Copyright (c) 2014 by Jamie McGuire
All rights reserved.
Cover Designer: Sarah Hansen, Okay Creations, www.okaycreations.com
Editor and Interior Designer: Jovana Shirley, Unforeseen Editing, www.unforeseenediting.com
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Visit my website at www.jamiemcguire.com
For Danielle Lagasse
Thank you for taking such joy in loving Red Hill.
Thank you for being its champion.
Thank you for being mine.
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Thank You
Acknowledgments
About the Author
REGRET WASN'T SOMETHING A THIRTEEN-YEAR-OLD THOUGHT ABOUT MUCH. Lashing out or making a bad choice would typically be forgiven the moment the mistake was recognized, and then it would be forgotten. With volleyball, cheer squad, student council, piano lessons, and the occasional spare moment for a social life, there wasn't much time for anything else, definitely not something as stupid as regret. But when all of that fell away, that was all I would be thinking about.
When I got out of Mom's Suburban that morning, my thoughts swirled around what snotty comment Ally or Lizzie would say to me that day or if I would get all the way through lunch without a single crap remark. Math homework was due. Dad would be picking me up this afternoon.
Dad.
Ugh.
Mom had mentioned being nice to his new girlfriend, but I wasn't even sure who that might be. Ever since the divorce, Dad's house had been a revolving door of single moms or women who were barely older than me.
At first, Dad had tried to control how much and how seriously Mom dated by example. His first girlfriend had her own kids, and she hadn't come over much on the weekends when my little sister, Halle, and I were there. But after Dad had realized Mom wasn't interested in dating--and he couldn't hold his rules over her head--he'd quit caring. Girlfriend number two had broken us in, and he had felt okay with the idea of her being around us. By number three, he'd been just fine with her spending the night. He'd introduced us to Four thirty-six hours after their first date. Five had a toddler son, and Dad had moved my things out of my bedroom to make space for blue-and-red curtains, fire truck wall hangings, and a toy box full of dump trucks and miniature cars. Six had barely been old enough to drink and didn't have kids, and even though my bedroom had become empty again, I was still stuck sharing a room with my seven-year-old sister.
Now, we were on Seven, so it was possible that my room was back to being occupied.
I slipped inside the glass double doors of Bishop Middle School without glancing back to see if Mom had pulled away. She always waited until I was at the doors. She probably didn't even realize that she did it anymore.
The sky opened up, and large drops began to spatter against the windows. The tapping seemed to echo throughout the building as I walked up the stairs to the main floor. I turned left, heading toward my locker, and passed Mrs. Gizzo on the way.
She smiled brightly at me. "Just made it! Looking wet out there already," she said.
I nodded.
"See you later." She winked before passing me by.
Mrs. Gizzo taught my third-hour seventh grade English class. She didn't mind when I'd write stories in class as long as my work was finished. Writing was pretty much the only outlet I had. Talking to Mom about being angry or frustrated with her wasn't exactly happening. Talking to her about Dad would only cause a fight. Mrs. Gizzo had somehow gotten that about me, and she wouldn't give me a hard time about getting the anger out of my system on paper like some of the other teachers had.
I stopped in front of my locker and turned the combination lock to four, forty-four, twelve. I pulled the handle with a jerk and opened the thin metal door before pulling out my pre-algebra book and then stuffing my backpack inside. I had spent too much time on my laptop the night before, so my math homework would have to be finished during homeroom.
My cell phone buzzed in my back pocket, and I turned my body to hide the bulky teal-and-purple case as I checked the message. It was from Dad, reminding me that he would be picking me up.
I'm not an idiot.
I typed back that I was aware, and then I shoved my phone back into my pocket.
"Hey, Jenna!" Chloe said with a big grin.
I jumped. "Hey."
Her smile faded. "Is it your dad's weekend?"
"Yeah," I said, pulling my thick binder from my locker.
"That sucks. Well, maybe he'll feel bad about last time and take you someplace fun."
"Doubtful. Seven will likely be around."
Chloe's face screwed into disgust. "They have numbers now?"
"Might as well." I exhaled, walking with her to homeroom.
When Chloe and I sat in our seats, I immediately pulled out the crinkled notebook paper bookmarking the page of problems I had to finish. Just ten minutes and four problems later, I folded my work in half and stuck it in my textbook.
Mr. Hilterbran was tapping on his cell phone while resting his chin on the heel of his other hand. I frowned, and motioned to Chloe. It was unlike him--or any teacher--to have a phone in view of the students. Seeing Mr. Hilterbran breaking the rules by ignoring us for whatever was on his phone was strangely unsettling.
Chloe leaned over. "He's been like that since he sat down."
Five minutes before the bell rang, Mr. Hilterbran seemed to snap out of his trance, and he blinked. "Have you heard about this epidemic in Europe?" he asked. "It's all over the news."
The twenty or so of us looked at each other and then stared blankly at our teacher. He simply looked back down at his phone and then shook his head in disbelief.
