The windows on each side of the house and the one beside the front door were locked, too. I slapped the dining room window with my hand. "Andrew! Jenna! Halle? It's Mommy! Are you here?"
Nothing.
I pressed my ear to the glass and listened. The silence triggered tears, and my bottom lip quivered. I leaned in harder, the coldness of the window offsetting the burning sensation the pressure ignited throughout my ear. My eyes clenched shut as I silently begged someone inside to relieve my fears.
Finally, I pulled away from the window, looking down the street. A tear welled up and broke free, sliding down my cheek. I wiped it, and as I did, my elbow bumped into the glass. Without a second thought, I reared back and let my elbow make contact with the glass a second time, the corner of my bones an extension of all the frustration and fear pulsing through my body. The window shattered. It wasn't as loud as I thought it would be. Large chunks broke off, some falling inside the dining room, and some at my feet.
"Andrew?" I whispered loudly.
After pulling myself inside, I searched every room, every closet, every corner of the house. Something wasn't right, though. The girls' jackets weren't crumpled on the floor, their drawers weren't cracked open, and none of Halle's drawings were scattered on the table. They had never come home. They must have been at the town meeting with the governor when the outbreak happened. They could be trapped inside a shelter with the governor, or Andrew could have run with them. They could be anywhere.
"Goddamnit," I said, louder than I'd spoken in hours. "Goddamnit!" I screamed. I picked up Andrew's dining room chair and launched it across the room, and then lost my balance, falling to my knees. "No," I cried, crumpling into a ball on the floor. I saw their little faces, innocent and frightened, wondering where I was and if I was safe, just as I was wondering about them. I couldn't do this if I wasn't with them. I needed to see Jenna roll her eyes at me again, and for Halle to interrupt me. They needed me to tell them that everything would be okay. We couldn't survive the end of the world without each other. I didn't want to. Sobs built up and released with such ferocity that my entire body shook. Certainly someone would hear me, my screaming and bawling was probably the only sound that could be heard in the entire godforsaken town.
"I'm so sorry," I said, letting the guilt and despair wash over me. I leaned over and let my forehead and arms rest against the carpet; my hands clasped together above my head. Before long, extreme exhaustion pulled and tugged on my consciousness like I'd never felt before. The sobbing quieted, and within moments, I fell into a vast sea of darkness. The depths surrounded me on all sides, and eventually I was swallowed up by it, warm and calm.
Tornado sirens. Odd. I didn't remember the meteorologist mentioning a storm that morning. It wasn't a test. They tested at noon every Thursday, and today was . . . I wasn't sure what day it was.
The first thing I noticed when my eyes peeled open was baseboard, and the way the carpet was newer closer to the wall than farther out where people walked. I used to notice those things when I was a child, when I spent more time on the floor: playing, watching television, being bored. I spent so much of my childhood on the floor. As an adult, I couldn't remember the last time I had this view. But the carpet between my fingers wasn't mine.
My eyes burned. Tears had washed all of my mascara in and out of my eyes, leaving them dry and on fire. The second I remembered why I'd been crying, my head popped up, and I took a quick glance around the dark room. The tornado sirens were blaring. They could be malfunctioning, or there had been a breach.
On my hands and knees, I quickly made my way to Andrew's front door. The streets were still empty, but the sirens continued to wail. The church in Fairview crossed my mind, and I prayed the sirens would stop. The noise would draw every shuffler for miles.
I pulled open the wooden door, and pressed the side of my face against the glass of the storm door. My breath blew moist, visible air in quickly disappearing puffs, clouding my view. When I saw the first person running down the street, intermittently exposed by the street lamps, the breaths became a single gasp.
She was older, maybe in her fifties, but she was alive. Even from a block away, I could see the horror in her eyes. A few seconds later two men--one holding a child--and a woman appeared before they slipped into darkness again. Then five more, and then a dozen. Men, women, and children. At least fifty had passed before I spotted the first shuffler. I could only make him out because he happened to take someone down just under the street lamp. Not long after, several more shufflers became part of the crowd. The screaming slowly built from one or two intermittent cries to full-blown panic. The crowd seemed to spread out, but they were all coming from the same place; from wherever they were held with the governor, maybe. It seemed like the entire town was in the street, running for their lives. My eyes squinted, desperately searching for Andrew and the girls, hoping they would turn down his street from the main road any minute, but as the river of people thinned out, I began to lose hope.
