Among Monsters: A Red Hill Novella (2 page)

An amateur video with a cell phone flashed for just a few seconds. The anchorman blanched, and I felt sick to my stomach. People were running from something with absolute terror on their faces, but we couldn’t see what they were running from.

“It won’t cross the ocean, right?” Tryston asked.

“Right,” Mrs. Siders said.

As she glanced back at our class, I could see the worry in her eyes. When she turned back around, I texted my dad.

Are you watching the news?

Yes. How are you?

Worried.

It’ll be fine. Gov. Bellmon just rolled into town. He wouldn’t have come if he were worried about it.

K.

Love you. See you soon.

Chloe fidgeted. “I heard on the radio this morning something about a scientist and dead people in Germany. The news lady said they were trying to neutralize the cadavers, but my mom said that didn’t make any sense. I think it makes perfect sense. The Bible says the dead in Christ shall rise, you know. It also says that whosoever eats of Christ’s flesh and drinks of his blood shall live eternally.”

“That’s gross, Chloe.”

She sighed. “And yet so poetic.”

I pushed my phone back into my pocket and looked over to my friend. “My dad says the governor is in Anderson for some kind of photo op with the firefighters. I doubt he’d be going through with a fundraiser if the government was worried about an epidemic.”

Concern weighed down Chloe’s usually bright and cheerful expression. “You don’t think it’s possible…the dead coming back and attacking the living?”

“No,” I said, shaking my head.

“Sounds like freakin’ zombies,” Tryston said.

First, a collective gasp sucked the air out of the room, and then everyone erupted into panicked chatter.

“Can we call our parents?” one of the girls asked.

“I’m calling my mom!” another girl said.

“Okay, guys,” Mrs. Siders said, holding up her hands, palms out. “No cases have been reported in the US yet. Let’s all just calm down. Take a deep breath. The school will keep a close eye on this, and if we hear of a reason to worry, they’ll dismiss everyone. Until that happens, there’s no point in getting upset.”

The bell buzzed, and we gathered our things. With Chloe just behind me, I rushed down the stairs and put my things in my locker. Chloe did the same, one section down, and we reconvened to head to second hour.

“Come get me!” a girl shrieked into her phone. “I don’t care! Come get me right now, Daddy!”

The principal and vice principal were manning the halls with grave expressions on their faces.

“I have a bad feeling,” Chloe said. “When you hear about war or whatever on the news, it doesn’t feel real. It’s over there, ya know? It doesn’t feel in your face. This feels close.”

“Too close,” I said.

THE HALLS WERE EERILY QUIET.
If the kids spoke at all, it was in whispers, as if speaking of their fears too loudly would make them real.

Chloe and I walked downstairs where there were radioactive signs that I hadn’t paid much attention to before that moment. Bishop Middle School was a designated fallout shelter since before my grandparents were born and could supposedly withstand tornadoes and anything else that might come our way—except for a fast-spreading virus. Plus, being underground made me feel trapped, not safe.

Mom and I were apocalypse junkies, and we would watch end-of-the-world prep shows. It was kind of our thing. We’d even been to a couple of conventions. I wondered if Mom had the same red flags going up as I did. Something deep and inherent was screaming for me to run even though I didn’t know where to run or from what I should be running.

I pulled out my phone to text her.

Chloe set her books down on her desk two rows behind me. Mr. Holland hadn’t allowed us to choose our own seats in the beginning of the semester like Mrs. Siders had. He didn’t have a Smart Board in his room either.

“Okay, put your phones away,” Mr. Holland said. “I know a lot is going on in the world right now, but it’s not going on here. Until Principal Hall announces dismissal, we’ll go on as usual.
Capisce
?”

The entire classroom argued, but Mr. Holland won out, insisting we open our books and at least pretend to concentrate on the lesson. I put my phone away and opened my textbook to page two hundred forty-nine as instructed.

Pretend was exactly what we had to do, and most of the kids in that room failed miserably. Carina Tesh began to sniffle, and by the time the bell rang, her whimpering had prompted tears from several girls in the classroom.

As Chloe and I ascended the stairs to the main level, we saw through the large glass doors and windows of the school entrance the many cars parked at the curb, and adults and kids were running in or out of the school.

“Where’s your mom today?” I asked.

Chloe pressed her lips together. “She went down to Greenville. She had to pick up some things. She’ll be back by the time school is out though.”

“Maybe she’ll come back early.”

Chloe’s eyes fell to the floor. We both knew Greenville was far enough away that her mom would be lucky to make it back by the last bell.

After lunch, the classrooms were half empty.

In history class, Mrs. Stuckey had her Smart Board hooked up as well. A graphic that read
Breaking News
rolled on and then off the screen, and the news anchor appeared with a deep line between his brows.

“I’m Brian Jenkins, and welcome back to KFOR. We’ve just received word that the first cases of an unknown virus have hit US soil. Atlanta and New York City airports are both reporting chaos as the infected are attacking travelers in the terminals.”

“No. Dear Lord, no,” Mrs. Stuckey said before covering her mouth.

Without caring about the consequences, everyone pulled out their phones and began tapping text messages. Some even made phone calls, screeching at their parents about the news.

I texted my dad.

Please tell me you’re on your way.

Yes. Picking up your sister from the grade school now. Will be there soon. Sit tight.

