Red Hill (7 page)

Chapter Seven

Scarlet

WE WALKED CAREFULLY ALONG THE
river once again, this time on the other side of the bridge, making our way to a large, familiar tree. Just as I had said, there was a rope hanging from a thick branch. The rope was tattered and looked frail. We wouldn't know how frail until we were swinging above the cold river water. The streetlights on each side of the bridge fell just short of where we stood. Good for hiding from soldiers—bad for swimming. With just a half-moon above, the water wasn't just dirty, it was black like the night had settled inside of it. As if that wasn't frightening enough, shufflers didn't need to breathe, I imagined. That was probably why the soldiers were shooting at floating corpses, just to make sure they didn't reanimate and crawl onto the shore and into town.

I shivered.

“You're freezing,” Tobin said, removing his jacket. “Take this.” He held it out. I just watched him for a moment until he shook it once. It was covered in mud, but it was lined with wool. It would still help to fend off the cold. “Take it.”

Tobin huffed, clearly annoyed with my hesitation, and then draped the jacket around my shoulders.

“Thank you,” I said, hoping it was loud enough for him to hear. I slipped my arms into the sleeves, and then rolled them up so they didn't swallow my hands. I would need them for the trip across the night.

With Tobin's help, I crawled up the bark. The initial climb was tougher than I remembered. Back then climbing a tree was nothing. I hadn't climbed anything in years. Tobin's breath skipped while he struggled to keep his balance underneath me. I made it to the first branch, and then used the rest as a ladder until I reached the one just under the branch with the rope.

Tobin was breathing a bit harder than he had a few minutes before.

“Really?” I said. “I'm not that heavy.”

“No, ma'am.” He put his hands on his hips while he caught his breath. “You're not. I'm just out of shape, and it's been a long-ass day.”

I nodded. “That it has. Have you ever done this before?”

Tobin shook his head. His short cornrows moved with the motion, making it a little easier to gauge his nonverbal responses in the dark.

“Just pull in the rope and get a good grip,” I said, showing him as I spoke. The next part I couldn't act out. “Lean back, and then step off. Let your bodyweight take you across. When you see land below, let go. It's fairly easy from what I remember, but if you hesitate you'll end up swinging back, and either in the water or hanging above it. The point is
not
to end up in the water. At least not tonight.”

“Okay. But, uh . . . how am I going to see land if it's dark?”

“It's not that dark.”

“It's pretty dark.”

“Listen for me. I'll tell you when.”

Tobin nodded, and I leaned back. My heart began to pound as I silently prayed, to whatever god might still be watching over us, that the two dozen things that could go wrong didn't. “I want to raise my babies,” I whispered. “Please help me get across.” As I leaned forward, I stepped off the branch and held on tightly. Within seconds I was almost above the opposite shore. The only problem was the rope was at the end of its pendulum and was beginning to start its return. I let go, and my feet hit hard against the ground at the edge of the short cliff above the water.

Quietly as I could, I called to Tobin. “I'm over! Really lean back, it's farther than I thought!”

A second later, I heard another vehicle, and I kneeled down in the tall reeds. I glanced over to see where Tobin was, and at the same time, saw that he was coming my way on the rope.

“Drop!” I said as loudly as I could without the soldiers ­hearing.

Tobin made a clumsy departure from the rope and fell to his knees. The spotlight danced over the water, and then highlighted the swinging rope. Voices shouted to each other, and doors slammed. They were going to search the area.

I scrambled to my feet, bringing Tobin with me. “We have to go,” I whispered. “C'mon!”

Tobin limped into the trees, and then we crawled on our bellies until we reached the border of where the streetlights touched the woods. A house stood maybe twenty yards away with a makeshift fence. I tried to remember who lived there, and if they had dogs. They probably did. Everyone in this town had a fucking dog. Most of them tied up outside so their owners could ignore them.

A muffled sound came from Tobin's throat.

“You hurt?” I asked.

