Текст книги "Red Hill"

Автор книги: Jamie McGuire

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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 20 страниц)

Chapter Eighteen

Scarlet

THE MOTHS AND LIGHTNING BUGS were bouncing and gliding over the top of the prairie grass not far from me. I sat on the top step of the wooden deck that doubled as a front porch, waving away the mosquitos buzzing in my ears. The crest of the red dirt road that Jenna and Halle might be walking toward was bright, lit by the setting sun. There were so many variables for them to make it to the safety of Red Hill. What if Andrew hadn’t made it back to the house to see my spray-painted message on the wall? What if the girls were too upset to know what it meant? What if they had forgotten Halle’s song? Carrying those questions with me all day and night weighed down on me and made it too easy for exhaustion to set in, but I kept busy with getting the house cleaned and ready for the girls’ arrival.

With wooden stakes and fishing line that I’d found in the barn, I’d strung a primitive alarm system around the perimeter. The dirt was still soft enough from the previous night’s rain that it was fairly easy to shove the stakes into the ground. In just half a day, I’d bounced along the ground, winding the string around the stakes, poking holes in the cans, and stringing them on the line before moving a few feet down to start the process all over again. The line was far enough from the house that if I was awoken in the night, I would have time to get a weapon and defend myself. Stringing the line was easy; it was trying not to lie awake, waiting for something to rattle the cans, that was hard.

Six days after the world ended, the lines hadn’t jingled once. The few shufflers that had come close always stayed to the road for whatever reason. Maybe they’d already come upon other houses and had learned that a building didn’t necessarily mean a meal. If I stayed quiet, most didn’t bother me.

I sat on the porch, aware that a beautiful sunset was visible from the backside of the house, but when I wasn’t checking the wooden slats I’d nailed to the windows, eating, sleeping, or practicing with Dr. Hayes’s guns, I was watching that red dirt road, waiting for Andrew’s white Tahoe to fly over in a hurry to reach their destination, or for my babies’ heads to rise above the hill, higher with each step. I imagined that moment a hundred times a day: They would be worn and filthy, but very much alive. I didn’t even mind that their arrival would mean living with Andrew again. If it meant having my babies, I welcomed it.

Every night my hopes were dashed and my heart was broken. I never gave up until it was too dark for safe travel. But about this time was when the tears came. I picked at the small stick in my hand, fighting the desperation and helplessness that overwhelmed me.

Earlier that day, I thought I’d heard thunder, but the sound echoed from the east, and the storm clouds were off to the west. At first I thought I’d imagined the noise, but then a tall pillar of smoke rose slowly, high above the tree line. I prayed to God that whatever it was, it had nothing to do with Jenna and Halle.

When I heard the noise coming from beyond the hill directly in front of the house, I trusted my ears. A voice yelled intermittently. Then, another began to answer back. My eyes narrowed, and then my heart leapt seeing two heads bobbing just above the tall prairie grass. When two men became visible, I stood. When the herd of shufflers following behind them appeared just as they cleared the hill, I cursed under my breath and retreated inside the house.

“Help us!” one of the men yelled. I grabbed Dr. Hayes’s hunting rifle, and peered through the scope. The first of the men was younger, maybe late teens or early twenties. The other was a head taller, but older, maybe in his midthirties like me, his shaggy dark-blond hair bouncing as he ran. He was wearing a suit and loosened tie, the younger was in a T-shirt and jeans with boots on. The boots didn’t slow him down. He had probably been running for miles and still managed to keep an exhausting pace. The older man wasn’t far behind him, puffing and drenched in sweat.

I cocked the rifle and aimed at the closest shuffler. “Goddamn it,” I said, knowing the noise would carry, and might attract shufflers from the next two towns. I pulled the trigger, and took the damn thing out. The men—without slowing—covered their heads and ducked. The shufflers’ pace was between a walk and a jog. The older man was at least fifteen feet ahead of the fastest shufflers, but they were leading them directly to the ranch.

“Don’t shoot us! It’s me!” the young man said, waving his arms in the air.

What the hell is he talking about? I assumed he was just scared and talking nonsense. I reloaded and then shot at the next shuffler in line. I’d missed my target. My heart began to hammer against my rib cage. I had brought a box of ammo to the porch with me, but at least thirty shufflers had followed those men over the crest of the hill. A few weeks on the gun range four years ago didn’t exactly make me a marksman.

