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 pandemic. Now I had 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."
The dread the rest of us felt played out on Evan's face. At that point we'd all seen the dead walking, but to witness someone's death and then watch--or hear--them reanimate was something entirely different. A person could go from someone you trusted and loved to an animal waiting to eat you alive. I didn't know Annabelle and had never seen her, but hearing the story of how she'd made it to safety and then didn't hesitate to risk everything to save Connor, she must have been a sweet soul. Hearing her clumsy footsteps upstairs as the sickness told her braindead body to move to find food was unbelievable. Annabelle sacrificed her life to save Connor, and the creature she'd become wouldn't hesitate to strip his flesh from the bone.
The sounds of the board being stripped from the doorjamb traveled down the hallway.
"I still don't want you to go, Cooper," Ashley said. "You don't have to."
"I know. I don't want to go, either."
"Then don't."
I sighed, irritated with the repeated conversation. "They didn't have to let us stay here. We can do this one thing for them."
"This one thing?" Ashley said. She usually didn't confront me, so her tone was a surprise. "This one thing could get him killed."
"Cooper hasn't lost a race in three years, Ashley. He can run forever. Have some faith."
Ashley frowned. "No."
"Bryce and I are going out there. If Cooper doesn't lead them away, we could be killed."
"That's your choice."
"God, you're a spoiled brat."
"Well you're a bitch! Who died and made you team captain?"
"Uh . . . Ashley," Cooper said.
"Team captain? This isn't cheer camp, Ashley! It's common knowledge in a situation like this, no one can survive alone. We have to work together. Quit being stupid."
"Miranda?" Cooper said.
"Shut up, Cooper!" Ashley and I said in unison.
"Jesus Christ in heaven," Doris said, holding her hand to her chest.
It was then that I heard the distinct crunching of plastic, and a scratchy moan coming from the tablecloths covering Jill. Evan stumbled back, flattening himself against the wall. Bob stepped in front of him protectively; the rest of us stood watching in confusion and amazement.
No matter how many times I told myself it was true, seeing someone I knew to be dead moving around was unbelievable. I couldn't move. I couldn't call out to Bryce. I could only watch as Jill slowly wriggled out of the tablecloth. Her milky eyes glanced around the room, and then she awkwardly attempted to stand.
"Whoa, shit," Cooper said, pulling Ashley behind him.
"What do we do?" Doris said.
Evan let out a cry and then moved to the door, frantically clawing at the doorknob.
"No! They're outside the door!" The words came from my mouth in slow motion. When I started the sentence, Evan had already reached for the bolt lock and in the next second the door was open. He poked out his head and the next moment he stood up straight, pushing the door closed. Something was pushing back, and the familiar moans accompanied arms of various sizes reaching inside.
Skeeter's rifle went off upstairs, making the grayish arms reaching in even more desperate.
"Evan!" Bob said, rushing to help him. They struggled together to get the door closed, but there were so many on the other side pushing against it. They knew we were inside, and they were hungry.
April ran into the hallway to wake up the children, making Jill take notice. She took a step in the direction of the hallway until Ms. Kay stepped around the corner.
Before Ms. Kay could react, Jill charged and tackled her to the floor. The old woman's screams sent us all into a panic, but the only way out was up. Bob planted his feet on the ground.
"Go, Evan! I'll hold the door, you go!"
"No!" Evan said.
Instinctively, I grabbed Evan's shirt and dragged him into the hallway, following April and her children up the stairs. Doris, Ashley, and Cooper were trailing behind. Bob yelled and then cried out in pain. His screams were matched by Ms. Kay's, and quickly after, Barb's.
Skeeter opened the door at the top of the stairs, and Cooper shut it behind us.
"What the hell?" Skeeter said.
"Jill!" Doris cried. "And the back door is open! They're all coming in!"
Skeeter's expression metamorphosed from confusion to determination. "The biters out front will follow the rest to the back. Y'all can
get down off the roof and out of here. I've got to take care of Jill."
Cooper grabbed Skeeter's shirt. "The whole downstairs is full. You can't go down there!"
Skeeter furrowed his brow. "I made a promise to my wife. I'm going to keep it."
Bryce opened the window, helping April and her kids to the roof while he spoke. "Skeeter, Coop's right. Jill wouldn't want you to get yourself killed."
