the noise came from each car catching and pulling the car behind it. The final “bang” happened seconds later, and the whole train was in motion.

How long would it take for the wanderers to find their way around the end of the train currently concealing them? The moving train—the second row of cars from the perspective of the zombies—was clearly visible for ten or so cars to the rear of the shorter train. That gave them plenty of movement to draw their attention.

There was no question how it would go down. They would wander over to the moving train, then be deflected in the direction it was moving, and finally pushed into the humans standing there with dumb looks on their faces at the impossibility of it all.

Liam shook his head.

That is NOT going to happen.

He looked at the moving train, then formulated his plan.

He immediately hated it, but a good plan now was better than a perfect plan tomorrow. Thank you General Patton!

4

No sense being quiet.

“Jones, we need your help.”

The big man looked around. He didn't have family—what was that story?—with him so didn't have to run up the corridor to tend to his own.

“Sure, what you gonna do kid?”

He moved over to him and shared his plan in a hurried voice. When he had laid it all out Jones made a whistling sound as if impressed.

“Victoria. Help Grandma out of the chair please.”

Liam went and picked up his backpack and put it on his back. He then folded the chair down in several fluid motions—he was getting good at it.

Then they waited.

The moving train was about twenty cars long, with at least one engine pulling it as best Liam could tell from his position. Most of the cars were empty coal tenders—Liam recognized them because he saw coal carriers all the time along the rail line where he lived, which happened to be near a coal-fired power plant. There were also a few liquid-haulers and two flatbed cars, both with tractor-trailers on their backs. One of the flatbeds had already passed. The other was the very last car. That was their target. Grandma couldn't very well run and catch the first one. She wasn't going to be climbing ladders to get up on the coal cars either.

The rest of the group of police and gang members was jumping onto whatever cars were closest. Liam couldn't see the entire group in the black of the night, but he suspected they all had the same idea. He wanted to make sure.

“EVERYONE JUMP THE TRAIN!”

The zombies were rounding the corner and knew people were in the darkness. Liam saw the flatbed car was arriving at just the right moment. The train was still moving slowly, like it was taking its time feeling through the gloom ahead. Liam began to wonder if it would be too slow, and whether those dead people might also climb on board. That would ruin everything.

Grandma was being supported by Victoria while Liam grabbed the big wheelchair. He'd been handling it for a couple days now and he knew it had some heft to it, but he was surprised to find he could barely lift it. As Jones let loose with the first shell, he tried to heft the thing up onto the passing flatcar.

He did manage to get it into the air, but it was a horribly placed toss that careened off the side of the car, then fell into the rocks next to the tracks. He made a judgment based on the weight of the wheelchair and the speed of the train and decided to let it go. Instead, he jumped onto the small ladder near the front of the flatcar, and climbed up.

Liam watched as several zombies were closing in on Jones. He had already shot three or four times and knocked down the infected with each shot, but there were too many. Liam needed Jones more than anyone right now.

He looked at Victoria and Grandma and told them to walk with the train as fast as they could. They immediately began moving, not wanting to be any closer to the arriving plague than necessary.

Liam ran to the back of the flatcar, which was also the back of the train. Jones was backpedaling as fast as he could, firing a couple more shots, and then reaching into his pants pocket to grab more shells.

Liam decided to get out his own gun and see if he could help. He threw off the safety and kept the gun in a low ready position while he looked for easy targets. He knew he could hit just about any of the zombies in his immediate vicinity, but to be effective with the little gun he needed a clean shot to the head. That took a little more planning.

“Jones you have to run, Grandma is walking up the line!”

Jones was in the middle of a reload when one walker got too close to ignore. The big man took the butt of the shotgun and in one smooth motion used it to bash in the face of the infected woman.

He seemed pleased he was able to so easily dispatch her, but the arrival of a half a dozen others tempered his celebratory spirit. He finished putting in a last shell, racked it, but then used the sling to throw it over his shoulder, and started running back up the line.

Liam was left alone for the moment on the tail of the train. He could have easily started shooting, but held off. Instead, he started screaming at them.

“I'm right here you stupid somnambulistic sum' bee-otches! Come and get me!”

I read too much dark fiction.

He started to scream and whistle and make as much noise as he could. It had the intended effect. Most of the pursuit moved in his direction, rather than try to follow Jones up between the trains.

Soon he was a pied piper with fifteen or twenty infected in the wake of the train. He was able to turn around and watch the front of the flatcar.

He saw Victoria and Jones swap positions so he could help Grandma along. Victoria then climbed up the moving ladder. She went to sit down on the edge of the car, facing Jones. The big man picked up Grandma between both arms and fast-walked a few paces ahead of Victoria. He planted his feet and started swinging her backward, then forward, backward again, and then he swung her forward with enough force he was able to gingerly toss her up onto the car, right into Victoria's lap and a companion bear hug. She then rolled backward just enough to ensure Grandma wouldn't fall back off. She was safe. She even giggled at the spectacle of the whole thing.

Jones ran ahead again and jumped up on the ladder himself, easily gaining the flat surface. From there he was able to help a few stragglers who were unable to mount the coal car ahead of them. Several times he just leaned over and grabbed their arms and pulled them up.

As they solidified their position on the back of the train, they rolled by the body of one of the police officers who was injured earlier in the day. As far as Liam could tell, he was the only person from their group who didn't survive this hasty exit.

Looking back, he had a wave of inexplicable sadness for the sick people behind them. Each of them were normal, healthy humans only a few days ago. Each had a family and many stories to tell about who they were and what they wanted out of life. This disease, plague, whatever it was called, had brought ruin to them and made it necessary for good people to engage in horrific acts of violence. He felt sorry to be a part of that violence, sorry they were dead, but if he was true to himself he was also very glad to have the tools and the friends to stay alive in this dark time.

He looked at his sports watch. The glow function allowed him to see the time was 4:15am.

We survived for one more night.

Or do I have to see sunrise for it to count?

Chapter 15: Slow Grind

They had only just cracked the surface of the yard when they arrived from the north. Now, sitting on the train rolling through the yard, he was able to get a sense of how big the place really was. He estimated there were hundreds of cars sitting on dozens of rail lines, in a confusing jumble of single cars, strings of cars, and scattered engines.

Many of the stationary train cars had frightened people hiding in them. As Liam's train moved by, the hidden people would spring out and try to jump on to the one train that appeared to be going somewhere. It was still moving slow enough that the jump wasn't excessively dangerous, but with zombies in the wake of the train you didn't want to blow your chances. Most people made it on, though a few people tried and failed on cars ahead of them and thus ended up on the final car with Liam. One man—possibly a little tipsy from drugs or alcohol—blew his chance on every ladder he encountered, and was only saved because Jones pulled him up at the very end of the last car while arms from the dark reached for him.

By the time they'd left the bulk of the yard, they had perhaps twenty new people with them.

Grandma was sitting with her back against a tire of one of the tractor-trailers parked on the bed surface. Victoria was sitting with her.

“You two look comfortable,” and then remembering his recent flub throw of the chair he said, “I'm sorry I lost your chair. It was a lot heavier than I thought it would be.”

“I'm just thankful you thought to get me up here with Jones' help. I'll do alright without my chair. Don't spend time worrying on me.”

Victoria was smiling at Liam, as best she could given the state of her facial injuries.

“Why are you so happy?”

“Well it isn't because of what you screamed back there.” But Liam thought he saw a hint of a smile on her face. Even if he imagined it, he felt better thinking it. “No, you got us out of another tough spot. By my count that makes ohhh, about 100 times you've saved my life in the past two days. Thank you.”

“Well I got us into the mess, so I had to get us out too.”

He tried to laugh it all off, but was ready to move on.

Victoria apparently wanted to move on as well. “So where do you think we're going?”

“There are tracks down this bank of the Mississippi River all the way through the suburbs of St. Louis. I think we can ride this out of the city. I think they even go close to my house. Wouldn't that make things simple?”

“But we aren't moving very fast.”

“True. It beats walking though!”

Liam looked toward the front of the train and noticed a couple disturbing things. First, something up there was throwing sparks in all directions on the train tracks. Second, whatever was causing those sparks was also causing a horrific grinding and screeching sound. Taken together, it appeared the train was pushing a rolling lightning and thunder show.

That should be wonderful at drawing zombies to us.

Still, they were moving. They were safe for the moment. Liam cautiously imagined things were finally looking up for them.

He moved over to Jones.

“Thank you for drawing those zombies off me. That was some quick thinking.”

“Call it even for your help getting my Grandma to safety. Where do you think this train will take us?”

“Dunno. I live and patrol north of here, so I'm not familiar with the part of town we're in now, or where we might go. I've always heard it was a safer beat down here south of St. Louis, but looking at it now, I'm not so sure.”

Liam didn't know the big man well enough to judge if he was joshing him.

“I do wish we could communicate with the engineer. We could just ask.”

That seemed to jog his memory because he pulled out his radio and made a call.

“Jones here. Anyone have any idea where this engine is pulling us? Over.”

They waited for a few minutes and only heard one curt response of “No idea.”

“Not very talkative tonight.”

“No, we got beat up pretty bad. Losing the captain like that. Losing all the others. Rough day.”

Liam had nothing to add.

He took a seat well away from the car's edge and watched the world go by. In the dark it was difficult to see landmarks or guess where they were, but they were moving so slow he had no illusions they had gone very far. In fact, they were going so slow many of the zombies were following behind them now, or coming out of the darkness from the city-side of the tracks. Those would often try to grab for the train only to find themselves bounced along until the train went by. A few found themselves falling between the train cars, and a couple were even halved when they were run over.

But always more came.

Liam could see the faintest hint of the approaching dawn, but it could also be his mind playing tricks on him; he wanted the night to end so badly. The train ride was nice, but being surrounded by moaning terrors was enough to drive a person mad. Not knowing where he was going was similarly stressful. He imagined it was safer to the south, but what did he really know? Maybe it was way worse.

For a few more minutes Liam was lost in thought, wondering how much longer he could stay awake under such conditions. He felt himself nodding and wasn't going to fight it. He vaguely wondered if he'd have another vision of Victoria, but he quickly shut that out. The adrenaline of the jump up to the train had all but worn off.

Then the train suddenly lurched to a complete stop. The adrenaline was coming back. It started to overflow as the train reversed—into the horde emerging from the blackness behind the train.

It's just not fair.

2

Liam was awake now.

The rear car was backing into the main mass of zombies, though not fast enough to do any real damage. A few might have been pushed down and gotten caught under the car, but most bounced harmlessly to one side or the other. They weren't tall enough to grab anyone up on the flat car—the men and women all moved to the middle, underneath the two trailers.

The backward movement didn't go on for too long. Soon the train actually stopped. Then the shooting started.

It was coming from the front section of the train. From their position under the trailers and behind the taller freight cars they couldn't see much of anything up there. They did see flashes of light off the glass of industrial buildings in the area so they knew trouble was coming from the area of the engine.

Many of the undead started heading for the commotion, although the bulk of those surrounding the last car remained at their post. Food was right there.

Jones' radio crackled.

“The train started up a siding, so the engineer had to back up so we can change the track switch by hand. We are also pushing and pulling another engine with its brakes locked. We need time up here. Out.”

Zombies had been stacking up behind the train, and the noise had been attracting the infected who were already near the tracks in this part of town. There were plenty to keep everyone who had a gun quite busy.

Jones looked at Liam, then at the rest of the people on the last car.

“Everyone with a gun start shooting at these guys. Especially the ones moving forward toward the engine!”

He looked at Liam and said he only had a few more rounds for his shotgun, so he was going to save those. He pulled out his service pistol, a Glock 22, and checked the mag. There was no safety on that model, so he got right to it.

Liam got out his Mark I, threw off the safety, and then took careful aim of the nearest target.

Bang!

He hit it right in the center of the side of the zombie's head. It dropped right down.

Yippee Kai Yay! You're dead!

Victoria was soon at his side with her gun. Together they took aim at the next nearest pair of zombies and shot.

“Yes!” Liam was quite proud of his shooting. It had been a while since he'd last been at the range to practice, but the little pistol was very stable and easy to shoot.

Victoria's didn't go off as planned—she had forgotten the safety. She quickly disengaged it and got in on the second shot with Liam.

They both missed.

From there they both began to fire at will. Always at the closest zombies who were moving forward. To do this they had to avoid shooting some of the others who were still hounding them at the side of the rail car. It was a bit disconcerting to leave them alive.

Why not kill them?

He took aim at one of the zombies standing in the front row and put a bullet through his eye. Then he did that for four others in quick succession. Then he reloaded.

Victoria was hitting some, but missing many of those moving around.

She was soon out and had to reload too.

Liam got his box of 1000 rounds out of the backpack, and together they huddled over it.

Liam was done first and banged out all nine rounds on the zombies level with him as he sat on the deck of the car. He was nearly finished when Victoria got busy with her next nine rounds. She was again aiming for those who were walking.

Liam reloaded.

Nine hammers slammed.

Liam reloaded.

Nine hammers slammed.

It was the first time he got to use his gun the entire trip. He found himself in some kind of a bloodlust. He was mad as hell at the zombies for ruining—everything. He couldn't even enjoy a proper time with this girl because they had sullied that too.

A couple of the other men with guns had taken the massive bloodletting as an invitation to shoot any of the bloody targets they wanted. They aimed at the easy pickins' right in front of them too, which added to the pile of undead below. Several zombies were struggling onto the pile and could almost shimmy their way onto the deck.

Liam was reloading for the fourth time when Jones came over to him.

“Hey Liam. What the hell are you doing?” He was pointing to the dead standing right up against the side.

“I'm killing zombies. Why?”

“Well for one you are supposed to be aiming at the walking ones like your girlfriend here. But also you are making a pile of dead below this side of the car. These guys are almost up to the deck as they stand on their dead friends.”

I made a pile of them?

He snapped out of it.

“Hey, we have to stop firing at the close ones!” Liam tried to order his fellow shooters to halt what they were doing, but it didn't stop the two men right away. The noise was intense. When they paused to reload Liam was able to point out what they had done.

