Текст книги "Red Hill"

Автор книги: Jamie McGuire

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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 20 страниц)

Chapter Eight

Nathan

I LOWERED MY CHIN TO PEEK from a slit in the boards Gary had left for Skeeter. The sun was a little lower in the sky. Before too long, it would be dark. That thought scared me. We would need to sleep some time, but they wouldn’t. Those things would be walking around, just on the other side of these walls, waiting to pull our flesh from our bones with their teeth.

Skeeter grabbed my shoulder; the sudden movement made me jump two inches off my chair.

“Whoa! It’s just me, Nate. Calm down.”

I settled back into my seat, trying to play off my fear. Watching a movie about zombies is one thing. Watching zombies outside your window was another. The movies didn’t talk about that. Well . . . maybe they did, but they didn’t drive home how terrifying each moment truly was. I tried not to think about tomorrow, or that we would still be fighting for our lives every day from now on. I glanced back at Zoe, and choked back the sadness welling up in my throat. I didn’t want her to grow up in a world like this.

A combination of fear, anger, and utter depression fully engulfed me.

Skeeter squeezed my shoulder. I sat still, letting his fingers sink into my tense muscle. “It’s going to be okay.”

“Is it?” I asked, looking back out the window. “Is Jill?”

Skeeter sighed. “I don’t know. I’m hoping the movies got it all wrong, and a bite is just a bite.”

“What if it’s not?”

“I don’t know. I don’t really wanna think about it.”

I nodded, catching a glimpse of an elderly man shuffling by the window. His neck was half eaten away, and his dress shirt was saturated in blood. “We can’t stay here. We’re going to have to keep moving. Get into the country.”

“Damn, brother, I thought I was in the country.”

“I mean away from any town.”

Skeeter took a moment to respond. “I know, but I can’t move Jill. And we can’t risk putting her in a car with Zoe until we know if she’s going to get better.”

I closed my eyes tight, trying to squint away the visual. Another one of those things ambled by. She was wearing a nametag and a long skirt. I couldn’t read the nametag even if it was closer. It was covered in blood and what might be torn muscle lying over the top.

“Jesus Christ, that’s Birdie,” Skeeter said, disgusted. “She works at the bank.”

A dog was barking at her, keeping just enough distance that it wasn’t grabbed and eaten. Looking out at what could be seen through the boards, I watched whoever lumbered by, studying them, trying to notice whatever I could.

They were slow. Not as slow as I thought they might be, but they were slow enough that if we had to head out on foot, as long as we didn’t let one get too close, or get surrounded, we could make it. Some of them that had more extensive injuries moved slower than others. One guy’s foot was completely gone, but he continued walking on a bloody stub. They weren’t distracted by pain.

“I wonder if you can really only kill them by obliterating the brain,” I thought aloud.

Skeeter raised his hunting rifle, situated it between the boards, and aimed. “I don’t know. Let’s find out.” He picked out a target, and then breathed. “Sorry, Mr. Madison.” Skeeter squeezed the trigger, and the fabric of Mr. Madison’s shirt, in the spot where his heart would be, popped and sprayed open. Dark blood oozed from the wound, but Mr. Madison didn’t seem to notice. “Okay. So that doesn’t work.” Skeeter squeezed the trigger again. This time a red dot immediately formed in the middle of Mr. Madison’s temple and simultaneously seemed to burst, leaving a perfectly imperfect round wound. The man stopped midstep as his head jerked to the side, and then he fell onto his side.

I waited for a moment, watching for any signs of movement. Nothing. “You think we have to burn them, too?” I asked.

Skeeter frowned, his eyes darted over at me from over the sights of his rifle. “Now that’s just silly.”

“Skeeter, honey, I think Jill’s not feeling well,” Doris said. She was wringing her hands, clearly unnerved.

Skeeter hopped up and rushed into the kitchen. I followed behind, seeing Zoe sitting in the corner, watching her aunt Jill as she sat in her chair, crumpled over and heaving into a bucket.

