Within the hour, the candles were blown out, and the kids were tucked in. I sat next to Halle while she lay in bed next to Tobin.
“Do you remember how we used to find songs on the radio when Mom picked us up after school, and we would sing them really loud?” I asked. “Mom would roll down the windows and sing with us, and people would look at us like we were crazy.”
Halle giggled. “And we would bounce our heads and dance! That was fun. I miss school.”
“Me, too,” I said. Mostly, I just missed Chloe.
I waited for Dad to kiss her good night, and then I followed him into April’s bedroom.
She was taking a shower. We were alone.
“Connor made a good point today,” I said, watching Dad turn down the covers.
“About what?” He had a smirk on his face. He already knew I had an agenda.
“He mentioned you taking us out and teaching us how to shoot.”
Dad’s face twisted into confusion, like I’d just spoken a foreign language. Whatever he had expected, it wasn’t that.
“It’s a reasonable point. If you’re taking me out with you, I need to know how to use a gun—not just to defend myself, but to also keep from shooting anyone I don’t want to shoot.”
“No, Jenna. You’re not old enough.”
“I’m old enough to go out scavenging with you. I took out that zombie a couple of days ago.”
“That was your second one.”
“So? What does that have to do with learning how to shoot?”
“It’s a gun,” he said, already getting flustered, “and you’re thirteen.”
“Why does it matter how old I am? Dead people are walking around outside.”
Dad glared at me. “You’re not ready.”
“You’re not ready.”
“No, I’m not.”
“That’s an emotional response, and emotion is irrelevant.”
“Says who?” he asked. “And stop talking like you’re a forty-year-old psychologist. It’s creeping me out.”
“Connor needs to learn, too.”
“He’s Halle’s age, Jenna! You think Halle could handle a gun? Or should?”
“You’re not listening. It’s been a month.”
“Not this again.”
“You said we were going to find Mom. You said, if we didn’t find a vehicle as of a week ago, we would leave. That was supposed to happen yesterday. Why are we still here?”
“Because we’re not ready. Your sister is not ready.”
“She’s waiting on us,” I said, a ball forming in my throat.
“You’re starting to sound like a CD on repeat, Jenna, and I’m getting really tired of the song.”
I rolled my eyes at his analogy. Nobody used CDs anymore.
“When we’re out there, I might need more than a baseball bat. What if something happens to you? You can’t always be there to protect us. You have to teach me how to protect Halle.”
Dad’s face flushed. “Enough, Jenna.”
“And Connor. If he’s going to be the man of the house once we leave, he needs to know how to use a gun.”
“You’re leaving?” April said from the doorway. A yellow towel was wrapped around her, and water dripped from her hair.
Dad looked like he’d been caught, and he stuttered, “She’s…she’s just arguing.”
“You’re going to leave us here?” April said, her eyes wide.
“No!” Dad said, but his lie face betrayed him.
“Just you and the girls? Is it because you want to be with Scarlet?”
“April, honey, that’s not it,” Dad said, walking around the foot of the bed.
“Then, why would you need to leave us behind? I don’t understand,” she said, her voice cracking.
“Jenna,” he snapped, “go to bed.”
My shoulders fell, and I walked to the couch in the living room where I’d been sleeping for four weeks. Every night, I would lie there, hoping that it would be our last, that Dad would decide the next day that it was time to go. At the same time, I would be terrified of being on foot and getting caught out in the open without shelter. We wouldn’t have the safety and routine of April’s house, and I’d worry about how Halle would do between here and Red Hill. But we were running out of food, and this many of us in one house was a burden on everyone.
Dad and April’s tense conversation was muffled by the walls, but I could still hear them.
I sighed.
“Didn’t go so well?” Connor asked.
“April knows we’re leaving.”
“Everyone knows you’re leaving.”
“They do?”
“We’re not stupid. You want to be with your mom. You should be with your mom. April’s just scared and maybe being a little selfish.”
“Then, why did she act so surprised?”
“Maybe she was hoping he would change his mind.”
Guilt settled in, making me kick off the sheet and sit up. I pulled my knees to my chest. “I don’t want anything to happen to any of you, but…it’s not…we can’t—”
“Your mom is more important. I get that, and April gets that even though she doesn’t want to admit it. She has kids. She wouldn’t want to be separated from them, and she knows the little kids can’t make the trip.”
“You could,” I said.
He sighed. “Someone has to stay here and help. They can’t do it on their own.”
I lay back down, turning on my side and using my bent arm as a pillow.
Dad’s and April’s voices had turned sweeter and less angry. He was defusing the situation, which wasn’t like him at all. Soon, it quieted down, and Connor’s breathing slowed to a relaxing rhythm. My eyes grew heavy, and after a few slow blinks, I was out.
April, Dad, and Tavia were sitting at the kitchen table, having a low conversation, when my eyes finally peeled open. The sun was shining through where the plywood met the windowsill. They were that was now fortified with wooden planks that Dad had nailed to the wood bordering the glass.
I lay still, trying to hear what they were saying, but it was no use. Whatever they were talking about, none of them were happy.
