The Seventh Day by Tara Brown writing as A.E. Watson Read Free Book Online Page B

town; Dad
and I have taken it. I just don’t exactly recall where it is.
    “Girls, you remember the back road to the
ski hill? Any of you?” I ask as I see a woman in a doctor’s coat standing on
the side of the road. When I drive past her, she does the three head jerks and
starts to run after us, joining the ones following us.
    Julia speaks with a shaky voice, “It’s the
road we’re on. This is the way to the ski hill. That's my doctor’s office.”
    I nod. “Okay.” I drive faster.
    Apparently, driving faster uses gas faster.
I slow down when we get out of town and I no longer see the biters in the
rearview mirror. The biters. The word my brain started using the moment I saw
Mr. Swanson attack Mr. Baumgartner.
    The farther we get from town, the less the
drive becomes. I feel more like I’m driving to join other people and less like
I’m fleeing them. Even Gus mellows out and stops panting.
    It’s a quick forty-minute drive to the
local ski hill. When we cruise into the village, we are on fumes. I park
outside of a cabin that makes my heartstrings tug in my chest. It takes me
several minutes to turn the vehicle off. I don't trust the dark around me, but
nothing moves in the headlights and the people who are biters don't seem to
differentiate between vehicles or people. They chase activity.
    I look over at the three girls, all asleep
and holding stuffed animals. One of Joey’s arms is around Old Kitty, a black
cat that was given to her when she was born. Her other arm is around New Kitty,
a tiger-striped cat she got when she had her appendix out at eight. I can’t fight
my smile when I see she also has Songa, my bear. She must have grabbed him when
she was packing. I reach for him, transporting instantly to a million happy
places when I touch his soft brown fur.
    I bury my nose into his cuddly chest,
smelling everything I am missing. When I open my eyes, a soft and fragile sigh
escapes my lips. Gus starts to pant again, waking and realizing we are at his
favorite place. He loves winter and he loves the ski cabin even more.
    There is a desperate need to cry and shake
and sob, but I can’t do any of it. I have to remember where I am and what I
just left behind. I have to be scared and not weak.
    I can’t let the fears eat at me, breaking
me.
    Deciding it might free me of them, I list my fears in my head so I can let them go.
    My dad
might not ever come for us. He might already be sick.
    My
mother will wake in that closet, run out of water, and die alone in there,
totally sane and healthy.
    My
mother is already one of the sick and will die alone and confused in the dark,
not remembering how to drink water. That one makes a small whimper slip from my
throat.
    We
will have to stay up here at the ski hill for the winter, but will anyone be
left alive in town in the spring?
    I shut my brain off instantly, pushing away
the rest of the bad thoughts. The fears aren’t leaving me as I acknowledge
them—they’re getting worse. They’re breeding in there.
    Distracting myself with the reality I am
in, I look out all the windows for even a single person. The mountain isn’t
anywhere near opening for the season, so it should be deserted, but if anyone
from town were smart, they would have come here too.
    There is nothing.
    It’s dark, completely dark.
    I’m not getting out in the dark. I’ve seen
enough horror movies to know what happens to the girl who gets out in the dark.
I double-check the locks on the doors and tilt my seat back slightly. My eyes
are closing on their own when I try to look around
once more. I snuggle into Songa and let sleep take me.
    If I wake up, so be it. If not, I pray I
die in my sleep and don't even know it.

 

Chapter Three
    Day Two

 
    “LOU!”
    My eyes fly open. The brightness blinds me.
I can’t feel or see anything for a couple seconds. I don't know if I’m alive or
dead until my neck cracks from the crick in it. I groan, rubbing it and
blinking.
    When I look around it takes a