“Zoe? Zoe, come here. Come sit in here for a bit.” I motioned for Zoe to join me in the sanctuary. Zoe slid off her chair and walked toward me, and when she gripped my fingers, the strength in her tiny hand surprised me.

We sat together on a pew beside Gary, hoping the hammering would drown out some of the noise coming from the kitchen. Between the moaning noises Jill made while she vomited, she whimpered and cried for Skeeter to help her.

“She’s sweating, Daddy,” Zoe said, “a whole lot.” Her eyes were heavy with worry. “Then her face went all wonky and she threw up on the floor. She said her whole body hurt like she had the flu.”

I nodded. “Did that scare you?”

“It all scares me,” she said. The skin around her eyes tightened, and I could see she was trying not to cry.

No one knew what would happen to Jill, but I had an idea of what might be happening, and I didn’t want Zoe to witness it. Short of Skeeter moving Jill somewhere else, the only way to keep Zoe from witnessing her aunt’s death was to take her away from the church. That meant taking her outside where it wasn’t safe.

“I’m so sorry, honey. I wish I could make this all go away.” I hugged Zoe to my chest, trying to buy some time before a solution came to mind.

Jill was sobbing now. She probably knew what was happening, too.

I cupped Zoe’s little cherubic face in my hands, scanning the splash of freckles across her nose and light-brown hair. She’d kept the same simple shoulder-length hair cut since she was four. Her natural waves made it bouncy, but it seemed like her worry had weighed that down, too. “I’m going to try to help Uncle Skeeter. I want you to stay in here, okay? You’re safe in here. I won’t be gone long.”

Zoe nodded quickly, glancing back to Gary and Eric as they pounded the last nails into the last board.

“Good girl,” I said, kissing her forehead.

Skeeter was on one knee, both arms wrapped around his wife. She leaned against his chest, her face blotchy and glistening with sweat. Skeeter stared at the floor, whispering something to her, with the same hopelessness in his eyes as the woman we passed on the bridge. His young and healthy wife was dying in his arms, and they both knew it.

Doris filled a glass with water, and leaned down to hold it to Jill’s lips. She took a few sips and then spit it out, leaning down to the bucket, emptying her stomach once more.

“We need the doctor,” Doris said.

“The doctor’s dead,” Gary said, dropping the hammer on the table next to Jill. “So is his wife, and kids. They’re all walking around out there with milky eyes and bite marks.”

Jill sniffed once, and looked up at her husband. “Skeeter.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head, still staring at the floor.

“Skeeter, what if I hurt the people in here?”

“No.”

“What if I hurt you?”

“No!”

“What if I kill Zoe?” she pleaded, tears streaming down her reddened cheeks. Her breath skipped, and she pulled Skeeter’s face down so his eyes met hers. “Don’t let me hurt that baby, Skeeter.”

Skeeter’s bottom lip quivered. “But what about our baby?”

I stood up straight, away from the doorjamb I was leaning on. “What?”

“What was that?” Doris said.

“Jill’s pregnant,” Skeeter said, his voice desperate. “Seven weeks. Dr. Brown just called her this morning.”

I leaned down and grabbed my knees. I couldn’t imagine the agony he was feeling. They didn’t deserve this. They’d been trying to conceive since their wedding night, and now Skeeter would lose them both.

Jill touched her forehead to Skeeter’s chin, and then looked up at him with a weak smile. “We’ll be together, and we’ll wait for you.”

Skeeter broke down, burying his face into Jill’s neck. “I can’t do it, Jillybean,” he sobbed.

The first window in the sanctuary crashed, and everyone but Skeeter froze. Sounds of searching hands on the wooden boards made my skin crawl. I leaned back to see Zoe, Barb, and Ms. Kay turned around in their seats, staring at the broken glass on the floor. The boards were holding, but I could still feel my heart pounding against my rib cage. Eric stood next to the broken glass, inspecting the board, and then he nodded, assuring us that they would hold.

“Wait. What are we talking about here?” Reverend Mathis said, bringing my attention back to the kitchen.

Doris was still wringing her hands. “I can’t say I . . . we shouldn’t be talking about this.”

