red hill - jamie mcguire

happened to take someone down just under the street lamp. Not long after, several more shufflers
became part of the crowd. The screaming slowly built from one or two intermittent cries to fullblown
panic. The crowd seemed to spread out, but they were all coming from the same place; from
wherever they were held with the governor, maybe. It seemed like the entire town was in the street,
running for their lives. My eyes squinted, desperately searching for Andrew and the girls, hoping they
would turn down his street from the main road any minute, but as the river of people thinned out, I
began to lose hope.
Tears threatened to moisten my eyes once again, but instead I let anger take control. The
helplessness I felt at not being able to get to my children sent me into a rage. I ran to Andrew’s
bedroom and searched his closet. He kept a hunting rifle and a 9mm. Just in case he happened to come
back here, I left the rifle and grabbed a backpack from the back, filling it with ammo. My movements
were clumsy, both from the adrenaline pumping through my body, and because I hadn’t held a gun
since before my divorce. I took a few cans of food. The can opener was in the silverware drawer, but
I left it, hopeful that Andrew would remember to pack it if he wasn’t already on the road. I also took a
plastic reusable water bottle.
Not until I made my way to the laundry room did I come across anything really useful: a flashlight,
some batteries, a large screwdriver, and a folding knife.
I grabbed one more item, zipped the backpack, and then returned to the front room. I pulled some
frames off the wall, and then shook the can in my hand. The aerosol hissed as I pressed my index
finger on the trigger, my arm swaying with the silent music of my good-bye as it formed large,
conspicuous black words.
I watched the paint drip from the letters, hoping that it was enough; that in the middle of this hell my
children would remember the name of Dr. Hayes’s ranch, and tell their father how to get there. If
Andrew was in that crowd running from the town hall, he would bring them here.
I let the can drop to the floor, and then looked out the glass column of the front door again, seeing
slower, shuffling dead ambling down the main road, following the scent of the living. Andrew had
gotten our daughters out somehow, before the breach. I had to believe that, and I had to trust that my
next decision was the right one.
I gripped the straps of the pack at my shoulders and rushed out of the house, stupidly letting the
screen door slam behind me. I paused, slowly turning to see a few of the shufflers to the west
automatically turn toward the noise. I ran east toward my grandparents’ house, maybe even faster than
before, knowing that before long, the sun would rise, and there would be no more shadows to hide
behind.