“—and we can't shoot them if they are close to getting up, because that would only make it easier for the next ones.”

Liam was pissed at himself for not doing things the right way, but he was also inwardly proud he was able to dispatch so many of them. He had to admit it felt good to deliver some payback.

Victoria and Jones went back to work on the forward-moving zombies. There were too many for them to effectively shoot them all, but they still tried.

Liam was left to tend to the growing problem he had created.

One of the zombies had made it partially onto the deck by grabbing one of the chains holding the tractor-trailer. Another then used his friend as a crude stepping stone.

He was just starting to right himself to stand up when Liam shot him in the head. He rolled back off the train car, back onto the pile.

If I can't shoot them what can I do? Yell at them?

The zombie holding the chain seemed—somehow—to know he was providing a service to his fellows. Either by design or by accident the dead man shifted while holding the chain but couldn't haul himself up completely. That left him half up and half down—the perfect means for others to shimmy up using him as a piece of climbing gear.

Liam shot the chain-holder in the face. He rolled back down, but not very far.

The sound of gunshots were loud in his ears. He noticed one of the men previously shooting the front row was doing it again. Liam looked at him—and was distraught to see the man's eyes had a glint in them. Was it suicidal? Was he purposefully making the pile larger?

“Hey! Stop shooting those standing by the car!”

The man did not stop until he was out of ammo again. He racked his shotgun and saw it was empty.

Liam walked in front of him as he reloaded.

“Hey, you can't shoot these close ones. You're making a pile of bodies the others can use to get up here.”

“I don't care. We have to kill them all!”

He pushed Liam out of the way and took a step forward. Liam nearly lost his balance, but regained it quickly and moved safely from the edge.

He could have easily pushed me to my death just now.

Liam flopped on the ground under the trailer to take stock of himself. He could feel the panic rising—

Two seconds is all it would have taken. Dead.

—but with great effort was able to keep it in check. As he took deep breaths he watched the nutter who almost killed him.

The man had moved forward to line up more shots, but did not expect a zombie to be high enough to grab his legs with both hands. Once he had hold, he pulled himself up a little and took a bite of bare calf.

The loud, regular banging sound began at the front of the train again, and was making its way to the back. The commotion and gunfire was so loud Liam doubted anyone else heard it, but he was listening for it so they could move and get out of here. He steadied himself as he sat, still watching the action.

The man became frantic with fear, shooting wildly with his gun—hitting the one that bit him but not much else—and then he lost his balance just as the banging sound reached the last car. The train was moving.

The sudden jerk was too much. The doomed man tipped sideways, and fell directly on top of the unbalanced pile of infected still working their way up. The whole stack crumpled as the flatcar started rolling. The man was lost somewhere in that scrum. He screamed for many minutes after the train had moved well up the tracks.

Each scream reminded Liam it could have been him. Lose yourself for even a second and it could get people killed. Just that fast.

I won't forget that lesson sir.

3

As the train moved along again, the zombies dropped back into the night. Marty remained at her station, perched near the wheel of the trailer—leaning back to get as comfortable as the situation would allow.

She saw everything that happened with Liam and the pile up of dead, and she saw what happened to the poor man who fell over the side. She grasped her Rosary—currently it was around her neck for safekeeping—and said a prayer for the man. His screams had been heartbreaking as they pulled away.

Liam had gone to the back of the train and sat down away from everyone else. Marty suspected he needed some time to digest what had just happened.

Victoria used the opportunity to reload her gun and then sit down next to her.

“I really thought we were goners there. I can't believe how fast those zombies were up and onto the decking.”

“No my dear. I think that surprised us all.”

“I saw Liam go to the back. Do you think he's OK?”

Marty chewed on that question for a full minute. How well was Liam taking the end of the world? She had always seen him as a bright boy, but somewhat socially awkward. Perhaps not unusual for a boy his age, and certainly reminiscent of his dad—her grandson. He was also a shy young man, who only blossomed after some time in college. Maybe her progeny needed to get a broader perspective on life before they began to understand their own role in it? Or maybe it just took the right woman.

She gave Victoria an approving look.

“Liam will be fine. He just has a lot to process. We all do. There are so many things changing even as we watch them. I think his biggest problem is that he feels responsible for me. Not that I blame him, I'm just a frail old lady after all—”

Victoria tried to interrupt and beg her off that line of thinking, but Marty was having none of it.

“No, no, it's OK. I can be honest about myself. He feels like he has to take care of me now that his father isn't around and my nurse was taken by this plague. It's natural that a young man with his character would feel that way.”

Victoria nodded her assent, but Marty continued before she could say anything.

“I want to share something with you. Woman to woman.”

“Liam is the type of young man that would do anything to save someone he loves. Oh he may not understand the true nature of love, and he may not be able to distinguish between real love and infatuation as well as an older man, but you've surely seen flashes of his selflessness already. I'm asking you to ensure Liam doesn't do anything TOO heroic if it looks like I'm not going to make it. Again, I'm honest with myself—I don't have that long left no matter how this whole affair plays out. He does. You do.”

Victoria sat speechless.

“Liam thinks I'm pretty helpless these days, and I guess I can only blame myself. I've come to rely heavily on my nurse for many things I once could do on my own. Maybe I let her do more than I should, merely because I've gotten lazy in my recent years.”

She seemed to dwell on that for a bit, leaving Victoria hanging.

“But I'm going to tell you a little secret that I haven't told anyone.”

Victoria leaned in to hear the revelation. Marty wore a conspiratorial smile on her face, as if she were really enjoying the moment.

“The other day Liam was getting beat up by a bad man trying to rob us. Liam and his impatience to save me led him to a bad decision. The man pulled Liam out of our car and was getting ready to really hurt him. Kill him in fact.”

“I remember him mentioning that.”

“Well I didn't tell Liam what really happened. I used his other gun—the one you have now—to shoot that man. I fired three times. The robber never knew what hit him. It was the first time I ever murdered someone—” She knew that wasn't an accurate statement. She smacked her lips as she thought of the right phrase. It wasn't murder to kill in self-defense. “It was the first time I killed someone with a gun. It was very disturbing to take a life.”

Forgive me Lord. I was happy to save Liam, not happy to kill that man.

Victoria let out a quiet whistle; she was impressed.

“I don't have much strength left in me, but Liam's dad fixed those guns so even a weakling like me could fire them. I just set the barrel on the frame of the car door, aimed, and let 'er rip. It wasn't really hard at all.”

“The hardest part was that I had no strength to get out and tend to Liam. I let him lay there on the ground. Out cold. Time went by and I couldn't hold the gun anymore so I put it back in the backpack, and promptly fell asleep. I have no idea how long we were both out.”

“He came to at some point. Climbed back in. And away we went. Liam was none the wiser about what had happened.”

“Why didn't you tell him you killed that man? Wouldn't he be really proud of you?”

“I go back and forth. I guess I feel at this point I'm old enough I don't want him to get ideas about doing crazy things to save me because he sees me as some heroic granny.”

“Well you are pretty heroic!”

“This,” she swept her arms to signify she was talking about the world at large, “isn't about heroics. It's about carefully thinking how to survive. Nothing is going to be easy ever again. Security. Food. Shelter. You can't just run around the world shooting guns and being heroic. Eventually it’s going to catch you. They,” she pointed off into the distance behind the train, “will catch you.”

She waiting a long time again before sharing her last piece of advice. “I didn't tell him I shot that man because Liam won't survive this world if he thinks there will always be someone there to take care of him.” She said it in a most serious tone, but ended on a lighter note, “Even if there is.” She turned and gave Victoria her trademark wink.

As the train clanged along the tracks, the sun was starting to make its presence known, though it was still below the horizon. They were able to see the factories and industrial barge facilities they were passing as they rode the rails down the west bank of the Mississippi River. Graffiti was also popular in this section of town.

The could both see Liam sitting at the very back of the platform, looking behind them.

Marty had one final thought to share with her young friend.

“I hope this isn't too forward to say, but I'm old and don't have time for subtlety anymore.” She chuckled at that.

“Liam is quite taken with you. I guess you could figure that out after what he yelled back in that train depot. You are very pretty of course, and you have a good heart. I have my own reasons for liking you.” Here she paused. “Any boy his age would find you quite the catch. Normally I wouldn't even think of saying this, but times are not normal by any stretch of the imagination.”

“Amen.”

“I truly hope you and Liam become good friends and that you'll be in his life a long time. But while I'm still around, please know that if Liam is ever forced to make a choice between saving you or saving me, I'm going to make sure he picks you. Do you understand what I'm saying my dear?”

Victoria nodded, then added, “Thank you. Truly. We have been through so much already, though romance just isn't really on my mind right now. Maybe if we get somewhere safe where I can think about more than zombies, looters, or the plague we can talk about a future. We just have to make sure Liam never gets put into that position where he has to choose. I want us all to survive and be happy.”

“So do I dear. So do I.”

But Marty had laid it down. And now that she had, she couldn't help but wonder if she had the strength to make good on the implications of her statement. She always came back to suicide. Her religion forbade killing oneself; it was considered a major sin. But if the choice came down to saving herself or saving Liam and Victoria by sacrificing herself, she believed God would understand her motives.

Dear Lord. Please help Liam and Victoria survive this plague.

The train clanged on.

Sunrise on day four was minutes away.

Chapter 16: The Tenth Circle

Liam was still staring off the back of the train when he felt it decelerate. The light of the morning was still growing as the sun nearly peeked on the horizon. He was hoping to see the sunrise riding the train to safety, but it didn't look like that was going to happen.

The train had been moving at ten or fifteen miles per hour, still pushing the dead engine in front at a virtual crawl, but thankfully much too fast for the zombies to easily keep up. He could see them here or there come stumbling out of the buildings on his left. They tried to reach the train but they fell behind, screaming that they missed the rolling stock of humans rumbling by.

I wonder if they will follow us even if they can't see us?

Another mystery of the Zombie Apocalypse.

He stood up and moved around the tractor-trailer so he could see where the train was stopping. To his surprise it was slowing down as it approached the Jefferson Barracks Bridge, which carried a major interstate across the Mississippi River. It was also the most southern bridge in the St. Louis area. The last bridge over the river for many miles, at least as far as Liam could recall. There were no cars crossing it now, though it was very clear to him soldiers were sitting on the span; many were looking over the side at the approaching train. Not too far above the bridge were two small, thin aircraft—Liam thought they were drones—flying in tight circles above.

He walked over to Victoria and Grandma, both still sitting near the wheels of the front trailer.

Liam couldn't help himself. The early morning ambient light put Victoria in a soft glow that was almost magical. Sure she was pretty in any light, but right now she was covered in lots of dust and soot from being around the railroad tracks since yesterday and she still made Liam's heart re-adjust inside his chest. The light even took the harsh swelling of her lip and cheek and evened them out.

He wondered to himself if she liked him, or tolerated him because she had no better prospects in this catastrophe. The insecure side of his heart said she wouldn't have given him the time of day in any other situation, but the pragmatist in him said she has had plenty of opportunities to ditch him and Grandma and traipse off with people and groups more prepared than him.

On balance he accepted that she probably stuck with him because she liked him, at least as a friend. A “fall-of-civilization friend.” He hadn't had time to really contemplate more with her, though he knew he'd never turn her down if she wanted to kiss him, however briefly.

They had made a good team so far, and there was no reason to doubt she was going to stick with him for as long as it took to reach a safe destination—assuming one could ever be found. Naturally that led him to think about what he would do if they never found a respite. What if they had to be together for much longer?

Alright Liam. Stay focused on the here and now.

He finished his thought by agreeing with himself that indeed, she really was pretty.

“You two look like you're conspiring.”

The two had been conversing in low tones, but he was unable to glean any sense of what they were saying. They clammed up before he was close enough.

“Hey Liam. Grandma and I were just talking about when you were a little baby. How you'd wear your diapers. That sort of thing.” She gave Grandma a smile and then turned and gave Liam a smile and a wink.

Liam was near to feigning embarrassment when he saw her face had become black and blue in many spots. She had two black eyes to go with her cheek and swollen lips.

He still thought she was beautiful, but he was serious when he knelt down to look at her face.

“My god, your face. Are you doing OK?”

“Thanks. Yeah, I'm fine. It still hurts a bunch, but I have both my eyes and my face will return to normal soon enough.”

Liam had a dark vision of that man punching this girl's face and he suddenly felt a wave of violent feelings. He wasn't sure what he was feeling when he realized that man was dead.

“I don't have any serious meds to help you. Just some Ibuprofen. Can't hurt right?”

He was already in his backpack, pulling out three or four rust-colored caplets. He passed them to her as she switched to the task at hand.

“Do you know why they're stopping the train?”

“I think the Army is stopping us. I can see them up on this bridge.”

Victoria looked at Grandma and made sure she was comfortable, and then stood next to Liam so she could see them too. She gave him a chuck on the shoulder and then said, “Let's go check it out.”

There were no undead in the immediate area. This piece of railroad was mostly empty riverbank on one side, and a steep escarpment covered in trees on the other. Liam knew by the location of the bridge the area up the hill was the massive Jefferson Barracks National cemetery. As a fan of zombie books and movies, he noted the irony that the one place you don't find them in real life is the cemetery. Zombies don't rise from the dead, nor do they find living people hanging out there. Maybe that is where they should hide? He saved that idea for later.

There were a few walkers well behind the train, but otherwise it looked pretty safe to step off. A few men and women ran back to provide security for the stopped train.

Victoria climbed off first, with Liam close behind.

Jones called down to the pair to ask where they were going, but once they told him he laughed. “I'll stay back here. Someone has to keep your Grandma from running off!”

Grandma could be heard chuckling and saying something to the big man, though they were too far away to hear the soft-spoken woman.

As they started walking, they saw many people up the line of train cars had the same idea. Many were taking the opportunity to stretch their legs and get out of the cramped cars. The empty coal cars were a popular model to escape. People tried to find better options with more room.

Liam and Victoria were only tangentially aware of that drama. They were trying to get a better feeling for the cause of the stoppage and what the Army might want with a train full of refugees.

