Zombies vs Polar Bears: Sirens of the Zombie Apocalypse, Book 5 (21 page)

“And devils are more real?” he answered.

“Well, they're in the Bible at least. That makes them real,
right?”

Marty inwardly shrugged. She'd heard every interpretation of the
Bible over the years. Some got it right. Some not. It wasn't her
place to judge. Whatever they were, the girls were letting themselves
get dragged closer to them, and they didn't seem to appreciate the
danger.

“Sir, what's your name?” Marty asked.

“Name's Duncan Franks. I used to live here in town, but
started farming a piece of land over'n Missouri a couple years ago.
Came back when it all went to hell. Turns out I was smart. Got my
family to safety, anyway. And here I am going toward the danger,
huh?”

The girls spoke with each other in hushed voices while sitting in
the Gator's bed behind her. The transition from pavement to gravel
signified their climb up the levee embankment on the north side of
town. In moments they would see over the top and she would have a
sense of what her next step was going to be. The girls chatted
hastily the entire way up, but fell silent as they neared the summit.

Marty watched as Duncan weaved through several other vehicles,
bicycles, and pedestrians standing on top of the big levee. They went
about a hundred yards to the west before he picked an open spot and
parked his Gator so it faced north—toward the open fields and
water-filled pit that protected the town.

It was a smoky moonscape. Far across the fields, some trees near
the interstate were still smoldering from fires that had stripped
them to bare toothpicks in the earth. Closer in, the field was
littered with thousands of bodies of the infected. It reminded her of
pictures of trenches the First World War. This was a true no-man's
land, because the things out there weren't men. They were dead,
certainly, though the field writhed with movement as the zombies that
weren't beheaded tried to crawl, or grasp their way toward the town.
A rare zombie even found it's feet, though it seemed they walked in
circles—shocked at the violence of the night. Even a zombie
suffered when it's head was rearranged by such violence, she assumed.

Nearer to her, she could barely see into the trench the Army had
taken such pains to build. The check dam near the river had been
blown apart with explosives, and the water of the Mississippi mingled
with the water passing in front of the town from left to right. She
couldn't see the water because the builders had displaced the soil to
a big berm along the southern bank. It seemed to provide a very
formidable barrier to climb. The Army placed a small metal bridge
over the waterway—it was the only way into town from the north.

Everyone was lost in their own thoughts at the scene. Even the two
girls were mute.

A few screams rose up to their right. Pointed fingers extended
toward the source. Marty's eyes followed them and saw a hand slapping
on top of the berm—the last defense—repeatedly.

“Something's trying to get up the berm. How is that even
possible,” she asked rhetorically.

Townspeople, anxious to do something after such a shock, began
shooting.

The hand snapped back, out of sight, possibly hit.

A few cheers rose up.

Marty was struck by the mood. It was festive at what was clearly a
victory against a large number of zombies, but subdued that their
saviors had abandoned them in the dark of night. They were on their
own. She wondered if the people were properly scared now.

The scattered cheers turned to disappointment.

Then they turned to confusion.

The hand on the berm was holding up a shirt. It was like a dirty
white flag of the dead. Could zombies surrender?

Marty, and every person who saw it, leaned forward.

4

“Girls, can you jump out the back please?”

It took a few moments, but as soon as they were clear, Marty felt
the Gator lurch forward and then down the front side of the levee.
They made it two-thirds up the berm before the tires wouldn't move
them forward another inch. Duncan threw on the parking brake, then
jumped out. He beat several other men and women who had run down the
levee and walked up the berm.

Marty watched as they helped the person who raised the flag, and
she was truly surprised who she saw being carried in her direction.

“General Jasper!” she blurted out.

He'd used his white undershirt as his makeshift signal, though
from closer in she could see it was stained with a mix of mud and
blood. There was a hole on his left side, like he'd been stabbed,
shot, or...bitten.