The younger man tripped over the fishing line, but as he worked to get it off, he just became more tangled. The other man checked behind him to get a glimpse of the shufflers before stooping down and trying to help.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” I said, steadying the rifle against my shoulder and looking through the scope. I tried not to rush, but half a dozen shufflers would be on top of them in five seconds. I pulled the trigger and felt the gun recoil against my bone. The first went down, I missed the second but hit him with a third shot, and the next two seemed to walk right into my sights. Before I needed to shoot a sixth time, the kid was free and they were sprinting toward the house.

“Where’s the Bug?” the young man asked, confused by the sight of me.

I jerked my head back to the house. “I’ll explain later. There are rifles on the sofa. Grab one and get your ass back out here. They’re going to be knocking on the front door in a minute.” I peeked through the sights and continued to shoot. Soon, there were two more sources of gunfire, one on each side of me.

By the time they hit the fishing line, the herd looked more like a small group. The loud booming of our rifles seemed to fall into a rhythm. Later I would consider us fortunate that both men at least knew how to shoot a gun. It wasn’t something I’d thought to ask in the moment.

We kept shooting until they’d all fallen. I watched the shufflers for a moment, making sure all of them were downed. After a full minute with no movement, I met the eyes of the bewildered men on each side of me. I backed up to the door and pointed my gun in their general direction, just in case they realized I was alone and could rob me—or worse.

“My name is Stanley Cooper. I’m Ashley’s boyfriend. Have you seen her? Have they been here?” Before I could answer, the kid began to panic, rubbing the back of his neck and looking around. “They’re not here, Nate. They didn’t make it.”

Recognizing the situation, Nate glanced at my gun for a fraction of a second before staring down the road. His eyes narrowed, focusing on the crest of the red dirt with the same desperate, hopeful expression on his face that I’d had for the last six days.

“Okay, so we head down the road and look for them,” Nate said.

“Wait,” I said, letting the end of the rifle drop a bit. “Ashley Hayes?”

“Yes!” Stanley said. “Have you seen her?”

“No.”

His face fell as the last bit of hope I’d given him disappeared. “They should be here by now!”

“It’s almost dark,” I said. “You shouldn’t leave. They’re out more at night. Getting snuck up on is a good way to get killed.”

Stanley interlocked his fingers on top of his head, and after a short moment of deliberation, looked to Nate. “I’m goin’.”

Nate nodded, and then looked at me. “Do you have any flashlights we could borrow?”

I nodded, went inside to the kitchen, grabbed a flashlight from under the sink, and then got another from the bedroom, returning to the porch. They both snapped the flashlights from my hands.

Nate took a deep breath. He was exhausted, but for whatever reason, he was just as anxious to find Ashley. “We’ll bring back the guns.”

I didn’t answer, knowing I shouldn’t say what I truly believed: They wouldn’t make it back. Wandering around in the dark was a death wish. I narrowed my eyes, glancing down the road to where they were headed. Barely visible in the dim light, a cloud of red dust puffed just above the road. “Wait. Wait! Look!” I said, pointing to the road.

Nate and Stanley had just left the porch to start their run when they eyed a white Bug catch air over the hill. It jerked into the drive as if it were being chased, bouncing over every pothole before sliding to a stop.

Stanley ran over to one side of the car, Nate on the other. The driver was Miranda, Ashley’s sister, and her boyfriend, Bryce, stepped out from the passenger side. I’d only seen him once before. I’d never met Stanley, and as I watched him pull Ashley from the backseat, I wondered if he was a new boyfriend. I remembered Dr. Hayes calling Ashley’s boyfriend by a different name.

Ashley was nearly hysterical, wailing and clawing at Stanley’s shirt. Her eyes were swollen and red, long soaked from the tears she’d wept while they were apart. Nate leaned down and pulled a tiny girl from the backseat. She wrapped her arms and legs around him as best she could as he held her, silently weeping, clearly emotionally exhausted. My chest burned at the sight of her. She was about Halle’s size, and I knew immediately that she belonged to Nate. Seeing them reunite made the need to see my daughters unbearable.

