rifles at John’s car, and light it up. But thirty feet away was too far to warn him.
As soon as John sat in his seat, the soldiers opened fire, filling every inch of the silver Toyota Camry with bullets. Instinctively, I stomped on the gas pedal, so hard that my chest was shoved into the steering wheel.
“No! Oh my God! No!” I screamed, yanking the gearshift into drive as I turned the wheel in the opposite direction. They weren’t letting anyone in, and worse, the entrances were being guarded by scared young soldiers with automatic weapons. They had either been given orders to eliminate anyone who approached them, or they were operating without communication from their commanding officers. The latter seemed more likely—and more frightening.
I could barely see through my tears, quickly jerking the wheel north down a country road. How would I get to my girls? Were the soldiers gunning down everyone in town, too?
I forced my mind to stop wandering and focused on a solution. Getting inside the city limits was the goal. Anderson was my birthplace. I knew the ins and outs better than those soldiers. There had to be a way in.
On the northeast edge of town was a dirt road adjacent to a heavily wooded area. Those woods were nestled between the dirt road and the main road through town. The soldiers would likely patrol there, but on the other side was river, tall grass, and the old Blackwell Street Bridge. If I could get close enough to that wooded area, and then make it across the main highway, I just might be able to sneak across the bridge and follow Blackwell Street almost all the way to Andrew’s house.
The only way to do that undetected would be to wait until dark. The thought of walking around in the dark while those things were shuffling around created an instant sick feeling that came over me in waves, but no matter how terrifying it was, that was the only way to reach my children.
I drove three miles north of Anderson’s eastern limits, and then cut east once I thought I was clear. The Jeep bounced over an overpass not nearly as wide as the soldiers’, and then kicked up red dirt as I barreled toward my chosen point. Three miles was enough to stay out of sight of whoever might have been guarding the north entrance. I didn’t even come across any shuffling things.
The Jeep slowed to a stop. For the first time, I realized that my purse hadn’t made it with me to the Jeep—or my cell phone—and my stomach turned. The phone lines probably weren’t working, but it made me feel sick not to have any way to even try to call Andrew . . . or anyone else. I looked around for shufflers, locked the doors, and then crawled into the back seat. I pulled up the piece of carpet hiding the tire iron. That and a small flashlight were the only things of use.
I waited in the driver’s seat, ready to drive away at the first sight of a shuffler. My ears perked at every sound, and my muscles twitched every time a gust of wind rattled the leaves and grass around me. I hummed a random tune, picked at my fingernails, made sure my sneakers were double-knotted, and then talked to God.
As the sun set, the level of anxiety I was sustaining felt nearly unmanageable. My mind struggled not to revisit the moment John and his wife and baby were murdered. I also fought imagining whatever awful scenes I might stumble upon once I breached the streets of Anderson. The guarded entrances were both helpful and a hindrance. The armed guards, fearful and quick on the trigger, would at least keep the threat of shufflers to a minimum.
Darkness began to paint shadows across the woods, and with the rise of the half-moon came the fall in temperature. I rubbed my hands together, and then wrapped my arms around my ribs for warmth, wishing I had something heavier than a scrub jacket. Soon, I would be walking around in the dark, my ears and a tire iron my only weapon against anything hunting from the shadows, and the tire iron wasn’t going to be much help. Anyone that hadn’t been hiding under a rock could tell you that the only way to kill someone of the dead persuasion was to obliterate the brain stem. I needed a gun or at least something sharp enough to penetrate bone. Beating in the skull of a shuffler would take more time than I could spare.
It’s incredible, the way the imagination can physically affect the body. My heart rate had doubled, and I was beginning to sweat. The more my fear crept up, the more I kept reminding myself that my girls needed me. They were probably scared to death, and no matter what happened or what state they were in, I wanted to be with them.
Nathan
ZOE INSTINCTIVELY KEPT HER HEAD down, or else she was mimicking me, as we hurried to the car. Gunshots rang out two houses over, and I looked over to see my neighbor Lyle Edson shooting someone approaching his front porch in the face. An ambulance raced by, the back doors open and waving around as it fishtailed with lights and sirens blaring down the street.
“Daddy?” Zoe said. The fear in her voice was real. Something I wanted to shield her from until the world wouldn’t let me anymore. I couldn’t shield her from this; hell was raining down all around us.
My hands shook as I tried to shove the key in the door to unlock it.
“Daddy?” Zoe said again.
“Just a second, baby,” I said, cursing at my trembling hands under my breath. Finally the key entered the slit and I turned it. In the same second, Zoe squeezed my hand.
“Daddy!”
I turned, seeing a police officer approach. He was shuffling slowly in our direction, his jaw relaxed, letting his mouth lie open. A low moan emanated from his throat. I picked up the bat that I’d propped against the car while trying to unlock the door, and then I stepped in front of Zoe.
“Stop right there,” I said. The police officer kept walking. I held the bat in front of me.
“If you can understand what I’m saying, please stop. I am going to hit you with this bat if you come closer.”
Zoe gripped the back of my pants, and I gripped the aluminum. “Close your eyes, Zoe.”
My daughter’s tiny hands left the fabric of my pants, and I pulled the bat back and to the side, in perfect position to swing. Before I could, a shot rang out. The police officer went down. I froze, and then saw Lyle Edson standing a few feet to my left.
“Thank you,” I said with a nod.
“Better grab his sidearm and get that little girl outta here,” Lyle said.
“You want to come?”
Lyle shook his head. “My wife’s inside. She’s been bit. I’m going to stay with her.”
I nodded and then leaned down, unsnapping the officer’s holster and removing his sidearm. I grabbed his radio, too, and then decided to take his whole belt.
Zoe opened the driver’s side door and crawled over the console to her side. We both buckled our seatbelts, and I started the car. The gas tank showed three quarters left. I wasn’t sure how close to safety we could get on three-quarters of a tank, but we had to leave town.
Zoe reached up to lock her door.
“Better lock the back door, too,” I said, doing the same. I backed out of the drive and went in the same direction as the ambulance. I figured I should get away from whatever they were escaping from in such a hurry.
Chapter Five
Scarlet
THE LAST RAYS OF SUN unceremoniously fell behind the horizon. Shaking with fear, I slowly stepped out of the Jeep. My tennis shoes, still a little wet from the morning rain, sunk into thick mud. Clutching the tire iron to my chest, I took a step into the woods. The night was quiet—so quiet that every movement I made seemed like a boom echoing through the trees.
Every sound made my body freeze. Could they see in the dark? Did they rely on smell like an animal? Only when I thought of my girls waiting for me did I find enough courage to take another step.
About an hour later, a dragging noise startled me enough to make me cling to a tree. I hugged it to me and closed my eyes, trying to listen for danger over the pounding in my heart and gasping breath.
Just when I thought I might hyperventilate, my eyes popped open wide to try to pull in enough light to