“It’s okay,” Jill said, cupping her hand over Skeeter’s head until she had to bend over again and vomit into the bucket.

Another window broke.

I looked to Gary. “What is that hallway there?” I said, gesturing to the open doorway on the other side of the kitchen. There were two his and hers bathrooms, and then an open doorway leading down a dark hall. “We may need another exit.”

“Just to the stairs.”

That caught my attention. “What stairs? You boarded up windows but didn’t secure the upper level?”

Gary shrugged. “I don’t think they can climb.”

“We’re in the house of the Lord!” Doris said. “I’m not going to let this happen! We don’t know what this is. Skeeter, Jill could get better!”

Bob spoke for the first time. His voice was deep and raspy. “We know exactly what this is.”

Everyone turned in the direction of Bob’s voice. He was sitting on a metal folding chair in the corner, where he’d been for the last hour. He’d perched his cane between his legs, resting his hands on the handle.

His gray mustache twitched when he spoke. “This is nothing less than a goddamn tragedy.”

“Bob!” Doris said, pretending to be offended.

“Truth is, she’s just going to end up like one of those things outside, only she’ll be in here with us.”

Glass crashed to the floor again, and this time a bone-chilling moan floated from the sanctuary into the kitchen.

Bob’s eyes drifted to me, and then settled beside me about waist high. That was when I noticed Zoe standing just behind me. She stared at her aunt Jill, her beautiful hazel-green eyes filling with tears for the umpteenth time that day. I wondered if she would ever know happiness after today.

I kneeled beside my daughter, trying to think of something cathartic to say, but words wouldn’t save Jill, and Jill being okay was the only thing that was going to make this hell somewhat tolerable for Zoe.

A heavy thud sounded above us, and we all looked to the ceiling. Skeeter kissed Jill’s forehead, and then motioned for Doris to sit next to her as he grabbed his shotgun. Gary picked up his hammer. I gently pushed Zoe toward Reverend Mathis, and then followed my brother-in-law, Gary, and Eric through the doorway, and down the hall. Skeeter stopped at the bottom of the stairs, pointing his shotgun to the closed door at the top.

Gary flipped on the light. “Maybe someone crawled onto the roof to get away from them and made their way inside?”

We heard slow, clumsy footsteps, and then something was knocked over.

Eric took in a sharp breath. “They can’t climb, can they? I’ve never heard of a zombie climbing.”

“Why not? They used to be human. Humans can climb,” Gary said, resituating the toothpick in his mouth and tightening his grip on the hammer.

I nervously ran my fingers through my hair. “We don’t really know anything about them. Assuming is going to get us all killed. I say we get some boards, take them upstairs, try to communicate with whoever is in there, and if they don’t answer, we board up the door.”

“Simple enough,” Skeeter said. His voice was low and smooth, and reminded me of the few times he’d invited me along on a deer hunt. That was his in the woods voice, like the guys in those hunting shows always used while they were narrating their victorious kill. He didn’t pull his eyes away from the door, as if he were hunting whatever was on the other side.

“Skeeter?” Eric said. The nervousness contrasted with his large, burly frame. “We’re almost out of boards.”

Miranda

“NOW WHAT?” ASHLEY SAID. HER voice was increasingly whiny with each mile we drove.

I didn’t want to be sitting still. I wanted to take the overly congested exit and then head west of the overpass, past the army, or reserves, or whoever those guys in green camo guarding the bridge into Anderson were, and be on my way to my dad’s. A dozen or more guns were pointed in our direction, at us and everyone else caught in the mess of cars below the overpass. Three lines of cars and trucks were stopped on the northbound exit ramp by the men with guns. People were outside of their vehicles, yelling and pleading to pass.

I had maneuvered the Bug as close as I could to the ramp, but quickly ran out of room. There was no way to get through, and we were stuck on the shoulder of the interstate.

“What are they doing?” Cooper asked, still clutching Ashley to his side.

Bryce tried his phone again. When he heard yet another busy signal, he let the phone fall in his lap, and hit the door with the side of his fist.