Another man, a head taller than everyone but Bryce, climbed from the backseat. He scanned the house with wary eyes, making me feel on edge. He was different than the others. He moved differently, and his eyes took in everything.

“Where’ve you been?” Stanley said.

Miranda’s face turned instantly annoyed. “She made us wait at the corner by the water tower. I finally got her to agree to let us leave at dark.”

Stanley’s head jerked to look at Ashley. “I told you I would meet you here,” he scolded. “It made more sense for us to cut across. Why would you wait at the road? Are you nuts?”

More tears spilled down Ashley’s red cheeks.

Miranda raised an eyebrow. “That’s what I told her. We could have been here with Dad and not listening to Zoe freak out for the last four hours!”

Nate hugged his daughter tighter.

The man with no name smirked. He towered over most of the others. Just the sight of him made my fingers grasp my rifle tighter. His chest bulged from his white T-shirt, which was speckled with blood. The red stains were spattered down his jeans, too, varying from specks to large splotches. “Are you just getting here?” He clearly wasn’t impressed with their time.

Stanley nodded to the top of the hill and the mess of bodies in the yard. “It’s not a straight shot, and we had company. We ran into hills, and a creek. It was rough going. We tried leading the ones that caught up to us away from the house, but then ran into more. And Nathan had to rest a few times.”

Oh. His name was Nathan. That fit him better, anyway.

“Where are you guys coming from?” I asked.

Nathan paused from whispering things into his daughter’s ear. “Shallot. It’s about ten miles straight across.”

I glanced around, grabbed the flashlight from Nathan, and jogged out to the fishing line. The shufflers had pulled it loose and a few sections were lying on the ground. I pulled the line from the some of the shufflers’ decaying ankles and then rewrapped it around the stakes, pulling them taut.

Pulling the downed shufflers into the field and burning them crossed my mind, but it was nearly dark. Resigned to leave it until the next day, I joined the others inside the house.

Miranda met me at the door. “Where is my dad?”

I glanced at Ashley. The sisters had already been through hell, and I hated to make it worse. I just shook my head a little, unable to say the words.

Miranda lowered her chin. “What?”

“When I got here, he was . . . Leah had . . . I buried them. By the tree.”

Miranda turned on her heels, ran through the living room and kitchen into the laundry room, and pushed out the storm door. Bryce followed her. I walked over to the window and peered between the wooden slats. Miranda fell on her knees and covered her face; Bryce began to touch her face, but then acted like he couldn’t decide where to place his hand, finally settling on his neck. He paced back and forth, offering words of comfort.

Ashley was sniffing and crying quietly, most likely already cried out for the day.

“She should come back in,” I said softly. “It’s not safe out there.”

“Thank you,” Nathan said. His voice was so smooth and calming. “For helping us. That was pretty impressive.”

“You’re welcome,” I said. “I’m glad everyone made it here safely.”

Nathan walked away, twisting his upper body and whispering something into his daughter’s ear. His shaggy hair was opposite his gray suit and boring tie. He glanced back at me, and I looked away, realizing at the same time he did that I was still staring. It had been a while since I’d felt anything but fear. Next to the nightmare we were all living, embarrassment didn’t seem so bad.

I looked at Nathan again from the corners of my eyes, trying not to get caught. The girl’s eyes were getting heavy, and I found myself curious about their situation: Where was her mother? Did they find themselves together much like Andrew found himself now with the girls?

“He’s nice,” Stanley whispered. His voice was tired and sad, but the corners of his mouth were turned up ever so slightly. “If you were wondering.”

“I wasn’t,” I said, shaking my head and dropping my eyes to the ground.

Nathan

FOUR HOURS OF WORRYING AND being in an unfamiliar situation had exhausted Zoe in every way anyone could be exhausted, and while I was watching the woman with the fiery red hair and staggering blue eyes break it to Miranda and Ashley that their father was dead, I noticed a pair of French doors right off the living room and peeked in, seeing a king-size bed that took up most of the room around it. There were piles of clothes everywhere, and opened dresser drawers. Odd, because the rest of the house was immaculate.

