she revive him? What if there was no help to be found?
Since leaving the furniture shop, she’d seen no signs of life on the roadway, no evidence that others had survived. The quiet in the air was all encompassing. Instead of giving her relief, it gave her unease.
“Stay with me, John,” she said.
Her companion had slumped over further in the seat, his head pressed against the windowsill. It looked like his leg had started bleeding again. She reached over and shook his shoulder, and he blinked to attention.
“Sorry. I’m trying to stay awake,” he said.
In the horizon, Meredith could make out specks of buildings growing closer. It was the first inkling of town she’d seen since everything started happening, and she felt a sense of dread creep through her body.
Normally the town gave her a sense of comfort, but not today.
Minutes later she was passing the first signs of civilization. She hit the brakes, inspecting each structure. On the surface, the buildings seemed normal enough. The houses and shops were all as she remembered them: quaint, familiar, and inviting. Aside from the lack of people, it might as well have been another day in town, and she could very well have been on one of her grocery runs or taking a trip to the store.
It was when she looked closer that the subtle differences started to reveal themselves.
Doors had been left open; windows were ajar. Although the town was small and trusting, things seemed different than usual, as if an aura of foreboding had descended over the buildings.
About a block into town she noticed a shadow in one of the windows, and she hit the brakes and slowed to a stop. The figure was in motion, roving from one room to the next. Although she was unable to make out the person’s details, she knew whom the house belonged to. The owner’s name was Deborah Fratzel.
Meredith cranked down the window and called out toward the building.
“Deb? You in there?”
The figure became more animated, roaming even faster. Like many of the other properties, the entrance to Deborah’s house was open; Meredith could make out the woman’s living room through the front door.
“Hello?”
The figure was at a window adjacent to the living room, on the right-hand side of the house. Before Meredith knew it the figure was on the move. The person crashed through the living room and out into the open, descending down the front set of steps and toward the pickup.
It was Deborah, but her hair was wild, her fingernails poised and feral. Her face was covered in blood, as if she’d dipped herself in a vat of the crimson fluid. Meredith flashed back to the scene she’d witnessed earlier—the one with Sheila and Marcy—and shuddered.
She hammered the gas pedal with her foot, tires spinning, and tore off down the road. In the mirrors she saw Deborah chasing behind them.
As they progressed deeper into town, more shadows appeared in the windows, but she knew better than to stop. All of their movements were erratic, their gestures inhuman.
With the streets barren, Meredith was suddenly conscious of the noise she was making. The town had fallen into relative silence—no machinery running, no chatter of conversation—and the pickup’s engine seemed exponentially louder, echoing off the surrounding buildings like an air horn.
Before long, the shadows around her had emerged onto the street. The creatures had picked up on the noise, and they barreled out of the surrounding entrances with alarming speed.
Meredith recognized many of their faces, but instead of welcoming grins, their mouths had drawn up into possessed sneers. She pushed the truck faster, tumbling through the streets in a haze.
Everything she’d known was gone.
She opened her mouth to speak, but the words came out in little more than a whisper.
“We shouldn’t have come here.”
She looked next to her for John’s reaction, but his eyes had closed and his hands had collapsed to his sides. She listened frantically for a
Since leaving the furniture shop, she’d seen no signs of life on the roadway, no evidence that others had survived. The quiet in the air was all encompassing. Instead of giving her relief, it gave her unease.
“Stay with me, John,” she said.
Her companion had slumped over further in the seat, his head pressed against the windowsill. It looked like his leg had started bleeding again. She reached over and shook his shoulder, and he blinked to attention.
“Sorry. I’m trying to stay awake,” he said.
In the horizon, Meredith could make out specks of buildings growing closer. It was the first inkling of town she’d seen since everything started happening, and she felt a sense of dread creep through her body.
Normally the town gave her a sense of comfort, but not today.
Minutes later she was passing the first signs of civilization. She hit the brakes, inspecting each structure. On the surface, the buildings seemed normal enough. The houses and shops were all as she remembered them: quaint, familiar, and inviting. Aside from the lack of people, it might as well have been another day in town, and she could very well have been on one of her grocery runs or taking a trip to the store.
It was when she looked closer that the subtle differences started to reveal themselves.
Doors had been left open; windows were ajar. Although the town was small and trusting, things seemed different than usual, as if an aura of foreboding had descended over the buildings.
About a block into town she noticed a shadow in one of the windows, and she hit the brakes and slowed to a stop. The figure was in motion, roving from one room to the next. Although she was unable to make out the person’s details, she knew whom the house belonged to. The owner’s name was Deborah Fratzel.
Meredith cranked down the window and called out toward the building.
“Deb? You in there?”
The figure became more animated, roaming even faster. Like many of the other properties, the entrance to Deborah’s house was open; Meredith could make out the woman’s living room through the front door.
“Hello?”
The figure was at a window adjacent to the living room, on the right-hand side of the house. Before Meredith knew it the figure was on the move. The person crashed through the living room and out into the open, descending down the front set of steps and toward the pickup.
It was Deborah, but her hair was wild, her fingernails poised and feral. Her face was covered in blood, as if she’d dipped herself in a vat of the crimson fluid. Meredith flashed back to the scene she’d witnessed earlier—the one with Sheila and Marcy—and shuddered.
She hammered the gas pedal with her foot, tires spinning, and tore off down the road. In the mirrors she saw Deborah chasing behind them.
As they progressed deeper into town, more shadows appeared in the windows, but she knew better than to stop. All of their movements were erratic, their gestures inhuman.
With the streets barren, Meredith was suddenly conscious of the noise she was making. The town had fallen into relative silence—no machinery running, no chatter of conversation—and the pickup’s engine seemed exponentially louder, echoing off the surrounding buildings like an air horn.
Before long, the shadows around her had emerged onto the street. The creatures had picked up on the noise, and they barreled out of the surrounding entrances with alarming speed.
Meredith recognized many of their faces, but instead of welcoming grins, their mouths had drawn up into possessed sneers. She pushed the truck faster, tumbling through the streets in a haze.
Everything she’d known was gone.
She opened her mouth to speak, but the words came out in little more than a whisper.
“We shouldn’t have come here.”
She looked next to her for John’s reaction, but his eyes had closed and his hands had collapsed to his sides. She listened frantically for a
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