We had been driving straight for about 15 minutes, and figured we must be somewhere on the outskirts of Toronto, heading towards Scarborough. We hadn't seen a living thing for the duration of the drive. Thom had moved into the back seat, and was using an emergency first aid kit that was stowed with the spare tire to clean up Isabel's wounds as best he could. We were driving through a lightly wooded area, the summer foliage was so thick you could only see in about 3 or 4 trees deep into the forest. Ever since we got away from that last pack of infected, my thoughts had turned back to Diane. Had she gotten Jordan out of daycare? Were they even at home? Did this thing spread outside of the city limits? I had to find out soon, it was driving me mad. We whizzed past a dirt driveway with a white mailbox posted at the end of it. I slammed on the brakes, causing Thom and Isabel to lurch into the backs of the front seats. They both looked at me with annoyed expressions.
"There's a house there, back about 30 feet. I'm going crazy; I have to see if they have a phone and if it works. It's getting late, and we're going to have to stop for the night, it's too risky to travel in the dark and I have to find out about Diane and Jordan. It might be my last chance for a while."
Thom's face softened, as did Isabel's, and they agreed to go to the house to see if there was anyone there. I pulled the car off to the side of the road, locked it, and we set off up the unpaved driveway.
The house was a small, tidy brick bungalow probably built around the 1950s. A weathered white-painted porch wrapped around the front and one side of it, and there was an old screen door on the front. Thom veered off to the left side of the porch, peering in through the windows. He motioned that he didn't see anything. I walked up to the front door with Isabel, and pulled open the screen door with an unusually loud screech. I tightened my fist inches from the wood surface of the old, wooden front door, and looked at Isabel. She shrugged, gave a nod towards the door, and tightened her grip on the tire iron that she found with the first aid kit in the car. I rapped my knuckles against the door three times, not too hard, but hard enough to be heard throughout the house. We waited a few minutes, but there was no answer. I tried the doorknob and it clicked in my hand, the door popping ajar. Thom rejoined us at the front and we stepped into the foyer.
A dark wooden staircase ascended right in front of us, and to the left was a large living room. It appeared that straight down the hallway was a kitchen at the back of the house. We walked towards the living room, leaning into the space without fully entering the room. Thom called out for a response, but there was no reply. The room was tidy, it looked lived in, but not a soul to be found. There was a small side table with a cordless phone on it, which I snapped up pretty damn fast. I hit the talk button and listened. There was a dial tone. I dialed my home number and waited. One ring. Two. A click, then silence.
"Hello? Diane?" My voice trembled.
No one responded. Then I got a cut off signal, that annoying fast-repeating tone. I put the phone in my back pocket.
"Lets check the rest of the house, and then I'll try again."
We lined back up and proceeded to the kitchen at the back. There was a plate with a half-eaten sandwich on it, and an untouched glass of milk. I felt the glass, it was not cold anymore, but the milk didn't smell spoiled, so it couldn't have been there too long. I didn't remember seeing any vehicles out front, so maybe the occupants left. Isabel stayed in the kitchen, looking through the cupboards for some food, while Thom and I went upstairs. The old wooden stairs creaked as we went up, the old carpet runner doing nothing to quell the noise. When we reached the hallway at the top of the stairs, we saw three doors, all of them opened to varying degrees. The first one we came upon was a bathroom. I opened the door and peered inside. Like the downstairs, it seemed undisturbed, but upon closer examination, there were small drops of red in the sink. They looked to be the consistency of blood, but it was not a large amount. It looked almost as if someone had cut themselves shaving. I glanced at Thom, who stepped beside me to examine the drops. He shrugged. I turned around, pulled back the shower curtain, and jumped back, banging into Thom and knocking us both into the bathroom vanity. There was a woman, maybe in her 60s, lying in the tub. There was no water in the tub, and she was fully dressed. She didn't appear to have any signs of trauma; there was no blood, and her clothes were intact. Her face was frozen in a creepy stare, but how else are you going to look when you're dead in a tub? As I turned back to Thom, I noticed something on the floor between the vanity and the toilet. I bent over and came back up with a straight razor. It had a small line of blood along its blade. Thom and I studied it, but we were both puzzled. I bent back over the tub and looked over the woman more carefully. I looked around her face, her neck, and finally at her hands. There was a grey smudge in the crook of her thumb on the right hand, and on the left wrist was a small cut, maybe an inch, and not very deep. I grabbed hold of her shoulder and lifted it off the bottom of the tub. We heard the rattle of something small and plastic hit the surface of the tub, and Thom had to reach in under her to find it while I held her up. His hand came back from the drain of the tub with a small orange pill bottle. It was empty. It was pretty easy to put the pieces together at that point, and we thought we should look around the rest of the house.
