The Fall of Society (The Fall of Society Series, Book 1) by Thonas Rand Page B

of them, stacks of boxed
food were against the walls, many five gallon bottles of water, and there was a
restroom stall that had a septic system built underneath.
                His
wife and two daughters were seated in the back of the shelter. One of the girls
was listening to music with ear buds connected to her laptop. Her mother was in
the middle of checking the world news on the Internet, which surprisingly still
worked, but she had stopped to watch her husband and son. The computers were
the only dim lights sources in there; they had turned everything else off to
open the basement door. Except for the two young girls, all of them were armed.
“How’s it look, Dad?” the son whispered.
                The
father whispered even lower. “Clear, doesn’t look like anything or anyone’s
been inside.”
                The
father carefully put the snake camera away and looked at his wife. He signaled
to her that they were going out and she acknowledged him. The mother motioned
to her daughters to be quiet, and then she checked her pistol to make sure that
it was loaded. She walked to the foot of the stairs and waited.
                The
father opened the basement door a little more, just enough to stick his head
through; he cautiously looked around and was ready with a pistol grip shotgun. Once
satisfied, he opened the door so he could step out, but he motioned his son to
wait; he did as instructed with a large caliber handgun at the ready. The
father crept to the front door and slowly peeked through the peephole—he
saw the same thing that he did last time—walking corpses were in the
streets, in every direction. His peephole was suddenly blacked out and he realized
that one was right in front of his door.
                He
froze and held his breath.
                The
thing was an older man; half of its gray hair was missing, because its scalp
was gone, the cranial pattern was clearly visible because its head was so dry.
The scalp was missing down to half of its face and its right eye had no lid; it
was a constant stare as its eyes slowly scanned around for anything of interest—it
looked right into the peephole for a moment and then moved off.
                The
father released his breath and turned away.
                The
creature stopped …
                He
tiptoed back to the basement door.
                “Okay,
let’s go,” he whispered to his son.
                The
son signaled his mother that they were going; she moved up to the top of the
stairs and waited at the door. The father and son headed to their garage, it
had a locked door with four deadbolts, and it had two different peepholes. The
father looked through them carefully and then gave the all-clear signal. The son began to unlock the deadbolts.
                “Quietly.”
the father whispered.
                The
son acknowledged him and slowly finished unlocking the door.

 
                Outside,
at the porch, the scalped corpse was back at the front door.
                It sniffed …

 
                The
garage access door opened quietly, letting out one short creak sound, which made the father cringe, but nothing happened. They
stood at the doorway and looked at the garage, it was full of more of their
supplies, what they couldn’t fit in the basement. Sunlight streaked in through
the rollup garage door that was a little battered but still intact. Some of its
panel sections were loose and one at the bottom corner of the door was cracked
open, but it was only a small four-inch section that was barely big enough for
a cat. The sun made a warm spot through the hole in their cold, dark garage
that reminded them of what it was once like being out during the day, or any
time at all, for that matter. “Okay, we’re only getting the two cases of the
cooking fuel,” the father whispered.