Red Hill

by kindle@abovethetreeline. com

  I trudged back to the backyard, staring at the bodies of Dr. Hayes and his girlfriend, Leah, lying side by side. Dragging him up the stairs was almost the hardest thing I’d ever done, second only to giving birth. At the halfway point on the stairs, I paused to rest and nearly let him go. The only thing that kept me going was weighing the alternative: to dismember him and carry the smaller bits upstairs. Easier yes, but a whole hell of a lot messier.

  I leaned against the tree, feeling lightheaded. My body was screaming for rest. Before I was passed out and vulnerable outside, my sense of self-preservation told me to retreat inside the house. With only one objective in mind, I stumbled into the laundry room, descended the stairs, and shut myself in the basement, pulling the old loveseat against the door with the last bit of my energy. My body collapsed onto the scratchy cushions, and before I could have another thought, I lost consciousness.

  When I first peeled my eyes open, I saw tan, soiled carpet and the adjacent wall going in and out of focus. Everything was devoid of sound, even the air. My line of sight followed the carpet until the chunky remnants from the tussle with the doctor and Leah came into view.

  It was then that my heart broke into a million pieces. I wasn’t sure what time it was, or what day it was, but I knew I was in hell. My children were somewhere else where I couldn’t protect them, and I was alone. It took longer that time to recover from mourning my situation, but I gave myself adequate time to cry, and then I went to the doctor’s gun safe. It was one of many, but it was the only one open. A rifle stood out to me, and fit well in my hands, so it accompanied me upstairs.

  The position of the sun confused me at first. It was higher in the eastern sky than it was when I decided to rest. It’s not possible, I thought. But that I had slept the rest of my first day at the ranch and through the entire night was the only explanation.

  The doctor’s bloody shirt was damp with dew. The thought of being out for so long was disturbing, and a flood of emotions came over me. What had the girls been doing the day before and all night? Irrational feelings like the fear that they wouldn’t survive if I hadn’t worried about them every minute of every hour crept into my mind.

  Unable to process any more, I rolled Leah into her grave, and grabbed the shovel to fill the hole. As I covered her with dirt, my hands began to burn and complain from the digging the day before. Leah lay face down, slowly disappearing beneath the soil. Once I filled one hole, I began to dig another. Dr. Hayes’s hole I was sure to make a little wider, and a little deeper. I dug until the clay was too difficult, and then I rolled him into his hole, too. His leg managed to prop, so I had to bend it so he would lie right.

  By noon, I had said a few words about my friends, made myself a sandwich, and found rope, twine, and Leah’s stash of recycled cans. The plan was to line the perimeter with the cans so if any shufflers crossed the cans, the noise would be a warning. Not foolproof, but it kept me busy.

  Three days passed before I saw the first shuffler. He was only wearing a robe, stumbling down the road unaccompanied. The barrel of my gun followed him until he was out of sight. Shooting him crossed my mind, but because I’d seen the shufflers react to the car alarm in Shallot, I was afraid the noise would attract more. I let him pass, praying my cowardice wasn’t freeing him to attack someone else down the road.

  Every day I watched the road for the girls. To pass the time I cleaned, rearranged, reorganized, and wrote down how the food and water should be rationed. The girls were coming, and I had to make sure there were plenty of supplies for them when they arrived, especially the mac and cheese for Halle, and the double butter popcorn for Jenna.

  Day four was depressing. A part of me wanted to believe the girls would come straight to the ranch, but with each passing day it became obvious that wasn’t going to happen. I wasn’t sure why they hadn’t come. Refusing to entertain the worst scenario, I told myself Andrew was taking his time to keep our children safe. Still, the waiting was agonizing. Before the outbreak, there was never enough time. Now, the days dragged on, and I felt more and more alone, wondering if I was the only person left alive. That led to more uneasy thoughts: if Christy leaving early had helped her and her daughter Kate find someplace safe, if David and his family were okay, if David had made it out of the hospital at all. If he was working Mrs. Sisney’s code and she was attacking people outside . . . I shuddered, shaking the likely scene from my mind, only to think of other, less settling things. My mother was home alone, and so was my neighbor, Mrs. Chebesky. I wanted to call them to see if they were all right. I’d tried the doctor’s landline the first evening and every day after, but an automated response turned into weird, incessant beeps, and then there was no dial tone at all.