Tears threatened to moisten my eyes once again, but instead I let anger take control. The helplessness I felt at not being able to get to my children sent me into a rage. I ran to Andrew's bedroom and searched his closet. He kept a hunting rifle and a 9mm. Just in case he happened to come back here, I left the rifle and grabbed a backpack from the back, filling it with ammo. My movements were clumsy, both from the adrenaline pumping through my body, and because I hadn't held a gun since before my divorce. I took a few cans of food. The can opener was in the silverware drawer, but I left it, hopeful that Andrew would remember to pack it if he wasn't already on the road. I also took a plastic reusable water bottle.
Not until I made my way to the laundry room did I come across anything really useful: a flashlight, some batteries, a large screwdriver, and a folding knife.
I grabbed one more item, zipped the backpack, and then returned to the front room. I pulled some frames off the wall, and then shook the can in my hand. The aerosol hissed as I pressed my index finger on the trigger, my arm swaying with the silent music of my good-bye as it formed large, conspicuous black words.
I watched the paint drip from the letters, hoping that it was enough; that in the middle of this hell my children would remember the name of Dr. Hayes's ranch, and tell their father how to get there. If Andrew was in that crowd running from the town hall, he would bring them here.
I let the can drop to the floor, and then looked out the glass column of the front door again, seeing slower, shuffling dead ambling down the main road, following the scent of the living. Andrew had gotten our daughters out somehow, before the breach. I had to believe that, and I had to trust that my next decision was the right one.
I gripped the straps of the pack at my shoulders and rushed out of the house, stupidly letting the screen door slam behind me. I paused, slowly turning to see a few of the shufflers to the west automatically turn toward the noise. I ran east toward my grandparents' house, maybe even faster than before, knowing that before long, the sun would rise, and there would be no more shadows to hide behind.
Nathan
"ZOE, TRY TO SLOW YOUR breathing," I said. Zoe was nearly panting, struggling to wrap her head around everything she'd seen, including telling her aunt Jill good-bye for the last time. I reached over and held her small hand in mine. "We're going to be okay, honey. We'll find someplace safe."
"I thought the church was safe," she said softly.
"Not safe enough. We need a place to stay for a long time. In the country, away from all the sick people."
"Where is that?"
I paused, careful not to lie to her. "I'll find it. Don't worry."
Zoe sat up tall and lifted her chin, seeing the green pickup truck idling in the road the same time I did. I let go of Zoe's hand and raised mine to shield her eyes just as the man raised his gun to a woman lying in the road, in a puddle of vomit and blood. A pool of dark red was spilling from her beneath her soiled dress, too, almost like she was having a miscarriage, but I
knew that wasn't where the blood was coming from. She was emaciated, her skin a grayish tone except for the lines of red that drained from her eyes, ears, and nose.
A shot was fired to her head, but the woman didn't move. As we passed, the man was blank-faced, scooping her up tenderly into his arms. He carried her into the cab of his truck, shutting the door behind him.
I lowered my hand, and placed it back on the wheel. Ten and two. "You have your seatbelt on?"
"Yes, Daddy." Zoe was struggling to keep it together.
I wanted to pull over and hold her, to allow her time to transition to our new life of running for our lives and surviving, but we would never have enough time. If it was anything like the movies, life would be lived between near-death experiences.
"Good girl."
Shades of pinks and purples bruised the sky, signaling the beginnings of a sunset. Without any houses in sight, or even a barn, I wasn't sure if I should worry about shelter, or be comforted that we weren't likely to run into a large group of those things--at least for a while.
Zoe was playing with the hem of her lavender dress, humming so softly I could barely make out what it was. Something by Justin Bieber, by the sounds of it. The corners of my mouth turned up. The radio had been silent since we started our journey. I wondered if we would ever hear music again.
