Among Monsters: A Red Hill Novella

by Jamie McGuire

“You don’t even know what that means,” I said, exasperated. I turned around but leaned back to murmur one last instruction out of the side of my mouth, “Don’t go on your shoes.”

  “My pee feels hot. I think I’m running a fever.”

  “It’s just cold outside. Hurry up.”

  “What if I’m infected?”

  “You’re not. Let’s go.”

  Halle put herself together, and then I gestured to Dad that we were ready. Dad would go first in case anyone noticed, and then we would follow in twos.

  Halle and I pretended to talk while Dad walked casually down the fence line, running his fingers along the chain links. To me, his nonchalance looked forced, but no one else seemed to notice. I kept Halle with me once Dad had slipped into the space between the two large gates. The young gunmen had closed the gates earlier with a rusted thick chain.

  Dad was athletically built. He was on the department’s softball team. He wasn’t in the best shape of his life, but he easily maneuvered himself under the chain to the other side. Halle simply sidestepped through, but I had to duck. Dad kept walking toward the shadows of the trees, and Halle gripped my hand tighter.

  A few moments later, I heard the chain rattle again.

  Dad strolled across the street and into the park, and then he ducked behind a large tree trunk. When Halle and I reached him, he pulled us to the side.

  “Wha—” I began, but Dad covered my mouth with his hand.

  Halle’s eyes danced between us. When Tavia made it to the tree with her son in her arms, Dad removed his hand from my mouth to hold his finger to his lips.

  Tavia blinked.

  “Can you keep him quiet?” Dad asked. He nearly breathed out the words.

  Tavia raised an eyebrow.

  “What if he’s scared? Will he be quiet if you tell him to?”

  “I am his mama. Nothing else is scarier than that,” she whispered.

  Dad tilted his head in the direction of the street on the other side of the armory. The police officers were mobilizing outside.

  “Heads up!” one called.

  “Halt!” another said.

  “We’re police officers! Halt, or we will fire!”

  The commotion drew the attention of the groups of people in the yard. They walked over to the west fence. The yelling had also attracted the multitude of silhouettes wandering in the dark, their slow ambling only truly visible between streetlights. They were moving like children. Like bored grade-schoolers walking in a line to a field trip no one wanted to go on, they shuffled their feet in protest. Surely, they moved forward toward the officers without fear.

  I’d watched enough movies with my mom to know what I was looking at. “They came from the highway, didn’t they? They’re infected,” I said, not really asking.

  “Last warning!” an officer commanded.

  “Please stop!” another begged as he aimed and cocked his rifle.

  The tornado sirens filled the air, an eerie rise and fall, echoing from each corner of town.

  “Run,” Tavia whispered.

  I knew she was speaking to the people in the armory.

  “Kids are in there, Dad. Little kids.”

  “Shh,” he said.

  “Kids Halle’s age. Babies,” I pleaded.

  “We can’t help them,” he said.

  Tavia picked up her son. “We should go. Before…” Her voice trailed off.

  I was glad she hadn’t said the words in front of Halle.

  One of the police officers fired off a warning shot, but the river washed over him, his cries muffled, and then they moved on to the others.

  “Go!” Dad took one stride and then stopped, yanking me back by the shirt. “Wait! Let’s go around.” He made a half circle in the air, pointing toward the east.

  Tavia shook her head. “Let’s just get there!”

  Dad pulled on my shirt again, and I, in turn, pulled on Halle.

  “Look,” he said, gesturing to the road.

  A few people from the yard had escaped despite the shooting, and they were running south down Sixth Street. It was just a handful at first, and then more appeared.

  “C’mon, Tavia,” I hissed as the screaming in the armory began.

  “What’s happening?” Halle cried.

  I held my hand over her mouth as we walked quickly across the other street and down a small road with small houses. A dog began barking and rushed toward Dad, stopping only when its chain held him back. After a momentary pause, Dad encouraged us to continue.

  We walked two blocks east and then turned south. The police were still shooting, but the shouting and screams had quieted down. Halle was whimpering but kept quiet. Tobin looked around with wide eyes and a finger in his mouth, but he hadn’t made a peep.

