“Why do you think that?” Jamie asked.
The room was still. It was time to play the only card I had left. “Everyone knows what Grandma Petrovich was. I am telling you, I know, just like Grandma knew. Those people are dangerous.”
I had silenced the room.
After a few minutes passed, Pastor Frank spoke: “Many respected your grandmother, Layla. And you might be right, but we need to try.”
I looked at everyone.
“You all agree?” I asked.
While some nodded, others looked away, not wanting to make eye contact with me.
I walked to the door. “Then go without me,” I yelled, slamming the door behind me.
I had just slid onto my bike when Jamie came out and stopped me.
“I think you’re right,” he said. “I sensed it too.”
“Good, then maybe you can convince them.”
He shook his head. “It’s no use. Their minds are made up. Hell, they never even considered not going until you said something. Those men painted a good picture.”
“Well, we can stock up at the cabin. If we stay alert, we’ll be fine. Even if anything gets through, the chances of them finding the cabin are slim.”
Jamie took a deep breath and looked away from me.
“What?”
“Ian is going to go. There are doctors there.”
I stared at him. “And?”
“And I need to go with him.”
I kick started the bike. “Well, good! I guess the two of you can die together then,” I said and gunned it. Before Jamie could say another word, I was gone.
I spent the rest of the day in the barn mulling over my own survival. Would I be able to make it on my own? I sat with a whet stone sharpening my swords, reorganizing my ammo, and trying to think about hunting. What I was really thinking about, however, was how I had failed everyone. My grandmother lay buried behind the barn. Ian was dying. The woman in the forest charged me with protecting my people—and she was not the first to do so—but I had failed to convince anyone. I had even failed to make the man who loved me stay. I had failed my grandmother with my inability to see. I had failed in my ability to convince anyone of anything. As a result, I would be alone. And they would be dead.
Later that afternoon, Frenchie came by to grab her belongings. She was planning to take the girls to Summer’s and Ethel’s so she would be closer to town when the visitors returned.
“I do believe you,” she told me as she left. The girls crowded beside their mother.
“Then why are you going?” I asked.
She stood on the porch, bags in hand. “Because neither your instinct nor this life are enough,” she replied and stepped off the porch toward Will’s truck. “I’m sorry,” she added.
“Your daughters are alive because of instinct,” I called after her.
She stopped.
“Your instinct,” I added. “And what does your instinct—not your mind—tell you?”
She frowned heavily and loaded her girls into the truck; they drove away.
I stomped back into the cabin and threw my gear on the couch. I sat down at the kitchen table and put my head in my hands. After a few minutes, I heard the kitchen chair across from mine slide across the floor. I looked up to see my grandmother sitting there.
Tu-tu-tu-tu-tu, she clicked at me.
I realized then that I’d been crying. I wiped my eyes and looked at my grandmother.
That boy. He loves you, and you love him. You’ll send him off to die like that? Come now, that is not my Layla, she said.
“What can I do? They won’t listen to me.”
What did Peryn say?
“To stop them.”
Ah-hum, my grandma considered, her ghostly fingers tapping on the table. They made no sound. Are you sure?
I thought back. “Well, I guess what she said was I should protect them.”
My grandma tapped her finger on her nose and then pointed at me. You can’t hide an axe in a sack. When the truth outs, who will be there for them if you are not?
I lowered my head. She was right.
My grandmother rose. Layla, I like that boy. You know, he bandaged my toe once when I tripped at the grocery store.
Suddenly, I felt ashamed.
No, no, my grandma said as she exited the kitchen. Enough sulking. Get to work. And Layla? she called from the living room.
“Yes, Grandma?”
Don’t forget the holy water.
“Grandma?” I called.
She did not answer.
I rose and followed her to the living room. She was gone.
Through the cracks in the window slats, I saw movement in the driveway outside. I peeked through; one of the undead was standing in the driveway. I realized then that I had been so annoyed with Frenchie that I’d forgotten to close the gate.
Picking up my sword, I opened the door. The creature, a man, turned and looked when he heard me.