red hill - jamie mcguire

The home was at the end of a dead-end road. Continuing on was possible, but only through tall
prairie grass and about a hundred head of cattle. Only one other house was two lots away, across the
street and on the opposite corner. We’d pushed the furniture against any entrances the first night and
used wooden planks from the privacy fence down the road to board the windows, and then slept in the
basement, each of us taking watch every two hours. Well, except Joey. He never seemed to sleep.
The first morning we secured the windows and doors, but we still slept in the basement. We
pulled the mattresses downstairs. Especially after seeing Nathan and the old man walking down the
street a few days before with their guns and reappearing with at least fifteen more, it just felt safer.
When we saw them return the next day, we watched where they went, waited until they left the
redbrick house on the next block, and then searched it ourselves. It didn’t take long to find out why
they were making the trip. The house was full of nearly every gun imaginable. More than my dad’s
collection. More than any collection I’d ever seen—and my dad had dragged me to more than one of
his fellow gun enthusiasts’ houses. We took a few pieces and ammo ourselves, and quickly returned
to our safe house. When we saw the duo visit the redbrick house again, we followed them home to the
other side of town. It was less than a twenty-minute walk. That’s when they spotted us, and when we
made the deal to show Nathan to my dad’s ranch in return for helping us with the gas pump.
I followed Ashley up the steps, and then stopped when Joey’s arms appeared in front of us.
“Hold up. Let me clear it first.”
We waited, Ashley biting her nails, and me kicking at the welcome mat as if it were perfectly
normal that the soldier we’d just met was searching our temporary home for any curious dead ones.
Sensing Bryce’s irritation, I turned. He was chewing on the inside of his cheek, making that face.
The one that distorted his beautiful green eyes and made them glow and change into beady, unfamiliar
pools of emerald.
“What” I asked.
Bryce began to say something, but Joey poked his head from the door with a trace of a smile.
“Clear.”
We unpacked our newest treasures, ranging from more packs of condoms to cans of corn. Bryce
walked into the back bedroom and sat on the box springs, making fists and then stretching his fingers,
and then repeating the process.
“Tell me,” I said, knowing if he kept another thought to himself, he might burst.
Bryce stood up, took a step, and swiped at the door, making it slam and my shoulders shoot up to
my ears.
“I take it you’re upset”
“Who is that guy” Bryce said, pointing to the closed door. “We pick him up from his shitty pickup
and the girl he killed in the street, and suddenly G.I. Joe is running the fucking show”
“Is that what you think he’s doing” I asked calmly.
Bryce was only blowing off steam. He got that way any time he’d been under stress for any length
of time, like when his dad left his mom for Danielle the nail tech for a few weeks before he figured
out he was already married to the best woman he could find. He also yelled at me over the phone
much like he was yelling in that bedroom the time Cooper’s little sister got really sick and Bryce