  Day five, I saw another shuffler. Part of me wanted to use her for target practice, but again I was afraid the noise would attract others. I hid inside the house and she passed, across the neighboring field, without event.

  A sense of pride swelled inside of me that my theory had been right. The doctor’s ranch was the perfect place to survive the end of the world. But it wasn’t surviving unless my girls were there with me. So I watched the road, sometimes looking so hard I could almost see them.

  But on Thursday morning, it wasn’t on the road that I saw someone. It was over the hill.

  Nathan

  “Daddy!” Zoe said, half afraid, half angry. She was using her scolding voice, the one she used to parent Aubrey and me when we were breaking a rule. “You left me!” she said, her eyes already puffy and wet from tears. “You left me!”

  “I didn’t leave,” I said, rushing to my knees in front of her on the couch. I kept my voice calm and soothing. “I was just upstairs talking to Miss Joy.”

  It was irresponsible of me to let Zoe wake up alone in a strange place. My daughter was sensitive to many things—fabric, noise, situations—and our routine had kept her calm for the most part. A year had almost passed since Zoe’s last “episode,” as her school counselor called them, but I could always tell when she was working up to one.

  Knowing we needed to be quiet to survive, Zoe couldn’t release an overstimulation like she used to. I refused to make it a rule, though. Not before she found another outlet. “Zoe,” I said, letting my voice slide over the back of my tongue. Aubrey didn’t have the patience for this, but she also didn’t have a butter voice, as she called it. Zoe responded much better to the silky smooth tone I used for these moments.

  Zoe balled up her fist and hit my shoulder. It didn’t hurt. She didn’t mean for it to, she was just releasing the overwhelming emotions she couldn’t process any other way. “Never leave me!”

  “I wouldn’t. I would never leave you. I’m sorry you were afraid when you woke up. That’s my fault.”

  She used her other hand to hit my chest. “I was! I was afraid!”

  “That’s it,” I said, encouraging her. “Use your words.”

  Zoe took a deep breath, always a good sign. “I was having a bad dream! I didn’t know where I was! I thought you were dead!”

  I nodded. Her eyes were wild and her body trembled, a signal that she wasn’t quite on the down slope, but she was peaking.

  “Never again!”

  “You know I can’t make promises, Zoe.”

  “No, you promise!” she screamed.

  I nodded. “What I can promise is to never leave without telling you again. You’ll always know where I am. Deal?”

  Zoe took in a staggering breath, and then breathed out. She blinked a few times, and then her eyes relaxed. I held out my arms for her to hug me. She wouldn’t have allowed me to before she was ready, anyway. I’d learned over the years to just offer and wait.

  When her tiny body was nuzzled up against mine, I wrapped my arms around her. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m here. You’re safe and loved. Safe and loved.”

  Zoe melted against me and whimpered. It was exhausting and frightening for her when she lost control, and if she hadn’t just woke up, she probably would have lied down for
a nap. I wiped her eyes and took her hand.

  “Miss Joy made breakfast.”

  I led her up the stairs, unable to ignore the looks from Walter and Joy. I had become accustomed to them. People who happened to be around during an episode were usually either annoyed or sympathetic with no in-between. A woman at the mall once approached Aubrey to advise us that Zoe just needed a good spanking. It seemed like everyone who didn’t understand always knew how to parent Zoe better than we did. Even if they didn’t say it, they let us know with their expressions. Zoe never seemed to notice. I hoped she never would.

  “Here you go, Zoe. I hope you like cinnamon rolls.”

  “Oh, I do,” Zoe said, her eyes big and her smile wide. She followed the plate until it was in front of her, and didn’t hesitate to pick one up with both hands and shove it into her mouth.