Because they were looking forward, they noticed one man drift further outside the orbit of the crowd, and then continue on into the woods. He was apparently going to ascend the escarpment to gain access to the bridge above them.

“Was that your friend Hayes?”

“Let's go find out.”

They walked up to the front of the train, where the passengers were thickest—most of the coal cars were toward the front. Then they noticed a small trail leading to the hillside, and they plunged in. Whoever was going up this hill would be easy to follow on such an obvious pathway. They could even see him well up the path, very near the top.

“That is definitely Hayes.” Liam was sure of it now that he could see the man's clothing. The same suit pants and shirt. He couldn't see it from this direction, but he could visualize his ugly tie.

“Do you think he stopped the train?”

“I don't know, but we need to find out. Maybe he knows how we can get out of the city.”

Victoria echoed his own thoughts as she plowed up the trail ahead of him.

“Truck driver my butt.”

2

As they reached the top of the hillside, level with the decking of the bridge, they moved cautiously so as not to be seen. Liam didn't think Hayes ever turned around to see if anyone was following, but they couldn't make any assumptions.

Hayes had walked about 100 yards onto the northern span of the bridge. This put him about a quarter of the way over the river, and well beyond the ability of Liam and Victoria to hear what he was saying. The span itself was completely empty, so there was no possible way to avoid detection if they tried to pursue him.

“Should we try to get closer? I don't see how we could.”

Liam was also looking at the situation and didn't see any options available to them. He then took in the whole scene, which he hadn't noticed when trying to catch up to Hayes.

They were crouched at the very end of the decking, partially behind the concrete side railing. To their right, a massive barricade was set up with tractor-trailers, concrete road barricades, orange construction barrels, and some shipping containers tossed off to the sides of each lane and median to prevent cars from having any approach to the bridge. Liam couldn't see anything just on the other side of the barricades, but he could see cars were parked on the highway in front of the blockade as far as they could see.

“Odd that there aren't people swarming this bridge. You think the military is shooting people over here?”

Victoria looked around before replying. “Maybe the zombies swarmed through here and chased them all off?”

Liam didn't like either answer. If the people were run off because of the zombies, where'd they go?

One problem at a time.

They both turned their attention back to the man they were following.

Hayes was in front of a line of Army humvees, though even from here Liam could see they were not letting him get very close. A lone person had come out to meet him, and he or she was wearing a yellow biohazard suit.

“It doesn't look like they want to get close to him. Does that mean they think he has the plague? He didn't look sick.”

“If he has it, we all have it. He's been with us for two whole days now.”

Victoria's answer troubled Liam in a myriad of ways. The most tragic was the thought of his friend having the plague. Someone so vibrant and young should never have to suffer from this disease. He thought back to his very first encounter with the Yoga lady. She also typified the young and the vibrant, and it still took her. That event horrified him, but would pale immediately if Victoria got it. Could he kill his new friend?

He wasn't willing to even entertain the notion right now.

He consoled himself by noting he barely felt anything at the thought he himself could have it. Was it selflessness?

They watched as Hayes was discussing something with the roadblock representative. He was very animated in his gestures, and paced back and forth while he spoke. They could hear fragments of what he was saying, even at this distance, because he was often yelling in anger at his opposite.

Liam couldn't make out anything useful.

After about five minutes, Hayes got really agitated.

In the midst of his ranting and gesticulations, he moved around the person with the hazmat suit and made as if he was going to walk up to the roadblock. Immediately the soldiers leveled their rifles at him. He was maybe ten yards from the soldiers, and over 100 yards from Liam and Victoria—and Liam could clearly hear the rounds being loaded into the chambers of several weapons. He could also hear one of the soldiers—a leader of some kind—yelling “STAND DOWN SIR OR WE WILL KILL YOU.”

Victoria did her little whistle, followed by, “I guess they think he's a serious threat.”

“Yeah, if they won't let him over they'll never allow the rest of us over.”

For a few tense moments Liam didn't know if Hayes was going to back down. Any normal person would immediately back off, but Hayes seemed to stand there for a very long time thinking about it. Enough time that Liam could voice the question: “Is he trying to kill himself?”

He started to slowly back away.

Victoria had been leaning forward when it happened, as if willing herself to see and hear what was taking place so far away, but now she leaned back. Liam also let out a little extra breath he had been holding. The action seemed to have died down. Hayes was now talking again to the person in the hazmat get up, though if Liam had to assign a look to his posture from 100 yards away it would be crestfallen. Hayes was getting bad news.

They chatted for a few more minutes until Hayes started walking away, back toward the end of the bridge where Liam and Victoria were crouched.

“Do we stay here or try to get back to the train?”

Liam considered her question.

Is everything we do life or death now?

He looked at Hayes walking back, head down and moving briskly. Then he looked at the soldiers at the roadblock. They still hadn't moved from their menacing positions. Liam surveyed the train down below the bridge and judged whether they could make it back without being seen.

“I don't think we can avoid him at this point. We might as well force his hand and see what he'll tell us.”

“Sounds good Liam. But let's meet up with him over on the hill, so the train passengers can see us. We don't want to meet him totally alone.”

“Very good thought!”

The pair moved away from the end of the bridge, and sat out in the open so Hayes would not be surprised. Liam felt the best approach was to be friendly, even if he didn't really feel friendly toward this man who was clearly lying to them about who he was and what he knew.

He was hoping to change that.

It wasn't long before Hayes came around the corner.

He wasn't surprised. At. All.

“You dumb kids almost got me killed.”

Uh oh.

Neither Liam nor Victoria had any response.

“Ah, cat got your tongues?”

He came over and got directly in front of Liam, though he was looking back and forth at both of them as he spoke.

“I knew you guys had followed me but I thought you'd have better sense than to be seen by the Army guys up on the bridge. Especially you,” he was pointing to Victoria, “since you seem to have the brains in this outfit.”

“You guys might have not have realized this, but while you were out on your nature walk you were under the watchful eye of snipers. They probably even had a drone watching you from up above. These boys are deadly serious about not letting anyone, and I mean anyone, cross this river.”

Liam gained his voice first.

“Is that why they threatened to shoot you?”

Hayes looked at Liam, and then seemed to rethink his whole approach. He sighed heavily and then sat down next to them in the rocks, with the train below partially obscured by the trees on the hillside.

“I can't help but respect you kids. You've done a better job than most in staying alive. That is really the only benchmark that matters anymore. Believe me I know.”

“But you have to realize this is much bigger than you are. I'm not the enemy here. These Army boys are under orders—very stupid orders if you ask me—but orders nonetheless. You can't just go sneaking around under the watchful eye of those people like this is some kind of high school outing. They will shoot you, shoot me, shoot your Grandma, shoot the smallest babe on that train—just on the off chance they can stop the disease from crossing this river.”

“First of all, I'm not in high school anymore. I doubt Liam will ever go back either. Second of all, with all the zombies walking around and all the infected people, there is no way to prevent the disease from crossing a simple river. Even a couple of dumb kids know that.”

“You're absolutely right. You share the opinion of most of us at the CDC. But you do not share the opinion of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, and with the President off doing god-knows-what, the military is pretty much in charge of managing the pieces of the nation that are still answering their phones.”

“But we saw the military killing zombies downtown. They were helping us escape.”

“Well son, it may be true they were killing zombies. That's their job after all. But I was there. Did you see any evidence they were helping us escape?”

Liam thought back to the battle. Except for a few volunteers from the Army and Marines, there were no troops on the St. Louis side of the river during the battle. Only the rebel Abrams tank seemed to help them directly, and that was only for a few minutes. Then the Air Force came in and started the shock and awe. The bombs did drop to the north at first, but later they dropped them further south, including right on top of Captain Osborne. But maybe that was just a mistake in the chaos of war.

“So it was just a coincidence the bombs, artillery and tank fire helped us escape?”

“You always like to argue don't you? Why do you think I was running so close to the lead guys trying to get out of there?”

Because you are a coward.

“Those bombs would have killed us just as sure as the sun rises. We are all collateral now to the primary mission—which is to prevent the spread of the plague.”

Liam reflected on that while Hayes stood back up and brushed himself off.

“Right now our only avenue of escape is to the south. The Army told me they are patrolling the eastern shore of the river, but they have no presence anymore in the entire state of Missouri. We have to get that train moving and on down the line before the Army changes their mind about letting this unauthorized train continue beyond their watchful eyes.”

He started down the trail, leaving Liam and Victoria by themselves.

“Pretty amazing a truck driver can get a meeting with soldiers up on some random bridge, huh?”

Liam thought about that for a second before replying, “Yeah, whatever he does for the CDC it isn't driving a truck.”

Left unsaid was that they knew nothing more about the man. He had talked for five minutes and told them absolutely nothing.

3

Liam and Victoria hung back on the way down, giving themselves some room from Hayes so they could communicate. This time Liam was in front of Victoria.

“Do you think we can trust him?”

“Absolutely not. We know he lied to us about what he does for the CDC. Is he even with the CDC? He stopped an escaping train—with a hundred living people on it—so he could stop and talk to his friends on this bridge. At this point the only thing we know for sure about him is that he has poor taste in clothing.”

That gave Liam a laugh. He hadn't really dwelled on the man's fashion sense, but he had to agree it was pretty bad.

“He told us to head south because the Army was on the Illinois side and wouldn't let us cross. They clearly wouldn't let him cross, but what if they ordered him to go south? Maybe the only reason he needs us is to help him complete his mission that way?”

“That doesn't make sense either. The Army could have tossed him a boat or something and he could get downriver with no problem. Why would they force him back on this train?”

Liam considered her words for a few moments as they continued downhill. Every zombie story he ever read seemed to hint at multiple layers of government conspiracy. He admitted to himself it was probably crazy to even think it, and borderline insane to even speak it, but he couldn't help himself now. He trusted Victoria to tolerate his ramblings.

“You are going to think I'm wearing a tinfoil hat for saying this, but what if those men up there weren't Army or CDC? What if Hayes—or whatever his name is—is with another government organization entirely? A boat would be out of the question because real Army units would shoot at it. Maybe they needed to talk to him in person, but they weren't willing to risk infecting themselves by letting him back across the bridge? We really don't know anything about the disease, the source of the infection, or how the government is responding to this emergency.”

Victoria seemed to thrive on the conspiracy.

“Yes! That is why he told us the Joint Chiefs are in charge. If the President is AWOL maybe he is being detained? Maybe other parts of government are at odds with each other about how to best fight this thing.”

Liam was similarly enthused by the line of discussion. This girl was someone after his own heart. He realized his father's penchant for conspiracy theories had a lot to do with that, but he wasn't going to nitpick.

“If you say anything about a 'shadow government' I'm going to kiss you on the lips!”

Victoria chuckled behind him.

“Well right now I'm fairly certain there is a 'dark-shrouded government' out there. Maybe someday we'll discover the other.”

Liam walked in silence as they approached the bottom of the trail. He was suddenly unsure of what just happened. Was she telling him there was a government conspiracy afoot, or that she had feelings for him?

Before he could follow up with her, she began walking quickly to the engine at the front of the train.

“I'm going to get some answers from the engineer. At the very least I want to know where this train is going.”

Liam ran to catch up. Impressed at the forthrightness of his lovely partner.

They both saw Hayes climb into the engine compartment, so they figured they'd follow him up the ladder and into the engineer's area as well. As he walked along the side of the engine, he noted it had a name. “Valkyrie.” It was stenciled in large black letters, which made it really obvious on the orange paint of the engine. He rubbed his hand on the letters as he walked by.

Liam's imagination had drawn the man driving the train as a portly chap with a blue and white striped uniform and a funny little hat that said 'engineer' on it. He'd spent too much of his youth watching a TV show about toy trains.

When he followed Victoria into the compartment he was shocked to see the engineer was actually a woman. Her hair had a touch of gray—Liam had a hard time guessing the age of women—and she was wearing blue jeans with a filthy white t-shirt. She looked more like a mechanic than an engineer. Woman or no.

“Who the hell are you two?”

Liam expected trouble from Hayes. Could he have them kicked out?

But he actually helped their case.

“Oh they're friends of mine. They helped me get out of the Arch.”

“I see. Well pardon me for not talking but I need to get this train going again and I don't really know what I'm doing.”

Victoria took the lead in talking to her.

“You did great getting us here. Thank you sincerely from all of us in the back.”

She let her compliment soak into the dirty woman before continuing.

“We are just wondering where you're going? You know, since we are a kind of a captive audience.”

She tried to make light of the situation.

“Listen. I'm getting this train as far away from those things as I'm able. Going south as far as she'll go. But I have one stop to make—besides this here stop for your persuasive friend.” She gave a nod to Hayes. “I have to pick up my husband. He's the real engineer. Before the phones went down he said he was stuck in a massive traffic jam to the south. He was trying to get the rest of our family out of the city. I was supposed to get out by crossing the Mississippi downtown—but the Army shut 'em all down. Anyway, when things looked like they were going to keep getting bad he sent me a text message saying I should take his engine and whatever cars were attached to it and meet him at Cliff Cave Park. That is still to the south of us, but not far. He walked me through some of the basics of getting his engine started—I even managed a voice call with him which was really fortunate—and I was able to get the thing moving, though not very fast. His engine was linked to another that had some kind of issue with it, so we all get to watch the light show as we push the blasted thing.”

She was turning dials and pushing buttons as she spoke.

“Bottom line is I don't know where I'm going besides picking up my family. From there, the track points south. Now if you want to get back there on your freight car I'm getting ready to blow the horn so people know we're going to be moving again.”

“Thank you ma'am. I hope you find your family.”

The woman stopped what she was doing and told Victoria “thank you.” Liam thought she looked even more tired and worn down than everyone else. She had the stress of saving everyone.

And I thought saving Grandma was stressful.

Liam was walking out the door when he saw something sitting in a nook where it looked like the engine crew kept their gear. He wasn't positive what he saw, but he kept it in mind for later reference. It might be the answer to someone's prayers...