Finally, I sat up and invited myself to the table. In unison, they all sat back against their seats, realizing how rigid their postures had been.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
April didn’t take her eyes away from Dad. “We’re discussing your departure.”
Tavia looked down at the table, her nostrils flaring.
Dad shifted nervously in his chair. “April will allow us to stay a few more days. In return, you and I will gather more supplies for them and teach her and Connor how to use a gun.”
“Wait, what?” I said, instantly incensed. “You’re kicking us out with conditions?”
April tried to retain her reserve. “I’m not kicking you out, Jenna. You want to leave, don’t you?”
“Yes, but this is extortion.”
Tavia looked up at me then. “Jenna, you want to get to your mother. We all understand that. But we are being left here to fend for ourselves—”
“Which you would be doing anyway!” I interrupted.
“Jenna,” Dad chided.
Tavia continued, “To fend for ourselves, so we need to get everything in line in order to do that the best way we can. We’re two women with three small children to feed and protect. We’re just trying to do keep everyone safe.”
“You’re two women who have been depending on my dad and me to do all the heavy lifting while you sit in the safety of this home and keep the kids entertained.”
Tavia raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been living in April’s home and eating her food, too, young lady.”
“And where do you fit into all of that, Tavia?” I seethed. “What have you done besides babysit?”
Dad held up his hands. “All right, all right. I’m going to teach April and Connor how to shoot. Jenna, I’m also going to teach you.”
I blinked.
/> “You and I are going to do one last sweep of the entire town to make sure April, Tavia, and the kids have plenty of supplies, including seeds and equipment for planting, and then we’ll be on our way.”
I crossed my arms. “You were planning to do that anyway—without the threat,” I said, glaring at the women. “And just so you know, he has scoured this whole town trying to find a vehicle or two vehicles to fit us all. He hates that he has to leave you behind, but he knows the kids can’t make the trip! And you’re treating him like a traitor!”
Tavia and April looked down, unable to respond. I was fully aware that I was in the middle of a juvenile temper tantrum, but I was allowed to behave like a thirteen-year-old on occasion, especially when people were being mean to my dad. That was my job.
Dad stood. “Okay then, we should get started.”
I DOUBLE-KNOTTED HALLE’S SHOES and tightened the straps on her backpack. “You’re sure it’s not too heavy? We’ve got a long walk today and an even longer one tomorrow.”
“I’m sure,” she said, pushing up her glasses. “I can do it.”
I winked at her. “I know you can. Just don’t want you to wear out too fast.”
Dad had his hiking pack on, complete with the tent on top—just like he’d worn five weeks ago, that Friday when we’d last seen our mom. Dad’s skin was tanned from spending time outside in the summer sun, and he now had more scruff on his face than I’d ever seen. I wondered if Mom looked any different—or if Halle or I did.
As scared as I was to start the journey, not knowing what was between here and there and not sure how Halle would do, the thought of finally being on our way to get to Mom surpassed all my fears and trepidation.
Halle was in a good mood, too. It had taken a long time for both of us to fall asleep the night before. It all reminded me of what it had felt like on the first day of school. I was sure it would be a lot like that, too. When the excitement wore off, it would be torture just to get through the day, running into bullies and being exhausted by the end of the day. Mom would be like summer break.
I put a hat on Halle’s head. Dad hugged Tavia and Tobin, and Jud and Nora, and then he shook Connor’s hand. He kissed April, who wiped a tear that had escaped down her cheek.
Despite the fact that we’d become enemies fighting over my dad since we arrived, I hugged Tavia and April, too. They’d been our family for a time, and Tavia was a big reason we’d survived the first day.
I knelt down in front of Tobin and gave him a hug.
He squeezed me back. “Bye-bye, Jenna,” he said, wiping his nose with the top of his wrist.
He still had his train in his pudgy palm. His hair had grown out to a cute puffball. I wasn’t sure if I’d just tried not to think about it or if I had just been too focused on leaving, but it was the first time I realized that Tobin wasn’t coming with us. It was devastating.
That was why Dad had taken so long to make his decision. He’d known it would feel like this. He’d known what it would mean for us to leave them behind. I had been too focused on Mom to even think about it. Now that it was here and I understood, I needed to say my good-byes and leave. It was an awful, horrible situation, but it was always going to end this way.
I hugged him again and kissed his cheek, and then I hugged Nora and Jud. Connor, always stoic, barely seemed to notice that we were saying good-bye, but I hugged him anyway even though he didn’t hug me back.
“I’ll miss you,” I said, wiping my cheeks.
Dad opened the door, looked out, and then turned back one last time. “Take care.”
Halle and I followed him out the door, and we walked in a line—Dad first, Halle in the middle, and I brought up the rear, just like we’d discussed. In my right hand, I held the aluminum bat Jud had given me as a going-away present. Dad’s rifle was hanging from a strap on my shoulder. I had gotten a lot of practice over the past forty-eight hours, and I was a decent shot, but Dad had said the hardest part was knowing what to do under pressure. I hoped that I would make him proud.
The sky looked like a watercolor painting. Blues, purples, pinks, and yellows were bursting from the horizon as the sun erupted and lit up the sky. The crickets and cicadas chirped and buzzed in the background as the grass hissed under our feet with each step.
