red hill - jamie mcguire

“I’ll go,” he said. He pushed open the passenger door and slowly walked up to the side of the
house.
I glanced around. There were no vehicles, but there was a barn. Maybe they had parked there, and
it only appeared deserted. Two cars traveling west on Highway 11 caught my eye: a silver car and a
black, four-door Jeep Wrangler. For half a second, I focused on the child in a car seat. She was
passing by in slow motion, holding up a teddy bear, oblivious that the world had gone to shit around
her.
“Oh my God,” I said, turning to watch them drive past. “Oh my God!”
“What” Ashley cried, instantly panicked.
“They’re headed straight for Anderson. They’re going to be killed by those crazies on the bridge!”
I opened my door and stepped out.
“Bryce, let’s go! We have to stop them!”
“We can’t save everyone that heads that way,” Ashley said, gripping my headrest.
“But there’s a . . . there’s a baby in the car! Bryce!”
Bryce turned to me with a frown, holding his finger to his mouth.
“But . . . ,” I said, watching them drive out of sight. And then they were gone. I sat back in the Bug
and shut my door. “That’s on us,” I said, my eyes meeting Ashley’s in the rearview mirror.
“Hurry up, Bryce,” Cooper whispered, mostly to himself.
Bryce took one look inside and turned on his heels, jumped off the small, concrete porch, and
sprinted to the Bug. He slammed the door and pointed to the road. “Go,” he said, out of breath.
“What did you see”
“Go! Go!” he yelled, pointing.
I stomped on the gas and pulled back onto the highway. “What” I said, safely back on the road.
“What did you see”
Bryce shook his head.
“We should turn around.”
“No.”
“Try to warn that family about the bridge.”
“No.”
“Didn’t you hear me, Bryce There was a baby in the car! We should turn around!”
“There was a baby inside that house, too!” he yelled. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself,
and then spoke again. “Trust me. If they’re killed on that bridge, they’re better off.”
I watched Bryce for a moment, and then returned my focus to the road. All color had left his face,
and sweat had formed along his hairline.
“What did you see” I said quietly.
He looked out the window. “You don’t want to know. I wish I could unsee it.”
The next miles were quiet as we made our way to Fairview, but it wasn’t hard to tell when we’d
reached the city limit. More infected roamed the streets than I had anticipated, alone and in groups.
We were almost through town when I slammed on my brakes.
“What” Bryce said loudly, slamming his palm against the dash.