One last look at Hayes—he was staying in the engine—and Liam and Victoria were out and climbing off the Valkyrie. As they did, the engineer—they forgot to get her name—blew two long bursts on the horn to indicate the train was about to start moving.

Everywhere people were scrambling to get back on their respective freight cars. When they finally reached the last car they were shocked to see a lot more people on it. Many of them were absolutely filthy with coal dust. Those folks had opted for the wide open flatcar rather than the confining filth of the coal tenders.

Liam had a panicked thought they would'nt even fit on the crowded car anymore, but was relieved to see Jones by the ladder making space for them to climb aboard.

He gave them a friendly greeting.

“Smoking on the left, non on the right. We have beverages in the front and VIP room in the back. Welcome to the High Rollers Club.”

Victoria and Liam both laughed.

“And where is the women's powder room?”

“I'm sorry ma'am but you just walked out of the restroom.”

She responded with a horrified “ugg” but Liam found no humor in it. Not because it wasn't funny—he smiled to the big guy to show his appreciation—but because it was true. Nothing was ever going to be the same again. Even the most basic things such as plumbing were going to be hard to find unless civilization was keeping hold somewhere else.

Right now the High Rollers Club was the best they had.

Liam was ready to let it roll until the end.

4

They had parked there long enough by the looks of the crowd assembling behind them. The answer to an earlier thought of Liam's was that yes, the plague victims were going to follow the train regardless if they could see it or not. It seemed impossible, but zombies were “impossible” a week ago too. Who knew what they were capable of? Then again, maybe they just kept walking in the direction they were already pointed? Hard to say, but the bottom line was that it was time to go.

The train started moving very slowly again. Now that he knew the engineer wasn't a professional, he understood why the train wasn't cruising at break-neck speeds. With the crowd packed tightly on the flatcar, it was probably a good thing they weren't going too fast.

Liam and Victoria squeezed through the crowd and made their way to where Grandma was still sitting next to the tires. They sat down next to her and told her all about what they saw up on the bridge. She took it in with her usual calm demeanor, which agitated Liam.

“Grandma why aren't you more concerned about him?”

“Ah Liam, when you get to be my age it takes a lot to concern yourself with every detail of what's going on. It doesn't really matter who he is to me, as long as this train keeps moving south and gets you and Victoria out of harm's way. That is where we'll find your house, your parents, and hopefully some breathing room from those poor souls behind us. You two should stay away from him though. He sounds like he has some deadly friends.”

Liam couldn't disagree. He immediately felt himself drifting off as the car began rattling along but it wasn't sixty seconds before Liam heard lots of gunfire from up in the front. Then he heard the screams of the people around him who were standing near the edges—they could see what was up ahead. Almost as one, the people recoiled inward so they could escape the edges. Several tried to wedge themselves under the big trailer into the space where the trio was sitting. This forced Liam and Victoria to move Grandma almost directly underneath the axle of the big trailer. The pair then moved through the crowd so they could see what all the fuss was about.

Oh crap.

The train was entering some kind of quarry complex. Limestone by the looks of it. On their left, next to the river, were huge elevators and machines which dumped the rock onto barges and trucks. On the right was a maze of roadways where oversized dump trucks—had they been operating—would be hauling rocks from the deep tunnels of this pit mine.

He did see hundreds of normal cars and trucks winding their way along the rock path around and down into the big hole in the ground, below a point where Liam could see them. It seemed like a suicidal effort to drive a car into a hole in the earth with everything else going on. Sort of like driving into your own grave.

Up ahead, surrounding most of the edge of the quarry were thousands of zombies. Liam noted this facility was literally next door to the bridge they were just on, and the mystery of the big blockade with no people was now solved. They had escaped en masse to this place—hoping for what?

“Why would they drive down into a quarry? Couldn't they see the zombies were following them in?”

Liam could only imagine what drove them on. When zombies are crawling all over your car and the interstate is permanently closed, maybe the quarry looked like somewhere they could hole up and defend themselves. He thought of explaining his line of thinking to Victoria, but he didn't have any time. The train continued ahead, running over some of the wandering zombies. People in the forward cars were firing guns at the infected orienting on the train. Many of them, at least on the topmost level, were willing to turn away from their quarry inside the quarry and focus on the much closer blood factories rolling by on the train.

As they moved forward Liam got a better impression of what was going on inside the pit. The cars were driving in a spiral road which descended until it reached the bottom. He still couldn't see the bottom, but he could guess people were down there trying to hold off the zombies who were following the spiral behind them. The jam actually went back toward the highway. It seemed everyone mistook this for a road to safety. Once inside the gravity well of the pit, they had no choice but to continue down because the rim was already awash in zombies and there was no backing up. How far could they drive into the rocky tunnels?

The second level loop around the mine had a side ramp which allowed some people to escape on foot back to ground level before they got too far down the hole. Liam saw people using that ramp, running out both directions around the rim of the mine. Some were coming toward the train. Others were heading into the woods or back toward the highway. A daunting task with so many infected around.

Those who were running toward the train were the largest group. And they were heading into an area thick with zombies waiting on the edge. Some members of their group were using their weapons to try to clear a path. Liam judged there was no way those people could get through so many undead without help from this side to push them out of the way.

The engineer gave a long blast on the air horn. The train slowed down to an even slower crawl, but not a full stop.

“What the hell? Is she going to try to save those people?” Victoria wondered.

“It sure looks like it. But who is going to save us?”

As they watched, the right side of the train was engulfed front to back by plague victims, each trying to gain purchase on a car. Liam took the opportunity to look behind them as well—and wasn't surprised to see a large group of zombies coming from the direction of the train tracks behind them.

They only had a few minutes before zombies would be surrounding them from almost every angle.

From where he sat, Liam knew there was essentially nothing he could do to change the outcome of this battle against so many attackers.

That didn't mean he wasn't going to try.

5

Liam looked at his options.

Why am I the only one making plans?

He could try to organize some kind of rescue mission with police and gang members forging out into the crowd of zombies to try to meet up with the incoming group of people—but he was pretty sure that would fail based on the sheer size of the rising horde. And they'd waste a lot of ammo; he knew ammo was running low for most of the police.

He looked over his shoulder to the river-side of the complex. He saw several of the big dump trucks sitting there, beckoning him. His first thought upon seeing them came from one of his zombie books. He couldn't remember the name, but in it huge dump trucks were used by evil men to deposit large buckets of zombies on the good guys. He doubted that could happen here in real life. No evil men were lurking by these trucks.

“Victoria. I think if we get into one of those dump trucks we can use it to push through the thickest part of this crowd of zombies and help those people cross over to the train.”

She looked at where the trucks were parked, how fast the train was crawling along, and the status of the people in the group moving in their direction. The results of her analysis were—

“It's going to be close.”

“Good enough for me.”

There were almost no zombies on the river side yet, though the massive crowd behind them was uncomfortably close. Once they caught up to the train, all sides would be consumed. He knew the whole operation would be tight.

He felt stupid saying it, but he yelled to Jones and Victoria just as he went down the short ladder.

“COVER ME!”

Jones said something he couldn't hear, but Victoria yelled “GO FOR IT!” as if he were part of a sporting event.

As he was running across the fifty yards of open ground he dodged around a couple of walkers who happened to be in his way. He had his pistol, but speed was more important than killing any one or two random z's.

In a few short seconds he was at the truck.

It was massive, but he was glad to see it wasn't the truly enormous dump truck you see on National Geographic specials. It was just a normal dump truck that you might see on the highway, but it was still huge to him.

He had no trouble scaling the side, but was stymied at the door. It was locked. He hadn't even considered what he'd do once he got into the cab. Now he wasn't even going to make it in the cab!

But he was there, so he took out his pistol and readied it to shoot out the glass. At the last second he realized he was about to do something stupid. He engaged the safety, and then used the gun as a hammer to break the window. In seconds he was inside the truck. Once in the driver's seat he was pleased to find a lone key in the ignition. He figured these trucks never left the premises and thus never needed their keys removed. If someone got in at night they could joy ride around the quarry, but the big gates in the front kept anyone from leaving.

He turned the key and was pleased to hear the big rig start to turn over, then stop. He steadied himself as he looked out the window, ready to try again.

This is going to be a piece of cake!

The train was moving ever so slowly down the track from his right to his left. The engine was just coming in line with the southernmost part of the open pit, and was presently closest to the people trying to get out of the mine. The back of the train was just starting to get enveloped by those infected already lurking at the mine, while the group of trailing zombies were still a couple hundred yards behind, but closing quickly.

He thought it was now or never.

He turned the key again, ready to go for real—

—and was disappointed the truck wouldn't start. He was further disappointed to realize it was a stick shift.

Are you kidding me?

He looked down at the extra pedal on the floor. Purpose unknown. Liam had never learned to drive a stick. His parents had two cars with automatic transmissions.

He wondered if he could figure it out, and guessed he could on a normal day with plenty of time. When zombies were pushing in from multiple directions and people's lives depended on the results—he decided not to risk it.

He kicked open the door, scampered down the side, and began running back toward the train. He felt like a total idiot returning like this, but what choice did he have? He turned to his right to see the zombies uncomfortably close now. He dodged the few that he avoided just minutes earlier. He would only have time to return to the truck one more time before the larger group was upon him. It all depended on finding someone who could drive a stick when he reached the train.

Fortunately he had a large fan base watching him, including Victoria and Jones—both had moved to the absolute edge of the train car to watch him.

When he ran up he was nearly out of breath, but his request was clear.

“Can anyone drive a stick?”

Liam was looking at Victoria—it just seemed like that was how it would go—but he was surprised when Jones jumped down.

“Let's go Liam.”

He gave Victoria a smile, then turned around with his big friend and started running.

The man was big indeed, but fit for his size. After all, he was a police officer. But even with their combined speed, they made it to the truck just ahead of the lead scouts for the zombies in the rear. Jones had to push one of them over in order to give himself room to climb.

Once inside they started it up and Jones had it moving in no time.

“Look kid, I got this. When we get up to the train I'm going to pull up next to the rear car and then you're going to jump back on.”

“I can help you!”

“No doubt. But those people are going to need all the firepower they can get on the train. You have to hold off that group coming in from the rear, and coordinate with the rest of my unit to clear as many of the zombies as possible between the survivors and the train. Wow, I can see the whole thing now that I'm in this seat.”

Liam shared his perspective. It was obvious what he needed to do. It involved running over a lot of sick, bloody, ruined people to save the healthy ones beyond.

He wanted to stay with Jones because he felt it was his idea to use the truck, but he quashed his ego and acquiesced to his request to return to the train.

As they were driving back over the ground they'd just run, Jones pulled out his radio.

“This is Jones. I need you guys to coordinate some shooters to help clear a path for those people—and kill any zombies I miss when I drive through. Good luck. Out.”

“Good luck kid. Get ready to jump.”

There was no time for more talk. Jones expertly maneuvered the truck alongside the flatcar and Liam was able to step out of the cab while holding the door, then jump the couple feet of gap back over to the crowded platform. Many hands helped rein him in.

Jones slowed so the train would pass him on his right, then he turned to cross the tracks and accelerated along the right side of the train. It was all physics from that point.

The train was about half way off the property of the pit mine. The engineer actually stopped the train as the dump truck kicked the plan into high gear. With the train stopped it was clear to those on foot they had to get over there as fast as possible. The engine was sounding the horn over and over for extra emphasis, drawing them all in.

Jones also laid into his horn as he started crushing zombies in his way. The dump bed was empty, but the vehicle was so massive it had no problem handling the ever greater number of infected it was pushing aside—and under. And it was making a path as promised.

The big dump truck started turning along the outermost ring of the spiral around the top of the mine. It was moving almost directly away from the rail line and directly toward the mass of people pushing for the salvation of the train.

Liam couldn't see exactly what was happening with the truck once it started moving away, but the bloody trail of downed zombies behind it told him enough. He had his own problems.

Victoria made a keen observation that made Liam feel he didn't have his brain on today.

“We should have gotten several of those dump trucks working and we could have really cleaned up this mess!”

It was way too late for that now.

Liam and Victoria moved as best they could through all the people huddled in the middle of their car. Grandma was safely ensconced under the truck's axle, so they didn't have to worry about her. That was the only good news.

So many zombies.

Liam knew that with all the zombies converging on the back of the train, they would have to shoot to stay alive, but he also knew shooting would lead to the dead stacking up under foot—which was how they almost made it onto the car the last time.

What they really needed was for the train to start moving again. That would have to wait until the people were rescued. In the meantime everyone was in danger.

And so they waited and watched the wave arrive.

Then the shooting began.

6

As Liam suspected, there were a lot of new guns on the back of the train. Many of the people who came out of the coal cars had weapons, and they were anxious to get in the action. So as soon as the zombies shambled up to the back of the train they started plugging away at them. Before he could shout any warnings, it became impossibly noisy.

Liam and Victoria tried to use their weapons from where they were standing, but they were dismayed to realize there were too many people standing in front of them to even take a good shot. Those people were leaning back from the edge as they recoiled from the plague-driven zombies washing up to their feet. It was mere moments before the first people were pulled off the car and into the sea of hands. That incited panic in the remaining train passengers as they pushed, pulled, punched, and clawed their way into the middle of the train car. Some folks were tossing strangers off the train—they'd gone mad.

What was once going to be a heroic defense of the rear car, turned swiftly into a debacle of major proportions. Liam grabbed Victoria's hand and pulled her back on top of him as he fell beneath the tractor-trailer near Grandma. She was packed in like a sardine in her section, though Liam wondered if she was being hurt by all the struggling people.

The most effective shooters were at the rear. They had the most room and because they grouped together in anticipation of the trailing zombies—they had plenty of time to prepare. They also did the most damage.

In under a minute they had created enough carnage to stack the dead directly behind them...

Therefore it wasn't long before there was such a pile that more zombies were using their fallen comrades as a biological ramp up to crawl up to the survivors. Soon hands were grabbing at legs even with all the shooters back there. One shooter fell, then another. Then more.

Within minutes Liam could see through the mass of people that the zombies were up on the flatcar, tearing through the rear contingent and moving forward. He looked at Victoria and saw the fear in her emerald eyes.

