Timmy to the hospital. He’s real sick. Nan and me were babysitting for the neighbors, when all this went to shit, and they never came back from work. I fear the worst for ‘em. They might be dead.”
“What’s wrong with the kid?” Chris asked.
But before Brady could say anything, a loud scream called out from within the master bedroom. It was Stephanie. A single loud rifle report followed, then more screaming. The three men quickly entered the room to an unimaginable sight. The young boy lay dead on the floor, bleeding out from a single shot to the head. His Thor-hammer toy lay motionless beside him. In the far corner of the room, Stephanie stood trembling in fear with her rifle still aimed in the boy’s direction.
“Nan, are you alright?” Brady rushed to his wife’s aid.
She stood at the closet putting on a thick green jacket. “I’m fine. I’m fine.” She looked woozy and pale. Her eyes were dark with shock and fear as she stood trembling. “I’m okay, Brady. Just a little shaken up is all. She saved my life.” Nan pointed across the room to a still startled Stephanie.
“The boy . . . I just shot a little boy.” Stephanie’s words were so low that Chris almost couldn’t even hear them, even though he was standing right next to her.
Taking the rifle from her grip and easing it to the floor, Chris pulled her in close to his chest. “It’s alright. You did what you had to do. You were brave. You saved someone’s life.”
She just leaned into his chest, frozen in shock.
“What did you say was wrong with him?” Chris asked, looking at the dead child on the floor. Blood oozed out from the bullet hole soaking into the light brown carpet.
“One of those things,” Brady said looking at the window. “Scratched him pretty good early sometime yesterday. He started feeling sick soon after.”
Everyone looked down at the dead child in silence. He was so young and innocent. Chris thought back to seeing the kid on the roof playing with his toy. He could remember being that age. Playing with toys and pretending to be Wolverine or Superman. His mom would make capes out of bath towels. It seemed like forever, but someone finally broke the ice.
“Well shit, dude! Got anything to eat?” Steve stood shirtless at the door, looking into the room; his pastel skinny figure barely crowding the doorway. With all eyes suddenly on him, he shrugged. “What? It’s getting late and I haven’t eaten yet.” His eyes glanced down at his nonexistent wristwatch.
“He’s right,” Chris said still comforting Stephanie. “It’s going to be dark before we know it. If we’re going to move, we need to get to it.” He looked toward the bedroom window and then back at Brady. “How much daylight do you think we have?”
“Probably three hours at best.”
“Well, the car needs gas and if we intend to refuel, I’d like to take care of that before it gets dark,” Chris said. “You don’t have a vehicle, do you?”
“No, we sure don’t,” Brady confirmed. “Mine was in the shop and Nan’s…well, Nan’s was taken.”
“Taken? What do you mean, taken?” Steve glanced out at the brutal and bloody carnage in the hallway, and then stepped fully into the room.
“Yesterday, before dark…” Nan had started, but then Brady cut her off.
“Yesterday, before dark, the National Guard came through. We for sure as shit thought we was gettin’ picked up, but was wrong. Something like twenty trucks rolled through settin’ stuff on fire. People…loads of people were exiting these trucks on foot and rummaging through the houses for God knows what. Food, weapons, supplies. Hell, I don’t know. Anyways, we almost went out into the street to call out to them for help.”
“Why didn’t you?” Stephanie asked having finally come to her senses some.
“We almost did,” Nan said. “The people a few houses down from us were thinking the same thing.”
“Yeah, and we watched them get
“What’s wrong with the kid?” Chris asked.
But before Brady could say anything, a loud scream called out from within the master bedroom. It was Stephanie. A single loud rifle report followed, then more screaming. The three men quickly entered the room to an unimaginable sight. The young boy lay dead on the floor, bleeding out from a single shot to the head. His Thor-hammer toy lay motionless beside him. In the far corner of the room, Stephanie stood trembling in fear with her rifle still aimed in the boy’s direction.
“Nan, are you alright?” Brady rushed to his wife’s aid.
She stood at the closet putting on a thick green jacket. “I’m fine. I’m fine.” She looked woozy and pale. Her eyes were dark with shock and fear as she stood trembling. “I’m okay, Brady. Just a little shaken up is all. She saved my life.” Nan pointed across the room to a still startled Stephanie.
“The boy . . . I just shot a little boy.” Stephanie’s words were so low that Chris almost couldn’t even hear them, even though he was standing right next to her.
Taking the rifle from her grip and easing it to the floor, Chris pulled her in close to his chest. “It’s alright. You did what you had to do. You were brave. You saved someone’s life.”
She just leaned into his chest, frozen in shock.
“What did you say was wrong with him?” Chris asked, looking at the dead child on the floor. Blood oozed out from the bullet hole soaking into the light brown carpet.
“One of those things,” Brady said looking at the window. “Scratched him pretty good early sometime yesterday. He started feeling sick soon after.”
Everyone looked down at the dead child in silence. He was so young and innocent. Chris thought back to seeing the kid on the roof playing with his toy. He could remember being that age. Playing with toys and pretending to be Wolverine or Superman. His mom would make capes out of bath towels. It seemed like forever, but someone finally broke the ice.
“Well shit, dude! Got anything to eat?” Steve stood shirtless at the door, looking into the room; his pastel skinny figure barely crowding the doorway. With all eyes suddenly on him, he shrugged. “What? It’s getting late and I haven’t eaten yet.” His eyes glanced down at his nonexistent wristwatch.
“He’s right,” Chris said still comforting Stephanie. “It’s going to be dark before we know it. If we’re going to move, we need to get to it.” He looked toward the bedroom window and then back at Brady. “How much daylight do you think we have?”
“Probably three hours at best.”
“Well, the car needs gas and if we intend to refuel, I’d like to take care of that before it gets dark,” Chris said. “You don’t have a vehicle, do you?”
“No, we sure don’t,” Brady confirmed. “Mine was in the shop and Nan’s…well, Nan’s was taken.”
“Taken? What do you mean, taken?” Steve glanced out at the brutal and bloody carnage in the hallway, and then stepped fully into the room.
“Yesterday, before dark…” Nan had started, but then Brady cut her off.
“Yesterday, before dark, the National Guard came through. We for sure as shit thought we was gettin’ picked up, but was wrong. Something like twenty trucks rolled through settin’ stuff on fire. People…loads of people were exiting these trucks on foot and rummaging through the houses for God knows what. Food, weapons, supplies. Hell, I don’t know. Anyways, we almost went out into the street to call out to them for help.”
“Why didn’t you?” Stephanie asked having finally come to her senses some.
“We almost did,” Nan said. “The people a few houses down from us were thinking the same thing.”
“Yeah, and we watched them get
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