Chapter Twelve
Nathan
LESS THAN HALF AN HOUR down the road, I noticed a small sign that read HIGHWAY 123. Another small two-lane, it ran all the way to Kansas. It was less than an hour away, and if I remembered correctly from my and Skeeter's last hunting trip, there was only one small town between where we were and the state line. Beyond that was nothing but farmland and ranch land for miles. Maybe we could find an abandoned farmhouse in the middle of nowhere where we could set up camp. Maybe we would get lucky and it wouldn't be abandoned, and the occupants, old or new, would let us stay.
My mind was drifting when I turned onto the highway, so it must have been instinct, or at least a choice on a subconscious level. Either way, Zoe and I were headed north.
"We're not going back to get my papers, are we?" Zoe said. She didn't try to hide her disappointment.
"I'm sorry, honey. I don't think it's safe."
"So I'm not going to school tomorrow?"
"No."
"Won't you get arrested if you don't take me to school?"
"Not if everyone else stays home from school, too."
That answer seemed to appease Zoe for the moment, but I knew she would only form a list of more questions to ask at a later time. The end of everything was hard for everyone. Especially children. Even more so for children like Zoe that didn't handle change well. My daughter had required a routine since birth. Rules and boundaries were her safe haven. I wasn't sure how I could provide that for her now.
I watched Zoe's head bounce subtly with the tune in her head. Once in a while the splash of freckles across her nose would move when she scrunched her nose to sniff.
"You're not getting a cold, are you?"
Zoe shook her head, willing to let me make small talk. "I don't think so. I wash my hands a lot."
I nodded. "That's good . . . ," I trailed off, noticing something ahead. At first, I thought it might have been a car stalled in the road, but then I saw movement. A lot of movement, fluid and slow. When we came closer, I saw a herd of those things surrounding a vehicle. The car alarm was bleating, and the dead seemed to be agitated by the noise. They were wildly trying to get inside the vehicle. I couldn't see whether anyone was trapped within. I didn't want to.
"Daddy?"
"Hang on, Zoe," I said, turning the wheel off the highway and into the town. The first houses were within a block of the highway. I drove faster than I should have, but I was hoping to get around the herd and make it back onto 123 without losing much time. The sun would set soon, and I didn't want us to be near those things in the dark. Every road I turned down led me either down another road that was too close to the herd, or to another group walking toward the herd.
After the third U-turn, a yellow light on the dashboard, accompanied by a chime, nearly sent me into a panic. We were low on fuel, the sun was going down, and I wasn't familiar enough with this town to find a safe place for me and Zoe for the night. For the first time since I'd left the church, I was afraid that I'd made the wrong decision.
We came up on a dead end, and I pressed on the brakes, seeing a gas can on the front porch of the only house on that end of the road. The last two blocks had been a gravel road, and I didn't see much around. Most of the townspeople were congregated in the middle of the highway.
"Zoe, I'm going to get that gas can over there, and then put some in the car so we can drive the rest of the way."
"The rest of the way to where?"
"I'll be right back, honey. Don't get out of the car, okay?"
Zoe nodded, and I took a quick glance around before getting out. I walked to the porch quickly, hoping with every step there was actual gasoline inside that red plastic container. I climbed the steps and bent over, but when I placed my hand on the handle, the door opened, and the distinct sound of a shotgun being cocked made me freeze in place.
I closed my eyes. "Please don't. My little girl is watching." After a short pause, and the realization that I wasn't dead yet, I looked up. An old man was at the opposite end of the shotgun. Sweaty, dirty, and in an oversized pair of blue and white striped overalls, he pulled the gun away from my temple. "You lettin' your kid watch you steal?"
"I wasn't trying to steal," I said, standing up slowly, keeping my hands up and away from my body. The goal was to be as nonthreatening as possible. "The gas light in my car just dinged. It's getting dark. We're just trying to find someplace safe for the night."
The man squinted his eyes and scratched his white five o'clock shadow, and then lowered his gun. "Get your girl. Bring her inside. Better hurry. One or two pass by here ever so often."