“If I said I might've hurt my ankle when I fell, would you leave me here to die?”

“Yes.”

“Then no, I'm fine.”

I smiled and helped Tobin to his feet. “Where does your sister live?”

“I've never come into town from this way. I'm not sure how to get there from here.”

“Do you know what street?”

“Padon. I think.”

“East or West?”

“I'm not sure, I . . .”

I sighed. “Tell me how you get there from the other side of town, and I'll guess.”

“Just come in on the main road, see,” he said, talking with his hands, “and then turn right at that old armory, and then I go until I get to her street and take a left, and then I usually hit a stoplight right there. I'm not sure why there's a stoplight. Ain't no traffic in this damn town.”

“Tobin . . .”

He nodded once. “Right. I'm sorry. I go through the light and pass a grocery store, and she's the second house on the right.”

“Weird.”

“Why?”

“That's right next to my grandparents' house.”

“Really?”

“Yes. We're going to go straight down this street about five blocks and then hang a left. I'm going to drop you off at your sister's, check on my grandparents, and then I'm going to get my daughters.”

“And then where are you going?”

“Red Hill Ranch.”

Nathan

JILL WAS CRUMPLED AGAINST SKEETER
, holding her bleeding, mangled arm up against her chest. She had it bent at the elbow, so I couldn't tell exactly how bad her injuries were. Glass had broken just before she screamed, so I hoped over and over that she had just been cut and not bitten. Everything we knew about the walking dead told us that a bite was fatal.

Zoe had a hard time keeping up with Skeeter's pace, so I pulled her up into my arms. Her little legs bounced as I chased Skeeter and Jill across the street and down the block to the First Baptist church. Its wooden exterior was in need of another coat of white paint. I couldn't imagine why it hadn't been done; the church was the size of Skeeter's house.

“Heads up!” Skeeter said, raising his rifle.

A woman was walking toward Zoe and me. I wasn't sure what to do. I was holding Zoe with both hands, and called out to Skeeter, running as fast as my legs could move. He stood still for a moment so he could let go of Jill long enough to aim and fire, and then he wrapped his arm around his wife again. I didn't wait to see if Skeeter had hit his target. I didn't have to. I'd never seen the man miss. After one more glance around, he took off into a sprint for the backside of the church.

Several of those things were following us, and the fear and adrenaline made me feel I could jump to the roof with Zoe in my arms if I had to.

Skeeter beat on the door with the side of his fist, and it immediately opened. A short man with white hair and matching complexion stepped to the side so we could file in, and then he shut it tight, and turned the bolt lock. Another man, bald and wearing a blue leisure suit, helped him pull a solid wood pulpit in front of the door before they turned to Skeeter.

Skeeter nodded his head to the short man. “Reverend Mathis.” He looked to the other, and his eyebrows pulled in. “Where's Esther?” The man just looked to the floor, and it was then that I noticed a boy about eleven or twelve standing behind him.

Reverend Mathis put his hand on the man's shoulder. “Bob and Evan tried to get to her. They had to leave her behind.”

Evan, the young boy behind Bob, sniffed and wiped his cheek, but kept his eyes on the floor. He was so still, as if moving would mean what was happening was real.

Skeeter offered a small smile. “You got your grandson here safe, Bob. Esther would be glad for that.”

Someone was hammering away in the next room, the knocking echoing throughout the building.

A few people Skeeter and Jill seemed to be familiar with were gathered together, all wide-eyed and as frightened as we were. The room we stood in was obviously a kitchen, albeit a small one. Canary-yellow paint complemented the dated speckled countertops and metal cabinets. The seats and springs of the faucet were just one more thing that needed to be repaired in this place, made obvious by the steady drip of water from the spout. The only thing not some shade of yellow was the faded blue carpet; at least it was until Jill started bleeding all over it.

“Christ almighty, Jill, what happened to you?” a woman said, helping Skeeter to sit his wife in a folding chair.