"What kind of epidemic?" I asked.
Mr. Hilterbran began to speak, but the bell rang. I gathered my things and waited while Chloe made a quick stop at her locker before going on to pre-algebra.
Chloe and I had all but one class together. Last hour, she had choir, and I had volleyball.
As we climbed the stairs to the second floor, Chloe grimaced. "Have you ever noticed all the smells in the stairway?"
Chloe's bright red highlights peeked out from her chestnut hair. We used to look more alike, but her mom was a hairstylist, and since we'd started middle school, Chloe's hair had become much more interesting than mine.
I waited for her always-thoughtful opinion. Her mind worked in the most puzzling and wonderful way, which was one of the many things I found so endearing about her. She was quiet unless she had something philosophical to say.
"Like perfume, BO, cologne, and mildew. The higher we climb, the worse it gets."
"It's the humidity," I said.
She shook her head. "Maybe it's the stairway telling us what to expect--like,
every year, we'll all be more defined as individuals. The stereotypes will just get stronger each year until we graduate."
"Or maybe it's just the humidity," I said, smiling.
Just when we entered Mrs. Siders's room, she held up her hand, signaling us to be quiet while she worked on hooking up the Smart Board cables to her laptop.
As more students came in, the murmur and chatter grew louder.
Mrs. Siders swept back a curly piece of long hair that had escaped her loose low bun. "Please! Quiet!" she said as we found our seats.
After a live feed of the national news began to play, Mrs. Siders took a few steps back and hugged her middle with both arms. I watched her, knowing that the teachers would never intentionally let on that they were afraid, so she probably didn't realize she was even doing it. That made me worry even more.
Mrs. Siders shook her head as the bell rang.
I trained my eyes on the anchorman detailing the chaos displayed in the small square beside his head. Yellow words trailed across the bottom of the screen, listing countries.
"What's going on with those countries?" Tryston said. He had just walked in, late as usual.
"They're the countries that the UN has lost contact with," Mrs. Siders said.
I frowned. "What do you mean? How is it possible to lose contact with an entire country?" I asked.
Mrs. Siders didn't turn around. "The Prime Minister of France just declared a state of emergency. In the last half an hour, the UK has reported cases of the virus, and they said it's spreading uncontrollably."
"Should we be watching this?" Tryston swallowed, his barely burgeoning Adam's apple bobbing.
"Would you like for me to turn it off?" Mrs. Siders asked.
"It's kind of scary," Morgan squeaked from the back of the room.
"Not as scary as not knowing what's happening," I said. "We should leave it on."
We watched the same channel for the duration of class. No one talked. Once in a while someone would gasp or sigh to remind me where I was.
Germany had been the first to go. The countries to the north, like Norway and Sweden, hadn't been heard from since half past eight. France had gone quickly, and then Spain, Italy, England, Ireland, and Greece had all reported cases.
An amateur video with a cell phone flashed for just a few seconds. The anchorman blanched, and I felt sick to my stomach. People were running from something with absolute terror on their faces, but we couldn't see what they were running from.
"It won't cross the ocean, right?" Tryston asked.
"Right," Mrs. Siders said.
As she glanced back at our class, I could see the worry in her eyes. When she turned back around, I texted my dad.
Are you watching the news?
Yes. How are you?
Worried.
It'll be fine. Gov. Bellmon just rolled into town. He wouldn't have come if he were worried about it.
K.
Love you. See you soon.
Chloe fidgeted. "I heard on the radio this morning something about a scientist and dead people in Germany. The news lady said they were trying to neutralize the cadavers, but my mom said that didn't make any sense. I think it makes perfect sense. The Bible says the dead in Christ shall rise, you know. It also says that whosoever eats of Christ's flesh and drinks of his blood shall live eternally."
"That's gross, Chloe."
She sighed. "And yet so poetic."
I pushed my phone back into my pocket and looked over to my friend. "My dad says the governor is in Anderson for some kind of photo op with the firefighters. I doubt he'd be going through with a fundraiser if the government was worried about an epidemic."
Concern weighed down Chloe's usually bright and cheerful expression. "You don't think it's possible...the dead coming back and attacking the living?"
"No," I said, shaking my head.
"Sounds like freakin' zombies," Tryston said.
First, a collective gasp sucked the air out of the room, and then everyone erupted into panicked chatter.
"Can we call our parents?" one of the girls asked.
"I'm calling my mom!" another girl said.
"Okay, guys," Mrs. Siders said, holding up her hands, palms out. "No cases have been reported in the US yet. Let's all just calm down. Take a deep breath. The school will keep a close eye on this, and if we hear of a reason to worry, they'll dismiss everyone. Until that happens, there's no point in getting upset."
The bell buzzed, and we gathered our things. With Chloe just behind me, I rushed down the stairs and put my things in my locker. Chloe did the same, one section down, and we reconvened to head to second hour.
"Come get me!" a girl shrieked into her phone. "I don't care! Come get me right now, Daddy!"
