I didn’t want to be sitting still. I wanted to take the overly congested exit and then head west of the overpass, past the army, or reserves, or whoever those guys in green camo guarding the bridge into Anderson were, and be on my way to my dad’s. A dozen or more guns were pointed in our direction, at us and everyone else caught in the mess of cars below the overpass. Three lines of cars and trucks were stopped on the northbound exit ramp by the men with guns. People were outside of their vehicles, yelling and pleading to pass.

I had maneuvered the Bug as close as I could to the ramp, but quickly ran out of room. There was no way to get through, and we were stuck on the shoulder of the interstate.

“What are they doing?” Cooper asked, still clutching Ashley to his side.

Bryce tried his phone again. When he heard yet another busy signal, he let the phone fall in his lap, and hit the door with the side of his fist.

“Hey!” I said. “She’s gotten us this far! Be nice!”

A newer, red pickup truck approached the overpass on the Fairview side, slowed, and then came to a stop. A man got out, pointing toward Anderson. The army men shook their heads, motioning for him to turn back. He kept pointing to Anderson, but when more than a dozen semi-automatic rifles were turned in his direction, he got in his pickup and backed away.

“He came from Fairview. You think we should still go that way?” Cooper asked.

“It’s the quickest way,” Ashley said.

“So they’re guarding Anderson,” Bryce said, watching the scene transpire.

“Looks that way,” I said.

“Then why are they on the Fairview side of the bridge? Wouldn’t it make more sense to be on the Anderson side? Then they could guard the exit ramp, too.”

I took a closer look. The soldiers were young, and from what I could tell, seemed antsy. “There is an armory in Anderson. You think they’re really soldiers? Maybe they’re just trying to protect their town?”

“The governor is in Anderson today,” Ashley said.

We all turned, surprised she knew that interesting and pertinent tidbit of information.

“I listen to the radio in the mornings when I’m getting ready for class. They said it on the news. Governor Bellmon would be in Anderson today.”

Bryce nodded. “There’s no way he’d already have soldiers there. They must be random townspeople.”

I looked at them again, and gasped. They weren’t wearing fatigues. They were outfitted in Realtree and Mossy Oak. “Oh, Christ. Scared kids with AK-47s? Is the governor that stupid?”

“Maybe it wasn’t him at all? Maybe they just took it upon themselves?” Cooper said.

“Either way,” I said, turning to look out the back window. I didn’t see anything that would bite us, but it would only be a matter of time before they caught up. “We have to get going.”

Just as I finished my sentence, the same red pickup from before came from the Fairview side at high speed, straight at the men with guns.

“Miranda!” Ashley screamed.

I gripped the steering wheel as they opened fire. The windshield of the truck broke, and then the truck veered off course, straight for our side of the bridge. It jumped over the side of the off-ramp, cartwheeled over three cars, and then came to a rest on its cab. The wheels were still spinning, making a terrible high-pitched whirring noise.

Everyone screamed, and those standing outside their cars crouched down for a second, waiting to see where the truck would go. For a while, everyone seemed confused, nervous, and unsure what to do, but once the shock of the earlier incident became secondary to the need to get home to their families, the yelling and pleading to pass continued.

“Maybe we could sneak by them on foot?” Cooper said.

Bryce shook his head. “We need a distraction.”

As if it were scripted, a white full-sized van slowly approached the bridge. The gunmen were immediately on edge. The people standing outside of their cars yelled louder, and a few of them attempted to throw shoes and anything they could get their hands on at the gunmen, but none of it made it to the bridge.

“Oh, man. Get back in your car,” Bryce said.

The driver had gotten out, and was arguing with the gunmen. He then grabbed one of the gunmen’s rifles. I wasn’t sure who shot the first bullet, but once a gun went off, they all opened fire. The man from the van convulsed while his body was punctured by bullets. When he hit the ground, the gunmen targeted his vehicle, too.

“Oh my God! Oh my God!” Ashley cried.

The gunfire didn’t stop. The men with guns were agitated and angry, and the yelling from below drew their attention. The people standing outside of their vehicles on the ramp were suddenly prey, and they all began to scream and run. Following the running families, the men let their gunfire spread to everyone else trapped in the gridlock below.

“Jesus Christ!” Bryce yelled. “Get us out of here, Miranda! Go! Go!”

I yanked on the gearshift and backed into the car behind me, and then spun the wheel, shoving the gearshift into drive. After a few near misses and even more sideswipes, we were under the bridge. I didn’t stop, hoping the psychopaths above would be too busy with the poor people on the south side to see that I was going to take the on-ramp on the other side and floor it toward Fairview.

“What are you doing?” Ashley said. “Hide under the bridge!”

“We’ll get stuck there!” Bryce said, knowing I was too focused on getting us the hell out of there to respond. “Keep going, Miranda! Don’t stop!”

We cleared the bridge and flipped a U-turn to catch the southbound on-ramp. The Bug caught air more than once on its climb to the top—sometimes on the asphalt, sometimes not—and finally made it to the road.

Cooper patted my seat ardently. “They’re not even paying attention! Keep going!”

We rode in silence for the next mile, but the second we were out of range Ashley began to sniff and whimper. We had left behind a massacre. Children were among the victims on the interstate.

“Has the whole world gone crazy?” Ashley cried.

Bryce and Cooper were sniffing, too. Before long hot tears were burning down my cheeks. Moments later, we were all sobbing.

Bryce wiped his nose on his shirt, and then took my right hand. “You saved our lives, Miranda.”

I squeezed his hand, unable to speak. I took a long, broken breath, and tried to concentrate on the road. We would be coming up on Fairview soon.

Chapter Nine

Nathan

ERIC RETURNED QUICKLY CARRYING SEVERAL boards in his arms. “I found these in the shed. I took as many as I could carry because they’re really starting to gather around the church. I don’t think anyone should go outside anymore.”

“They must know we’re in here,” I said. “It’s just a matter of time before they get in.”

Gary pulled the toothpick from his mouth, frustrated. “But Eric just said we can’t leave.”

“He said he didn’t think we should,” I said, looking to Skeeter. “Doesn’t mean we can’t. It isn’t safe here.”

He ignored our discussion, and began climbing the stairs, never taking his eyes off the door.

We all followed. The silent hopes to find nothing were louder than the stairs that creaked in a slow symphony beneath our feet.

Gary gripped the doorknob and pulled, using his body weight as leverage. None of us could be sure if the walking dead had enough coordination to climb or even twist a doorknob, but just one mistake meant death. I didn’t want to take any chances, and neither did these men.

Skeeter lifted his fist, and knocked his knuckles against the door. “Hello? It’s Skeeter McGee. Anyone in there?”

The footsteps that we’d heard before had been silent for several minutes.