Among Monsters: A Red Hill Novella (18 page)

I walked away from the window, wondering what was going on inside the neighbor’s house, and I crawled into bed next to Halle. I worried about waking up to company of the uninfected variety, but at the same time, I hoped we would.

In the morning, I scrambled from bed so quickly that Dad jumped up in a panic.

“What?” he said, blinking.

I stood at the window, looking for any signs of the group. If they had decided to move on from Shallot, I assumed they would start at first light, and I was right. The men and woman had already passed our house, and walked along our street toward the highway, fearlessly taking down any infected that came within ten feet. But this time, the neighbor was with them.

“They know each other,” Dad said from behind me. “Maybe he’s been waiting for them this whole time.”

“Or maybe they just met last night, and he’s leaving with them because they’re from someplace better?” I said.

“Maybe they’re leading him to his death?”

I wrinkled my nose. “That doesn’t make any sense. You’re paranoid.”

“Ya think?”

I turned to him. “When are
we
leaving?”

“I’m working on it,” Dad said.

“What does that mean?” I asked.

Dad retreated to the bathroom, rubbing the back of his neck. He always did that when he and Mom fought, especially when she was making points he didn’t have a rebuttal to.

I breathed out in frustration, shaking my head. He couldn’t stay in the bathroom forever. I checked on Halle, and upon seeing her still sleeping deeply, I walked downstairs, lighting the candles in the kitchen and living room.

When Dad finally came down, I didn’t waste any time.

“Have you thought about it?”

“Jenna,” he said with a sigh, “don’t rush me.”

“Rush? We’ve been here for weeks. Are you at least going to go out today?”

“I’m going to check out the neighbor’s house and see if he left anything behind.”

“What does it matter if we’re leaving?”

“Just because the neighbor left doesn’t mean we have to.”

“I don’t want to leave because the neighbor did. I want to see my mom!”

Halle plodded down the stairs. “Why are you yelling?” she croaked.

“We’re not,” Dad said. “What do you want for breakfast? Pop-Tarts?”

“Sure,” Halle said, sitting at the table.

I stomped into the nearly empty pantry and then tossed the box onto the table. The last five silver packages spilled out, some falling to the floor.

“Jenna!” Dad leaned back and then forward to clean the mess. “What’s gotten into you?”

“My birthday is coming up. You promised.”

“I know, and I said, I’m working on it.”

“Working on what? You haven’t left the house in days! We’re running out of food!”

“Jenna,” Dad said, glancing at Halle, “I haven’t found a car. I’m…prolonging the inevitable.”

“Which is what?” I asked, crossing my arms.

“I can’t leave you alone. What if something happens while I’m gone?”

“Then, let’s
go
!” I insisted.

“I’ve been…” He trailed off, already regretting his next words. “I’ve been wandering out that way, going a little bit farther every day. A lot of infected are on the roads, Jenna, and not just that. They’re in the fields, and…”

“And what?”

“When I got to the white tower you girls have talked about, they’re everywhere. Dead. I mean,
dead
, dead. It got worse, the farther I walked. Something’s going on over there, and I don’t like it.”

I snorted. “You’re worried about dead infected? Isn’t that a good thing?”

“That group has me nervous.”

“That’s
stupid
. Why don’t we just start walking? The neighbor left with that group, and he’s been smart about things. What if they’re from Red Hill?”

“I have a bad feeling, Jenna! Something’s off! I’ve felt this way for the past two weeks, like something bad is getting ready to happen.”

“It’s because my birthday is coming up, and you know that’s your deadline. You’re comfortable. You’re complacent! But I’m not letting Mom think that we’re dead one more day because you have a bad feeling!”

“Okay! All right!” he said, holding up his hands. “We’ll leave in the morning.”

“Really?” I said, perking up.

“Really. But if anything happens, no matter how far we are, we’re coming straight back here. Do you understand?”

I agreed, and Halle did, too.

“And…we need to talk about…we need to talk about what to do and where to go if she’s not there.”

I sat back in my chair, feeling like I’d been gut-punched. “She’s there,” I said. “She’s waiting for us, and you’re going to feel like a huge jerk for even putting that awful thought in our heads.”

“I hope so,” Dad said, spooning soup into Halle’s bowl. “I’ve never wanted to feel like a jerk more in my entire life.”

THE SUN HAD JUST PEEKED OUT
from the horizon when we stepped into the backyard. Halle and I had taken extra steps to look nice for Mom. I’d braided her hair, and she’d tucked in her shirt.

“Mom will get to see my new shoes!” she said with a wide grin and bright eyes.

It was the happiest I’d seen her in a long time.

“That’s right. For now, let’s stay focused and keep an eye out. Remember what Dad said about lots of weird stuff on the roads. Listen, and pay attention to your surroundings.”

Halle emphatically bobbed her head.

I had helped her slip on her backpack, and I had tied her jacket around her waist before we left the house. Her head seemed bare, and I realized her hat was still in my hand.

“Don’t forget this,” I said, handing it to her.

Dad was quiet, but I didn’t want to talk to him about it. I was afraid he’d change his mind.

We walked down the back alley as the birds and crickets chirped. The gravel crunched beneath our feet, and Dad’s pants made that familiar swishing noise that I only noticed when we were on foot.

Dad had been forced to tighten his belt two notches since all this had started, and his pants sagged in the backside. I didn’t make a habit of looking in the mirror, but it wasn’t hard to see that we had all lost weight. The more I thought about it, the more I prepared myself that Mom would look different, too.

My heart leaped. We would know by the end of the day. I was just as excited to calm her fears as I was to see her.