The tractor-trailer was parked so the legs holding it up were near the back of the rail car. That put about 80 feet, and fifty or so adults—only some with weapons—between them and the incoming wave.

Liam looked at Grandma who was watching the whole thing unfold. She gave him a weak smile as she huddled with everyone else under the truck. Victoria gave him the look of someone who just had an idea explode in their head.

“Liam can you call the engineer? We have to move this train or we're going to be swamped back here.”

“I don't know if she has a police radio up there. But I'll try.”

As shots rang out all around them, Liam tried repeatedly to raise someone up in the front of the train. No one answered.

He tried to get a look over to Jones and his effort with the dump truck, but there were too many faces staring back at him—blocking his view.

“Liam. We have to do it ourselves. We can jump on the car in front of us and keep going until we reach the engine.”

Liam thought it sounded crazy, but he couldn't think of a better plan. He knew Grandma was in some serious trouble if they didn't make something happen. He could stay here and fire round after round from his gun, but there were more zombies surrounding the train than he could realistically dispatch, even if he used all 1000 rounds from his backpack.

He trusted Victoria.

“Grandma, Victoria and I—”

“Yes dear. Please hurry!”

Liam did something he had never done in his entire life. He gave his Grandma a kiss on the cheek.

“I'll save you. I promise.”

Liam and Victoria slithered through the mass of people and made their way to the front of the rear car so they could jump the small gap to the next car—an open-topped coal hopper. A couple of zombies were milling about in the gap but it was an easy jump for both. A quick climb and then over the lip of the car.

There were several people in the coal car, but only a pair of men were looking over the edges to shoot at the zombies. The walls of the hopper were too high to effectively wield a weapon. It made the people inside very secure—unless there was an impossibly large pile of zombies outside—but it took them out of the fight as well.

Liam and Victoria ran along the interior, and with a quick run up to the front wall, and a quick pull to the top Liam was straddling the wall. He put his foot on the ladder up the outside of the car and held his hand to help Victoria up and out. He could tell she wanted to do it on her own, but she was still wearing a black dress and flats with broken heels. Not exactly the best accoutrement for running, jumping, and climbing.

The next car was a big enclosed freight car. The pair hurriedly clambered on top and began running forward among a few of the people who were sitting up there. They could see the engine about twenty cars ahead.

Liam turned to his right, and was able to take in the action playing out by Jones as he reached the group of survivors on foot.

Jones had forced his way through to the cheering men and women. The way had indeed been cleared of zombies, perhaps by as much as a half along the roadway. It might be enough.

They had to keep moving though, and were unable to watch more. It looked like Jones was going to turn the truck around and then push more dead out of the way on his way back. Easy peasy.

The pair worked their way up the train cars. Some were simple up-and-overs like the freight car. Many were challenging such as dropping into and climbing out of the coal cars. One special coal car was particularly difficult because it had sloped panels in the front and rear, making it slippery as grease to get out. Victoria's shoes were incredibly slick on the coal dust, and when she finally dragged herself high enough Liam could grab her, it looked like she had black stockings on her legs. Her arms and face weren't much better.

They passed many of the remaining cops and gang members, both frantically firing into the core of the zombies swarming between them and the arriving survivors. He hoped they wouldn't accidentally hit anyone that wasn't already infected. He couldn't worry about every detail though.

They were only a few cars from the front when they heard the desperate wailing. It was collectively coming from the group of survivors Jones had tried to rescue. When Liam looked over he didn't see the dump truck anywhere. There was nowhere it could have gone in that short of time. Except—

“Oh no.” Liam could guess what had happened. Jones had driven off the edge of the pit mine. How far down was the next level? He couldn't see from his vantage point.

Victoria was speechless. She gave him a slight nudge in the back, as if to say they had to keep moving.

There was no time for mourning.

The runners seemed enraged at the loss. They kept coming, killing zombies as they got in their way.

A few minutes later and Liam and Victoria were boarding the walking platform surrounding the engine. They wasted no time getting inside.

They found the engineer standing on the right side of the compartment, watching the action unfold out her window.

“You have to move the train! Even a hundred feet will help.”

She was startled when Liam spoke. The volume of gunfire had covered their approach.

“Good god you scared me!”

“Shouldn't we wait for those people to get here? They aren't far now. I stopped so we could save those poor people.”

“They can still reach the train even if we move down the line. The rear car is piled high with infected. That pile will fall if we move the train. We have to do it now!”

She looked at Liam, then at Victoria who was vigorously nodding.

“OK, just give me a second and I'll push us a few feet down the line.”

True to her word, the train started to move. Liam looked out the window and could see the panic in the eyes of those running toward him—even through the remaining throng of zombies. So he moved out onto the walkway of the engine and starting waving them in. He hoped it was encouraging to them. He noticed Hayes was already out on the platform, toward the back, watching the action. Not doing much else.

Liam had no intention of doing nothing. He started carefully aiming at the zombies down below. Each hit making a little more room for those who were so close to sanctuary. He ran though his nine rounds and was left with an empty gun in his hands. He hoped he helped. There seemed to be large gaps in the crowd of dead closest to the side of the train. Enough space for the runners to make it through.

Thank you Jones. I won't forget you. They won't either.

Soon the panting survivors were scrambling up to whatever car they happened to reach first. Several children were being dragged on the ground by older siblings, as they had become exhausted in the long pursuit. Their parents were nowhere to be seen in many cases. Liam was sad to see there were many fewer survivors than when he first saw them on the far rim of the mine. They had suffered horrible casualties.

Once safely on board, the train began to roll. The survivors at the bottom of the mine were left to their own version of Dante's Inferno. But then so were hundreds of thousands of others behind them, back in the city. Each a potential vector for the deadly plague.

A new day indeed.

Chapter 17: Valkyrie

Liam had only a few minutes to think about what just happened. They had saved a lot of people—maybe forty or fifty by his estimate. But he had lost his new friend and he was unsure of the status of Grandma, or how many had died defending the rear car. He knew they had to put some room between themselves and the frenzy of zombies behind them, but he wanted to get back and check on his guardian.

“I need to check on my Grandma, she is on the last car.”

“No sweat. We have one more stop just ahead. There is road and a little park around the corner where I'm meeting my family. You can run back when I pick them up.”

Victoria, always looking ahead, noted the problem.

“Won't that give the zombies a chance to catch us again? They seem to be able to follow us pretty well.”

“Well I'm not just going to drive the train right by my people. We're stopping for as long as it takes to pick them up. Be ready in five minutes.”

Liam and Victoria moved out onto the platform around the engine. Liam gave her a devilish smile.

“You know, we could just run back along all the cars while we're moving.”

“Uh no thanks. One fall and you'd be dead. The zombies would catch you before you could climb back on. Assuming you don't get yourself cut in half by the wheels.”

“Well it works in the movies. But I guess you're right. We'll wait until the train stops and then run back on the ground.”

“'Bout time you listened to me.” Victoria was smiling at him.

The pair had a few moments to wait while the train ground it's way through the beginnings of the wooded park. A steep cliff was on the right side of the train, but they were currently looking off the left side, out over the river. Things had happened so fast today Liam was unable to process it.

Speaking loudly over the dragging created by the front engine, Liam asked “Do you think Jones made it? Maybe it wasn't that far down?” He didn't know what answer he wanted to hear. That he was still alive but surrounded by endless zombies. Or that he died quickly and heroically.

Victoria was unusually dour in her response.

“I don't know. But I think we're all gonna die out here. Maybe not on this train, but out in this new horrible world we've entered. I know I shouldn't say it. I don't want to say it. But it's how I feel after everything we've seen. Even my prayers feel hopeless.”

She took a deep breath before continuing. “A few days ago, before the plague, before we met, I almost wanted to die. Now I've found I want to live, but we may all die anyway. You know?”

Liam didn't know how to answer. The exhaustion was returning as they stood there doing nothing.

“Well I think we're going to make it. And I'll tell you something else, Grandma is going to make it too. You and I will make sure of that!”

He turned to her and became serious. “I want you to stay here because I'm coming right back as soon as I get Grandma squared away. We have to stay up here so we know what's going on. She'll be fine now that we are away from that big crowd of zombies.”

He didn't mention part of his request was so that he wouldn't have to worry about her and Grandma in the back. He wanted her up in the engine where she'd at least have some protection. In a perfect world he'd get Grandma up into the engine as well, but without her wheelchair or walker to move her, he didn't want to risk having her on the ground if the train started moving again.

As the train decelerated, Liam was ready. When it had nearly stopped he was off and running.

“I'll be right back!”

Victoria, fading behind him, shouted, “GOOD LUCK!”

2

Liam approached the rear car to the sound of gun shots. He saw there were some live—dead—infected still doing their work up on the car. Only a few shooters were alive on the flat car and they were cleaning up as best they could. Many of the survivors had poured off as soon as the train slowed down. They were climbing other cars near the back.

Grandma was there. Still under the truck axle. Still alive among a gaggle of frazzled survivors.

“Hi Liam. Lovely day we're having. Looks like rain.”

Grandma had a dry sense of humor. The sky was perfectly clear, but the whole world was in a storm right now.

“Yeah sure. Glad you are in such good spirits. I was worried sick!”

“You left me in good hands. Though we lost a lot of good people back here.”

Liam climbed up, then under the trailer so he could be next to her. He gave her a hug.

While they chatted about the weather Liam grabbed some water from his backpack and shared it with her. He did the same with some small grain bars. He also reloaded his gun and dumped a ton of the small shells into his pockets so he'd never run out of ammo again while in an emergency.

While they watched, the last of the zombies were cleared from their rail car by the few remaining gun handlers. Liam shouted his thanks. Everyone that hadn’t moved to other cars was sitting or standing in a small area near the front of the flatcar. The back half was now tainted with lots of blood.

“They are picking someone up and then the train will be moving again very quickly.”

Liam looked over his shoulder to see if they were being followed. Of course they were. The front of the zombie wave from the nearby quarry was slowly coming around the corner. Still several minutes behind them. Inexorably moving their way.

Liam grabbed his radio from his backpack.

“This is Liam. We have to move the train. The horde will be here in minutes. Over.”

Silence on the radio.

Is this thing on?

He tried a few more times and still got no response. The train hadn't moved either. He thought angrily of every movie he'd ever seen where the radio goes out at the most inopportune time. He couldn't fathom how his own radio would similarly fail at his most desperate hour.

“Grandma, will you be OK back here? I have to run up front and tell them to move this thing.”

“I'm not going anywhere. I'm comfortable under here.”

Liam grabbed his backpack this time, and slid out from under the trailer, then off the flat deck. He gave Grandma one quick look, waved to her, then dashed away.

More zombies were coming into view.

He absently wondered how far he'd run today. He was sprinting once again. He spotted Victoria as he rounded the halfway point of the train. There was a slight curve in the track, turning to the right.

She was a mess. Bruised face. Hair was as wild as a cave girl. Dress was torn in several places. Legs and arms were coal-covered and sweat-covered from exertion. Liam thought she looked like an obsidian angel. Dark and beautiful.

“Get your buns up here!”

With a foul mouth.

He climbed aboard and she gave him a warm hug.

“I thought you'd been taken.”

“I've only been gone a couple minutes.”

“Seemed like you were gone for a half hour. I'm sorry I have a horrible sense of time. I have no watch.”

“Let's get inside. We have to get the train moving again.”

They moved in to find the engineer.

She wasn't there.

On the other side of the train they saw here below, unloading an SUV near the front of the broken engine. There were several kids, a man who must have been her husband, and an older woman who may have been a relative of some kind. They were all carrying flats of bottled water, pillows and sundries for the kids, and several guns. They were piling everything on the end of the platform where Liam was standing. He moved to help put the gear inside the engine where it would be protected. Victoria did the same.

While hurrying the move along, Liam stated “We have to move! There are zombies almost at the back of the train again.”

He didn't hear gunshots yet, which would be the telltale sign trouble had arrived.

To his relief, the man clambered onto the engine, and ran past him into the compartment. To no one in particular he yelled out, “I snapped the brake lines on the dead engine. It has a broken gearbox. We can open her up now.”

Once inside the compartment he went to work spinning up the engine. The horn rang out multiple times, each time a long three-second blast. No mistaking it was time to leave.

The kids came up next. Two young boys, about nine or ten years old, both dressed in jeans and sweatshirts—like they were trying to wear some protection from the biters. Liam thought it might backfire given the heat of the days of June, but said nothing.

Last up was the woman engineer and her older friend. Once aboard the she ran into the compartment and shouted “ABOARD!”

Shots rang out in the back just as they lurched forward.

As promised, the man was the actual engineer of this train. The engine was humming at fever pitch as he tried to get them up to a fast cruising speed. After many hours of running along at near-to-walking pace, it felt like they were on a bullet train. They were still pushing the dead engine, but it was no longer sparking and thundering. They were free of that problem and the powerful engine hit its stride quickly, pulling nothing but empty cars behind.

“This is amazing!” Liam shouted.

Liam had just enough time to celebrate feeling the wind in his hair with Victoria as they hung on to the side rails—when the train hit the brakes hard and began a screeching deceleration.

What now?

3

As they slowed down Liam saw the problem ahead. There was a railway bridge over the Meramec River very near to where that river meets the much larger Mississippi River. Directly on the other side, right where they needed to go, was a roadblock of several emergency services vehicles along with the real showstopper—a large construction crane dangling a massive wrecking ball right in the middle of the tracks.

The superhero part of Liam's brain tried to run the numbers on whether the train could plow through all that stuff and survive, but it came up with bad news. The engineer likely ran the same numbers and came up with the same answer as well. They had to stop.

The dead engine slid to a stop just short of the beginning of the span. To their immediate right was a large facility with three huge smoke stacks. The huge piles of coal told Liam it was a power plant. This was the place he could see from near his own house. From where they sat now, they could see lots of police and fire units on the other side of the bridge. There were also several men standing in the middle, shotguns in hand—the message was clear: this was the end of the line.

“Well what do we do now?” Liam was always looking for the answers.

The male engineer spoke up.