The next room was a bedroom. It was nice, clean, and very sparse. The bed was made with hospital corners, and everything seemed in its place. We went back out into the hall, gave a shout downstairs to make sure all was kosher with Isabel, who responded in kind, then we went to the last room. Before the door was even open, we knew it was a child's room, mainly from the sparkly, handmade crayon-written sign that read "Jason". Once we had opened the door, we wished we had stopped the search at the first bedroom. A small boy who we could only presume to be Jason was lying facedown in the bed, with a large peacock-like spatter of blood on the pillows and wall above him. Lying on the floor next to the bed was a Colt 45 automatic handgun. I only knew it was a Colt from the vast amount of times I've seen them used in movies. The whole picture of what had happened here flashed through my mind, and it wasn't one I particularly cared to see. I covered up the boy and picked up the handgun, giving it to Thom, who reluctantly took it. We left the room, closing the door behind us.
Once back downstairs, we told Isabel about Jason's room and the bathroom, after which Isabel had to sit down for a moment to comprehend it.
When we went into the kitchen we noticed that Isabel had found lots of food and had assembled a makeshift meal on the table. Three bowls of Beefaroni, a plate of buttered bread, and three cold glasses of milk. A small bowl of apples accompanied the feast. After eating the meal in record time, we packed up a few food items in a knapsack we found in the hall closet, as well as a box of bullets for the gun, which we had found in the bedroom. As we sat around the table discussing what to do next, we heard a bang over our heads. We all looked up at once, staring at the ceiling. It seemed we stared for an hour. Another bang, followed by a scraping sound, and, finally, a scuffle across the floor. We all jumped up from our chairs, Thom's gun already drawn.
"What the fuck was that?" Thom muttered, his voice cracking a bit.
"Let's just go." Isabel replied quickly.
We gathered up our things and started moving down the hallway towards the front door, all of our heads turned with eyes focused on the top of the stairs. Just as my hand touched the doorknob, we heard a high-pitched screech from upstairs, and the sound of a door smashing against a wall. I turned the knob fast, and before I had the door open, there it was. The little boy we had seen on his bed with his head blown open was standing hunched at the top of the stairs, red foam dripping from his chin. His head moved in jerky, sudden movements, like a bird. We all froze. The head snapped and turned, and its eyes locked on us. Its mouth opened so wide, the chin almost touched its chest, and it let out the loudest, most piercing cry my ears have ever heard. I flung the door open as the thing leapt up on the banister and its tongue flicked out, spraying foam out into the air over the foyer. As the door cracked against the wall behind it, we started moving out and the thing launched itself off the banister with powerful legs, throwing itself into the air between the stairs and us. Thom was the last one out, and as he stepped down the front porch stairs, he turned around and raised the gun, leveling it at the hole where the front door was. He turned just in time to see the thing land on the old floor in the foyer, dust puffing up between the floorboards from the force of its impact. Almost immediately, it was up on all fours, crawling like an animal, running towards us. Thom had the gun pointed right at it, but he didn't fire. His hand shook. We were about 10 feet ahead of Thom when the thing jumped off the porch and right into Thom's torso, both of them hitting the ground and rolling together in a ball of arms and legs. Isabel and I both stopped and turned back, our feet taking us towards the Thom/thing in the dirt. The gun had flung from Thom's hand and onto the lawn, so Isabel made a run for it as I approached Thom. I didn't know how to react, what to do. They were rolling around like fighting dogs, yelps and squeals coming from the thing, grunts from Thom. I reached in to the flurry and grabbed the thing by the hair, pulling its head up from the mess. Its face was stained red and yellow, its eyes wild. Once it looked up at me, I kicked my foot right into its face, knocking it backwards off Thom. Its nails were holding Thom on the shoulders so tight that when I kicked it, it tore Thom's shirt through and ripped flesh from his shoulder blades. At least it let go of him and tumbled head over heels past Thom's feet. Thom scrambled up fast, and moved in behind me, blood soaking the back of his shirt. The thing flailed for a moment like an insect on its back, and then righted itself. Again, its arms and legs went out in all directions, solidifying its stance in the dirt. It belched out a rough, gravelly roar and moved forward again. I stuck out my arm behind me to the side of Thom, and pushed us both to the left, where we fell on our sides. The thing flew right past us and skidded into the driveway, spinning as it stopped, and facing us once more. a loud crack echoed through the air as the side mirror of the car exploded, the pieces flying in all directions. Thom and I both looked over, startled. Isabel was kneeling in the lawn aiming the gun at the thing, smoke lazily