A part of me wanted to grab Zoe and bring her into his home without a second thought. The other part remembered he'd just held a gun to my head. A woman poked her head out from behind the door, and then stepped out onto the porch. She was a bitty thing, her short gray hair styled a lot like Zoe's.
"Oh, good Lord, Walter. Let these poor people come in."
"I asked them in, honey. He's just standing there."
She pushed down his gun. "Well put your gun away, silly!" She held out her hand. "I'm Joy."
"Nathan Oxford. My daughter Zoe is in the car. Nice to meet you."
Walter frowned. "That's great, son, but you best get your baby and come inside."
I nodded and took a long step off the porch, turning off my car and coaxing Zoe outside. She'd seen Walter pull the gun on me, and wasn't sure this was a good idea, either. We followed Joy inside, and Walter locked up behind us.
Joy wiped her hands on her trousers and paused in the center of the living room. The house was immaculate, but the carpet was at least thirty years old, and it smelled like it. "We're going to sleep downstairs in the basement. Walter is going to nail the door shut for the night."
"What if they get in the house?" I said quietly.
Walter held his gun at his side. "We've got food and water down there. Joy was just bringing more. They don't seem to notice the house, though. They're all attracted to something on the other side of town."
"There's a car with a security system going off on the highway. They're all crowded around that."
Walter frowned, deep in thought. "So they're attracted to sound. We'll just keep quiet. They won't have a reason to mess around here. I'll lock the doors. I don't think they'll try to get in through the windows unless we draw attention to ourselves."
It made me nervous to think we wouldn't have an exit strategy, but it was better than nothing, and safer than sleeping upstairs.
Zoe and I helped Joy bring food and water downstairs to the basement. It was finished, with a couch and a couple of recliners facing a flat-screen television.
Walter laughed once. "Joy bought that for me for Christmas last year. All you can see on it now is snow."
Zoe and I snuggled up on a yellow and brown plaid couch while Walter nailed the basement door shut, and then nailed a two-by-four across the middle section. Joy covered us with a blanket, also straight out of the 1970s, and in record time, Zoe was relaxed and sleeping in my arms. I was afraid she wouldn't be able to sleep because we were in a strange place, but she was exhausted. I rested my cheek against her hair. The light-brown strands were stringy and tangled, making me think of all the comforts of home we no longer had. Simple things, like a brush.
"You sure have a pretty girl there," Joy whispered, smiling. "My daughter Darla lives in Midland. You ever been to Midland?"
I shook my head.
"We were actually packing to go see them this weekend. We were going to leave yesterday, but I wanted to make sure I had someone to water my flowers before we left." She sighed, and her eyes filled with tears. "I might never see her again, or my grandbabies. Because of the goddamn flowers."
"You could see her again."
"You think so?" she said, cautious hope in her voice.
I smiled and kissed Zoe's temple, and then leaned my head back against the cushion. "Thank you. For letting us stay here tonight."
"You can stay as long as you like," Joy whispered, glancing up at her husband still busy securing the door. "Who knows when this is all sorted out . . . or if it will ever be."
Miranda
EVEN WHEN MY EYES OPENED, it was still dark. The scratching and padding by the dead ones outside had stopped, and Bryce was awake, staring straight ahead. I sat up and tried to stretch the knots out of my back.
"Did you sleep?" I asked quietly.
Bryce shook his head, and then looked over at me with a smile. "I might have dozed off for a few minutes. I'm glad you did, though." He leaned over and touched his lips to mine for the first time in twenty-four hours. "You were incredible yesterday. I didn't know you knew how to drive like that."
I wrapped my arms around my middle to ward off the early-morning chill. Bryce cradled me to his side. He wasn't the most muscular guy at school, but he was athletically built, and his sweet smile made staying mad at him impossible. His dark hair was about two months overdue for a haircut, and when he leaned over to kiss me, some of it fell forward into his eyes. He used his fingers to comb it away, refusing to do the incredibly annoying head jerk most guys did to get their hair out of their eyes.
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