Zoe didn’t flinch when I peeled back the covers and let her sink into the pillow-top mattress. The luxurious down pillow and high thread count of the sheets didn’t match the farmhouse. As I thought about the custom-made tree-trunk coffee table in the living room, and the seventy-inch flat screen, I decided that wasn’t true. There were a few oddly placed expensive items peppered inside the old, outdated house. That puzzled me, much like the tiny woman with a huge set of balls holding the rifle in the living room.

I waited to be sure Zoe was sound asleep, and then stepped into the living room, listening to Ashley weep quietly on Cooper’s shoulder. She was asking the mystery woman how her father died and about a woman named Leah. The answers were vague, I assumed on purpose. The details didn’t really matter, only that two girls had lost their father, and everything they expected to find here was gone with him.

Cooper held Ashley as she shook and moaned, rubbing at her face and raking her back in frustration as she bounced between devastation and anger. Finally, she met the woman’s eyes.

“Why are you here, Scarlet?”

Scarlet sighed, and then scratched her head. “It seemed like the safest place, and I knew there was a chance my girls would come here.”

Ashley sat up as Scarlet sat down on the couch. She seemed to be suddenly exhausted, as if saying the words out loud took the last bit of energy she had.

Ashley sniffed and wiped her nose with the sleeve of her jacket. “Why aren’t they with you?”

I braced myself for what she might say.

Scarlet fidgeted, clearly trying not to break down. Ashley obviously knew her, but from what I could gather from the bit of conversation I’d caught earlier, their father’s significant other was buried outside with him. The woman sitting on the couch didn’t seem to be family, so I wondered how she would know about this place, so far removed from everything.

“Scarlet?” Ashley prodded. “Where are your girls?”

“They’re coming.”

“Here?” Ashley said, sounding surprised. “How do you know?”

“Because I left them a message. On Andrew’s wall.”

The conversation made less sense as it went along, and Ashley didn’t seem to understand, either. Agitated, Scarlet stood up and disappeared into the back of the house. Ashley and Cooper traded glances, and then we all looked to the side door leading to wherever the father was buried. Bryce was leading Miranda inside the house, shutting the wooden door. The bottom half was wood, the top half Plexiglas.

“We’re going to need to board that up,” I said. “Tonight.”

Joey nodded and stood up from the corner. I’d almost forgotten he was here, he’d been so quiet. “I’ll help you.”

Bryce jerked his head toward the door, careful not to take his arms from around Miranda. “There should be some leftover wood in the barn. Be careful. There’s a bull out there.”

As Joey passed Miranda, she watched him walk by, and I assumed by the way her eyes fell to the floor that something wasn’t right. I had been conditioned by Aubrey for years to detect a problem and buffer it before it got too far out of control. These people were still strangers, but I had a very real fear that if the delicate fibers of our group broke down, Joey, my daughter, and I would be the first to go. The others seemed to know each other. We were the outsiders, and I needed to ensure my and Zoe’s place here.

With the flashlight Scarlet had given me, I shined the light around in the darkness until it highlighted the side of the barn. I could already hear the grunts and movements of the bull. Fortunately the boards were in a different part of the barn than where the animal was corralled.

“Let’s get this and get back in,” I said. “We don’t want anything sneaking up on us out here.”

Joey nodded and lifted a stack of boards up into his arms with a grunt. I picked a stack as well, and we made our way back to the house. Scarlet brought a small, red, carry toolbox and set it on top of the dryer. “I didn’t board this because there aren’t many nails left.”

“We’ll make do,” I said, pulling the hammer out of the box. As I hit the nail head and watched it slide easily through the board to the wood on the other side, I thought of Gary and Eric from the church in Fairview, and wondered if they were alive. And then I thought of Skeeter, and of Jill, and their unborn baby. I hadn’t had much time to mourn them, so I took out my anger and pain on each nail as I buried it into the boards.

The last nail was used to secure the second board horizontally across the center of the Plexiglas. It wasn’t enough, but it would keep something out long enough to give us time to react.

We left the stack of wood in the laundry room, and returned to the living room, where Miranda and Ashley were comforting each other. Scarlet had rejoined the group, sitting in the same spot she couldn’t stand to be in less than half an hour before. I wondered about her daughters and why they weren’t with her, but didn’t want to upset her again by asking. I followed her eyes to a frame on the wall across the room. A creased picture of Scarlet, a man, and two girls was inside.

