down so it lit up the ceiling. “What do you think Lee? I mean, you’re a nurse. You know a little bit about medical stuff and you worked in the E.R…do you think they’ll find a cure for…whatever this is?”
Lee entered the barn and continued on without acknowledging Rowan’s question. He didn’t stop as he passed them by, disappearing into the darkness of the back. In the far left corner there was an open stall with fresh hay strewn over the wood flooring. Lee headed for it with quiet determination.
“The fuck’s his problem,” he heard Lonnie say, but was too exhausted to care about dealing with the three of them at the moment.
As soon as his feet touched the plush pile, his legs collapsed. He sat with his back against the wall, staring up at the darkened rafters above. A heavy silence consumed him for the briefest moment while the others staked out their areas for the night. He should find some water, wash his face and hands, see if there was anything to eat since he hadn’t eaten at all that day, but he couldn’t move.
Then came a terrible scream.
His back straightened as he looked around. The others were settling into their places on the floor as if they hadn’t heard a thing, flashlights shining brightly around them for comfort.
Lee forced his body to relax back against the wall again. Surely the wannabe soldier would have been all over it if he had heard someone shouting. He seemed like the type of guy who enjoyed watching heads explode from the pull of his trigger. But whose scream was it? And why had no one else heard it?
It didn’t sound like Jessica. When the zombie’s teeth had sunk into her tender flesh, she had let out a high-pitched piercing cry, similar to that of a small dying animal. And it didn’t sound like any of the cries he had heard while fighting to escape the hospital. Those had been panicked and breathy as everyone ran for their lives or died trying. No, it wasn’t a scream he had heard that day. But then where would he have heard someone screaming so fully and desperately? He couldn’t think of a single moment in his life that called for such a terrible and frightening scream.
Then he remembered the dream he had of his wife the night before—the way her face was permanently frozen in a horrific scream, the mascara running down her cheeks like two black rivers, and nothing coming out of her mouth as she looked at him, her eyes crying out for him to save her, but he didn’t know how…it was the same face she wore in death on her parent’s kitchen floor. The dream had ended with the sound of her screams. Looking back now, he could only assume that was the sound she made while her life drained from her body slowly and painfully.
In some twisted way, he had dreamt of her death before it happened. Then why wasn’t he able to save her? The question burned at him. His balled up hands shook in his lap as he breathed in and out slowly in an attempt to calm himself. Even if he had some premonition of her death and could have stopped it, that didn’t change anything. Anna was still gone and there was nothing that would bring her back.
Another cry interrupted the quiet of the barn. This time the others heard it too and jumped up from their beds of hay.
XVI.
An older woman, Lee guessed by the rasp in her voice, called out for someone to help her. Lonnie grabbed his gun first, as it never really seemed to leave his hands. He charged the front doors and peered out from between the crack.
Rowan grabbed his pistol and followed.
Mitchell slowly grasped his shaking hand around the barrel of his shotgun, but didn’t move any further to pick it up. His eyes were wide as
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