Skeeter cocked his rifle. "My two favorite things--my wife and my guns--are downstairs, boys. I'm going."
Skeeter opened the door and immediately started shooting his gun. Eric locked the door behind him, and Gary helped him to move a file cabinet in front of the door. What was left of Annabelle was lying on the floor beside the window. We all had to step over her to get outside.
Just as Skeeter said, most of the dead ones had followed the rest to the back to get inside the church. Gary and Eric hopped down first, and Bryce and Cooper helped everyone off the roof before jumping down themselves. The whole process took less than a minute, and Skeeter's rifle was still blasting inside the church.
The sun had broken completely free of the horizon, and I watched the last living citizens of Fairview spread in different directions. My group jumped into the Bug and I drove away, my heart beating so fast it could have taken flight and beaten us to the ranch.
"Way-way-wait!" Bryce said, pointing to the oncoming lane. "Slow down!"
Everything inside of me wanted to do the exact opposite, but I pressed my foot on the brake, next to a green pickup truck. A guy about our age was sitting inside.
I rolled down my window. "What are you doing? This town is crawling with those things!" He didn't respond. "Hey. Hey!"
He looked up.
"Have you been bit?"
He shook his head, and then leaned against his window to look down at the mess on the road. There was a girl in a hospital gown, skin and bones, lying on the street, a large bullet hole in her skull, parts of her brain spilled out onto the pavement.
He rolled down his window, too. His eyes were swollen. He'd been crying, probably over the girl in the street. "I'm out of gas."
I glanced around. We couldn't leave him here to die. "Get in."
Chapter Fifteen
Nathan
JOY SLOWLY KNEELED ON THE floor to help Walter with his boots. He was sweaty from the near jogging he did on the return trip. She grunted each time she pulled, until she finally had them both off.
Walter sat back in his chair. "Can I get a glass of water, dear? I'm parched."
"Yes," Joy said, curious. "You look like you were chased back."
Zoe watched us from the other side of the room, glancing out the sliding glass door once in a while. After Joy's comment, Zoe's eyes seemed to scan every blade of grass outside. The door looked over the patio, and into a room on the other side of the house. The bedroom opened to the backyard with a sliding glass door, too, but was concealed by the ugliest curtains I'd ever seen.
"It's okay, Zoe. They're all still on the highway."
Joy sat two glasses of water on the kitchen table, and then she put her hands on her hips. "Well? I think we've been patient enough, right, Zoe?"
Zoe turned away from the glass just long enough to nod, and then returned to her watch.
Walter cleared his throat, and then gestured to our bags. "We got some supplies. It was getting late and sugar britches over there wouldn't leave without his pantyhose."
Joy frowned in confusion, and then waited for me to explain.
"They're good for lots of things. I'm not going to wear them. Well, actually, I might, if it gets cold. Good insulation."
Joy and Walter were content to watch me talk myself into humiliation.
"What?" I said. "I was a Boy Scout."
Walter laughed once. "And all this time they've been worried about the gays infiltrating their organization, and they're teaching lulu things like that."
"I think my leader was a closet survivalist, too. I learned a lot from him."
"Pantyhose?" Walter said in disbelief, his voice going up an octave.
I shrugged. "You don't worry about what you're wearing if you're warm."
"Then I'll be toasty all winter," Joy said. Her expression immediately softened when she turned to Zoe. "Come on, peanut. I bet Princess is getting mighty hungry."
Zoe nodded and followed her outside.
Walter and I moved to the front porch, sitting in the rocking chairs and discussing our next move. We decided we would try again for Jesse's the next day. We also needed to fill the gas cans. Walter didn't seem to be in a hurry, even though I reminded him we would be leaving before long. He pretended he didn't hear me.
*
THE NEXT DAY WE WALKED the distance to Jesse's house. Walter was right: Jesse had more guns than Skeeter. We took as many as we could carry, along with the appropriate ammunition, and then made the trek back to Walter's. We made that trip every day for three days. The basement began to look like an arsenal. I put several rifles and a few handguns in my car, reminding Walter again that Zoe and I weren't staying.
The days were beginning to get longer, and it panicked me when I had to think twice about what day it was. The only reason time mattered was to avoid getting caught outside at night. Weekends were irrelevant. Every day was about survival. Living with Walter and Joy, though, even with the occasional infected stumbling by, the apocalypse wasn't so bad. Still, I had to take Zoe somewhere out of the way, and I still hadn't carved out a quiet moment with Joy to see if she knew of a place we could settle.
