"I'll be damned," he said softly.
"What?" Nathan said. He wasn't as tall as Skeeter, so he jumped once. They traded glances.
"What do you see?" I said, sitting up on my elbows.
The men rushed to the stairs. Their footsteps only got faster when they crossed the kitchen and living room. I scrambled from my pallet and followed them, gasping when I caught sight of what had them so amazed. The ash was still falling from the sky, gray like a cloudy winter day.
"Is it going to storm?" I said.
"No," Nathan said, his eyes bouncing between the falling and accumulating ash. "The debris is in the atmosphere."
"How long will it stay this way?" I asked.
Nathan shook his head. "I don't know, honey." He looked to me, for the first time real worry in his voice. "I don't know."
Six days after the blast, we were all feeling the effects of being stuck inside. The kids were arguing, and the adults were quick to anger. Without being able to hunt, we were forced to make a significant dent in the precious few canned goods in the pantry.
I stood in the basement, holding three cans of black-eyed peas, and let the tears flow. Ashley took the cans from my arms and leaned her cheek against mine.
"It's going to be okay, right? You're just frustrated, but it's going to be okay."
I nodded and wiped my eyes, taking back the cans. "Yes. We're going to be fine."
"Good," Ashley said, breathing a sigh of relief. I wasn't exactly convincing, but she wanted to believe me, so she was easy to fool.
We walked upstairs together, greeting the kids who were already seated at the dining room table. Nathan took a second look at me, knowing right away I'd been upset. I pulled the can opener from a drawer and began spooning out the beans into everyone's bowls, noting the absence of our usual cheerful dinnertime discussion--or any discussion at all. The girls were staring down into their bowls, looking lost, but Skeeter and Nathan didn't have any more comforting words to offer.
"When it's clear outside, we're going to have to finish Jenna's birthday party," I said, joining everyone at the table. "She's been working really hard to beat you, Skeeter."
Skeeter forced a small smile. "Oh yeah, Jenna?"
Jenna didn't look up from her bowl. She didn't speak. The hopelessness on her face broke my heart.
"Baby?" I said quietly. Her doe eyes rose to meet mine. "This won't last forever. I promise."
Jenna slowly turned to the living room to look out the window. Her eyes widened, and she stood up. "Mom!"
For the first time in nearly a week, ashes weren't falling from the sky. I looked to Jenna, and then to Nathan. Everybody stood up at the same time and rushed to the window, and then sighs of relief and laughter filled the house.
Elleny put her hand on the door, but Nathan stopped her. "Not yet."
"What do you mean? Why not?" Jenna asked, her eyes instantly filling with tears.
Nathan began to answer her, but stopped. The pause that followed was filled with a distant, repetitive beat.
"What is that?" Ashley asked. She listened again. "Is that what I think it is?"
A black helicopter passed over, and then made a wide turn. We watched in awe as it returned, hovered over the road for a moment, and then lowered, landing just beyond the mouth of the drive. Four men with guns filed out, and suddenly I was more terrified of them than I was of the ash. They jogged across the lawn to the porch, and we all jerked at a banging on the door.
"Elleny, take the girls to the basement," I said, keeping my eyes on the door.
"But," she began.
The door opened, and Nathan stepped in front of me protectively.
The men weren't military. They looked more like SWAT, black from head to toe and helmets with large, clear facemasks. The man in front glanced back to his cronies, just as surprised to see us as we were to see them.
The helicopter's blades were still whirring, so the man in front spoke loudly. "My name is Corporal Riley Davis, sir! I'm looking for a Skeeter McGee!"
Ashley grabbed Skeeter's arm, her eyes wide.
"That's me," Skeeter said.
"I have a Ms. April Keeling in the helo. We picked her up from Fairview. She said there might be survivors here, including you, sir!" the corporal said. The corners of his mouth turned up. "Glad to see she was right!"
Skeeter turned to Ashley. "April! From the church!" He turned to the corporal. "Her kids?"
"All well, sir."
"The ash," Nathan said. "The blast. You know anything about it?"
"Yes, sir. The air force has been ordered to target the largest concentrations of infected, sir."
"But is it radioactive?" I asked.
"No, ma'am," the corporal said. "The fallout is just debris from the initial blast. They've been targeting all the major cities."
"So there's nothing left? Of anything?" I asked.
"The cities have been overrun, ma'am," Corporal Davis said. "They're torching everything. We're picking up survivors farther out, though."
I looked to Nathan, and then back to Corporal Davis. "Define everything? How far reaching is the outbreak?"
The corporal's face fell. "Everywhere, ma'am. It's everywhere."
Nathan shifted. "Will they bomb outside the cities?"
"They're leaving the countryside alone, don't you worry," the corporal said, tossing his gun onto his shoulder.
