We sat together on a pew beside Gary, hoping the hammering would drown out some of the noise coming from the kitchen. Between the moaning noises Jill made while she vomited, she whimpered and cried for Skeeter to help her.

“She’s sweating, Daddy,” Zoe said, “a whole lot.” Her eyes were heavy with worry. “Then her face went all wonky and she threw up on the floor. She said her whole body hurt like she had the flu.”

I nodded. “Did that scare you?”

“It all scares me,” she said. The skin around her eyes tightened, and I could see she was trying not to cry.

No one knew what would happen to Jill, but I had an idea of what might be happening, and I didn’t want Zoe to witness it. Short of Skeeter moving Jill somewhere else, the only way to keep Zoe from witnessing her aunt’s death was to take her away from the church. That meant taking her outside where it wasn’t safe.

“I’m so sorry, honey. I wish I could make this all go away.” I hugged Zoe to my chest, trying to buy some time before a solution came to mind.

Jill was sobbing now. She probably knew what was happening, too.

I cupped Zoe’s little cherubic face in my hands, scanning the splash of freckles across her nose and light-brown hair. She’d kept the same simple shoulder-length hair cut since she was four. Her natural waves made it bouncy, but it seemed like her worry had weighed that down, too. “I’m going to try to help Uncle Skeeter. I want you to stay in here, okay? You’re safe in here. I won’t be gone long.”

Zoe nodded quickly, glancing back to Gary and Eric as they pounded the last nails into the last board.

“Good girl,” I said, kissing her forehead.

Skeeter was on one knee, both arms wrapped around his wife. She leaned against his chest, her face blotchy and glistening with sweat. Skeeter stared at the floor, whispering something to her, with the same hopelessness in his eyes as the woman we passed on the bridge. His young and healthy wife was dying in his arms, and they both knew it.

Doris filled a glass with water, and leaned down to hold it to Jill’s lips. She took a few sips and then spit it out, leaning down to the bucket, emptying her stomach once more.

“We need the doctor,” Doris said.

“The doctor’s dead,” Gary said, dropping the hammer on the table next to Jill. “So is his wife, and kids. They’re all walking around out there with milky eyes and bite marks.”

Jill sniffed once, and looked up at her husband. “Skeeter.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head, still staring at the floor.

“Skeeter, what if I hurt the people in here?”

“No.”

“What if I hurt you?”

“No!”

“What if I kill Zoe?” she pleaded, tears streaming down her reddened cheeks. Her breath skipped, and she pulled Skeeter’s face down so his eyes met hers. “Don’t let me hurt that baby, Skeeter.”

Skeeter’s bottom lip quivered. “But what about our baby?”

I stood up straight, away from the doorjamb I was leaning on. “What?”

“What was that?” Doris said.

“Jill’s pregnant,” Skeeter said, his voice desperate. “Seven weeks. Dr. Brown just called her this morning.”

I leaned down and grabbed my knees. I couldn’t imagine the agony he was feeling. They didn’t deserve this. They’d been trying to conceive since their wedding night, and now Skeeter would lose them both.

Jill touched her forehead to Skeeter’s chin, and then looked up at him with a weak smile. “We’ll be together, and we’ll wait for you.”

Skeeter broke down, burying his face into Jill’s neck. “I can’t do it, Jillybean,” he sobbed.

The first window in the sanctuary crashed, and everyone but Skeeter froze. Sounds of searching hands on the wooden boards made my skin crawl. I leaned back to see Zoe, Barb, and Ms. Kay turned around in their seats, staring at the broken glass on the floor. The boards were holding, but I could still feel my heart pounding against my rib cage. Eric stood next to the broken glass, inspecting the board, and then he nodded, assuring us that they would hold.

“Wait. What are we talking about here?” Reverend Mathis said, bringing my attention back to the kitchen.

Doris was still wringing her hands. “I can’t say I . . . we shouldn’t be talking about this.”

“It’s okay,” Jill said, cupping her hand over Skeeter’s head until she had to bend over again and vomit into the bucket.

Another window broke.

I looked to Gary. “What is that hallway there?” I said, gesturing to the open doorway on the other side of the kitchen. There were two his and hers bathrooms, and then an open doorway leading down a dark hall. “We may need another exit.”

“Just to the stairs.”

That caught my attention. “What stairs? You boarded up windows but didn’t secure the upper level?”

Gary shrugged. “I don’t think they can climb.”

“We’re in the house of the Lord!” Doris said. “I’m not going to let this happen! We don’t know what this is. Skeeter, Jill could get better!”

Bob spoke for the first time. His voice was deep and raspy. “We know exactly what this is.”

Everyone turned in the direction of Bob’s voice. He was sitting on a metal folding chair in the corner, where he’d been for the last hour. He’d perched his cane between his legs, resting his hands on the handle.

His gray mustache twitched when he spoke. “This is nothing less than a goddamn tragedy.”

“Bob!” Doris said, pretending to be offended.

“Truth is, she’s just going to end up like one of those things outside, only she’ll be in here with us.”

Glass crashed to the floor again, and this time a bone-chilling moan floated from the sanctuary into the kitchen.

Bob’s eyes drifted to me, and then settled beside me about waist high. That was when I noticed Zoe standing just behind me. She stared at her aunt Jill, her beautiful hazel-green eyes filling with tears for the umpteenth time that day. I wondered if she would ever know happiness after today.

I kneeled beside my daughter, trying to think of something cathartic to say, but words wouldn’t save Jill, and Jill being okay was the only thing that was going to make this hell somewhat tolerable for Zoe.

A heavy thud sounded above us, and we all looked to the ceiling. Skeeter kissed Jill’s forehead, and then motioned for Doris to sit next to her as he grabbed his shotgun. Gary picked up his hammer. I gently pushed Zoe toward Reverend Mathis, and then followed my brother-in-law, Gary, and Eric through the doorway, and down the hall. Skeeter stopped at the bottom of the stairs, pointing his shotgun to the closed door at the top.

Gary flipped on the light. “Maybe someone crawled onto the roof to get away from them and made their way inside?”

We heard slow, clumsy footsteps, and then something was knocked over.

Eric took in a sharp breath. “They can’t climb, can they? I’ve never heard of a zombie climbing.”

“Why not? They used to be human. Humans can climb,” Gary said, resituating the toothpick in his mouth and tightening his grip on the hammer.

I nervously ran my fingers through my hair. “We don’t really know anything about them. Assuming is going to get us all killed. I say we get some boards, take them upstairs, try to communicate with whoever is in there, and if they don’t answer, we board up the door.”

“Simple enough,” Skeeter said. His voice was low and smooth, and reminded me of the few times he’d invited me along on a deer hunt. That was his in the woods voice, like the guys in those hunting shows always used while they were narrating their victorious kill. He didn’t pull his eyes away from the door, as if he were hunting whatever was on the other side.

“Skeeter?” Eric said. The nervousness contrasted with his large, burly frame. “We’re almost out of boards.”

Miranda

“NOW WHAT?” ASHLEY SAID. HER voice was increasingly whiny with each mile we drove.