He wasn’t trying to be a jerk. I couldn’t blame him; leaving the interstate was choosing something unknown. Anything unknown in this mess was downright terrifying. Staying on the same road as thousands of others who had the same goal of survival was less daunting somehow. We weren’t alone in our terror, and passing all of these people with the only working car on the road was both scary and comforting. We had the advantage. We were the safest out here where no one was safe.
Against my better judgment, I passed the exit and continued on the shoulder, weaving between people, cars, and zombies, and hoping my tires would hold out for another twenty miles. I wasn’t normally a pushover; as a matter of fact, most who knew me thought I could be fairly difficult. But the one person I was always able to depend on was Bryce, and in that moment, I needed to believe I wasn’t the only one who could make a sensible decision.
Growing up, with my dad always working, and mom preoccupied with new ways to get his attention, I felt like the only grown-up in the house. Ashley leaned on Mom so much that there wasn’t really an opportunity for me to be coddled. Ashley was so delicate. She had inherited that trait from my mother. Every obstacle was a tragedy, every struggle a death sentence. I could never understand why they were so susceptible to stress, and I eventually decided that my dad had accepted long ago that it was just part of his wife’s personality. He thought it was better if we kept Mom and Ashley from getting even remotely overwhelmed. We let them believe that no matter what came along, together Dad and I had it under control. Dad would manage Mom. I would handle Ashley. Now that Mom was remarried, the endless reassurances and heroic displays of patience were Rick’s responsibility—keeping Ashley’s emotional meltdowns in check was still mine. I was better at it some days than others, but when our parents shocked us with the news of the divorce, it seemed right that Ashley had their attention. She was the one who needed them most.
When Bryce and I decided we were more than friends, it just felt natural—and a little bit of a relief—to rely on him. Most times I felt he was more my family than my parents, or even Ashley. But even so, it wasn’t that romantic sort of love that Ashley and Cooper had. Ours was a friendship, first. We almost treated our relationship like a duty, and I liked it that way. I guess Bryce did, too.
“We can exit at Anderson,” Bryce said, trying not to see the stranded people on the side of the road.
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
“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.”