Beyond the walls of the farmhouse was blackness only a place far away from city lights could provide. Even the moon had hidden away behind thick clouds. Scarlet stood up and busied herself with pulling hanging dark sheets across the wooden slats, and then brought a box of matches to light a few candles around the room. We sat in silence for what seemed like forever, and then a low rumble echoed from miles away.

“Thunder,” Ashley said, looking around.

“I noticed some pretty dark blue clouds back there,” Scarlet said, pointing her thumb to the east. “The wind is blowing west.”

“It won’t miss us this time,” Joey said.

Scarlet glanced at the soldier, and a light of recognition touched her eyes. Joey met her stare, seeming hopeful that she might say something. Scarlet was the first to look away. The awkwardness between everyone was bugging the shit out of me.

“So are you guys family?” I said to Miranda, motioning to Scarlet.

Miranda shook her head. “Scarlet works with my dad . . . worked with my dad.”

Scarlet nodded and smiled. “I’m an X-ray tech. Miranda’s dad is Dr. Hayes.”

“Was Dr. Hayes,” Miranda corrected, staring at the flame dancing above the candle on the coffee table.

“Stop it,” Ashley hissed.

“I’ve been so mean to him,” Miranda said, holding her shaking hand to her mouth. “I’ll never get to tell him I’m sorry. I’ll never get to talk to him again.”

Bryce squeezed her to his side. His eyes were moist, too, and it was apparent that the boys were close with the doctor as well. “He knew you were having a tough time with the divorce. He knew you loved him.”

“Did he?”

Ashley lost her battle to hold in a sob. She kneeled in front of Miranda and then rested her head on her sister’s knees.

Scarlet nodded. “He knew, Miranda. I promise, he did.”

Miranda and Ashley cried together again, with Bryce and Cooper on each side.

“Did everyone that Dr. Hayes worked with know where he lived?” I asked. The more they talked, the more confused I became.

Scarlet seemed to be amused by my nosey question. “I cleaned for him when I was in X-ray school.” Her eyes glistened. “He was very kind to me. They both were.”

“Both?”

“Wes and Leah,” Scarlet said.

Ashley leaned against Cooper, thinking fondly of the two. “Leah was my dad’s girlfriend. She was very sweet.”

“She was,” Cooper nodded.

Ashley shook her head slowly. “I can’t believe she’s gone. That they’re gone.” She looked to her sister. “I hate this. I want to wake up and this all be a bad dream.” She began to rock back and forth a bit, struggling with the new reality we all faced. “I don’t want this.”

“None of us do,” Miranda snapped. She sighed, realizing she was too harsh. “We’ve had a long day. Bryce and I will take my room; Ashley and Coop have their own. Scarlet, I guess you’ve been sleeping in dad’s room?”

Scarlet nodded. “Yes, but the girl is in there. I’ll take the couch.”

“You sure?” I said.

Scarlet offered a small smile, and then looked to Joey. “There is a couch downstairs in the basement, but it might not be big enough for you. I can switch with you if you’d like.”

Joey shook his head. “The basement sounds good to me. I’ll make a pallet if I have to.”

“I’ll show you the linen closet,” Scarlet said, standing. That prompted everyone else to stand, and Scarlet laughed once without humor. “I’m glad you all made it,” she said, her voice breaking. “I was afraid I was the only one left.”

Scarlet could clearly take care of herself, and wasn’t the slightest bit fragile, but something about the way her voice broke made me want to pull her into my arms and hold her. She and Joey walked away, and the distance created lessened my urge to comfort her. I shook my head and silently scolded myself. I’d just met her, and she probably didn’t need anyone to make her feel better, anyway, not that there was any way for someone to feel better about being separated from their children in days like these.

I went into the doctor’s bedroom and closed the French doors behind me, sliding quietly under the covers beside Zoe. Even as I thought about the horrors of the last few days, warmth washed over me, comforted by the knowledge that this was the safest place to raise my little girl. At least until someone found a cure for the sickness that had taken so much from everyone under that roof. Knowing we weren’t alone and that we were still waiting for others was the most comforting. That was a hope I would help Scarlet hang on to.