“Here, someone help him down. I'll turn the Gator around and
I can give him a ride to the center of town.” He handed the
general to a younger man, then spun Marty and the little cart around
so it was at the bottom of the hill, ready to give the injured man a
ride.

To their credit the two young women got back in the Gator, too.
They offered to help stabilize the general on what would be a bumpy
ride on the way back across the levee.

Marty couldn't turn around properly as she had to hold on while
the machine sped along.

“A general huh? How'd you get down in that gully?”

“I'm a Major General—two stars—though I've
probably been mustered out, dishonorably.” He laughed weakly.

“Why mustard?” asked one of the girls.

“No,” a painful laugh, “it means I was sent home
because someone didn't like my attitude. And, though I hate to point
fingers because I take full responsibility for my actions, my
situation was caused by that woman right there.”

Marty knew he was pointing at her. Duncan was looking right at
her.

When they got to the top of the levee, Duncan pulled off the road
and turned off the motor.

“This woman put you in that hellscape? How?”

“No, not at all. I'm sure she has no idea what she's done.
Mrs. Peters, pleased to see you again.”

Marty was able to shift on the bright yellow seat so she could see
the injured general. “I'm glad to see you too, sir. I had
nothing to do with you ending up there, I'm sure of that.”

“I think you were supposed to die in that room, ma'am. I
interrupted that plan, then I compounded it by taking you to the
town's infirmary. You were with other people. You were safe from
them
.” He coughed and winced in pain as he grabbed his
side.

One of the girls begged Duncan to continue, but he seemed on the
fence.

“That woman, Elsa whatever, told me who she was with.”

“Homeland Security, though I never believed that.” The
general replied.

“No, she was affiliated with a man who chased my grandson
and his girlfriend in downtown St. Louis. He worked for a government
agency, I think they are security guards, or something. Their letters
are NIS.”

“What does that stand for, ma'am?” a girl asked from
behind her.

“I don't remember.” She expected the general to know.
“I'm old, you understand.” She found herself a little
guilty at dumping the responsibility on the ash pile of old age, but
it was plain as day she didn't know. Why else, than old age?

A failing mind, perchance?

She wanted it to be old age.

“She was upset I talked to you, but I think she was more
upset that I refused her orders. I'm still bound by my oath to serve
this nation, so I can't tell you any details of what's going on
beyond what I'm certain you already know. There's a convoy coming
from the East Coast. When it gets to Illinois, they want us to be
out
there
to protect them, then join with them as they reach their
final destination. Elsa ordered me to move all my men north to
support that effort, no matter what effect that would have on Cairo.”

“So you refused,” Duncan suggested.

“More than that. I tried to have her arrested when she asked
me about Mrs. Peters—her prisoner. The soldiers should have
obeyed me, but it turns out they weren't real soldiers. They were
loyal to her, not the United States Constitution. I spent the night
in her unit's “care,” and I woke up when I hit the water
out there. They threw me from the bridge last night on their way
out.”

He made a gesture toward his stomach, though Marty couldn't see it
properly. “I got this when I fell off the bridge. I landed on
some debris left in the trench. I used that crap to climb onto the
berm, but after all the bombing and strafing last night, the dirt had
turned to mud. It took me all night to fingernail my way up that
hill...to almost get shot for my trouble.” He laughed, then
coughed.

“Please. I'm exhausted.”

Duncan started the motor and he threw it into gear.

Despite the horrors, she enjoyed the wind in her hair on their way
back to the heart of town.

5

Marty was allowed to sit with the general while he was patched up.
He seemed to appreciate her presence, though she had no idea why. The
stern-looking general softened when he looked at her.

“This is going to hurt, sir.” One of the nurses
proceeded to pour some liquid on his side, then wipe up the mess.

Through the pain he spoke to Marty. “You remind me of my
grandmother. She was only 99, but we were close. I can't explain why,
really. My mother and I weren't even that close. But her. Something
about her always set me at peace. A way of talking without saying
anything, if you know what I mean.”