“Hey!” I said. “She’s gotten us this far! Be nice!”

A newer, red pickup truck approached the overpass on the Fairview side, slowed, and then came to a stop. A man got out, pointing toward Anderson. The army men shook their heads, motioning for him to turn back. He kept pointing to Anderson, but when more than a dozen semi-automatic rifles were turned in his direction, he got in his pickup and backed away.

“He came from Fairview. You think we should still go that way?” Cooper asked.

“It’s the quickest way,” Ashley said.

“So they’re guarding Anderson,” Bryce said, watching the scene transpire.

“Looks that way,” I said.

“Then why are they on the Fairview side of the bridge? Wouldn’t it make more sense to be on the Anderson side? Then they could guard the exit ramp, too.”

I took a closer look. The soldiers were young, and from what I could tell, seemed antsy. “There is an armory in Anderson. You think they’re really soldiers? Maybe they’re just trying to protect their town?”

“The governor is in Anderson today,” Ashley said.

We all turned, surprised she knew that interesting and pertinent tidbit of information.

“I listen to the radio in the mornings when I’m getting ready for class. They said it on the news. Governor Bellmon would be in Anderson today.”

Bryce nodded. “There’s no way he’d already have soldiers there. They must be random townspeople.”

I looked at them again, and gasped. They weren’t wearing fatigues. They were outfitted in Realtree and Mossy Oak. “Oh, Christ. Scared kids with AK-47s? Is the governor that stupid?”

“Maybe it wasn’t him at all? Maybe they just took it upon themselves?” Cooper said.

“Either way,” I said, turning to look out the back window. I didn’t see anything that would bite us, but it would only be a matter of time before they caught up. “We have to get going.”

Just as I finished my sentence, the same red pickup from before came from the Fairview side at high speed, straight at the men with guns.

“Miranda!” Ashley screamed.

I gripped the steering wheel as they opened fire. The windshield of the truck broke, and then the truck veered off course, straight for our side of the bridge. It jumped over the side of the off-ramp, cartwheeled over three cars, and then came to a rest on its cab. The wheels were still spinning, making a terrible high-pitched whirring noise.

Everyone screamed, and those standing outside their cars crouched down for a second, waiting to see where the truck would go. For a while, everyone seemed confused, nervous, and unsure what to do, but once the shock of the earlier incident became secondary to the need to get home to their families, the yelling and pleading to pass continued.

“Maybe we could sneak by them on foot?” Cooper said.

Bryce shook his head. “We need a distraction.”

As if it were scripted, a white full-sized van slowly approached the bridge. The gunmen were immediately on edge. The people standing outside of their cars yelled louder, and a few of them attempted to throw shoes and anything they could get their hands on at the gunmen, but none of it made it to the bridge.

“Oh, man. Get back in your car,” Bryce said.

The driver had gotten out, and was arguing with the gunmen. He then grabbed one of the gunmen’s rifles. I wasn’t sure who shot the first bullet, but once a gun went off, they all opened fire. The man from the van convulsed while his body was punctured by bullets. When he hit the ground, the gunmen targeted his vehicle, too.

“Oh my God! Oh my God!” Ashley cried.

The gunfire didn’t stop. The men with guns were agitated and angry, and the yelling from below drew their attention. The people standing outside of their vehicles on the ramp were suddenly prey, and they all began to scream and run. Following the running families, the men let their gunfire spread to everyone else trapped in the gridlock below.

“Jesus Christ!” Bryce yelled. “Get us out of here, Miranda! Go! Go!”

I yanked on the gearshift and backed into the car behind me, and then spun the wheel, shoving the gearshift into drive. After a few near misses and even more sideswipes, we were under the bridge. I didn’t stop, hoping the psychopaths above would be too busy with the poor people on the south side to see that I was going to take the on-ramp on the other side and floor it toward Fairview.

“What are you doing?” Ashley said. “Hide under the bridge!”

“We’ll get stuck there!” Bryce said, knowing I was too focused on getting us the hell out of there to respond. “Keep going, Miranda! Don’t stop!”

