red hill - jamie mcguire

“I don’t think we can,” I said, pulling my cell phone from my pocket. I tried to dial Skeeter’s
number to warn him we were coming, but all I heard was a busy signal. Of course the phone lines
would be down.
We caught up to a short line of cars, one after another slowing as we approached and passed
Kellyville. Not a single person could be seen. I didn’t dare hope for the same in Fairview. As we
approached the outskirts of town, it seemed quiet. At first, I thought maybe we were faster than the
sickness, but then the car in front slammed on its brakes as a woman ran across the road screaming,
followed by a man covered in blood, much of it concentrated around his mouth. The woman had the
most beautiful brunette hair I’d ever seen flowing behind her. She was running so fast, her hair was
waving behind her head like a flag. Tires squealed against the asphalt, and a car in front led a frantic
escape through town. The other vehicles chased it. I wasn’t sure if any of them had meant to come
here, but they definitely weren’t going to stay.
I glanced over at Zoe. “There are sick people here, Zoe. When I say so, I want you to unbuckle
your seat belt and I’m going to carry you inside.”
Zoe nodded. She blinked a few times. I could tell she was nervous, but not because she was afraid
to die. She wanted to make sure she did what I asked of her, and did it correctly. Zoe was always
particular about procedures, especially when they were spoken and not just implied. Rules were
formed very carefully in our house. They were something we couldn’t take back. If there was an
exception, we didn’t enlighten Zoe, because she didn’t understand the concept of an exception to the
rule, and if we tried to explain it to her, she would get upset.
“Zoe”
“Yes, Daddy”
“It’s time to unbuckle your seatbelt.”
Zoe did as she was told as I made the first right and then pulled into Skeeter’s driveway. Once the
car came to a stop, I shoved the gear into park and pulled Zoe over to my side, and we ran quickly but
quietly to Skeeter’s back door. No one ever came to their front door, and if they did, Skeeter knew
they were either a salesman or a cop, and Skeeter answered the door for neither.
I pounded on the storm door with the side of my fist, still holding Zoe by the waist with my other
arm. The barrel of Jill’s .22 became visible, as it pulled the curtain away just enough for her to get a
good look at my face.
“It’s us,” I said, glancing behind me.
The lock clicked open and the doorknob turned, and then Jill opened the door wide, waving
quickly for us to come in.
I set Zoe down. Her glitter sneakers slapped against the green-and-yellow diamond-patterned
linoleum of the kitchen. I took a deep breath, trying to blow out all of the anxiety I’d just built up
while attempting to get Zoe out of the car and inside the house alive, while Jill locked the door behind
us and set her rifle down.
Jill slammed into me, wrapping her arms around my torso and squeezing so tight I was glad I’d
taken a good breath beforehand.
“Oh my God, Nate! I’m so glad you came!” She let go of me and then bent down to hug Zoe. “Hi,