  Once we got to Dad’s street, Dad held up his hand, and we froze. A man was bent over an animal that was collared and still attached to a chain. His head was bobbing up and down and then jerking from one side to the other as he yanked away the animal’s flesh from the bone.

  Dad held up his finger to his mouth, and he took a step back. I did the same, but Halle was behind me, and when she didn’t move, I nearly tripped over her.

  “Jenna!” she barked.

  The man’s head snapped up, and he crawled a couple of feet before fumbling himself up to his feet.

  Dad swallowed. “Run,” he said, his voice surprisingly even.

  Tavia held on tight to Tobin as she turned on her heels and ran back the way we’d come. Dad brought up the rear, but Tavia began to fall behind. Dad ran back and took Tobin from her arms, and they ran together, puffing.

  A light blinked once, catching our attention. Dad stopped and then pulled us across the street, up a few steps onto a porch, and straight through an open door.

  In the dark living room stood an old man holding a small flashlight, sixtyish, with a short white beard and slits for eyes. Next to him was a much younger woman, maybe his daughter. She was plump and covered in freckles, her reddish-brown hair shaped like a Christmas tree.

  “Thanks, Jerry,” Dad said, trying to catch his breath. He handed Tobin to Tavia. “Sorry to hear about Marva.”

  I scanned the dusty frames on the walls. The same three people stood posed in all the photos. The only person in the pictures and not in the room with us was a woman with wavy silver hair, cut short and feathered back—Jerry’s wife. I couldn’t tell how long it had been since their last family photo. The redhead had the same hairstyle in every picture since she was around my age, and only Jerry’s hair color had changed since then.

  Halle crumpled against my side, trembling from the cold. I wrapped her in one of the blankets we carried from the armory and then my arms.

  “Have you met the girls? That’s Jenna”—Dad pointed to me—“and little Halle over there,” he finished, lowering his finger toward Halle.

  “I’ve seen ’em around town once in a while,” Jerry said.

  Dad looked at us and gestured to his friend. “Jerry is retired from the Navy. He’s also a retired Anderson firefighter.”

  “Way before your time, Andy,” Jerry said. “I’m an old fart. Never been gladder though. Heard they called all of you to the armory?”

  Dad looked down. “We barely made it out.”

  “Who’s Marva?” I asked.

  Dad shifted, offering a quick apologetic smile to Jerry. “Marva is his wife.”

  “Was my wife,” Jerry said. “We lost her to cancer last year. We sure miss her.”

  The house looked like it missed Marva, too. The living room had two worn couches and a dark green recliner, their backs turned to the kitchen. A counter covered in peeling Formica that looked older than Dad separated the two rooms.

  Jerry continued, “This is my daughter, Cathy Lynn.”

  She gave a nod, smiling just enough not to seem rude. She had dark circles under her eyes. She didn’t seem to like that we were there. She tugged on her Winnie the Pooh T-shirt. I thought her choice to wear a cartoon character w
as odd because she looked older than Dad.

  Jerry gestured to his daughter. “I called her over when the news said the virus had hit Atlanta. I knew once it was on our soil, it would spread fast. She lives just down the road there. People just don’t use common sense. Speaking of, what the hell were you doing out there, Andy?” Jerry asked, frowning. “Don’t you know they’re patrolling the streets? They’re shooting people!”

  “What?” Tavia asked.

  Cathy Lynn pointed, her hands trembling. “On the corner. Greg Jarvis refused to go with them, and they shot him dead right in his front yard. Didn’t you see him?”

  Dad shook his head. “We were…preoccupied. The infection is in Anderson. We saw a man. He was…eating a dog, I think.”

  Jerry spit into the Styrofoam cup he was holding and nodded. “That was probably Greg. He’s been walking around since about a minute after they put a bullet in his chest and drove away. Idiots. You gotta shoot ’em in the head, or they just get back up.”

  Dad and Tavia traded glances.