Marty nodded, though she admitted she didn't know for sure. She
shared her time with many of her younger family members. Some were
very talkative, and she had to fight to get them to leave—she
still loved them—and others were more reserved. They'd share
smiles and a brief word here or there, but they didn't come round to
chat. People were different, that's all.

Thinking of a two-star general as someone's grandkid almost made
her giggle.

The nurse had to step out, leaving the room to Marty and John.

“She wanted you dead, Marty. I can't figure it out, either.
She said you were injected with the cure. Is that true?”

“I think so. A man named Douglas Hayes injected me with
something
. Liam told me he thought it was the cure.”

“Hayes? Elsa wanted me to find him and kill him.”

Grandma took a long time to reply. The general couldn't know how
confused she was about Hayes, even beyond her normal confusion about
all that happened around her. Hayes had followed them out of the
city, shot Victoria, kidnapped her and Liam, and just when it seemed
he couldn't get any worse, he helped the kids escape from the
Riverside Hotel. He claimed he was working on the cure...but also…

“Hayes was part of the team that created and delivered the
virus. He told us.”

“God god! Are you sure? And Hayes was working with Elsa. Is
Homeland Security behind all this?” He seemed to be trying to
convince himself, so Marty didn't interfere. He looked at her. “Are
you sure about this? This is a game-changer.”

“I think so. He caused the plague, but he also said he was
looking for the cure. I don't think he thought it was going to be
like this.” She swept her hands.

“This makes no sense. Elsa wanted her own man dead? And
you?”

“You'd have to ask Liam. He's writing a book about it. He
keeps track of the details.”

“You mentioned Liam back in your motel room.”

“I did? He's my great-grandson and helper.”

“You were out of it,” he laughed guardedly. “And
I didn't press you on it.”

“You would like him. He's a real go-getter. He got me out of
St. Louis in the days after the sirens, then he and Victoria rescued
me from the NIS people.”

“He must be pretty tough. If Elsa belongs to the same group,
her people are ruthless. They caught this old warrior with his pants
down. Now they're leading my men somewhere out in Indian country. But
if they're so clever, why would they kill the one person who had the
cure?”

“I don't know. I'm just an old woman trying to stay alive
from one day to the next. Even without zombies, my days are in short
supply. I admit I sometimes don't worry about the details. And my
dreams. My oh my. Don't get me started. I see some strange things—I'm
dreading the word 'dementia' when I get back to see a proper doctor.”

He studied her. “You don't seem crazy to me. You were right
about Elsa, by the way. She is a horrible person, and not just for
cutting your air conditioning. She pulled a gun on me. Threatened to
kill me. I should have come back and arrested her on the spot, but
then I'd be dead and would never have known about you. I guess it
worked out as it was supposed to.”

“The Lord works in mysterious ways.”

“I can't argue that, ma'am. But we have a job to do. Once
they get me patched up I need to get back up on that levee. The
battle last night was intense and one-sided, but without my tanks,
gun carriers, and airplanes, we're going to be fighting them with pop
guns and harsh language. What we need is an ICBM to drop from space
and clear all of southern Illinois. It would almost be worth it to
lose the land if we never had to worry about millions of infected
citizens again.”

“Millions?”

“Yes. I'm sure Elsa didn't advertise this, but the big
rivers are catching all the sick from Chicago and Indianapolis and
pushing them right to our doorstep. We killed tens of thousands last
night. Millions are on the way.”

“Oh dear. Well, I'll do what I can from my bedside. I'll be
praying.”

“I need bodies, more n' anything right now. You know where I
can get some people to fight?”

At first her mind thought of nothing that would help, but she
slowly came to understand what was at stake and where she might find
some people willing to do something about it.

Time to put down the tablets and join the real world.

She smiled.

“I never in my wildest fantasies thought you and I would be
doing this,” Victoria said as she smiled widely at Liam.