  Joy smiled. “I didn’t figure she’d want a fork.”

  “Nope,” I said. “I can’t thank you enough.”

  “Daddy? Where’s Mommy?” Zoe asked through a mouthful of bread.

  “She’s uh . . .” I stuttered, looking to Joy. “She went on a trip.”

  “Is she coming back? How will she find us?”

  My mouth pulled to the side. “I don’t know, baby.”

  Zoe looked down at her cinnamon roll, clearly trying to process the news.

  A small dog began to yap. Just a few times at first, and then consistently. Joy smiled. “That’s Princess. She belongs to the Carsons next door. I’ve been feeding her and letting her out in the backyard. Would you like to help me feed Princess, Zoe?”

  Zoe nodded emphatically, shoving the rest of the cinnamon roll in her mouth as she pushed her chair away from the table. The chair screeched against the floor as she did so, and I closed one eye tight, recoiling from the noise.

  Walter smiled. “This floor has survived three grandchildren, two of ’em boys. I think it can stand up to Zoe.”

  We spent the rest of the day talking and watching the road. After she and Zoe returned from feeding Princess, Joy found a few board games and some cards, and played Go Fish with Zoe. It was quiet, but once in a while, someone from Shallot would shuffle by, their eyes milky white, and always with a wound. I wondered if people that had been bitten were slowly turning and making their way out to the road.

  Walter and I returned to the porch to sit in twin wooden rockers after the last dead person wandered by. Joy brought us sandwiches and apple slices. I thanked her, wondering when my next chance would come to ask her about what she didn’t say that morning.

  “That was Jesse Biggins,” Walter said, biting off a piece of apple. He shook his head. “He’s a big hunter. Has quite a few guns at his place. Maybe we should visit?”

  “Does he have any family?”

  Walter shook his head. “His wife died several years back. His kids moved to the city. It’d be a worth a try.”

  I nodded. “Maybe we should hit a couple of places for supplies?”

  “We just have the one general store. Not much a store, really, but it’s all we got. I don’t know who else isn’t sick. Maybe everything is already gone.”

  “How many people live here? Just a ballpark figure.”

  Walter breathed from his nose while he thought. “A hundred. That’s a generous number.”

  “Gauging from the group on the road, I’d say less than half are left.”

  Walter nodded and his eyes fell. “That’s what I was afraid of.”

  After I spoke to Zoe at length about where we were going and why, and exactly what time we would return, Walter and I decided to set out on foot carrying several empty bags and two gas cans. Joy stood behind Zoe with her hands on her shoulders as Zoe waved good-bye. The store was only a few blocks away, and Jesse’s house a few more, so we assumed it would be a quick trip.

  Just as I suspected, the general store was nearly stocked full of supplies, but empty of anyone else. Keeping the sick’s attraction to noise in mind, Walter and I brought our guns—his shotgun and my semi-automatic—as a last resort. Walter had a couple of hatchets in his shed, and we both carried one with us for protection.

  Walter went straight to the coffee aisle. I put as many bottles of water in my bag as I could carry and some nonperishable foods. Matches, every lighter they had, flashlights, batteries, pantyhose, and maxi pads.

  Walter gave me a look.

  “The hose are good for tie-offs, filters, you name it. The pads stick to you, and they’re absorbent. Good for wounds.”

  Walter nodded. “I thought maybe you were a cross dresser,” he said, and then picked up a couple of first-aid kits. “I’m not that creative. I’ll stick to these.”

  I smiled. My bags were nearly full, and we hadn’t been to Jesse’s. “Maybe we should head back to the house? Drop these off and then get the guns, or make the trip tomorrow.”

  “It’s just up the street there. Let’s just get it over with.”

  “Famous last words. Have you ever seen a zombie movie? What you said would be a clear signal that something bad was going to happen if the characters continued on. My mind is made up. We’re going back.”

  Walter’s eyebrows pulled together, but he smiled. The bell over the door sounded, and Walter’s smile went away. We acknowledged to each other the sound of something dragging, slow and clumsy, across the tile floor. I pointed to the back, mouthing the word exit.