  “One of the last reports on the news said that it spreads like rabies,” Jerry said. “They bite ya, and if it don’t kill you right away, you get sick enough to die. When you get up, you ain’t you.” He shook his head. “Just like in the movies. They were spot-on, goddamn it.”

  “Did they say anything else?” Tavia asked.

  Jerry frowned. “Oh, they did mention the flu shots.”

  “What about them?” Dad asked, frowning.

  “Did you get yours this year?”

  Dad dipped his head once, the skin around his eyes tight. “Is that what’s infecting people?”

  “No,” Jerry said. “Just the bite. But that blonde on channel nine said they heard several reports of people turning faster, once they’re bit, if they had the flu shot. They don’t know why. I’ve never liked her much—that reporter. She’s probably safe. I hear zombies eat brains.”

  I chuckled, and Dad shot me a look.

  “Did she say any more about the flu shot?” Tavia asked. “Did they ever say how much faster? Right after they’ve been bitten?” Tavia asked, turning her body to put a few inches more between her son and Dad.

  “They didn’t say,” Jerry said.

  Tavia’s face switched from surprise to anger. “The government should have warned us. They should have told us the truth, so we could have been prepared.”

  Cathy Lynn raised an eyebrow. “Would you have believed them?”

  Tavia patted and rubbed Tobin’s back. He was already asleep, but she continued to gently bob and sway. “I knew when they started reporting on Germany this morning. If they had admitted it was the dead coming back to life, I damn well would have believed them, and I would have had more time to get supplies and protect my family.”

  Dad shook his head. “I wouldn’t have. There’s just no way. That’s like admitting that vampires are real.”

  More gunshots popped, and they didn’t sound far away.

  “Kill that flashlight, Cathy!” Jerry hissed.

  Cathy Lynn pressed the button. It was even darker than before, and Halle held on to me even tighter.

  The moon poured in through the windows, highlighting just one side of Dad’s face. He was looking around the room, his eyes dancing from the couch to the floor and past Jerry to the back of the house.

  “Jerry, can we stay here until morning? I’m not sure it’s safe to walk around at night. There are a lot more of those things. They’re pouring in from the interstate. A hundred at least. Probably more.”

  “Sure, sure. Cathy will get you some blankets and pillows, won’t you, Cathy?”

  Cathy Lynn complied, turning toward wherever he kept his linens. She froze mid-step when another cluster of bullets cracked, even closer this time. “Dad, the closer the shooting gets, the closer those things get. We should board up the windows like the news lady said.”

  “I told you, we’re not staying here. We’re going to Bobby’s farm at first light.”

  Cathy Lynn sighed. “But what about tonight?”

  “She has a point,” Tavia said.

  I was scared before, but my panic was beginning to push the bile higher in my throat. The infection was no longer over there. It was right outside. It was waiting for us in the dark. I opened my mouth to tell Dad I was afraid, but then I looked down at Halle. She wasn’t trembling from the cold. She was terrified. I’d barely noticed that she wasn’t really talking. Usually, I couldn’t get her to shut up. If I admitted to being afraid, she would lose it.

  “We need to find Mom,” I said.

  “We will.” Dad dipped his head once. Then, he turned to Jerry and Cathy Lynn to discuss fortifying the house for the night.

  He wasn’t thinking about how important it was to get to Mom, and it was making me beyond mad. She should be here by now.

  What if she was one of the people on the interstate, trying to get on to the Anderson exit, when those idiots opened fire? What if she’s hurt? What if she made it into town another way? She would look for us at Dad’s house.

  I pulled out my phone—no service. The battery was only at nineteen percent, and I didn’t have my charger. I thought about how stupid it had been to check Facebook, Snapchat, and the news instead of charging my phone. The only thing that mattered was talking to Mom, and when I got service back, I wouldn’t be able to call her.

  “Do you have a charger for this?” I asked Jerry, holding up my smartphone.

  He shook his head.

  Cathy Lynn held out her hand. “I do.”

  I handed her my phone, and she took it.

  “Dad,” I said.

  He half-turned before waving me away, and then he resumed his conversation.

  “We can’t stay here. We have to go to your house. Mom will look for us there.”

