Out of Time

Chapter 8

The problem with my plan was that I didn't have one. Other than to save my best friend. But that wasn't a whole lot to go on. 

I was undoubtedly leaving that house with her. Regardless of what happened to her mom and dad. I couldn't lose my whole family and my best friend in such a short span of time. There was no way I would survive it. I would end up sacrificing myself or something. 

Pushing those negative thoughts aside, I quietly approached her house. Owen was right behind me, but he had been silent this whole time. Though I doubt he had anything to offer by way of a solution. 

The two of us made it to her front door where we could hear groaning, growling and banging from inside. I knew we should expect this based on my call with Hazel, but I still wasn't used to this whole bizarre situation. I couldn't wrap my head around what our parents and loved ones were doing, why they were crazed and blood thirsty.

"Mackenzie, are we just barging in or do you have an actual plan?" His whispered question was so soft it could barely be heard over the noises from inside.

"I'm just kind of winging it, Owen. Not like I'm an expert at this shit," I reached for the handle when his hand covered mine. 

"Wait, not yet," he pointed to the door and leaned closer.

I guess we were listening for something.

"Why not? We have to save Hazel!" When my voice reached my ears I couldn't believe how loud I sounded. 

Hang on, why was I so loud? 

The noise from inside wasn't there anymore. I reached into my pocket for my phone to see if I had a call or text from Hazel. 

Blank. No notifications, no missed calls or texts.

All at once the noise started again, ten fold. This time, there was another sound I hadn't heard before. A third voice grunting and groaning.

"Owen, no!" my hand flew to my mouth to cover my gasp.

"C'mon, Mackenzie, I think we're too late," he wrapped his large hand around my upper arm and started pulling me back the way we came.

"No, I can't just leave! I have to save Hazel!" I tugged against him, but his grip was too solid.

"There is no Hazel to save!" his voice came back at me just as fierce as mine was. 

My palm met with his cheek before I could control it. I've never been a violent person. Never had reason to be. But since I woke up this weekend I have done nothing but hurt people. 

His eyes closed as he inhaled deeply. Slowly, he rose the hand not holding my arm and rubbed his cheek. 

"I get it, Mack, I understand where you're coming from. But let me warn you now. Put your hands on me again and you won't like what happens," with that he dropped his hand and started making his way back towards my house. 

I'm not sure how long I stood there, tears running down my face again, listening to the god awful noises inside my best friends house. Glass breaking, furniture being over turned, groaning and growling. Always the groaning and growling.

Would it kill them to say something? 

A humorless laugh made its way out of my mouth. Weren't they technically dead, already? I mean, no human I've ever seen has behaved this way. I was confused though, because my sister seemed to be somewhat human when I first saw her. She appeared to understand me when I asked her questions. Knew where to go to find Paisley and my parents. 

So, why were the rest of them so far gone so fast?

It was another question to add to my growing list. A list I had a feeling would go unanswered.

Wiping my face, I walked to the back of Hazel's house. She had a screened in porch with big windows showing inside the kitchen. If I could get in there without them noticing me, I might be able to see what's going on. 

There was a small, morbid part of me that had to have solid proof that Hazel was beyond saving. I needed to know for sure that my best friend was gone. 

As quietly as I could, I pulled the screen door open and walked towards the windows. Inside, it was as devastating as I imagined. The house was in shambles and there was flecks of blood over every surface I could see. 

The three of them, Hazel and her parents ambled around making excessive amounts of noise. But none of them saw me. And none of them attempted to leave the house. 

I stood there for a few minutes, in complete shock. I was just on the phone with her and now she's just ... gone. 

Tears pooled in my eyes for the hundredth time. With a soft sigh, I turned and walked out the back door. This would be the last time I would be here. There was no way I could return knowing what was trapped inside. 

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Owen was moving around my house when I returned. It looked like he had been here dozens of times instead of tonight being the first. There were a couple duffle bags sitting on the island in the kitchen. Food was in one of them and the other held things that could be used as weapons. A baseball bat, large kitchen knives, a hammer and a few other tools my dad never used. 

"What can I help with?" my voice was lifeless, dull. 

"I'm pretty much done here. Unless you know where you dad keeps his gun?" he never looked at me as he spoke. 

"Owen, I'm sorry I hit you before," the apology felt forced. But I knew it needed to be said. 

"Sure, yeah, whatever. So gun?" he placed a few more things in the bags. 

"No gun." 

"That sucks. Would have come in handy." 

The zippers closing echoed in my head. It sounded so final, for some reason. Different than my back pack for school. Or my suitcase that I packed for the cabin. 

This noise sounded like I was sealing one part of my life away and gearing up to start another. 

And I suppose I was.

My family was dead.

My best friend was not quite dead.

Just me, Owen and the worst weapon supply known to man. 

Nothing that we were about to face would be easy. In fact, it was going to suck tremendously. 

That much I was certain of. 

Everything else, though? 

I had no flippin' idea.