Jill sniffed. “I was getting a few changes of clothes for me and Skeeter. I heard something outside, so I opened the curtain and Shawn Burgess was standing right next to the window. He didn't seem right, Doris.” Tears fell down her cheek while Doris wrapped her arm with a damp towel. “Next thing I know, he's charging me like a bull. He broke through the window and less than a second later he had me on the ground.”

“Shawn Burgess? Denise's son?” Doris said, looking to Skeeter. When Skeeter didn't respond, she pulled back the towel to reveal a large gouge in Jill's arm. I was expecting a set of bite marks, like a toddler might leave, but an entire section of her skin and muscle had been ripped away. “Oh my Lord, honey. You're going to need stitches.”

“More like a skin graft,” Evan said. He was staring at Jill's arm like it was on fire.

Doris shot a threatening look in his direction. “And a slew of antibiotics, I imagine. We're going to have to get to Dr. Brown's.”

“Aunt Jill!” Zoe said, ducking under Jill's good arm. Jill hugged Zoe to her side and kissed her forehead.

The white-haired man spoke. “You think we'll get lucky and he'll come here with supplies?”

“No,” Skeeter said. “I saw him chasing Jim Miller earlier when I brought Barb.”

Skeeter watched Doris fuss over Jill's wound. A darkness had fallen over his face. He knew as well as I did that he was going to lose his wife today. Maybe tomorrow. If anything anyone had ever said about zombies was true, it wouldn't take long. By the subdued fear in Jill's eyes, she knew it, too.

Skeeter blinked. “Where is Barb and Ms. Kay?”

Doris nodded toward the doorway. “In the sanctuary. ­Prayin'. Gary and Eric are boarding up the windows.”

“Good plan,” Jill said. “They definitely don't have a problem with windows.”

Skeeter kneeled in front of his wife. “I'm going to talk to the guys, Jillybean. Make sure they allow spaces for me to fit my rifles through. I'll be right back, and then we're going to get you fixed up.” Jill nodded as Skeeter kissed her cheek.

“Can you stay here with Aunt Jill?” I said to Zoe. She leaned against Jill, the smallest tinge of sadness in her eyes. I wondered if she knew, but I wouldn't ask. Maybe she was just missing her mother.

I followed Skeeter into the sanctuary. It smelled like old people and mildew, and I began to wonder why in the hell Skeeter had thought this rickety building was our best option. Two men were working on opposite sides of the room, furiously nailing boards to the stained glass windows. There were three on each wall, and they had only one on each side left to cover. A hand flattened against the glass, making a clumsy attempt to get inside. I jumped, on edge from our desperate run to the church.

“They just started doing that,” Eric said, gesturing to the window. “It's like they know we're in here.”

When he started hammering again, shadows of the people outside darkened the glass portraits of Jesus and angels. They wanted to get inside, and I wondered how long it would be until they did.

“The noise is probably drawing them here,” I said, running my fingers through my hair. Aubrey was always making snide comments about my shaggy hair and how bad I needed a haircut. I wondered if the world would ever calm down long enough for me to miss her bitching.

“Don't really have a choice. They'll have that glass broke before long.” Skeeter walked over to two frail-looking women sitting next to each other on a wooden pew. “You ladies still doin' okay?” Skeeter said, putting a hand on the one woman's shoulder. She reached up and patted his hand, but did not stop her quiet prayer. Their mouths were moving, but I couldn't hear them.

“You think you could send one up for Jill?” Skeeter asked, his voice threatening to break.

One woman continued to pray as if she didn't hear, the other looked up. “Is she okay?”

“She's hurt. She's in the kitchen . . . all right for now.”

“Jesus will take care of her.”

I rolled my eyes. Jesus wasn't taking care of much of anything at the moment.

Skeeter started to return to the kitchen, but I motioned for him to join me in the corner of the room, away from listening ears.

“I know what you're going to say,” he said. His eyebrows pulled together. “But don't.”

I nodded, and then watched Skeeter return to his wife.

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.