“These guys again! The City of Arnold is on the other side of that river. They have closed all the bridges into their jurisdiction, including Interstate 55, which is where we tried to cross two days ago. That is when I called Tatia here and told her to try to reach my train and bring it south so I could meet her. I was hopeful they hadn't blocked this route, though I should have known better.”

They all looked around and noticed a few handfuls of people huddled in the bushes and trees as near as possible to the bridge. There were other people moving by the power plant. They weren't coming out to greet the train. More likely they were watching this new development at the blockade. If those people weren't being allowed to cross, what hope did Liam's group have?

The engineer paced around a bit. Then spoke to his wife.

“Is there any way we can back up the train and cross downtown? Is it still open?

She shook her head no.

“There are some routes through the city we might be able to use, but I bet they all end just like this one. No one wants to let any of us city folk come into their turf.”

Liam considered his options. He looked at Victoria for strength and then had an idea.

“Victoria and I will go talk to people guarding the bridge. We'll see if they are letting anyone across. Maybe they just don't want the train to cross?”

It was a lame excuse he knew, but he wasn't running on much sleep. He very much did want to talk to them so he could figure out what he should do next to protect Grandma and Victoria. He thought of finding a boat. Maybe swimming across in secret to get something that floats so he could get Grandma across on that. Maybe they could wade across at some point. He knew the river got shallow in lots of places. There was a solution.

Hayes, who had been in the background during most of the recent action and discussions agreed with Liam. He offered his services as a CDC employee to try to help get them across.

Liam knew this was Hayes' plan since they were all on the JB bridge, but he couldn't very well stop the man from walking with him. The engineers and their family were content to wait in the safety of the engine.

A couple of the police officers had dismounted from the train and wanted to meet on the bridge as well—but Hayes was very persuasive, arguing he was their most senior government official and could get them across. Too many new people would constitute a threat for the people over the river. Better to take it slow...

Liam said nothing to that. It could very well be true.

The trio started walking out onto the bridge.

“I guess you two never leave each other's sides huh?”

“So what. What's it to you?” Victoria spoke as she raised her hands high in the face of the police ahead.

“No need to get snippy. Just making small talk.”

“That's far enough!”

They stopped about fifty feet from the officers in the middle of the bridge.

“By order of the Mayor of Arnold, Missouri, you are ordered to turn around and return to the safety of your homes.”

Liam had a thought. He spoke softly to Hayes.

“I'm from Imperial. It's just south of Arnold. They might let a local through.”

“It's OK kid. I got this.”

“I'm Doctor Hayes and I work for the CDC. I'm under direct order of the President of the United States. I order you to allow me to proceed on foot to complete my duties relating to this pandemic!”

The officers actually laughed.

“Congratulations! You just won me fifty bucks. I bet sarge here one of you would pull that 'I'm with the government' bull.”

“I can prove it. I have ID!” He pulled out his wallet and waved it in the air.

“No thanks. We aren't taking any chances with that Ebola-crap flying around.”

“Don't you idiots know the plague is everywhere? It's already on your side of the river. I guarantee it.”

Liam gave him a nudge. “Be nice!”

“Pass. Our orders are to stop everyone. We have family here and aren't taking any chances.”

Hayes took a moment, appearing to think.

“What about locals? My friend here lives in Imperious, to the south of here.”

Liam spoke up. “Imperial!”

“HAHA, nice try! Look I don't care who you are. I had to send a sweet little group of nuns packing, so my sympathy meter is in the toilet. You people aren't getting across this bridge.”

“Just allow me to come over. I'm perfectly healthy. These others aren't important. I'll make sure you're rewarded by the Federal Government.”

One of the officers stepped forward. He was dressed in the black uniform of the local constabulary. Liam noticed he was the only one holding an AR-style tactical rifle. The big scope was unmistakable. He seemed to take it personally.

“Are you bribing us?”

He lowered his rifle, pointing it at the ground, though there was a message there.

Hayes gave a huff, as if he wasn't used to being turned away from anywhere he wanted to go. Then he spun around and started walking back.

Liam felt spent. He didn't know what they were going to do next.

Victoria asked the officers, “Is there any hope? We have a whole train of families, kids, old people. Can you at least give us an idea how to survive?”

Victoria's plea, and Hayes' retreat, seemed to placate the lead man.

He slung his rifle back over his shoulder and took several steps in their direction. Still a good distance away.

“Look. There's nothing we can do. Our orders are very clear to hold this bridge and prevent the plague from reaching our neighborhoods. Reach our families. I feel for you. I really do. But if I let you across and the plague kills my best friend's baby girl, I'd never forgive myself.”

He took another couple of steps.

“You guys can hole up in that power plant. It has strong doors. Lots of room. Good for defending yourselves. It has a chance. We might even be able to get some food to you.”

It sounded like the most reasonable thing Liam had heard all day.

Not ten seconds after the offer was made, the shots started to echo from the back of the train. Liam and Victoria knew what that meant.

“Thank you for your offer. Really. But those gunshots mean the walking plague has caught up with us. We can't abandon his grandma. We have to fight.”

With a small wave of her dirty hand, Victoria was off and running.

Liam, with nothing to say, and nowhere left to run or hide, spun around and followed her.

The final battle was at hand.

4

Liam was quickly ahead of Victoria. She may have been a runner, but her shoes really slowed her down. He was running to rescue Grandma. He wasn't stopping for anything.

He ran past Hayes, who was near the front of the dead train—presumably to remount the engine and continue doing nothing useful for them.

He ran past the two engineers and their family—standing at the door of the Valkyrie's engine room. One of the little ones waved down. Liam had a fleeting thought he could ask the engineer to back up the train again, but that would only doom grandma sooner.

Liam yelled to the others as he went by, “Zombies are here! Train is blocked ahead.”

Liam repeated himself as he ran by all the cars of the train. He could see the confusion of those left alive. Stay on the train and fight until overwhelmed, or get off the train and hope to escape. Liam wasn't looking back to learn which choices they made.

His only concern was Grandma.

The tracks were bullet-straight here, so he could already see the last car. The zombies were widely spread out behind the train, but they were much thicker a bit further down the right-of-way. Some of them were faster than the others. Those advance zombies were being picked off by the remaining shooters, but any fool could see guns would be useless in a matter of minutes.

This is it.

Liam had never really appreciated the concept of death. Not even in any of the many situations he'd survived the past several days. He knew he'd been in a bad spot with that robber, but he didn't have time to think about death until after it happened. Now he was staring at Death as it walked toward him. It felt like walking along the edge of a high cliff over a bottomless pit. He felt the anxiety trying to blossom. Would it force him to cower in a clump of flowers like he did on that first day?

Man up Liam!

It was the voice of his stern father in his head.

He scrambled up onto the flatcar in one fluid running jump. Unlike his fiasco jumping the fence in Grandma's yard, he wasn't doing it to look cool. He was doing it to save lives. He was instantly pulling her out from under the trailer, apologizing profusely for being rough. She wasn't complaining though, he was glad of that.

She was the only living person still on the trailing car. She'd been aware of that too. Perhaps assuming she was left for dead her Rosary was out in her hands, and she had a speech of sorts worked up for Liam.

“I've been very proud of you Liam. You've really grown into a man the last few days. Now you have to let me go. We can't both survive this. You need to run with Victoria. I told her you would run with her.”

Liam didn't even acknowledge the statement. He slid off the side and pulled her off the car and into his arms. He was surprised how light she was.

He set her down, put his arm around her waist, and started walking away from the horde.

Something in him solidified. He was adamant he was not going to abandon this woman and run. He couldn't explain the sentiment. It certainly wasn't logical, but it wasn't baseless emotionalism either. He felt compelled to save her. Like everything would be OK if he could get her to safety.

In seconds Victoria was with them. She grabbed Grandma on the other side and the trio made even better time. Not quite a run, but a very fast walk.

Don't look back.

As they passed each car they noted that some people were choosing to stay and fight. Others were running like mad to all points on the map. Some were heading to the nearby Mississippi river—perhaps hoping to swim to safety. Some were heading up the steep wooded slope on the other side of the train. Hoping to outclimb the pursuit. Neither way was realistic for Grandma. Liam knew their only hope was the bridge. Ahead. Not a great hope either.

The survivors made short work of the advancing stragglers, but the rest of the tide was now enveloping the train, starting with the flatcar they'd just vacated.

Since no one was left on that one, they moved forward. Always forward. Devouring.

Liam could hear shots ringing out behind them. Very close.

As they walk-ran along the train, so did the undead. Screams of people who got caught. Curses of men and women who ran out of ammo. The drone of a huge pack of angry, feral, zombies.

Some who jumped off the train to escape returned as they realized what was heading their way. But many people who had abandoned the train had the same idea as Liam. They were gambling their lives on being able to cross the smaller river to their front.

Don't look back.

Liam and Victoria were moving as fast as their legs would let them. He was shocked to realize there were fewer and fewer gunshots behind them. Liam figured they had finally run out of ammo. They'd been shooting at targets all morning.

He saw several police and a few of the remaining gang members and their families in a tight group ahead of them—running for the bridge. Finally he saw the engineers and their family. Everyone left alive from the train was making for the only direction suitable for the very young, the very old, or the slow.

They reached the midpoint of the train and saw most of it was now empty, save the scattered few who chose to stay put. For the most part, those folks were hiding and unwilling to shoot and call attention to themselves.

There were fewer and fewer shooters to blunt the washing wave behind them.

They walked as fast as Grandma could go with two extra people to help her along.

As he approached the Valkyrie, Liam dropped Grandma's weight onto Victoria and told them to continue on without him for a minute. She had no time to argue because he was already climbing the side of the diesel. The pair moved on, though slower because Victoria was supporting most of Grandma's weight. Liam wasted no time. He honed into the precise point where the engineers and crew stowed their gear. The item he had spotted earlier was still there. He grabbed it, tucked it into his waistband, and ran back outside and along the railing. He ran forward, hopping to the dead engine at the very front. Once he reached the absolute front of the entire train he flew over the handrail, hanging on just long enough to slow himself so he could deftly drop the last few feet to the ground. He willed himself to ignore the infected wave approaching him.

He pumped hard as he ran toward the two women. Victoria and Grandma were entering the nominal safety of the bridge. He was relieved his diversion didn't slow them down significantly. He knew what he did was reckless, but it felt right and necessary.

He closed the distance. Waiting in front of him, just on the cusp of the bridge decking, were all the remaining police officers and gang members. The one man that stood out from the whole group was a shirtless guy with a pair of bandoliers over both his shoulders, forming a distinctive “X” on his chest. It was filled with vibrant red shotgun shells. He had the shotgun itself lying over his shoulder as he was waving them in. Liam had no idea if it was a cop, gang member, or civilian—just a man looking to defend his mates.

Never look back!

He crossed the last fifty feet of rail before the reaching the bridge and was entering the protection of the men and women standing their ground on the edge. An explosion of shots rang out, making Liam almost soil himself at the shock. Some of the zombies were much closer than he thought possible, given his speed. The fusillade gave them all some breathing room. But the end was already written unless they could all get over to the other side.

Liam caught up with Grandma and Victoria and they continued running over the bridge, passing all the survivors left from the train. There were several he recognized as the “new people” from the pit mine. He recognized lots of kids saved from the Arch grounds. Now almost universally in tears. There were a few older people, though no one even close to Grandma's age. And a group of nuns were there. Where did they come from?

Liam and Victoria had started carrying Grandma, without realizing it. They reached the very furthest point on the bridge before the Arnold Police told them once again to stop.

They were near the midpoint of the bridge. As they helped her down, Liam knew she had passed away. He wasn't sure how he knew, but he knew.

Victoria, having no such premonition, took it much harder when she realized—

“NO! NO! NO!”

She burst out in tears, the emotions of the morning piling on, and released a torrent of expletives a good Christian girl shouldn't know.

Her ire turned immediately to the men blocking them.

“You could have saved her! Can't you see that you stupid bastards? We are all going to die for your worthless rules. The plague can't be stopped. Look! It's here right now and you're standing there with your hands in your pockets! Damn you all.”

She collapsed over Grandma and began crying profusely.

Liam considered getting his gun out and going over to help the men fighting off the huge flood of infected. They were still holding out, mainly because they had chosen the most advantageous spot to group up—but it was still inevitable given the sheer disparity in numbers.

The lead police officer blocking the bridge closed more of the distance to Grandma. He was near enough to see it all. Victoria physically hugging her. Liam standing over her with tears in his eyes.

What do I do now?

For the first time in a long while, he was out of ideas.

Chapter 18: Shadow Government

Marty woke up with an exclamation of incredulity. She was lying next to a large frozen waterfall. Not frozen in ice. Frozen without motion. The ground under her body was lush with green grass, and there were several trees and bushes in her vicinity, but the primary feature was the waterfall tumbling into a crystal clear natural pool. Around her on all sides was darkness.

Her amazement multiplied when she looked up. Beaming down from the heavens were a nearly infinite number of stars. To Marty's eyes they had to be part of an elaborate illusion. She swore she could see each one clear enough to see planets spinning around them. The number of visible points of light was beyond reckoning.

Her husband or angel—she wasn't sure which—was sitting cross-legged not far from her.

“Hello Marty. You've made it to the end of the line.”

“Am I dead?”

“Why do you always think you're dead? No. I'm pleased to say you still aren't dead. I meant you made it to the end of the rail line.” He chuckled a little bit and continued.

“You passed out while you were running with your two young friends. I don't think they realized you had surpassed your limits. They now believe you are dead.”

“Poor Liam. I'd hate for him to think that, though I get mistaken for dead a lot these days.”

“It's no wonder you are so loved. You never think of yourself.”

She couldn't help but think of her deceptions of not telling Liam about Angie or about shooting the robber. She was feeling guilty from her sins of omission.

“Don't trouble yourself with minor things like that. You made a legitimate decision to protect your great-grandson. Though looking at how hard he tried to save you just now I think your plan backfired.”

“I think he wants to prove to Victoria he can protect me.”

“Perhaps. But maybe he wants to prove to you, that he can protect you.”