We cleared the bridge and flipped a U-turn to catch the southbound on-ramp. The Bug caught air more than once on its climb to the top—sometimes on the asphalt, sometimes not—and finally made it to the road.

Cooper patted my seat ardently. “They’re not even paying attention! Keep going!”

We rode in silence for the next mile, but the second we were out of range Ashley began to sniff and whimper. We had left behind a massacre. Children were among the victims on the interstate.

“Has the whole world gone crazy?” Ashley cried.

Bryce and Cooper were sniffing, too. Before long hot tears were burning down my cheeks. Moments later, we were all sobbing.

Bryce wiped his nose on his shirt, and then took my right hand. “You saved our lives, Miranda.”

I squeezed his hand, unable to speak. I took a long, broken breath, and tried to concentrate on the road. We would be coming up on Fairview soon.

Chapter Nine

Nathan

ERIC RETURNED QUICKLY CARRYING SEVERAL boards in his arms. “I found these in the shed. I took as many as I could carry because they’re really starting to gather around the church. I don’t think anyone should go outside anymore.”

“They must know we’re in here,” I said. “It’s just a matter of time before they get in.”

Gary pulled the toothpick from his mouth, frustrated. “But Eric just said we can’t leave.”

“He said he didn’t think we should,” I said, looking to Skeeter. “Doesn’t mean we can’t. It isn’t safe here.”

He ignored our discussion, and began climbing the stairs, never taking his eyes off the door.

We all followed. The silent hopes to find nothing were louder than the stairs that creaked in a slow symphony beneath our feet.

Gary gripped the doorknob and pulled, using his body weight as leverage. None of us could be sure if the walking dead had enough coordination to climb or even twist a doorknob, but just one mistake meant death. I didn’t want to take any chances, and neither did these men.

Skeeter lifted his fist, and knocked his knuckles against the door. “Hello? It’s Skeeter McGee. Anyone in there?”

The footsteps that we’d heard before had been silent for several minutes.

Skeeter tried again. “I have a gun, and I’m prepared to shoot. Identify yourself.”

Nothing.

“Let’s board it up,” Eric said, repositioning the wood in his arms.

Skeeter held up a hand, signaling for Eric to wait, and then he held his ear against the door. His eyes targeted me, and then he shook his head. “I don’t hear anything. Don’t tell me those things know how to hide. I’m going in.”

Skeeter put his hand over Gary’s, and I grabbed his arm. “What are you doing? What if there’s several in there? What if they overpower us and get downstairs?”

Skeeter smiled with his mouth and frowned with his eyes. “I ain’t gonna let that happen. Just like I ain’t gonna leave those things walking above us. If we’re going to ride this out in this church, it’s got to be secure.”

I sighed, and let go of his arm. “All right. Gary?”

Gary reluctantly released the doorknob, and Skeeter went in. I checked behind the door, and then my eyes scanned the large, empty classroom before they touched on what Skeeter had already seen.

A young woman, early twenties, was lying next to a fallen end table and an open window. Blood marked her trail. Her arm had been chewed on, in several spots down to the bone.

“Christ almighty, that’s Annabelle Stephens!” Eric said, rushing to her side. He looked up at us after touching her neck. There wasn’t a spot on her from her chin down that wasn’t saturated in blood.

We heard a whimper from the corner, and Skeeter immediately trained his shotgun in that direction. I grabbed the barrel and slowly pushed it down, seeing a little boy, alone and huddled into a ball.

Skeeter lowered his weapon. “Hey there, little man.”

Gary let out a breath, glancing at Eric while he covered Annabelle’s face and chest with the only thing he could find: a small rug. “That’s Craig and Amy Nicholson’s boy.”

Skeeter kneeled down, put his gun on the floor behind him, and held out his arms. “I went to school with Amy. You must be Connor. C’mere, buddy. I know you’re scared, but you’re safe here.”

Connor shook his head quickly. He held his knees against his chest, and his chin was resting on his knees as he rocked back and forth.