  Walter nodded quickly, and I followed him through double swinging doors to a storage room. I kept my hatchet ready, and he did the same. We escaped through the back door without even seeing what else had visited the store.

  “Do you think it knew we were in there?” Walter said, walking more quickly than he had before.

  “Maybe it smelled us?”

  “You, maybe. I’ve showered.”

  I laughed once, and tried to keep pace with the old man.

  Miranda

  My eyelids were heavy. Even though we were preparing to carry Skeeter’s wife outside amid dozens of dead just waiting to bite us, time seemed to have stopped. The faucet was leaking, letting one drop at a time fall into the sink, creating an irritating beat inside the silence.

  Bryce and Skeeter were discussing strategy while the reverend and the other men listened intently. Ashley was busy trying to talk Cooper out of baiting the dead ones away from the church, and the women were trying to keep the children warm and comfortable on their pallets in the hallway so they would sleep through it all.

  Jill had been rolled in a couple of plastic tablecloths once Skeeter was finally okay with it. It bothered him at first to see her covered, complaining that she couldn’t breathe. He knew as well as we did that she was gone, but his mind was still getting used to it. No one blamed him, waiting patiently until he was ready.

  I was sitting in a metal folding chair at the table with my chin resting on the heel of my hand. It was ridiculous, but the only thing running through my head was how stupid it was that I didn’t get more sleep the night before the apocalypse. I’d stayed up late cramming for a test that I didn’t even get to take because the school let out early due to the epidemic. Now I had how to evaluate double and triple integrals running in my brain. I would never have used them before. Now I definitely wouldn’t need them. The thought about how much time I’d wasted studying for shit that no longer mattered made me angry.

  I could have been backpacking across Europe. Now there was a very real chance I might never see it.

  “Miranda?”

  I sat up, blinking. “Yeah?”

  “You ready? The sun is coming up. It will be light enough in a couple of minutes for us to move Jill.”

  “Yeah. I’m ready. Just waiting on you.” I stood, watching the reverend fidget and take big enough breaths that, to him, made him look something other than nervous.

  Before I made it the few steps across the room to help Bryce and Skeeter with Jill, a quiet moan reverberated upstairs. Every pair of eyes in the room slowly moved upward to stare at something they couldn’t see on
the other side of the ceiling. In the next moment there was a loud bang like someone had fallen.

  Gary looked to Skeeter. “I told you. It’s Annabelle.”

  Skeeter glanced down at the sheet covering Jill, and then grabbed a gun from his duffle bag. It looked pretty mean. Something my dad would love. “We need to take care of Jill, first.”

  The mother, April, wrapped her arms around her middle. “You’re just going to leave us in here alone with that thing walking around upstairs? What if she gets through the door?”

  “It’s boarded,” Gary said.

  “My husband boarded the windows of our house. Notice he’s not here,” April said, her voice raising an octave.

  “All right,” he said quietly. “We put Annabelle down, and then I’ll take care of Jill before we take her outside. They were bit about the same time, and she’ll hate me if I let her hurt anyone.”

  “Not in the church! Reverend, tell them!” Doris said.

  Reverend Mathis nodded to Doris. “We can’t take the risk of trying to get Annabelle outside, but Skeeter . . . maybe you could wait to put Jill to a final rest until we get outside.”

  “If they were bitten at the same time,” Bryce began, but Doris cut him off.

  “Poor Annabelle,” she said, tears spilling over her cheeks.

  Skeeter took the safety off his rifle. “Let’s get it done.”

  Bryce kissed the corner of my mouth quickly before following Skeeter, Gary, and Eric upstairs. At some point during the discussion, Evan woke up and lumbered into the kitchen from the hallway. It didn’t take him long to figure out something wasn’t right, and he clung to Bob’s arm.

  “What’s going on, Grandpa?”

  Bob rested his hand on Evan’s shoulder. “Annabelle woke up.”

  “Woke up?”

  “She’s like one of those things outside now.”