“I guess we all lose. We're all going to die aren't we?”

“You mean eventually? Yes, I'm afraid you are all going to die. But are you going to die today? That is less clear.”

He stood up, offering a hand. Her body was strong in this place, so she was able to take it and be on her feet in a flash.

He guided her to the clear pond with the waterfall above it.

“Can you guess what this waterfall is?”

“Of course not, but it is beautiful. The stars are beautiful too. What is this place?”

He walked slightly ahead of her, and began speaking while looking up at the waterfall. He wouldn't answer her question.

“Do you know what makes you so important?”

“No, I've been kinda busy lately to be introspective.” She gave a tired laugh. Her body might be refreshed in this place, but her mind was still saddled with the death and destruction of the last four days.

“HA! I love your sense of humor.”

He then pointed to a tiny drop on the frozen waterfall, very near the bottom.

“You see that drop there? Right there! That is Earth.”

“I think I'm hallucinating. Planet Earth is in a waterfall?”

“Actually, it would be most accurate to say you are looking at a type of chart of all the known planets in our existence. Not to scale of course.” He said this matter-of-factly.

“Now, let's get a little closer.” As he said it, the “waterfall” seemed to magnify so the Earth was about the size of a marble among an untold number of similar marbles. Marty noticed he was moving his fingers over a very faint ghost keypad, manipulating the waterfall.

“Ah, there we go. Now, do you notice anything unusual about your planet?”

Marty looked at the multitude of planets, falling to distraction at the beauty and wonder of it all. Some looked very much like Earth, verdant and cloud-filled. Others were desert worlds. Some appeared to be gas worlds, shown with slightly larger size marbles. Looking up, the planets seemed to stretch to infinity. But most—not all—of the planets had a bright light around them; an artificial background glow which seemed to make them pop out from the waterfall itself.

“The Earth doesn't have that white glow behind it. Many of the others do.”

“Most excellent! Yes. Yes. That glow represents many wonderful things. The underpinning science would take me a human lifetime to explain with mathematics—and perhaps some philosophy.”

“Oh dear. I don't have that much time left in my life.”

“Au contraire my Martinette. You are just now reaching an age where you can appreciate what I'm about to tell you. A younger person doesn't have the maturity to reach this place at all. That maturity is what makes you so special.”

“Is that a polite way of saying I'm an old and worn out woman? That's what I feel like when I come here.”

“No! Not at all. I wish I had more time with you, but demands have been placed on both of us. Your attention is needed out on the bridge. I have a whole universe to manage, so-to-speak.”

As he said it he used his ghost keypad and seemed to swipe the waterfall away and replace it with an overhead view of herself lying on the bridge, surrounded by Liam and a distraught Victoria. Panning out, the scene showed the police on one side of the bridge, armed but not shooting, and the infected attacking en masse toward the survivors of the train on the other side of the railroad bridge.

“You have much to do. The first baby step you must take is to carry a tool with you out into the world. That aid will help you get off this bridge. Your next steps must be to establish a connection with the two most important people in your life. I'm impressed how fast you developed the link with Liam—the green car on the bridge was his memory, probably from one of his books by the looks of it. And the last cosmic leap you will take is establishing the light behind your planet on the waterfall I showed you.”

“I want to believe I'm important to whatever,” she looked around her, “this incredible place is, but you can see what's going to happen just as I can. There is no way, short of a miracle, I'm going to survive the day.”

Al just smiled. “My dearest Martinette, have I got a surprise for you. I'm not only going to get you across that bridge, but I'm going to change the course of your entire life in the process.”

“You are talking in riddles. What exactly is the tool you're going to give me?”

“A message.”

He whispered something in her ear.

Then he whispered it again.

“Your planet's future depends on your ability to remember this information.”

He gave her a tooth-filled smile, and winked exactly as she would have done.

No pressure.

2

Grandma began to cough.

Liam and Victoria screamed in unison.

“She's still alive!”

Their tears continued to fall, but the emotions had completely changed.

Grandma was trying to say something.

They gave her some room.

Her first words were, “Call out for Beth Ramos. Call loud.”

Liam heard her request and did as she instructed. He spent no time asking questions. He would have done anything she asked of him just then.

“Beth Ramos! Looking for Beth Ramos!”

Grandma whispered again, “Louder.”

“Where is Beth Ramos!!!” He yelled as loud as he was able into the din of the chaos. He was facing the group from the train, assuming Beth was one of the women she'd been talking to back on the flatcar.

Instead, the lead officer of the police blocking the bridge walked the remaining distance to where Grandma was lying. Another officer from the vanguard ran up to be by his side.

Liam spun around to face them. Victoria turned as well.

“What are you doing sarge? You can't mingle with them. You might get sick.”

“She is calling out for Beth Ramos.”

The other officer could only say, “You're kidding me.”

“Who is looking for Beth Ramos? Why do you want her?”

Grandma was very weak, so the man had to take a knee to hear her over the volume of gunfire in the battle nearby. Liam thought the noise fell to a dull roar as they formed a tighter ring around her.

He and Victoria were still holding her as Grandma began her story.

“I don't know what this means, but I was told to ask for Beth Ramos and then give a message to the person who answered the call. I guess that's you?”

The officer shook his head, though he seemed distant.

“Well the message I'm supposed to give you makes no sense to me, but maybe it will to you. 'Darcy and Jokie Bunny want you to save these people'.”

“What? How?”

The forty-something-year-old officer began to cry.

Liam's head was spinning.

What the hell just happened?

The second officer put his hand on the shoulder of his sergeant, and spoke for him.

“Beth was Phil's wife. Darcy was his daughter. Jokie Bunny—I don't know.”

“Jokie Bunny was Darcy's lovey. No one could possible know about that rabbit. That little doll slept with Darcy every night, but was never allowed out of her bed because we didn't want it to get lost. We figured she couldn't live without it. But we did let her take it out one time. She went with Darcy when my wife took her to stay overnight at a friend's house. It was the first time we let her sleep away from home. My girls never made it.” He was able to get that much out, then was reduced to tears again.

The other officer continued.

“Phil's wife and daughter were killed this past winter. Traffic accident. We all went to the funeral in support. Is that how you knew their names?”

“I was told by,” she took a deep breath as she spoke, “what I believe was an angel.”

Phil stared at Grandma for several long moments. Perhaps deciding if she was crazy. But he was quick to act once the decision came to him.

“Ben, bring up the men. We are going to fight at the front of this group. Let's bring them across. To the hell with orders. We can't let these people die while we watch and do nothing.”

“You got it boss.”

Ben ran back to his mates and began rounding them up.

Phil jumped on his radio and also instructed those on the far shore. He called out certain leaders, requested certain weapons, and finished with “—and enact our plan Badrovik as soon as we're all across. Out.” Liam could see Badrovik was written in huge letters on the crane holding the wrecking ball.

Phil stood up, brushed the tears from his eyes and simply said, “Get your grandma across the bridge. I'd like to talk to her when we're all safe on the other side. If my wife and daughter—however it's possible—want me to let you guys across, by God you are going to own this bridge.”

Ben's group arrived, ready for the evacuation effort. As they reached Phil, Liam heard him yell, “OK guys, let's spray those sickos with a lead shower—Go! Go! Go!” He then took off with them into the crowd of people clumped on the dangerous side of the bridge. Cheers went up with the survivors when they realized what was happening.

The police began funneling the survivors over the bridge, putting themselves nearest the fighting to fend off the blood-slick attackers as they continued to swarm toward the officers and remaining armed men from the train. With more law enforcement joining the defense, it was much more certain they could hold off the zombies while the other survivors made their way to safety, led by Grandma and her helpers.

The police then began retreating across the bridge, expending ammo at a horrible rate. They were experts at the head shot—the only shot that seemed to down the infection instantly. Of course any good student of zombie literature knows that. These guys didn't disappoint.

Liam stood with Grandma and Victoria off to the side of the bridge so they could observe the whole scene. They were happy to see the organized police line was able to fall back in good order, ensuring no more loss of life. As each rank of officers crossed to the near side they fanned out to cover their brothers and sisters still out on the span. It was a thing of beauty.

As the last of the unit reached the near shore the large crane came to life and moved the giant wrecking ball first backward a great distance, and then forward, then backward again.

The last of the men reached safety. The bridge itself was crammed full of the undead. Some were slipping off the sides as their numbers swelled. Those closest to the police line standing on the near shore were suffering grievous losses at the expert hands of the defenders. The crush of infected funneling onto the narrow railway bridge evened the odds, much as the Greeks had done at Thermopylae. These were not flesh and blood Persians however, and the infected continued to swarm—undeterred at any losses, willing to climb over piles of their peers collecting on the near end of the bridge decking. Liam saw an endless procession of zombies on the far side now arriving. There wasn't enough ammo here to kill them all.

The wrecking ball slammed into the side of the railroad bridge, directly over the concrete support pier sticking up from the muddy water below. The first hit knocked many of the zombies over the side, while ripping up a good portion of the bridge decking and rails. The second hit sheared off the rest of the top decking, and left a gaping hole where scores of the mindless horde tumbled in. The final few blows hit the main pier on the near shore and the middle of the bridge tipped into the water. It was ugly, but it worked.

The remaining zombies were visibly agitated at being denied the most direct route to their victims, but Liam felt he spoke for everyone when he silently gave them all the finger. Victoria, seeing what he was doing, reciprocated. That small act of defiance made him feel much better.

A few zombies still standing on the shortened near piece of bridge were quickly eliminated, along with a handful in the mud down below the bridge. Some continued to pour off the end of the blown bridge, but were swept downstream or sank to the bottom. The rest seemed to know the battle was ending, and they turned around to look for easier pickings.

The sound of gunfire died down. Dust and debris floated everywhere. The remains of the bridge were sitting in the stream below. Rather than sink below the surface, much of it was sticking out of the rushing water. The current moving through the debris made a metallic howl as it resonated on some of the hollow girders wrapped around the pier below. It didn't quite drown out the sounds of moaning—and screams—coming from the remnants of humanity on the far side of the river.

Liam took the opportunity to speak to his two lady friends.

“I say we take a five minute break.”

“That sounds heavenly.”

Then Grandma said, “I need to sit down again.”

They placed her on the ground up against the trunk of a large sycamore tree, then each took a seat flanking her. Liam saw she had dug out her Rosary and was holding it tightly to her chest, much as she had when he first saw her in her bed several days ago. Was she near the end again?

Liam didn't have long to reflect on the question, as Phil joined them to speak with Grandma.

Liam stood up.

“Phil this is Marty, my grandmother.”

“Do you mind if I sit down and talk to your Grandma alone for a few minutes?”

“Grandma, you OK with that?”

She gave him a silent thumbs up sign.

Victoria got up to join Liam and the pair walked off, away from the bridge.

Liam used the opportunity to look back in the direction they'd come. Here and there living people were coming out of hiding, trying to swim across the small river, trailed by zombies who sank to the bottom as they entered the water. Most swimmers made it. Some were unlucky and were snatched from below. All things considered, it was about as hospitable as the moon on the far bank.

I'm never going to St. Louis again.

3

Liam walked side-by-side with Victoria further down the railroad tracks, out of the immediate vicinity of all the police men and women still around the bridge. It gave them some time to talk in peace. The survivor instinct was well instilled in both of them as they walked in the open they each noticed the other with their hands on their guns.

“I guess we're veteran survivors now. Tending our weapons like our lives depend on them huh?”

Liam guessed she was right, although he still didn't feel like a survivor. More like a lottery winner after seeing all the people who didn't make it. Where did that huge crowd at the Arch end up? He couldn't even guess.

“So, what's next partner?” She had a broad smile as she said it.

Liam gave her an exaggerated look from her feet up to her head. He then shook his head at her.

“Nope. You aren't the same girl I found lying on the grass. You've gotten over your guilt and have gone out of your way repeatedly to save me, Grandma, and who knows how many others. I think you've made up for any shortcomings you may have imagined for yourself when this whole plague-thing started.”

Victoria winced at the word guilt, but was quick to respond, “And you aren't the awkward boy who ran me over and practically hid behind your Grandma. I've seen you do some amazing things the last couple days that would have made most guys piss their own pants in fear.”

“Well it may surprise you to know that one thing that still makes me whiz in my drawers is asking a pretty girl out on a date.”

She gave him a sideways glance but hid her reaction and just kept walking and talking.

“What are you planning to do next? Do we stay with the police we met at the Arch or strike out on our own with Grandma?”

Liam slowed down as he formulated on a response. “I have to get to my parent's house. They live not far south of here. My dad is kind of an expert at survival and stuff, so finding him will be key to our long-term safety. Besides I can show you all my dorky rock n' roll posters and my retainer and my pocket protector.”

They both laughed at the thought.

“My parents are in Denver. I don't know that I'll ever see them again.” She walked ahead for a little before continuing, “but maybe someday I'll try to get out there if things ever get back to normal. I don't think they ever will though.”

Her body language conveyed a sense of deep despair.

Not that he blamed her. She obviously missed her family. That would be a blow to just about anyone. He admitted to himself he would follow her to Denver if she asked him to go. He found himself suddenly unwilling to part from her.

He figured now was the time to cheer her up.

“I got you a present.”

It immediately brightened her face, bruises and all.

“Really? When did you have time to go shopping? The stores are all closed.”

She gave him a painful-looking wink, but her smile didn't diminish.

“Well, I didn't buy it, but I didn't steal it. I think it was abandoned when I acquired it.”

“I'm intrigued.”

“Close your eyes and hold out your hands and I'll give it to you.”

She peered into his eyes for a long moment, but did as he asked, smiling happily. He pulled the item from the non-gun side of his waistband. It had been hidden under his untucked shirt. He put it gently in her hands and asked her to look at it.

It was a small travel-sized Bible.

“You were looking for one when we met, so naturally I've been trying to find one for you every minute of the day since then.” He smiled to be funny, but he admitted it was pretty near the truth.

Victoria was tongue-tied for several moments. Not an easy thing to do.

“Thank you Liam.” She said it in almost a reverent tone.