"You don't believe me, do you?" I whispered.
Walter and I were watching an infected walk by. We'd learned over the last few days that if we stayed still and quiet, they kept walking.
Walter didn't respond until the infected passed, and then he shook his head. "You need to get more sleep. You're not making any damn sense."
"I'm going to start making trips out of town. Scout the area. See if I can find some acreage with a house."
"You have a house right here, you fool," Walter grumbled.
Joy occupied the space inside the open front door, and looked over to Walter with a knowing smile. Walter shook his head so slightly that if he hadn't paired it with a glance in my direction, I would have questioned whether I'd seen it. They were in disagreement about something.
Joy walked over to stand behind Walter, patted him reassuringly, and then spoke. "You asked about a place out of the way."
"Yes," I said. My posture straightened instinctively, eager to hear what she would say next.
"There is a doctor that comes to the store here sometimes. He buys things in bulk. I've only spoken to him once. He seems like a reasonable man, not what you might expect from a big city doctor. I know he has two girls, and he lives northeast of here. He's several miles out, so it might be isolated enough to be safe for you and Zoe."
Walter frowned at his wife.
"I would never force my way in, Walter. I hope you know that. I have to find the safest place to raise Zoe, though."
Joy smiled. "It's not that. He likes having you two here. He doesn't want you to leave."
Walter crossed his arms over his chest and settled into his chair, unhappy.
"Is this true?" Antagonizing Walter was probably not a good idea, but it was also too fun to pass up.
"Go to hell." He frowned.
Joy let out a cackle, and she shook her head. "Oh, you stubborn man," she said, rubbing his shoulder.
Walter stood up quickly, his rifle in his hand.
I aimed at nothing in reaction. "What is it?"
Walter squinted over the rifle's sights. "Kids."
Miranda
THE SUN HAD POURED A bright light over us and everything else by the time we'd made the north turn on Highway 123. My hands were shaking, knowing we were that much closer to my dad's ranch. I imagined his reaction when he saw the Bug pull into the yard, and what it would feel like for his arms to wrap around me, strong and warm; his cheeks wet from wo
rried and happy tears.
I wasn't sure why I blamed him for the divorce. Mom was the one that had decided she didn't want to be married to his profession anymore. It broke Dad's heart when she said it was over, and for whatever reason my loyalties were with my mom. She seemed more fragile, and less capable to be on her own. I wasn't sure what Dad could have done differently. Quit his job? Thrown away years of education? What else would he do? It wasn't until I began my second semester of college that I realized it wasn't just parties and friends. It was hours of studying and worrying and writing papers that would never pass through any other hands than a professor's. But, I blamed him. I punished him with my absence.
Tears welled up in my eyes as I pressed on the brake to bring the Bug to a slow stop about a hundred yards from a large herd of dead ones. The car alarm confused me. It was grating to the ears, and yet I'd been so engulfed in my thoughts of my dad, the sound and even the headlights blinking on and off, visible through the dozens of ambling bodies, didn't register until we were nearly on top of them.
"What do you want to do?" Bryce asked quietly.
"Turn off your lights," the guy we'd picked up said, his voice tired and sad. He hadn't told us his name, and no one had bothered to ask. We had more important things to worry about, I guess, but still it seemed strange. It was another reminder that in just a few days the environment had changed us.
A few days ago, Ashley would have been giggly and bubbly and the first thing she would have done is asked the guy his name. She didn't even seem to notice he was in the car, even though she was sitting half on his lap, half on Cooper's.
I reached up to turn the headlamp knob, and we idled. The wheat field on the right was still damp from rain. A vehicle had cut huge ruts into the soil, really deep in some spots. On the right was a grassy hill. I wondered for a moment why the person who made the ruts had chosen the wheat field. Then, the road leading into the tiny town of Shallot caught my eye. Ashley and I had passed this town and that wheat field so many times without a second thought. Now, the wheat field was dangerous, and the town a frightening unknown. The hill hid parts of the town from view, and the wheat field ruts led me to believe the person before us wanted as far away from that hill as possible.
The dashboard pinged, and I looked down. The gas gauge was a centimeter to the right of the red line.
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