The Seventh Day by Tara Brown writing as A.E. Watson Page B

here any day;
these little flurries are nothing. I think it’s going to get much worse, and
we’d do better being stuck up here for the winter than down there.”
    His words make my insides crawl. “We
shouldn't go back down there yet.” Even if I do want to see
if my mom is okay.
    He nods at the cabin full of people we
love. “They can’t go down there yet. You and I can, quite easily.” He lowers
his voice even more. “What if one of us gets hurt? Or
terribly sick. We need antibiotics and bandages. I know we all have
enough to last a little while but we need to be able to last the winter. The
biters won’t last the winter here, maybe Washington on the coast or California,
but the rest of this side of the country will be frozen in a few weeks. Canada
is probably already frozen. Trust me, Lou, we need to do this and we need to be
fast about it. Before anyone else starts thinking it’s safe to go out and they
get all the things we need. Now I need you to think about the fact we won’t be
the only survivors, and soon the other survivors are going to be the problem we
face, not the biters.”
    He’s right. I want to vomit at the idea but
he’s completely right. I look at Mrs. Milson with the girls and nod. “We go
tonight?” I ask quietly.
    “We will go and be back in a few hours. I
think we can do a one-stop shop. The pharmacy is probably ransacked but the
clinics might be okay. I know where the warehouse storage spot is for the local
grocers too.” He pauses, giving me a funny look. “What else did your dad say
when you spoke to him about coming home?”
    “He said they didn't know what it was but
they thought that maybe it was viral. He said it’s everywhere and not to go
near anyone.”
    He nods. “Where is your mom?”
    “In the closet under the stairs.”
    His thick wooly brows lift but he doesn't
say anything so I do, “She might not have turned. Like your friend Jack, she
might have been genuinely sick but we couldn't tell. Joey shot her in the side,
scared to death.”
    He winces and I can tell it’s not because
we shot our mom but because we had to. “Jack turned, kiddo. We saw him bite.”
    “But he came back?”
    He nods, shrugging bags over his shoulders.
“That he did, but we cared for him. We fed him.”
    “I locked her in the closet with water. She
won’t die in the two days it should take Dad to get there. I know she was bit
on the shoulder at some point and never told me, but maybe she’ll be like Jack.
I left a note for my dad so he can find her when he gets there. He’ll care for
her.”
    “If he comes.” He sighs, shaking his head.
I don't want to think that way.
    When we get inside, Mrs. Milson makes us
pasta with tomato sauce, salad, and garlic bread. The smells make my mouth
water but the tastes almost make me cry. The girls eat like I’ve never seen
them do before. They gobble. It’s the only way to describe it.
    “Do you have a lot of food?” she asks,
smiling down on the three girls hovering over their plates.
    I shake my head. “Not a ton. I had been
thinking about going back down and stocking up when Dad came, but now I think
we should go before he gets here.”
    Her eyes reveal something. It’s a hidden
something, a secret maybe. She nods along, sipping her wine. “You should just
go tomorrow and leave the girls here with me. You could both go and see if the
kids are back at our house yet.”
    Mr. Milson nods. “We were discussing this
already. It snowed down there, just a dusting but it’s cold. They will have
exposure. Most will be frozen, dead, or dying. Either way, they’ll be moving a
lot slower.”
    My eyes dart to the clueless little faces.
He catches my drift, nodding. We don't speak of it again. I don't want Joey to
realize I’m planning on going down there without her.
    “You guys should sleep here tonight.”
    The girls’ faces lift, covered in sauce and grins that tell me they want that. I know I do too.
Normally I’m not one for sleeping at