“It's only the New Testament. I'm working on getting you an Old Testament. I've got scouts roving the countryside as we speak.” Again he laughed at his joke to make himself feel less self-conscious that he was trying to do something nice for this girl, and doing his best to keep it casual and avoid any hint of guilt-tripping that might make her sense he wanted anything from her in return. He really just wanted to do something selfless for her that didn't involve shooting sick people in the head.

“Liam it's absolutely perfect. Truly, this is the most thoughtful gift anyone has ever given me.”

Whoa!

“Where did you get it?”

Should he tell her he risked his life to get it from inside the train engine as they were running toward the bridge? He resolved to never lie to her.

“I saw it in the train engine when we were up in there the first time, and I ran up there—”

Here comes full disclosure.

“—I ran up there that last time we were running from the zombies with Grandma. I figured it was the final chance I'd have to get it for you. I didn't know we'd live past the bridge. I felt it was worth the risk.”

“Well your feelings on this matter were completely wrong. Nothing is worth risking your life like that. Consider this a slap on the wrist. But I do 100% appreciate this gift and I will treasure it.” Her smile was infectious.

They strolled on the gravel road for another couple minutes, then turned around and walked back. They both agreed it felt weird to be so far from Grandma, or lots of people with guns.

On the return trip Victoria surprised him by grabbing his hand.

Totally worth it.

4

When they reached Grandma she was done talking to Phil. He was giving her a big hug, and he let go as they got close. He stood up to meet them. His face was flushed red; he had been crying some more.

“I don't know how your grandma did it, but she answered my prayers. She really did. Thank you both and good luck. I really need some time alone to process this. Please excuse me.”

He walked off, avoiding eye contact as he moved away. Unwilling to share his secret.

So they asked the one person who would know.

“Grandma, what did you tell Phil about his wife?”

“I don't know if I understand myself. Somehow I knew to call out her name and the name of his daughter. I had one more message, but that was just for Phil. I'm having trouble remembering how I knew it though. I'm old you understand.”

That was her excuse when she was too tired to really think about what she was saying.

“Grandma I think we just witnessed a miracle. There is no other way to explain how that happened.”

“The Lord works in mysterious ways.”

Indeed. Liam had to admit it was nearly providential the way they found Victoria from out of the tens of thousands of people in the Arch grounds. That she would turn out to be such a critical person in helping him and Grandma get out of the city. And the one big favor he did in return was helping her find a Bible, and that a Bible turned up where it did, when it did. Was it divine intervention, or just a lot of amazing coincidences?

Liam still had trouble believing in God, but he wanted desperately to believe in something. He wanted to have the same faith as these two women.

Maybe Victoria was put here to help me find my way spiritually?

His anger at being “dumped” at Grandma's house by his father had long since dissipated. If anything his parents had done him a favor by putting the two of them together at precisely the same time the world fell apart. It almost seemed his dad anticipated what was going to happen. Almost like he knew.

Wait. What?

He dismissed it as absolute rubbish. His father was always spouting off—he would claim he was “discussing intelligently”—things like government conspiracies, media collusion, and military-industrial scheming... But those were just silly theories.

Right?

He was 99% sure it was all bunk. But the last 1% was elusive. His whole worldview fell apart if that rounding error couldn't be sorted. If his dad was correct it meant the government was the bad guy. It meant he somehow knew what the government was up to. It meant he used his knowledge to save Liam and Grandma while keeping his intentions secret. It seemed believable if he were reading one of his books on zombies, but in the real world it seemed completely insane. All his book learnin' did nothing to help him recognize real zombies until they got up in his face and tried to bite him—so he couldn't necessary trust them as his guide anymore. He looked over to the police back at the bridge—the people who just saved them—and realized THEY were the government. He wanted to believe they represented help, not some massive internet-fueled conspiracy. He resolved to keep his eyes open; to prove his father wrong. He wanted to toss out that last percent of doubt.

For now he was 100% sure he had to come up with a plan for their next move. He still had a deep fear he'd end up being THAT GUY and step on a rake at the worst possible time, but after all he'd just seen and done—and survived—that irrational fear was receding. But he had to be smart in looking ahead. And he had allies.

He'd been guiding Grandma the past four days and it looked as if their time together would go on for a little longer. Even if they arrived at his home this afternoon, he found himself wanting to spend as much time as he could with her. After all, she wouldn't be around for much longer. Would she? Just then he recalled her talking in her sleep. She said something about living to be 120. Rather than fear of spending much more time with her, he'd found anticipation. If things got back to normal and she lived that long he'd celebrate each birthday with real zest. If things got back to normal...

His thoughts turned back to the here and now as Victoria reminded him of a missing person. “Do you see our friend Hayes anywhere?”

Looking around, Liam said, “I can't say that I have. I don't remember him being in the group crossing the bridge either, though I wasn't taking a head count. He could have made it across and then run off. Maybe he swam across. Or he could have run off when we were on the other side. He seemed pretty pissed these police officers wouldn't let him pass.”

“Well it would have been pretty stupid to run off alone just because he felt slighted. No one can survive this thing alone.”

Liam and Victoria both let that percolate for a while. Grandma was fast asleep again, up against the tree. She had one arm over Liam's backpack, as if it needed protecting.

As they stood there, Victoria pulled Liam ever so gently from the orbit of Grandma. She set down her new Bible next to the wonderful old woman, where it would be safe.

“Grandma is sleeping against a tree, just like you were when we met.”

Victoria laughed, “Does that mean I have to smash her fingers, or do you?”

“I still feel horrible I did that to you. I don't think she would like me if I let that happen to her.”

Victoria smiled broadly, a pretty look even if she was wearing too much coal dust and bruises for makeup.

“I think she would forgive you, just like I did.”

She kept pulling him around the bulk of the massive tree trunk.

“There is a question I want to ask you now that it looks like we might live beyond this conversation.”

The police and survivors near the bridge were being blocked from view by the big tree.

She let herself lean back against the trunk, arms at her sides, and put her right foot part way up the trunk, so her knee was pointing directly at Liam. Her dress hiked up a little, revealing her knee, and Liam noticed it was jet black with coal residue. A testament to all they'd survived.

Her posture, positioning, and proximity had him completely confused.

Victoria furthered his confusion by asking, “I was wondering if you could tell me more about the shadow government?”

Her effusive smile was contradictory to the serious question she was asking.

What in the hell does she mean?

And then he remembered their discussion earlier—it felt like weeks ago—thousands of zombies ago —dozens of departed acquaintances ago—thousands of dead bystanders ago—a train ride from hell ago —he told her if she said the code phrase “shadow government” he would kiss her on the lips.

Clueless Liam from four days ago would have never figured it out.

Survivor Liam of today returned the wide smile and kissed the girl.

Maybe the Zombie Apocalypse won't be so bad.

For the first time since the sirens, he had some hope for the future.

Acknowledgments

First and foremost I want to recognize my own 104-year-old grandmother for being the inspiration for the character of Marty. Her passing was also the driving force behind my desire to write this book in the first place. I had over 40 years to enjoy her presence in my life, and she became my archetype for the strengths and weaknesses of someone so advanced in age. I regret to say she passed away in 2014 after living an incredibly long and healthy life. Right up until the end she was witty and lively and...alive. I give my real grandma a single mention in this book, when Al tells Marty that in a parallel universe she “passed away peacefully in her sleep today.” That is my homage to her. The rest of the book is written in the character of Marty, who only shares broad strokes with my late grandmother. I couldn't hope to write faithfully in the voice of a real person.

However, I tried to write Marty with my grandmother's physical abilities as I remember them, because I didn't want a superhero character that didn't ring true. Could she have walked a couple miles in the June heat, with a young man helping her? Could she have survived stumbling away from Angie? Could she endure lying on the bed of a flatcar for several hours? On a normal day the answer might be no. No woman of 104 goes out and tries these things. Yet, if the world was ending, and she had to do those things to protect her family—absolutely she would have tried. In that light, Marty shares many of the best qualities of my real grandma, though I'm pretty certain mine never roped cattle.

Because of who she was and how she influenced the character of Marty—and my own upbringing, the trajectory of the entire Sirens of the Zombie Apocalypse series has a more positive and uplifting direction than it might have otherwise. Liam must remain guarded with so much evil in the zombie world, but he learns to search for the positive in mankind, and in himself. In that sense I can relate to his character, having existed in a world containing such an upbeat person as my own "Grandma Marty." His spiritual growth throughout these books would have made my real grandma very happy.

On reflection it seems almost sacrilegious to put the idea of my sweet grandma into what is essentially a piece of horror fiction, but I would find it hard to write her into any other genre. If she had her druthers she’d probably say I shouldn’t use her as the basis for anything at all, and instead write about someone more interesting. Others in our family might suggest a grandmotherly character should only exist in a friendly story akin to Ray Bradbury’s Dandelion Wine, in which the grandparents are presented in a much more mundane setting. But that wouldn’t be me. I think people become extraordinary when faced with great challenges. Perhaps it means I just don’t have a developed sense of drama, as it appears I need the entire world to collapse and zombies to pour forth before I can take a snapshot of a person and characterize them inside that world. I’m okay with that. I think she would be as well.

Most of my research for this book consisted of me walking around St. Louis city and county, where I live. I spent some of my youth pounding pavement through the redstone flats of South City. I've spent countless hours on the highways of this metropolis. I've visited the Gateway Arch numerous times, though I've never been invited to walk the steps to the top. However, if you take the trams up and down the Arch there are windows inside those cars so you can see the metal staircase from time-to-time. Other locations throughout my three books are places I've been, though some of the details were edited to keep the story moving along. The area underneath the Arch is surprisingly complex in real life, so I had to simplify. The escape tunnel under the Arch may seem contrived, but there are lots of air vents on the surface above the museum. Would a backup vent near the leg of the Arch be unreasonable?

General Patton is one of my personal heroes. You may see his influence in several of my novels. In this book Liam loosely quotes him. "A good plan, violently executed now, is better than a perfect plan next week." This is very apropos of self-publishing. I started writing this story in the summer of 2014. The first draft was done in December 2014. And the edits...oh my. My editing highlighter is a nub. I could spend a lifetime perfecting every facet of this book, but at some point it has to be released into the wild. Is this novel perfect? Nope. Instead, I'm "violently executing" a release. And, to let my beta readers off the hook, any errors remaining in the manuscript are completely and utterly my own. I apologize if any of those errors detract from the story. Please, I want to always improve this product, write to me if there is a major flaw or if you want to be a beta reader. I value your feedback.

Finally, I want to thank my family for believing in this project. It took just over a year to turn this glimmer of an idea into a nice-sized novel, and it wouldn't have been possible without a supportive family.

E.E. Isherwood

About the Author

E. E. Isherwood has penned three books about the infected zombies, along with several short stories describing the wreckage they left behind. He has designs for many more tales. His long-time fascination with the end of the world blossomed decades ago after reading the 1949 classic Earth Abides. Zombies are just a handy vehicle which allows him to observe how society breaks down in the face of such withering calamity.

Isherwood lives in St. Louis, Missouri with his wife and family. He stays deep in a bunker with steepled fingers, always awaiting the arrival of the first wave of zombies.

Books by E.E. Isherwood

E.E. Isherwood currently has three books in the Sirens of the Zombie Apocalypse universe. Visit his website at http://www.sincethesirens.com to be informed when future titles are launched.

The Sirens of the Zombie Apocalypse Series

“Start the Sirens” (Introductory short story)

Since the Sirens

Siren Songs

Stop the Sirens

~~~

“Start the Sirens”

Colonel McMurphy is a tired old warrior tasked with preparing a US military medical camp for the upcoming plague. He is on the inside of the preparations, but realizes he knows absolutely nothing about what's coming. No one does. Well, almost no one. When he finally sees the effects of the infection he understands all his preparations were for nothing.

Book 1: Since the Sirens

When 15-year-old Liam goes to stay with his ancient great-grandmother for the summer, he immediately becomes bored around the frail and elderly woman. He spends most of his time at the library texting friends or reading dark novels. But one morning stroll changes everything as the Zombie Apocalypse unloads itself directly into his life. Now he and his 104-year-old guardian must survive the journey out of the collapsing city of St. Louis while zombies, plague, and desperate survivors swirl around them.

Book 2: Siren Songs

After escaping the chaos of the collapsing city, teens Liam and Victoria are faced with a difficult choice. Do they try to find Liam’s parents or defend their suburban home from refugees and the infected? They find new allies to hold things together, even as the government appears increasingly impotent in the face of a mutating virus. And why is a representative of the CDC trying to enlist Liam’s 104-year-old grandma to his cause?

Book 3: Stop the Sirens

Liam and his parents are reunited at last, but the matriarch of their family has been taken to a covert CDC location for medical experiments. Liam wants to mount a rescue operation, but they must first reach a refuge, endure warring government agencies, and learn Grandma’s location—not to mention survive a world awash in zombies. With Victoria at his side, Liam finds his fortitude bolstered by her faith. Together they begin to unravel the mystery of the zombie plague.

Connect with E. E. Isherwood

Thank you for being a reader of my work. I value your support more than I can say. I love interacting with fans. To contact me, yell at me, become a beta reader, or find more stories about the end of everything, look for me online:

Follow me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/eeisherwood

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Visit my website: http://www.sincethesirens.com

Table of Contents

Table of Contents

Chapter 1: CIV

Chapter 2: The Libary

Chapter 3: The Long Way

Chapter 4: Quantum Decisions

Chapter 5: Angie

Chapter 6: Coagulation

Chapter 7: Maple Syrup

Chapter 8: Victoria

Chapter 9: Last Rites

Chapter 10: Touristy Stuff

Chapter 11: Antibodies

Chapter 12: Heroes

Chapter 13: The Hole Nightmares Fall Out Of

Chapter 14: Intermodal

Chapter 15: Slow Grind

Chapter 16: The Tenth Circle

Chapter 17: Valkyrie

Chapter 18: Shadow Government

Acknowledgments

About E.E. Isherwood

Other books by E.E. Isherwood

Connect with E.E. Isherwood