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, sweet pea! Are you okay?” Zoe dipped her chin once, and Jill looked up to me, fear in her eyes. “Where’s Aubrey?” When I didn’t answer, she stood up and peeked out the window. She turned back to me. “Nate! Where is she?”

“She left me.”

“What? When?”

I shrugged, unsure of what expression matched the conversation. “Today.” Any other time I would have felt justified telling my sister-in-law the news, but at that moment I just felt stupid. With everything else going on, the end of my marriage seemed trivial.

Jill’s almond-shaped eyes bounced between Zoe and me. Aubrey leaving wasn’t exactly a surprise. She’d been depressed and unhappy for a long time. No matter what I tried or how many times I asked her to go to counseling—together or just her alone—Aubrey was no longer the woman I married, and we were all waiting for the woman who took her place to finally say she didn’t belong in that life. We all pretended it would get better, but the unspoken truth is always louder than the stories we tell.

Still, for Jill any expression but a smile seemed out of place. She was a beautiful woman. Watching her clean a buck or a catfish with that porcelain skin and those long, delicate fingers had always been surreal to me. The fact that she could shoot a gun and bait a hook made her perfect for Skeeter, and he loved her as much as any man could love a woman. They’d been dating since high school, and neither seemed to mind that they’d never experienced anyone or anything else. Anywhere but Fairview, Jill would have never ended up with Skeeter, but here, in the middle of the middle, even with his blossoming beer gut and unkempt beard, Skeeter McGee only needed country-boy charm, working man’s muscles, and a decent job to score the magnificence that was Jill.

Speaking of Skeeter . . . “Where is he?” I asked.

Jill put her hand up to the side of her face. “He left about half an hour ago. He went down the street to Barb’s and Ms. Kay’s to see if they needed help. They’re getting old and their husbands have been gone for years. He shovels their driveways every winter, and fixes things when they need fixin’. He worries about them. With hell breaking loose outside, he wanted to try to bring them back here where he could take care of them.” Jill unconsciously reached for Zoe’s hand, the thought of the monsters outside reflecting in her eyes.

“Did he take a gun?”

Jill nodded. “His thirty aught six.”

“He’ll come back.”

Chapter Six

Nathan

BEFORE THE SICKNESS CAME, WAITING was an irritation. Now that the dead were walking amid the living, waiting felt like the violation of being robbed, the helplessness when you’ve lost something valuable like your keys or your wedding ring, and the unbearable dread that comes over you when your child falls just out of sight at the shopping mall, all rolled into one sickening ball of emotion.

Jill paced in the kitchen, her fingers in her mouth while she chewed off every last bit of fingernail her teeth could find. I checked the windows and the front door, making sure everything was secure. Zoe sat in the doorway connecting the kitchen to the living room, quietly picking at the hem of her long-sleeved T-shirt.

A familiar whistle sounded just outside the kitchen window, and then a shot rang out. Without looking, Jill scrambled to unlock the door, and Skeeter stumbled inside, out of breath and sweaty. He sat his rifle beside Jill’s while she locked the door, and then they hugged and kissed like they hadn’t seen each other in years.

Jill whimpered, and Skeeter held her face in his hands. “Don’t cry, Jillybean. I told you I’d come back.” He kissed her forehead, and then held his arms out wide to Zoe, crouching as much as his six-foot-three frame and 220 pounds would allow.

Zoe immediately popped up and ran to him, melting into his arms.

“Zoe!” he said, kissing the top of her head. “We’ve missed you!” He looked to me. “I think she’s grown a foot!”

The conversation was typical, but typical conversation was unsettling during an apocalypse.

“Where’s Aubrey, trying to boot up the computer?” he asked.

Jill looked to me, and I looked down at Zoe. “She wasn’t home when we got there. She left a note.”

Skeeter’s expression was hard to decipher. I wasn’t sure if he was confused or just trying to process what that meant.

Jill stood next to her husband. “Ms. Kay? Barb?”

Skeeter offered a contrived smile. “I got them both to the church. I came back to get you. They’re boarding up the windows as we speak, and almost everyone brought supplies. Food and stuff. Guns. Ammo. It’s a good holdout.”

“Skeeter,” I said. “It’s not a good idea to get all those people in one place. It’ll be like a buffet.”

Skeeter’s face fell a bit. “There’s not that many people.” He grabbed his gun with one hand and wrapped the other around Jill’s waist, talking softly in her ear. “Get a few changes of clothes in a bag.”

Jill squirmed. “I don’t want to leave the house, Skeeter. Can’t we just stay here?”

Skeeter lowered his voice even more. “They’re breaking through the windows. We don’t have anything to board ours up.” He lowered his chin, waiting patiently for Jill to agree. Once she did, he continued, “We need to take as much food and water as we can carry. I’m going to get the weapons and ammo. Be quick, baby.”

Jill nodded, and then disappeared to the other side of the house. Skeeter brushed past me into the living room and opened the closet door. He pulled out two oversized duffle bags and brought them to a brown safe sitting against the wall next to the television. It was taller than Zoe. Almost as tall as Jill. Skeeter turned the combination and quickly opened the heavy door, pulling out pistols two at a time and setting them into the bag. Once he emptied the safe of handguns, he began pulling out his rifles, scopes, and shotguns. He filled the other bag with ammo, hunting knives, a first-aid kit, and several boxes of matches.

I looked down at my brother-in-law, watching as he kneeled down on the floor to organize his survival bags. “Jesus, Skeeter, did you know this was going to happen?” I said, only half joking.

“Anyone that didn’t think this was a possibility was in denial. With the technology out there, how long have people been talking about zombies? Since before we were born. I knew last fall when the reports about human attacks were on the news for a day or two, and then you didn’t hear anything about it. I don’t care how crazy bubble bath can make a person . . . there is no drug that can get me high enough to chew someone’s face off.”

“It was bath salts, Skeeter. They said the guy even admitted to it. It was in his system.”

Skeeter looked up at me, dubious. “You still believe that, do ya?”

I crossed my arms and leaned against the doorjamb, trying to pretend his theory wasn’t completely disturbing. Surely our government didn’t know. This sickness couldn’t have been here that long—months—without the government telling us until it got out of hand.

“They would have reported it in the news before now.”

Skeeter paused and took a breath, still staring at the floor. “They did, Nate.” He reloaded his thirty aught six and stood.

A crash sounded on the other side of the house, and Jill screamed.

The next events seemed to happen over a span of several minutes, but it was really only seconds. Skeeter scrambled up from the floor and tore through the living room to the bedroom. He yelled, and then shots rang out. They were loud. The emotional side of me thought about covering Zoe’s sensitive ears, the logical side—which won—went into survival mode and I grabbed my daughter and raced through the kitchen to the back door, clawing at the dead bolt. Just as I pulled open the door, something dead and horrifying stood in our way.