Down the Road: The Fall of Austin by Bowie Ibarra Page A

alien weeds in the
grass. He tried to move to avoid being consumed.
    Looking forward, he felt something watching
him—scrutinizing him. He turned around to see four shadows moving
toward the hallway like specters. They quivered and danced against
the wall, the red light caressing their darkness.
    Mike turned around with the intention to run,
but his feet were stuck. He looked down. They were consumed in a
soupy mess of mud and grass.
    He turned back to the entryway. The black
shadows were growing larger. It felt like it would only be moments
before they would turn the corner, revealing themselves as help or
horrors.
    Something cold and hard cut into his shins,
dropping him face first into the muddy muck. Rising to his feet was
agonizingly slow as he looked to the massive stone monument that
tripped him. It was a flat tombstone. A large portion of his flesh
was on the stone. He looked at his leg and saw a big section of
skin was torn away, like a slice of cheese cut from a block by a
knife.
    He turned to see the shadows moving closer,
looming larger.
    Then the lights went out behind him, and the
shadows disappeared. Yet he heard their footsteps arrive at the
entrance.
    The red light in front of him illuminated
enough to move forward. But he was stuck again. He looked down.
    His feet were in the bloody chest cavity of
the girl with no name, the same girl from the police car. She
looked up at him and screamed. He whimpered as he realized the
entire floor was transformed into her body. He began to sink, stuck
in the blood, guts, and filth of the innards of the infinite bodies
of the girl with no name. A steady knock resounded around the
hallway, as if the shadows were advancing toward him on wooden
planks. Their arrival was inevitable.
    Mike screamed.
    A knock echoed around the hallway, getting
louder and louder.
    And then he woke up.
    The knocking on the front door turned to
banging.
    Rising from his bed, he moved to his dresser
where the belt holding his weapons was situated. He pulled his
pistol from the holster and walked into the living room in his
boxer briefs. Moving to the door, he wondered if he should look
through the peephole. He had been to several crime scenes in his
lifetime that started with a victim looking through the peephole
only to get shot in the eye and killed.
    Despite that fact, he chose to look through
the peephole.
    Outside the door stood a total stranger,
standing impatiently, tapping their foot. Considering the way the
world was shifting, Mike thought it might be best not to answer the
door.
    Paranoia gripped his mind. Would this guy try
to kick down the door? Is he a looter? Is he armed?
    His questions were answered as the man, in
desperation, ran away from the door. Mike let out a long sigh of
relief.
    But the fear set in. What was going to happen
now?
    As a precaution, he moved the couch up
against the door. He looked at the spot that was once hidden under
the couch. Dust bunnies jumped around the unswept tile like
tumbleweed, dancing between Pop-Tart crumbs and pennies exposed to
the light.
    Pennies. So pointless. Nobody even picks them
up anymore. They’re indistinguishable from other trash on
sidewalks.
    He sat down on the couch. The remote control
lay on the cushion next to him, reclining like a German nihilist
passed out after drinking a bottle of L’Amour Whiskey. Mike grabbed
the remote and pointed it at the television screen, clicking the
cathode ray tube generator on. The news was reporting.
    “… reports show that the mystery illness that
struck New York City one week ago has now spread across the
country. The unknown disease has now been reported in all states in
the continental United States. The sickness has not been reported
as of yet in Alaska and Hawaii. Doris West has more…”
    It was all becoming too much for him. An
intense feeling of fear and despair was taking over his body,
wrapping him in a blanket of anxiety. Gunshots outside were
becoming more frequent, accompanied by