When we stepped out from behind Shallot’s hill onto Highway 123 and turned north, that was when I really began to get excited. Seeing Mom today was actually happening. Dad was still quiet, twisting the wooden handle of the trident he’d found in someone’s barn the week before. He still carried the semiautomatic rifle he’d found on the overpass near Anderson, and I still carried his rifle and Jud’s aluminum bat, but because of the man with the guns, it was easier to get out of town than it was to get in.

I never found out if the man—whoever he was—was trustworthy, but he was definitely smart. Walking to that side of town every day to shoot the infected had not only thinned out the undead population, but the noise had also drawn them to the opposite side of town from where we’d stayed. When we’d left, we’d only come across a handful.

Dad was right. We hadn’t been on the road for more than twenty minutes when we discovered the first group. They were headed north, but we were upwind. Once we got close enough, they turned toward our smell.

“Get ready,” Dad said. “Knees first and then the head. Swing hard. Halle?”

“Yeah?” she said, fear nearly drowning out her voice.

“Stay out of the way, but don’t just focus on us. Pay attention to your surroundings.”

When the first infected got close enough to Dad, he thrust the trident into its face. It immediately froze, and when Dad jerked out the metal prongs, it fell to the ground. He went for another one, and I twisted the grip of the bat, holding it low and to the side, until I was close enough. They were mostly focused on Dad. It seemed like whenever one was killed, those around it became agitated and more fixated on the aggressor.

I swung at the knees of a woman approaching Dad’s side, and then I swung again when she fell to the ground.

“Get back a little, Jenna. Stay close to Halle!”

I complied and fell back, glancing behind me. Halle was standing in the middle of the road, like Dad had instructed the night before. She was watching us but also looking around herself often.

“You’re doing good, Halle. Keep it up!” I said, swinging at an infected that came too close.

Within minutes, the group was down, and Dad and I were standing over them, breathing hard and smiling.

“We did it,” I said, huffing.

“Good job, kiddo,” Dad said. “You all right, Halle?”

She ran to my side, hugging my arm. “Let’s hurry!”

We continued walking in a slower pace until we caught our breaths, and then Dad set it a bit faster.

“You made me proud back there.”

“Yeah?” I said.

He grabbed the bill of my hat and playfully pulled it down. “Yeah. We make a good team.”

“Told you so,” I said with a smug smile.

“You, too,” he said to Halle.

She looked up, squinting one eye, and grinned.

“You’re different,” I said. “In a good way. You don’t really yell anymore, and you don’t get super mad.”

Dad hooked his arm around my neck. “Well, maybe the apocalypse forced me to grow up.”

“I think Mom will be surprised.”

“You think so?” He chuckled.

“Yeah, and she’ll be grateful to you for bringing us safely to her, for taking care of us all this time.”

“Well, that’s nice, but…I didn’t do it for her. I did it because you’re my kids, and I love you.”

Halle hugged one side of him, and I hugged the other. We stood there together in the middle of the road in a tangled wad of love, acceptance, and gratitude. I felt like Dad and I finally had an understanding, and I knew that things would be different once we got to the ranch—between him and Mom, too.

As the sun rose and the heat turned everything a foot off the highway into wavy lines, our lovefest turned into a single line of sweat and determination. We weren’t halfway there, and Halle needed shade and a water break.

Dad took a sip from his canteen and handed it to me. “We’re going to have to step it up, girls. At this pace, we won’t make it by nightfall.”

I looked to my baby sister. “I know it’s hot but think about Mom. Just keep thinking about Mom.”

“Don’t let the heat keep you from paying attention to your surroundings,” Dad said. “We have to—”

Too late, I heard the moan. After all the infected we had slipped by and taken down, it just took one to appear from the trees and sink his teeth into Dad’s forearm.

Dad cried out and pulled the creature down with him.

Halle screamed, too, but I didn’t have the luxury of being afraid or even being sad. I was angry. Dad had been bitten, and I could see in his eyes, and he in mine, that it was over. A few miles ago, we had just come to an understanding. We had just figured everything out. Things were going to be different. I funneled every bit of that anger into my bat, and with one swing, the infected went from gnawing on Dad’s arm to a lifeless, harmless body on the ground.

Halle was still screaming when Dad stood. She was staring at his arm like it was on fire.

“I’m sorry,” I said, my voice thick with emotion and my chest heaving. “I’m so sorry.”

“The first-aid kit!” he said, pointing to his pack.

He turned around, and I pulled on the zipper, lifting out the plastic container.

“What? What do I do?” I asked. The tears were falling then.

Halle’s screams blurred in the background.

“The tourniquet!”

I handed him the stretchy band.

“The gauze and the tape!”

After he tied the tourniquet with his good hand and his teeth, he placed one large square of gauze on the wound and then another before wrapping the tape around his arm on each end.

I held out a can of antibiotic spray. “Do you need this before you tape it?” I asked.

He looked up at me, hopelessness in his eyes. “It won’t do any good.” He stood up and looked at Halle and me. “I’m so sorry, girls.” His eyes filled with tears. “I’m so, so sorry.”

We hugged Dad again—this time, with no understanding and no peace. We were all sobbing.

Dad sat down and leaned back against the tree. “I’m going to rest for five minutes.”

“Halle, give him the water,” I said.

The anger had gone away, leaving only an empty ache mixed with fear. I thought about how Tavia had leaned over her brother’s body and how that scene hadn’t been anything like what I was feeling. I thought about Connor and how he existed every day with emptiness in his eyes. I always believed he was just suffering unbearable sadness that he couldn’t describe with words, but sad was wrong.
Sad
was a common term, and this was very specific. It was unique only to those who had been unlucky enough to experience it, yet it was different for everyone. Dad would run into burning buildings for a living. He would bring people back to life. He was invincible. But there he sat, next to a tree, mentally preparing to die, to leave his young daughters alone. He didn’t say it, but I could see the torture within him, swirling in his eyes.