We reached Kellyville just inside of two hours. Rotting bodies were lying flat in the grass and in the streets and hanging over porch railings. Vacant cars were everywhere, and Dad checked each one for keys. He even searched a few of the bodies nearby for keys. The infected had moved on, so I took special care in looking for any signs of life in the houses, but I found nothing—no curious eyes peeking out from covered windows, no women trying to flag us down.
“It’s completely empty,” I said.
“Looks that way. Let’s keep moving,” Dad said.
Just twenty minutes after we left the city limits of Kellyville and turned north onto Highway 123, Halle made the first comment. I was surprised she’d lasted that long.
“My feet hurt,” she said. “My toes are rubbing.”
“Your feet are growing,” Dad said. “We’ll have to find you some bigger shoes.”
We tried to keep her mind off the hike, but another twenty minutes later, she whined again, “I’m hungry.”
“Already?” Dad asked.
“Yes. Can we get a snack?” she said.
“Not yet,” Dad said. “We have to walk for five-and-a-half hours today, remember? Another hour, and we’ll be more than halfway done for the day. That’ll be lunchtime.”
“That’s going to take forever,” she grumbled.
“We’re more than halfway to lunch, if you can think about it that way,” I said.
“Really?” she asked.
“Really,” I said.
At lunchtime, we found a shaded spot that had a little bit of elevation, so we could see if anything was coming. Dad unfolded the paper towels and handed us our sandwiches, and I divvied out the water.
“Look at that,” Halle said, pointing to the sky.
The pillar of smoke was still billowing from something, but now, it was white instead of black.
“Is that Shallot?” I asked.
Dad looked up. “No, it’s too close. Shallot is farther away.”
I stared up at it, squinting against the sun. “It’s been burning for a long time.”
Dad shrugged. “It’s not burning. The smoke is white. It’s smoldering. Debris from an explosion can smolder for months.”
“What do you think exploded?” I asked.
“Most likely, something made of metal. I guess we’ll find out when we pass it by,” he said.
Halle was surprisingly upbeat. “When we see Mom, I’m going to hug her first, okay, Jenna? I got dropped off at school first, so it’s been longer since I’ve seen her.”
“Good point,” I said. “Okay, you can hug her first.”
Dad winked at me.
“And I’m going to sleep with her the first night,” Halle proclaimed.
“Where am I going to sleep?” I asked.
“I don’t know. I don’t remember the farmhouse that well. I bet the doctor has a couch.”
“What if I want to sleep with her, too?” I asked.
Halle made a face. “Where are you going to sleep, Daddy? Will you and Mom get married again?”
Dad nearly spit out his water. “Your mom and I are friends. I think we get along better that way, don’t you? We can still all live together at the farmhouse.”
“Do you think anyone else is there?” I took a bite of my sandwich.
“What do you mean?” Dad asked.
“Like, maybe the doctor. It is his house, and it’s a good place to go. Maybe his family is there. He has two daughters, but they have boyfriends,” I said, feeling inclined to warn him.
He chuckled. “I think I’ll live.”
“What if someone else came along whom Mom liked? What if she’s there with him? Kind of like you and April?” I asked, not really
expecting an answer.
Halle giggled, and Dad began to pack up.
“All right, girls. Lunch break is over. We have another few hours to walk, and we need to find a good place to set up camp unless we come across a house. Keep your eyes open.”
“What?” Halle asked, frozen.
Dad stood, looking down at her. “We need to find a safe place to set up the tent.
“We’re sleeping outside?” she asked, her eyes wide. She actually began to tremble at the thought. “I don’t want to, Daddy. I want to sleep with Mom tonight.”
Dad offered an apologetic half smile. “We’re not going to make it to Red Hill tonight, Pop Can. We’ll make it most of the way to Shallot before dark. We’ll set up camp, and then we’ll walk again tomorrow. It’ll be okay. Jenna and I are going to take turns keeping watch, and it’s a full moon, so we’ll be able to see before anything gets too close.”
She shook her head. “No. No, Daddy.”
Dad hugged her. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Halle. I promise.”
He helped her put on her backpack, and then we set out again, walking down the hill. We returned to the road, heading north on Highway 123. The tune began to play in my head, Halle’s high-pitched voice singing her made-up song, as it did every time I thought about the directions Mom had taught us.
123? 123!
We crossed the paths of just a few infected and one small group of four or five, and we had no trouble either sneaking past them or waiting while Dad took them out. The sun bore down on us, and every part of my exposed skin was turning pink and feeling raw. We had less than half a bottle of sunscreen, and Dad and I had agreed that Halle’s pale skin would need it more than either of us, who tended to tan instead of peel.
By late afternoon, we still hadn’t found a good place to camp, so we continued on. I was beginning to wonder if Dad was hoping to come across a house, but I didn’t remember anything but pasture and cattle being between Fairview and Shallot.
I ended up putting on Dad’s pack and carrying mine, so Dad could give Halle a piggyback ride for a few miles. The sun was getting lower in the sky, and I was getting nervous.
“Dad?” I said finally.
Among Monsters: A Red Hill Novella Page 11