A Plague on All Houses by Dana Fredsti

deadheads came in, tore up the place when Manny and I were duking it out on Resident Evil, Darkside Chronicles. Fuckers messed up my high score. That fucker Manny'd be laughing his ass off at me if they hadn't eaten him. Hurt like hell to get bit, but here I am.” And that was it for Tony. He slouched back in his chair, twiddling his thumbs as if there were joysticks attached.
    “Mack?”
    Mack gave Simone a little nod and gazed at us all with those big, sad eyes, hands resting on his jeans-clad knees. “I'm a mailman. I was doing my route out by the Big Red truck stop and all those little houses off the beaten path.” He had a soothing voice, kind of like Garrison Keiller, made for relating folksy homespun tales. “I know the people on my route real well. They're the kind of folks who make homemade fudge for my Christmas bonus, real nice people.” He swallowed. “I kind of figured something was wrong when I stopped at the Millers’ place. Young couple with two kids, real cute twins, five years old. Those little girls always come out to say hi when they hear me at the door. Well, this time…” He swallowed again. It looked like it hurt. “Well, they didn't come out. Even though the front door was open, just the screen door shut, but not all the way. Shantal—that's Mrs. Miller—well, I knew she was home ‘cause her car was in the driveway. But she didn't come out to say hello either.” Mack wiped his forehead on a blue-and-black plaid flannel sleeve.
    “At first I tried not to worry. You know, maybe they were out back or something. But then I noticed … well, the flies. They were buzzing on the inside of the screen and … and on the floor … and it looked like blood. Mrs. Miller had one of those scented candles lit, cinnamon or something. But underneath it, I could smell something rotten.”
    He looked at us guiltily. “We're not supposed to go in anyone's house on our routes. We're not supposed to do that. But I then thought, what if the twins were hurt? So I went inside.”
    Normally I would be chewing my arm off to get away from this kind of long-winded tale. But the quiet emotion in Mack's voice was riveting, like an unexpectedly horrific anecdote of Lake Wobegon days. Even Kaitlyn had gone silent, listening with full attention as Mack continued.
    “There was stuff … a cast iron pan, half-cooked hamburgers, blood, and other stuff on the floor. Maybe a finger. I'm not sure. It was covered with flies. One of the stove burners was still on, so I turned it off before it started a house fire. I heard a sound from the living room, a moan, like someone in pain. The girls… the twins…” He looked up again, directly at me this time, eyes deep wells of pain. “They were eating their mom.” Kaitlyn made a choked sound, hand flying to her mouth. Mack gave her an apologetic look, but kept going.
    “I didn't know what to do. I guess I yelled or made some sort of noise ‘cause the girls, those little girls all covered in their mother's blood … they looked up and saw me standing there and … well, they left their mom and attacked me.” He pulled the cuff of his pants up on his right leg to show several healing bite wounds. “I didn't want to hurt them, but they kept coming. I made it to the kitchen, grabbed the fry pan and—” He stopped for a moment. “I didn't want to do it. I had to hit them. Those sweet little girls…” He stopped, tears running down his cheeks, unable to continue.
    Surprisingly it was Lily who spoke first. “You had to do it, you know.” She reached out and patted Mack on his shoulder, somehow still managing to keep her face covered by hair. “They weren't little girls any more.”
    Mack nodded, dashing the tears from his eyes with closed fists. “I know,” he said quietly. “But when I hit them … I still saw their faces like they were when they were alive. Their sweet little faces…” His voice choked up as sobs wracked his body. Simone handed him a package of