“Is Annabelle his aunt?” I asked.

Skeeter shook his head. “Annabelle’s the first grade teacher at the elementary school.”

“She saved me,” Connor whispered, “from my mom.” His breath caught, and then he let out a sob.

Skeeter scooped him up into his arms. “Sssh, buddy. You’re safe now. You’re safe, I promise.”

Skeeter walked to the window, opened it further, and then stepped out onto the roof. I followed him. From what I could see, the entire church was surrounded.

“A lot of them followed us here,” Connor said.

Skeeter nodded, noticing the drag marks along the roof and the windowsill, and the trail of blood on the sidewalk leading up to the church. “Annabelle bled out. We’ll probably have them coming from all over town.”

“At least we know they can’t climb,” I said, pointing to the group lifting their arms and scratching at the church’s outside walls.

Connor sniffed. “Annabelle was already on the roof. She saw me running and climbed back down.”

Skeeter gave Connor a squeeze. “She was a sweet lady.”

Connor peaked over Skeeter’s shoulder at the rug covering Annabelle, and then shut his eyes tight.

“We can’t stay here,” I said.

“We can’t leave. Give it a couple of days, Nate. They’ll move on.”

“What if they don’t? We’ll be trapped here.”

Skeeter sighed, pulling the toothpick out of his mouth with his free hand and throwing it down to the growing crowd of undead below. “I can’t move Jill.”

My eyebrows pushed together. “What if she gets worse? What if she turns into one of those things?”

Skeeter looked down, and then back at me, resolute. “You should go. Get Zoe some place safe. She shouldn’t be here when Jill . . . but, I can’t leave, brother. I wouldn’t have anything to live for, anyway.”

My stomach dropped, and goose bumps formed on my arms. Skeeter was going to die in this church, with his wife.

“I’ve gotta get Zoe out of here.”

“I know.”

Skeeter crawled back inside carefully with Connor still in his arms. He walked past Eric and Gary, but stopped in the doorway. “Board up the door.”

“But,” Eric said, pointing to the sheet, “they can’t climb, and Annabelle’s dead.”

“In case she comes back as one of them,” I said, nodding to the window.

Gary frowned. “Maybe we should roll her off the roof. She’ll start stinkin’ before long.”

“No!” Connor cried.

Skeeter patted his back. “The smell might help cover ours. Leave her be. Board the door.”

Gary and Eric nodded, and Skeeter and I walked back downstairs to the kitchen, joining Bob and Evan, Reverend Mathis, and Doris. They had made Jill a pallet on the floor with a rolled-up dish towel for a pillow.

“Oh my Lord in Heaven! Connor Nicholson! Are you all right, sweetheart?” Doris said, taking him from Skeeter.

Connor hugged Doris tight, wildly sobbing all over again. They obviously knew each other, but I wasn’t sure how.

Doris blanched, looking up at Skeeter. “Where is Amy?”

“She’s outside. Annabelle Stephens helped him up to the roof.”

“Well . . . ?” she said, looking past Skeeter. “Where is she?”

Skeeter shook his head. “Upstairs. She didn’t make it.”

About that time the hammering began. Doris held Connor while he cried. Reverend Mathis went to the sanctuary to check on Barb and Ms. Kay, and Skeeter sat on the floor next to his wife. Jill was unconscious, her bloodshot eyes barely visible between the two thin slits of her eyelids. She was nearly panting, and a thin sheen of sweat covered her paling skin.

Zoe was standing in the doorway, her eyes fixed on her aunt Jill. I kneeled beside my daughter and pulled her against my side. There wasn’t really anything I could say; no point in asking if she was all right. None of us were.

Skeeter bent down to speak soft, comforting words to Jill. Unable to watch, I walked into the sanctuary. Broken glass lined the carpet next to all three walls. The townspeople of Fairview were clawing and batting at the boards Eric and Gary had nailed across the windows. The boards wouldn’t last forever, just like the small amounts of food Skeeter and a few others had thought to bring along with them.