creeping skyward from the barrel. The thing's head jerked towards Isabel, and in an instant, it was headed her way. I jumped up and started towards it as it ran, but my feet slid under the loose gravel and I fell forward, my face planting into the rocky driveway. As my slide came to a stop, a foot slammed into the dirt in front of my face, kicking dust up into my eyes. I pulled my head back and wiped my eyes, just in time to see Thom, who had hurdled over me, chasing down the wild boy. Another shot rang out when the thing was only about 8 feet from Isabel; the bullet caught it on the left side of the abdomen, forcing the boy into a grotesque pirouette, thumping onto its side on the ground just in front of Isabel. Thom dropped onto it as it fell, pushing its head into the lawn, jaws snapping. Its arms shot out, looking for something to grab, and found Isabel's ankle. As soon as its fingers felt flesh, it pulled, dropping Isabel to the ground. The gun fell out of her hand and into the grass again. Isabel turned and tried to crawl away, but the thing's grip was too strong; in fact, it began to pull her towards itself. Thom saw the hand around Isabel's ankle, as well as the look of fear in Isabel's eyes as they welled up with tears. He looked down at the thing, gazed into the large wound on the back of its head, and saw it for the first time as a thing, and not as a young boy. He knew if it got Isabel, it would kill her. He reached down under the things chin with both hands, and while sitting on its back, threw all of his weight in the opposite direction, pulling its chin up and around until it met its own back. The crack was like that o a thick tree branch breaking under a great weight. Finally it stopped moving, and its grip on Isabel loosened. Its once-wild eyes now looked empty staring up at Thom from above its back. Thom stood up and stepped over it, reaching out for Isabel. She took his hand and clumsily got to her feet, falling into his tight embrace as soon as she was up. Thom reciprocated the hug, and they stood there for a moment together. By that time I was back on my feet, and I just stood there, catching my breath, wondering what the hell just happened. Then I remembered the phone. My hand went to my back pocket, but it was empty.
"The phone, it must have fallen out." I said in an unusually high voice.
Isabel and Thom let go of each other and looked at me, then started looking around on the lawn. I looked up to the porch and into the front foyer but saw nothing. Isabel shouted out a loud 'got it', and I ran over to her. She handed the phone to me, even though I am sure she would have liked to use it herself. I dialed the number again and let it ring. On the third ring this time, it clicked again. I spoke Diane's name again and listened carefully for any feedback. A small voice spoke on the other end.
"Denny?"
It was small, and it was quiet, but it was Diane.
"Oh my God honey. Are you okay? Is Jordan okay? I don't know what the hell is going on, but I've been trying to call you, the world has gone insane, there are these crazy people, animals..."
Diane cut me off.
"Denny. It's everywhere. I picked up Jordan from daycare and got her home; she's in bed, frightened out of her mind. So am I. I watched the news but they don't seem to know what's going on either, everyone just seems to have gone mad. I boarded up all the windows and doors as best I could and I'm just trying to stay quiet. The power went out at about seven this morning; I'm on the landline right now. God Denny, I am so scared, but I thought I would never hear your voice again. Are you coming home?"
"Yes, baby yes. I am still with Thom, and a girl named Isabel. We're trying to get home. We have a car now, and I hope it won't be much longer. Just stay inside and stay quiet; I'll be home soon baby, I swear to God. I love you so much, just give Jordan a kiss for me, and as soon as I can call you again, I will."
"Okay. I love you too. Please be careful. I need you to come home. I love you."
After a few more tear-muffled I love you's, I hit the hang up button, and it was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do. Isabel used the phone next to call her mother in Toronto, and she got through on the first try. She talked to her mother for a minute or so and found out she had barricaded herself in her apartment. As Isabel was just starting to show signs of relief, her face deepened.
"Mom? Are you still there?"
Isabel put the phone on speaker.
A hushed voice spoke back.
"Yes, I'm here. I just heard something. Out on the balcony."
"Mom, you have to block the patio doors, you have to do it now!" Isabel was breathing heavily, sweating.
"Don't worry dear, I'm on the 23rd floor, I really don't think that anything could..."
Then all you could hear was a loud crash of glass over the phone, followed by phlegmy barks in the background.
Isabel's mother whispered very calmly into the phone.
"I love you sweetie. With everything I am, I love you. Keep safe, take care of yourself, and get through this. We'll be together again someday, God as my witness."
Then there was a loud roar followed by a very sharp scream before the phone line went dead. Isabel dropped the handset and slumped to the floor, sobbing. Thom walked over, picked up the phone and set it back onto its cradle. Then he got down on his knees, wrapped his arms around Isabel, and held her.