The principal and vice principal were manning the halls with grave expressions on their faces.
"I have a bad feeling," Chloe said. "When you hear about war or whatever on the news, it doesn't feel real. It's over there, ya know? It doesn't feel in your face. This feels close."
"Too close," I said.
THE HALLS WERE EERILY QUIET. If the kids spoke at all, it was in whispers, as if speaking of their fears too loudly would make them real.
Chloe and I walked downstairs where there were radioactive signs that I hadn't paid much attention to before that moment. Bishop Middle School was a designated fallout shelter since before my grandparents were born and could supposedly withstand tornadoes and anything else that might come our way--except for a fast-spreading virus. Plus, being underground made me feel trapped, not safe.
Mom and I were apocalypse junkies, and we would watch end-of-the-world prep shows. It was kind of our thing. We'd even been to a couple of conventions. I wondered if Mom had the same red flags going up as I did. Something deep and inherent was screaming for me to run even though I didn't know where to run or from what I should be running.
I pulled out my phone to text her.
Chloe set her books down on her desk two rows behind me. Mr. Holland hadn't allowed us to choose our own seats in the beginning of the semester like Mrs. Siders had. He didn't have a Smart Board in his room either.
"Okay, put your phones away," Mr. Holland said. "I know a lot is going on in the world right now, but it's not going on here. Until Principal Hall announces dismissal, we'll go on as usual. Capisce?"
The entire classroom argued, but Mr. Holland won out, insisting we open our books and at least pretend to concentrate on the lesson. I put my phone away and opened my textbook to page two hundred forty-nine as instructed.
Pretend was exactly what we had to do, and most of the kids in that room failed miserably. Carina Tesh began to sniffle, and by the time the bell rang, her whimpering had prompted tears from several girls in the classroom.
As Chloe and I ascended the stairs to the main level, we saw through the large glass doors and windows of the school entrance the many cars parked at the curb, and adults and kids were running in or out of the school.
"Where's your mom today?" I asked.
Chloe pressed her lips together. "She went down to Greenville. She had to pick up some things. She'll be back by the time school is out though."
"Maybe she'll come back early."
Chloe's eyes fell to the floor. We both knew Greenville was far enough away that her mom would be lucky to make it back by the last bell.
After lunch, the classrooms were half empty.
In history class, Mrs. Stuckey had her Smart Board hooked up as well. A graphic that read Breaking News rolled on and then off the screen, and the news anchor appeared with a deep line between his brows.
"I'm Brian Jenkins, and welcome back to KFOR. We've just received word that the first cases of an unknown virus have hit US soil. Atlanta and New York City airports are both reporting chaos as the infected are attacking travelers in the terminals."
"No. Dear Lord, no," Mrs. Stuckey said before covering her mouth.
Without caring about the consequences, everyone pulled out their pho
nes and began tapping text messages. Some even made phone calls, screeching at their parents about the news.
I texted my dad.
Please tell me you're on your way.
Yes. Picking up your sister from the grade school now. Will be there soon. Sit tight.
I put my phone away. Chloe bit her lip, fingering her phone.
"If my dad gets here before you get a hold of her, you can come with us."
She shook her head. "I can't go to Anderson. My mom would freak out."
"Maybe we could drop you off at your house then?"
Chloe frowned at her phone. "She'll be here."
By the next hour, Chloe and I were two of only six kids in Spanish class. A seventh-grader walked in with several pieces of paper and handed them to Mrs. Hall. With heavy eyes, she looked across her mostly empty classroom.
"Cole, Tanner, Amelia, Addison, and Jenna, your parents are here to pick you up."
Everyone but me scrambled to gather their things, and they rushed out the door.
Chloe waved good-bye to me. "I'll text you later."
"Are you sure you don't want to come with us?" I asked.
She shook her head, and a contrived smile stretched across her face. "I'll wait for my mom. Get going. I bet Halle is freaking out in the car."
"Okay. Text me as soon as she picks you up."
"Later, tater," she said, trying to keep the tremble from her voice.
I didn't stop by my locker. Chloe was right. If Dad had to come into the school to check me out, Halle would be in the car alone and likely working herself up into a frenzy.
Dad stood out in his dress blues, holding his hat under his arm. It was the first time he'd come to pick me up while wearing his formal clothes, and for a moment, it made me forget why he was here early.
"Wow," I said.
He looked like a soldier instead of a firefighter.
"Let's go," Dad responded. He guided me out the door and down the steps with a hand on my shoulder.
His white Chevy Tahoe was still running with the windows rolled up when we reached his place in line. Halle wasn't panicked at all when I opened the front passenger door. She was sitting behind me in the middle row in one of the two captain's chairs with her seat belt fastened and her hands folded tightly in her lap. The back bench seat had a case of bottled waters and several white plastic sacks full of cans.
After climbing into my seat, I put my textbook and binder on the floorboard. "Hey, Halle," I said, trying to sound cheerful. I turned around to smile at her only briefly before buckling in.
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