Reverend Mathis was praying with Barb and Ms. Kay, but paused to watch me approach the windows. I peeked through, trying to gauge how far my car was from the church. I didn’t see any of the sick around Skeeter’s house, or even between there and the church, but that didn’t mean there weren’t any. Still, the hardest part would be walking out the door.

I walked into the kitchen, pulling my car keys from my pocket. “I’m going to make a run for it with Zoe. I have a car down the block. We’ve got two, maybe three empty seats, but we’re going to need a diversion to get outside.”

“But I don’t wanna leave Aunt Jill, Daddy,” Zoe said.

Doris shook her head. “I’m not going out there.”

Bob frowned. “Why don’t you just stay here? It’s as safe as anywhere.”

I covered Zoe’s ears and spoke softly. “Because Annabelle left a trail of blood leading to the church, and it’s smeared on the west wall. Skeeter and I were just on the roof. The church is surrounded, and more are coming. Who knows when they’ll go away, or if they ever will?”

Skeeter nodded. “You’ll need a gun. Something light but with a lot of stopping power. Grab the AR out of my bag there. The two twenty-three. Don’t forget the clips. I’ll cover you.”

A long, camouflage duffle bag holding nearly every gun Skeeter owned was tucked under the church’s kitchen table. I crouched down to pull the nylon across the worn linoleum, and found a squat-barreled rifle that was smaller, but looked just as ferocious as anything else in the bag. “I’ve never shot a semiautomatic rifle, Skeeter. I’m not sure I can handle this.”

Skeeter laughed once, but he couldn’t quite smile. “Zoe could handle it. And you should let her practice when y’all get somewhere safe. Just in case.”

The thought of something happening to me, and Zoe then being left alone made my world stop. She was so little, and if we left Skeeter and Jill, I would be all she had. “Maybe we should stay?” I said, my gaze floating to the sanctuary. The things outside were still trying to get in, pulling and banging against the boards.

Skeeter looked at his wife, and then back at me. “No. You shouldn’t.” I pulled a 9mm from the bag and a box of ammo. “Can I take this, too?” Skeeter’s eyes touched on Zoe for just a moment. He knew why I wanted it. I couldn’t leave her alone to fend for herself.

“Of course, brother.”

I nodded in thanks, and then stood. “But we still need a distraction.”

Doris set Connor in the chair that Jill was in. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and someone will pass through town. Will they follow a car?”

Zoe tugged on my pant leg. “I don’t want to go outside, Daddy.”

I leaned down, looking her in the eyes. “I know you don’t. It’s scary out there, isn’t it?”

Zoe nodded.

“But this isn’t the safest place for us. We have to find somewhere else.”

Zoe’s lips formed a hard line, and a tiny indentation appeared between her eyebrows, but she didn’t argue.

“You should take Connor and Evan,” Skeeter said.

Evan looked to Bob with fear in his eyes. Connor shook his head and hid behind Doris.

Doris shook her head, too. “I can’t stop him from taking his daughter, Skeeter, but I won’t let him take these boys outside with those things.”

“Connor,” Skeeter said. “I think you should go with Nathan. We’re going to work to keep those things out but I’m not sure that you’ll be safe here, little man.”

I could barely see Connor’s head shake in protest as he stood behind Doris. I wasn’t going to force him, and really, I couldn’t blame him after what he’d just been through.

“Bob?” Skeeter said. “You sure you don’t want to give Evan a chance?”

Evan stared at Bob, his eyes pleading to stay. Bob patted the boy’s shoulder, and then shook his head.

Barb located a plastic grocery sack, and I put a few boxes of bullets and five bottles of water inside, and then stuffed the 9mm in the waist of my pants. If someone were to tell me the day before that I would be doing anything close to this, I would have laughed them out of the office. I’d been hunting and shooting with Skeeter a handful of times, but owning a gun was not a priority for me, and I wasn’t opposed to gun control.

Now that the undead had taken over the earth, I imagined any member of the NRA was doing better than most.

Just as I hooked the handles of the sack in the crook of my elbow, the sound of salvation echoed through the church: a car horn.