  “I want Mom!” Halle burst into tears.

  “Jenna, for God’s sake!” Dad knelt next to his youngest. “Halle, honey, you have to be quiet,” he said, shushing her.

  With her free arm, Tavia hugged me to her side. “I know you’re anxious, baby girl. Don’t you worry. We’re going to find her.”

  I pointed to the door. “The house is a block and a half away!”

  Dad grit his teeth. “Jenna—”

  “She’s there. I know it. She’s a block or so away, and we’re sitting here. If we don’t get to your house, we’ll miss her!”

  “Jenna, quiet!” Dad growled.

  My eyes filled with tears. “I’m going.”

  “Jenna!” Halle sobbed.

  Dad grabbed me with one arm and Halle with the other, and he held us together in a tight hug. “Girls,” he said, keeping his voice low and calm.

  That surprised me. Usually, he made a bad situation worse.

  “I know you’re scared. I know you miss your mom. I know you want to be with her, and I will make sure that happens. But you’ve got to trust me. Can you do that? Please?”

  I pressed my lips together, my bottom lip pulling up. Halle’s sobs softened to snivels, and I resorted to crying frustrated but quiet tears into Dad’s shoulder. Something deep inside told me that my mom was close and that she was feeling scared and desperate like I was. The urge to get to her was too strong to ignore, but I couldn’t leave Halle, and she wouldn’t leave without Dad.

  “Okay?” Dad said. “First light.”

  I wiped my eyes and turned away from him. “Whatever.”

  THE EARLY MORNING SUN peeked through the plastic blinds hanging on the windows, highlighting the thousands of dust motes floating in the air.

  Halle was curled up next to me, all but a tangled mess of blonde hair, covered in a thick woolen blanket. As the night had turned colder and the gunshots had fired closer, we’d held on to each other, and somewhere between the chill inside and the fear of what was outside, we’d fallen asleep.

  I picked up my things and quickly stuffed them into Halle’s backpack. Then, I nudged Tavia. Tobin had been fussy on and off all night. Tavia had said it was becaus
e he was in a new place and off his routine.

  “Hey,” Tavia said with a sleepy smile, propping her head with her arm. “We made it through the night.”

  Dad was already awake, standing by the door. “I haven’t heard close shots since sunrise. Let’s get moving.”

  He turned to see Jerry shuffling from his bedroom. The old man held out his hand, and Dad took it firmly.

  “I can’t thank you enough, Jerry.”

  “You sure you won’t come with us? I’ve just got that Lincoln Town Car in the driveway, but we can make it work.”

  Dad shook his head. “My Tahoe is parked near the armory. Once we get our things, we’ll head that way.”

  Jerry glanced at Tavia and a still-sleeping Tobin. “I hope it has three rows.”

  “It does,” Dad said, smiling. He bent down next to Halle and gently prodded her awake.

  She sat up, and Dad handed over her glasses. Looking around, she was confused at first, but then recognition lit her eyes, and they glossed over.

  “Halle, we’re okay,” Dad said. “We’re going home.”

  “Is Mom there?” she asked.

  “We’ll soon see,” Tavia said with a wink.

  Halle scrambled to her feet and joined me at the door. She lifted her glasses to wipe each of her eyes with the back of her hand.

  I focused on the road to the east. It was hard to see against the bright sun, but I could tell the road was peppered with just four or five ambling people.

  “Dad,” I said.

  He leaned toward the screen door.

  Tavia lifted her son off the floor and into her arms before joining us at the door. “Seems like they move pretty slow. That guy from last night didn’t catch up to us, even when he was chasin’.”

  Dad pressed on the metal lever before opening the door. “Give me Tobin. My house isn’t quite two blocks away, and I don’t see anything between here and there. Even if those things notice us, we can make it.”

  “We don’t want them to notice us. Then, they’ll follow us to the house,” I said.

  “True,” Dad said, pausing to think. He looked to Halle. “No matter what, you can’t scream. You can’t make noise. We don’t want to draw their attention. Do you understand?”

  “I’ll try,” Halle said.