Sanctuary by Pauline Creeden Page A

pulled her in a one-armed hug and kissed both their foreheads. Then he closed his eyes and pushed her away gently. “I love you both. Now, hurry.”
    The front yard to her house had never seemed as large as when she made the long trek around the side fence to the neighbor’s yard. Her breath came out in gasps while she started up the three steps to the porch. She stopped for a moment to catch her breath and adjust her brother’s unmoving body to the other shoulder.
    Under her feet the mat said welcome. She stepped up to the green front door of the Cassel’s house and gripped the brass knocker. After giving it three raps, she waited. Her eyes darted in all directions, ears alert for wailing or rumbling. After a minute, and no answer, she rapped on the brass knocker again.
    Inside, someone shuffled, and the curtain to the side of the window moved. Mrs. Cassel looked out and quickly replaced the curtain. Jennie waited a reasonable moment for her to open the door, but after almost three minutes, the door never moved.
    “Mrs. Cassel?” Jennie’s voice shook as her whole body shivered with the terror of the realization that Mrs. C was not going to open the door.
    No answer.
    Gripping the knocker, Jennie rapped again and called out, “Mrs. Cassel?”
    No answer.
    Mickey stirred in her arms, his sleep disturbed by her voice. On the edge of her hearing, a wail began, and Jennie panicked. She beat on the door with her fist. “Mrs. Cassel, please open the door! One of the wailers is coming. I hear him. Please open the door! My father’s been bitten. We have no food. I need help! Please!”
    She waited another full three minutes. The door did not budge, the curtain did not move, the Cassels did not respond. The wailing continued to grow louder, as the attack victim approached. She needed to move if she didn’t want to be spotted. Unshed tears blurred her vision.
    The wind picked up and whipped the flyaways of her hair around her neck. Her brother’s gentle breath warmed her shoulder. She shivered and rushed back toward her house. Her father stood in the doorway with a worried expression on his face. “What’s going on?”
    “They wouldn’t answer the door.” Her voice cracked, and the words spilled out with her tears. “I saw them, Dad. Mrs. Cassel moved the curtain. I yelled and pounded on the door, but still they didn’t come. They don’t care, Dad. Why don’t they care?”
    Dad narrowed his eyes at the house, his hands gripping the barrel of his shotgun. “I’ll bet they’re the ones who broke into our house and stole the food.”
    Her eyes widened in disbelief. “Would they really do that?”
    “Desperate times, Jennie.” He shouldered his gun and headed next door. “I’ll go see if I can’t get them to make a change.”
    “Dad, there’s a wailer.”
    “A what? Oh, you mean another victim.” His eyes turned suddenly sad. “It’s not like I need to worry about that now. But you two head inside, I’ll be back in a minute.”
    “You’re not going to shoot them are you?” Her eyes glued to the black shotgun in his hands.
    He looked at the weapon and smiled at her. “Of course I’m not.”
    Relieved, she headed inside and put her brother on the couch. Her arms ached from holding him. His long brown eyelashes curled against his chubby cheeks. Her shoulder was wet on the jacket in a spot where he drooled. “Thanks a lot, kiddo.” She grabbed the throw blanket that sat on the top of the couch and pulled it up to his chin.
    Her stomach growled. She hadn’t eaten much in the two days since her mom was bitten and hadn’t eaten at all since the night before. Right about now, anything edible would do. She headed back into the kitchen in the hopes that something might have been left behind. She hadn’t checked the refrigerator yet.
    She opened the door and found several salad dressing bottles, catsup, and mustard on the door. The shelves were otherwise bare except for eggs which had expired the day of