red hill - jamie mcguire

Chapter Thirteen
Scarlet
THE BACKGROUND NOISE OF MY escape from Anderson was intermittent gunfire as the patrols were
likely panicking with the herd of undead roaming the streets. I had retraced my steps back to Tavia’s,
planning on persuading Tobin to come with me to the doctor’s ranch.
Just as I crossed the intersection into my grandparents’ front lawn and the streetlight was behind
me, I saw a dark form lying on the ground. “Tobin” I said quietly. I still held out hope that it wasn’t
my friend until I saw the cornrows poking out in every direction.
“Tobin” I said, approaching carefully. He was lying on his side, facing away. I prepared myself
to run if he moved toward me. I wasn’t sure what he was.
I glanced at Tavia’s house, noting the spray of bullet holes that had penetrated the siding, the
windows, and the storm door. I leaned down, seeing that Tobin’s lifeless body was in the same
tattered condition.
I choked back tears and vomit. The same bastards that had gunned down the family on the bridge
had done the same to Tobin. I didn’t want to leave him in the yard, but what could I do Just then a
diesel engine gunned several blocks away. “I’m sorry, friend,” I said. Running once again as fast as I
could, I raced back the way we came, not knowing which I dreaded more: getting caught, or escaping
through the woods alone in the darkness.
Back through town, I had to chance running across the bridge and then down the road. It seemed
safer than traveling through the tall grass by the river. The engines of the soldiers’ trucks couldn’t be
heard, so I darted back across the highway and through the woods to my vehicle. I slammed the door
and locked it, taking one quick glance around before bawling uncontrollably. I hadn’t prepared myself
for what it might be like to leave Anderson without my children, or seeing Tobin’s body full of holes,
or surviving something that made me feel an unbelievable amount of fear.
The headlights of the Jeep burned through the night as I flew down Highway 11. Less than half an
hour after I turned north onto Highway 123, the high-pitched wail of a car alarm could be heard. The
noise peaked and fell quickly, like the ray guns in the old science-fiction movies my mother used to
watch.
I’m trying to watch a movie, Scarlet. Can’t you find something else to do other than to bug me
all day Can I never have time to myself Go away! my mother would say.
My desperate, tiny, eight-year-old voice replayed perfectly in my ear. You’ve been working all
day.
I’m trying to watch TV!
I’m lonely! I would cry softly. I didn’t want her to hear me. I wanted her to see me.