I blew out a sigh of relief, and looked back to the kitchen. The girls were peeking around the corner. I signaled to them that it was okay for them to join us. After a few moments of hesitation, one by one they scurried to my side.
The corporal glanced to the children. "We would have come for you days ago, but the ash clogs up the helos. I'm sorry, sir, but we don't have much time. Is this everyone in your camp? We've been instructed to collect all willing survivors and bring them to our compound."
Nathan looked at me, and then back to the corporal. "Compound? Where?"
"About seventy klicks south of our position, sir. McKinney hospital."
"That's not a compound," I said, my mind racing. We'd gone so long without seeing anyone; it was a lot to take in all at once.
The corporal smiled. "It is now. We've built walls and reinstated the running water. Working on electrical now."
Ashley turned to Skeeter, a wide grin on her face at the prospect of those luxuries.
"How many survivors so far?" Nathan asked.
The corporal's mouth pulled to the side. I could see he wanted to give us better news. "Not as many as we'd like, but new civilians come in every day. I'm sorry, sir, but we should get going. It'll be dark soon, and we're running low on fuel."
Nathan and Skeeter traded glances, and then Nathan turned to me. "What do you think?"
I shook my head. It was too big of a decision to make in that moment. We didn't know who these men were. We could get to McKinney and find it's more like a prison camp, or it could be sanctuary.
I looked to the girls. "They want to take us to someplace safe."
Jenna's eyebrows pulled in. "We're safe here."
Zoe looked up to Jenna, and then mirrored her expression. "And they probably won't let us take Butch."
I smiled, kissed their foreheads, and then turned to Nathan. He nodded, and looked to Skeeter and Ashley.
"We're staying?" Ashley asked. She searched everyone's faces, and then took a deep breath, a resolved smile on her face. She turned to the corporal. "We're staying."
"Sir?" the corporal said to Skeeter.
Skeeter squeezed Ashley to his side. "Let April know we appreciate her sending you boys after us, but we're doing just fine here."
The corporal looked back to his men, who all seemed baffled, and then back to us. "If you change your mind, anchor something bright like a blanket to the roof. We'll be making the rounds. Good luck to you, sir!"
The corporal held a small radio to his mouth. "Pedro to HQ, come in, over."
A man on the other end of the radio confirmed through a scr
atchy connection.
"Yeah, we're out here at Red Hill. The civilians have decided to sit tight, over."
After a short pause, the radio scratched again. "Roger that."
The corporal nodded to us, and the men returned to their helicopter. Within moments it was in the air and out of sight.
"There's people!" Zoe said, grinning. She clapped her hands together once and intertwined her fingers.
The sky was nearly clear, finally empty of the fallout from the blast. I climbed up the ladder, and one by one, everybody followed. We stood, able to see for miles in each direction. Over the past months, fewer walking dead could be seen. Before the blast, it had been nearly a month since the last of them had wandered too close to the ranch. We couldn't be sure why. Maybe they had all migrated to the city, or maybe others like us were eradicating more shufflers every day. Eventually, the earth would be rid of them. We wouldn't live in fear forever.
Nathan reached out for my hand and sighed, sharing my unspoken relief that we had made the right decision. At Red Hill, we made our own destiny; raising our children in the safest way we could, and protecting each other in a world made of nightmares and uncertainty. The eight of us had carved a place there, and we were more than surviving. We were living.
Zoe and Halle clung to my legs, taking in the otherworldly scene. The ranch and its surroundings were entirely covered in ash, dreary and monochrome, except for a small stretch of red dirt road that had been uncovered by the blustering blades of the helicopter. It was exactly the way the end of the world should look. I smiled, and squeezed Nathan's hand. If the last year had taught me anything, it was that the end only led to one thing--a beginning.
Acknowledgments
WRITING IS OFTEN A SOLITARY job, but no author does it alone. If I didn't have my manager, biggest cheerleader, and strongest supporter in my corner, the distractions of life wouldn't quiet down long enough for me to write a sentence, much less an entire novel. My husband is all of those things for me. Thank you for always calming the waters, love.
Thank you to Wes Hughes for always being kind. In 2008 you helped me, a struggling student, make ends meet, and in 2013 you let me, a struggling-to-meet-her-deadline author, stay in your guest house to finish Red Hill. Your smiling face and ever-encouraging words will forever stay with me.
Amy Tannenbaum, who rolls with whatever I throw her way, be it laughter in the morning or late-night, panicked texts. You are not only my super-editor-turned-agent, you're one of my most treasured friends. I've said before I wouldn't want to experience any part of this process without you, and it's still true. Your pep talks and constant voice of reason make me feel sorry for anyone who doesn't have you in their life. Also, enormous appreciation for the amazing Chris Prestia and all the folks at the Jane Rotrosen Agency for all you do.
