Sirens of the Zombie Apocalypse (Book 1): Since the Sirens by E.E. Isherwood

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