I put my phone away. Chloe bit her lip, fingering her phone.

“If my dad gets here before you get a hold of her, you can come with us.”

She shook her head. “I can’t go to Anderson. My mom would freak out.”

“Maybe we could drop you off at your house then?”

Chloe frowned at her phone. “She’ll be here.”

By the next hour, Chloe and I were two of only six kids in Spanish class. A seventh-grader walked in with several pieces of paper and handed them to Mrs. Hall. With heavy eyes, she looked across her mostly empty classroom.

“Cole, Tanner, Amelia, Addison, and Jenna, your parents are here to pick you up.”

Everyone but me scrambled to gather their things, and they rushed out the door.

Chloe waved good-bye to me. “I’ll text you later.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?” I asked.

She shook her head, and a contrived smile stretched across her face. “I’ll wait for my mom. Get going. I bet Halle is freaking out in the car.”

“Okay. Text me as soon as she picks you up.”

“Later, tater,” she said, trying to keep the tremble from her voice.

I didn’t stop by my locker. Chloe was right. If Dad had to come into the school to check me out, Halle would be in the car alone and likely working herself up into a frenzy.

Dad stood out in his dress blues, holding his hat under his arm. It was the first time he’d come to pick me up while wearing his formal clothes, and for a moment, it made me forget why he was here early.

“Wow,” I said.

He looked like a soldier instead of a firefighter.

“Let’s go,” Dad responded. He guided me out the door and down the steps with a hand on my shoulder.

His white Chevy Tahoe was still running with the windows rolled up when we reached his place in line. Halle wasn’t panicked at all when I opened the front passenger door. She was sitting behind me in the middle row in one of the two captain’s chairs with her seat belt fastened and her hands folded tightly in her lap. The back bench seat had a case of bottled waters and several white plastic sacks full of cans.

After climbing into my seat, I put my textbook and binder on the floorboard. “Hey, Halle,” I said, trying to sound cheerful. I turned around to smile at her only briefly before buckling in.

Dad jumped into his seat and pulled the gear into drive. Pulling away from the curb, he asked, “You buckled in, Pop Can?”

He wasn’t talking to me. One of the other firefighters had once said that Halle was no bigger than a pop can, and it had stuck. Born five weeks early, she was pretty small for her age. She had worn toddler-sized clothes until she was in kindergarten. Dad was half an inch shorter than Mom, so we always teased Halle for being petite like him. Dad didn’t find that funny, so he stayed with Pop Can.

Halle tugged on her seat belt and then wiped her nose with the back of her hand.

Dad rounded a corner quickly, and my shoulder bounced off the door.

“Sorry. I’m trying to get out of town. How was your day?” Dad asked with a tinge of nervousness in his voice.

I raised an eyebrow at him. “What’s wrong with Halle? Why is she being so quiet?”

“Some of the parents came into the school, causing a fuss. She’s still upset.” He kept his eyes on the road.

“Did you tell Mom you were picking us up early?”

“I called the hospital. I couldn’t get through.”

“Did you call her cell phone?” I asked.

He made a face. “She doesn’t like it when I call her cell phone when she’s at work. She said to only do it when it’s an emergency.”

“An epidemic isn’t an emergency?”

“If I call her cell phone, she’ll think something happened to one of you. I’m not going to scare her. Your grandma said she called her, and your mom was in surgery. I’m sure she’ll call when she can.”

I pulled out my phone and began to type out a text.

“What are you doing?” Dad snapped.

“I’m at least going to let her know where we are and that we’re okay.”

“Put it away, Jenna. I told you, she’s in surgery. I don’t want to hear it from her later.”

“She said I could text her if it’s important.”

“Do you want her to think you’re hurt?”

I huffed and looked out the window. I watched the buildings slowly spread out until there was only farmland and refineries. We passed over the interstate toward the toll road, and I was about to ask Dad where he was going, but it didn’t take long for me to figure it out. The traffic both north and south on I-35 was still flowing, but I’d never seen it that busy before. Dad was probably going to Anderson from the south through the old Tempton highway.

Within fifteen minutes, Dad turned north, confirming my suspicion. Another fifteen minutes later, we were in Anderson’s city limits. We passed the high school and the baseball fields, the fairgrounds, and then downtown.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

I glanced back at Halle. She still hadn’t said a word, which was completely abnormal. She usually barely took a breath when we were in the car and fighting for airtime.

“To the armory,” he answered.

“Still?” I asked. “I was kind of hoping we’d go home and watch the news.”

“Why do you think I’ve left the radio off?” he said. “It’s not a good idea.” He peeked at the rearview mirror and winked at Halle. “No need to scare your sister.”

“She’s already scared.”

He turned right at the northeast corner of town. Three blocks before the armory, the parking lots of the surrounding buildings were nearly full. The haphazard parking and packed lots looked like the fairgrounds would during fair week, but we were on the wrong side of town.

“There’s so many cars,” I said.

“A lot more than when I left,” Dad said.

“All these people have come to the armory because they think it’s safer to be near Governor Bellmon, don’t they?”

“He’s called in the National Guard just to be safe,” Dad said. “They should be here soon.”

“I’m not sure if that’s comforting or not.”

Dad patted my leg. “It’s just a precaution. I won’t let anything happen to you. Hear that, Halle? You’re with Daddy. Nothin’ to worry about.”