Greer Hendricks came on as my editor in February of this year to replace Amy. Amy assured me Greer was perfect for me, and, as always, Amy was right. Greer has taken my writing to the next level, entertained my son in the backseat while stuck in traffic on the way to a book signing, and quite literally saved a manuscript for me--while on vacation, I might add. Thank you, Greer. I don't like change, but you've most graciously made this the most wonderful transition I could have hoped for.
After six novels, Nicole Lambert has been inexcusably overlooked when writing my acknowledgments. Nicole helped me set up my very first website back when I was posting one chapter at a time of Providence, before I discovered self-publishing. To add to my shame, she has never once reminded me of that fact. I love you, Nicole. You have been a fantastic friend.
A year ago I was in New York City meeting the geniuses at Atria Books. I was hugely pregnant, sweaty (it was August), and nervous as hell. Waiting for me in the lobby was Ariele Fredman, smiling and funny and oh-so-calming. I couldn't begin to list everything she does for me, but know that she is the best publicist an author could ask for. Thanks for being everything, Mermaid.
Enormous gratitude to my publisher, Judith Curr, who rules the world of Atria with an iron pillow. She is one of the most intelligent and intriguing people I've ever met, a force of nature, and yet she's a safe place to land when I need things to go right. Thank you, Judith. I wouldn't want anyone else to run my show!
A big thanks to my team at Atria! If I listed everyone who helped to mold this novel into its current state, I would need rolling credits, but I'll take this opportunity to sincerely thank a few: Isolde Sauer, Ben Lee, Sarah Cantin, Hillary Tisman, Jackie Jou, and Kimberly Goldstein.
I want to thank my assistant, Colton. I'm not sure how I managed my career--or my life--before he came along. Thank you for all you do! Here's to many more terrifying (but safe) plane rides together!
Dr. Ross Vanhooser is someone who has appeared in my acknowledgments time and time again. Had he not believed in me, and encouraged me in an environment where no one else did, my life and career would be in a much different place. This time around, he also assisted me with my medical research for Red Hill. You have always offered invaluable advice, benevolent help, and endless enthusiasm. Thank you so very much. I'll never forget your kindness.
I also wish to thank Sharon Ronck. When others asked her to not wave my flag quite so high, she proudly held up two. I'm honored to have fulfilled your predictions! We need more people in this world with a heart like yours.
To Leah, Miranda, Ashley, David, Angie, and Christie for the use of their names, and for allowing me to add fictional flair to their characters.
To authors Colleen Hoover, Karly Lane, Lani Wendt Young, Eyvonna Rains, and Tracey Garvis Graves for reading Red Hill and validating that I wasn't absolutely insane for going with my gut and in a completely different direction. I so appreciate your time and enthusiasm.
Finally, I wish to thank my daughters for having such big, amazing personalities and letting me write about them. I learned what all-consuming, unconditional love is when you came into my life. Since 1999, my heart has lived on the outside of my body. Since 2005, that joy, fear, and suspense has been doubled. I hope if you choose to become mothers, your children might give you half the joy you've gifted to me. Maybe then you'll understand why I look at you the way I do.
E, thanks for working on this with me, Taterbug. You are going to blow me out of the water someday very soon.
And to my little man: You are perfection. You are tied as one of the three best things I've ever done. It brings me so much joy that you'll never know what life was like before our dreams came true, and I'm so thankful that, thanks to my fans, I work from home so I can spend as much time with you as I possibly can, because I wouldn't want it any other way.
So much love to my readers! You've made the impossible possible for my family and me. A lost, small-town girl became a #1 New York Times bestselling author. If that's not a miracle, I don't know what is!
Additional Resources
If you or someone you care about has been a victim of sexual violence, consider visiting rainn.org to learn more about resources that are available to you. RAINN (Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network) is the nation's largest anti-sexual violence organization and was named on of "America's Best Charities" by Worth magazine. RAINN created and operates the National Sexual Assault Hotline (800.656.HOPE and online.rainn.org) in partnership with more than 1,100 local rape crisis centers across the country and operates the DoD Safe Helpline for the Department of Defense. RAINN also carries out programs to prevent sexual violence, help victims and ensure that rapists are brought to justice.
You can also donate online at rainn.org/donate/ways-to-give.
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JAMIE McGUIRE is the New York Times bestselling author of Walking Disaster, Beautiful Disaster, and The Providence trilogy. She and her husband, Jeff, live with their children just outside Enid, Oklahoma, with three dogs, six horses, and a cat named Rooster. Please visit JamieMcGuire.com.
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This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright (c) 2013 by Jamie McGuire