“Was Annabelle . . . ?” the older woman said.
“Not yet,” Skeeter answered.
“That’s good news. Maybe Jill won’t come back as one of those things. Or maybe she’ll get better. We just don’t know, Skeeter. Please don’t do anything rash.”
“You don’t have to bullshit me, Doris,” he told her. He ran his large fingers through Jill’s damp, blond hair, and whispered something in her ear.
Doris looked at us. “Bless your hearts. You from Anderson?”
“We go to the university in Greenville. My father has a ranch northwest of here. We didn’t really want to travel after dark.”
Doris nodded with understanding. “Can’t say I blame you. You kids want some water?” she asked, already making her way to the refrigerator. She handed us all bottles of water, and we wasted no time tipping our bottles back.
“Your father has a ranch close to here?” Skeeter asked.
Ashley smiled. “Red Hill Ranch.”
Skeeter nodded. “I’ve hunted over there. That’ll be a good place for you.”
• • •
GARY RETURNED FROM THE HALLWAY, hammer in hand.
Everyone settled in as best they could. Doris comforted the mother and her children, Skeeter alternated between checking on his wife and checking the windows in the other room. They all gasped and traded glances when a new person was seen ambling around outside with the rest. Fairview was a tiny town. It made sense that they all knew each other. I wondered who the woman on the floor was to Skeeter, and what her life was like before she was bitten. Even with her sweaty, bluish skin, and the dark around her eyes, it was obvious that she was beautiful.
The man they called Bob pointed to the next room. “The sanctuary is in there. Plenty of places to sit.”
“Thank you,” I said, accepting his invitation.
Two more women, quite a bit older, were seated in pews. I chose one in the front and sat nearest the center aisle, farthest away from the broken windows. Even if they were boarded, hearing the dead ones trying to get in was unnerving.
Bryce sat on one side of me, Ashley on the other. Cooper sat beside my sister, and took her hand in his. We all let out a collective sigh of relief.
I let my head rest against Bryce’s shoulder, and he rested his head against mine. After everything we’d seen, and everything we’d been through, I didn’t think I would be able to sleep, but the longer I sat on the hard, cold, wooden pew, the more comfortable I became—and the harder it was to keep my eyes open. I shifted, prompting Bryce to turn his head slightly to kiss my temple.
“It’s okay. Go to sleep. We’re safe now.”
“It’s never going to be safe again,” I whispered, trying not to let the words trigger more tears.
“Safe enough to get some rest,” he whispered back. “Now close your eyes, Miranda. We’ve got a long day tomorrow.”
“Once we get to Red Hill, we’ll be all right, right?”
“Your dad is probably there now, scared to death, wondering where you are. He’s going to be so happy to see you and your sister. We’ll be far away from everything, with a stocked pantry and your dad’s crazy gun collection. We’re going to be just fine.”
With his words, I let my eyes close and the heaviness of sleep engulf me.
Chapter Eleven
Scarlet
THE HOUSES SURROUNDING ANDREW’S WERE dark and abandoned like the others. I walked across the street, devoid of cars and people. The incline of Andrew’s driveway made me feel like I was trudging up a steep mountain face after the stretch I’d just sprinted. Careful not to let my shoes crunch too loudly against the gravel beneath them, I took gentle steps and paused at the gate. It whined as I pushed through it, and I slowly walked the ten steps or so to Andrew’s back door. I’d only traveled this patch of earth a handful of times since Andrew had moved in.
After the divorce, he could no longer afford the two-story fixer-upper we’d purchased in the next town over and moved to the converted two-bedroom, former duplex. It was literally on the wrong side of the tracks, nestled deep in the west side of Anderson, where a meth-lab raid was not uncommon.
Andrew was humbled by the move and the divorce, and he surprised us all during his visitation weekends. Slowly the yelling stopped. The bullying was replaced with short bursts of mild annoyance or long sighs. I wasn’t sure if being away from the girls for most of the month helped to quell his rages, or if it was my absence that offered him peace.
I climbed the two steps to Andrew’s back door, and tapped on the Plexiglas on the top half of the door. A curtain hid the inside from view. I tapped again, then tried to turn the knob. It was locked.
My heart pounded so hard in anticipation that I could feel it in my throat.
The windows on each side of the house and the one beside the front door were locked, too. I slapped the dining room window with my hand. “Andrew! Jenna! Halle? It’s Mommy! Are you here?”
Nothing.
I pressed my ear to the glass and listened. The silence triggered tears, and my bottom lip quivered. I leaned in harder, the coldness of the window offsetting the burning sensation the pressure ignited throughout my ear. My eyes clenched shut as I silently begged someone inside to relieve my fears.
Finally, I pulled away from the window, looking down the street. A tear welled up and broke free, sliding down my cheek. I wiped it, and as I did, my elbow bumped into the glass. Without a second thought, I reared back and let my elbow make contact with the glass a second time, the corner of my bones an extension of all the frustration and fear pulsing through my body. The window shattered. It wasn’t as loud as I thought it would be. Large chunks broke off, some falling inside the dining room, and some at my feet.
“Andrew?” I whispered loudly.
After pulling myself inside, I searched every room, every closet, every corner of the house. Something wasn’t right, though. The girls’ jackets weren’t crumpled on the floor, their drawers weren’t cracked open, and none of Halle’s drawings were scattered on the table. They had never come home. They must have been at the town meeting with the governor when the outbreak happened. They could be trapped inside a shelter with the governor, or Andrew could have run with them. They could be anywhere.
“Goddamnit,” I said, louder than I’d spoken in hours. “Goddamnit!” I screamed. I picked up Andrew’s dining room chair and launched it across the room, and then lost my balance, falling to my knees. “No,” I cried, crumpling into a ball on the floor. I saw their little faces, innocent and frightened, wondering where I was and if I was safe, just as I was wondering about them. I couldn’t do this if I wasn’t with them. I needed to see Jenna roll her eyes at me again, and for Halle to interrupt me. They needed me to tell them that everything would be okay. We couldn’t survive the end of the world without each other. I didn’t want to. Sobs built up and released with such ferocity that my entire body shook. Certainly someone would hear me, my screaming and bawling was probably the only sound that could be heard in the entire godforsaken town.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, letting the guilt and despair wash over me. I leaned over and let my forehead and arms rest against the carpet; my hands clasped together above my head. Before long, extreme exhaustion pulled and tugged on my consciousness like I’d never felt before. The sobbing quieted, and within moments, I fell into a vast sea of darkness. The depths surrounded me on all sides, and eventually I was swallowed up by it, warm and calm.
Tornado sirens. Odd. I didn’t remember the meteorologist mentioning a storm that morning. It wasn’t a test. They tested at noon every Thursday, and today was . . . I wasn’t sure what day it was.
The first thing I noticed when my eyes peeled open was baseboard, and the way the carpet was newer closer to the wall than farther out where people walked. I used to notice those things when I was a child, when I spent
