by Chelsea Luna
~ ~ ~
Today was shaping up to be one of the best days of Adam Guerra’s life. It was a warm summer afternoon without a cloud in the sky. Adam had the day off from the fire station and he was barbecuing in his backyard with his two best friends, Tony and Joey. His mom had even stopped by with a fresh batch of homemade tortillas and, to cap it all off, he had a hot date tonight with Selena. A gorgeous brunette he’d been seeing for a few weeks.
“Wipe that silly grin off your face,” Tony said. “You’re thinking about Selena again, aren’t you? Man, you’ve got it bad.”
“I know, I know.” Adam flipped the hamburgers. “I think she may be the one.”
Tony whistled. “The one?”
“Where are you taking her tonight, son?” Mrs. Guerra sat in the lawn chair near the tall privacy hedges. The ice in her glass clinked as she sipped lemonade.
“Bellissimo.”
Tony whistled again. “She must be the one.”
Tires screeched. Followed by a roaring explosion. Adam dropped the spatula on the grill. “What in the -?”
Joey rushed to the hedges behind Mrs. Guerra. “I can’t see anything from here.”
“It sounded like a car accident,” Adam said. “Tony, can you call an ambulance? I’ll get my first aid kit. Mamma, stay right there.”
Adam closed the lid on the grill and sprinted up the porch stairs. Tony had his cell phone pressed against his ear and Joey was still dancing around near Adam’s mother, trying to see over the bushes and into the street.
Something was going on. Shouts and cries filled the street. Hopefully, no one was hurt too badly. Adam opened the screen door and heard the strangest sound coming from behind him. It sounded like an animal’s growl. He glanced over his shoulder.
From this angle on the porch, he could see into his next-door neighbor’s yard. A dozen or so people were headed for his backyard - actually, straight toward Joey and his mother.
“Hey!” Adam called out. “What are you guys doing?”
A woman in the front of the group heard Adam. Her head snapped up. The woman opened her mouth, like she was yawning, but instead she unleashed a snarl.
What in the hell?
The group continued forward, straight toward Adam’s backyard. What was going on? It was clear they were looking for trouble, but who were they? These punks had a lot of nerve to trespass on his property in broad daylight.
“Mama!” Adam raced down the stairs. “Get up! Come here, quickly!”
Joey backed away as the first person crashed through the hedges and into Adam’s backyard.
“Get the hell out of here!” Adam yelled. Four more people blasted through the bushes and into his yard. “Mama, get up!”
Joey tried to help Mrs. Guerra out of the lawn chair. She had a bad hip and it was difficult for her to stand from a sitting position. Joey yanked her out of the lawn chair, but the lead female in the group did something that Adam never could’ve imagined.
She launched herself in the air – like a cheetah on the African grasslands attacking a gazelle – and onto Mrs. Guerra, knocking her to the grass. Joey tried to pull the lady off Mrs. Guerra, but two other people jumped on his back. Adam’s mother screamed as the woman bit her face.
The rest of the group was on Joey and Mrs. Guerra before Adam and Tony could reach them. Adam couldn’t wrap his head around what he was seeing. The strangers weren’t just attacking his mother and best friend; it was worse than that. Much worse.
Adam felt his world spin out of control as he watched in horror as the group of trespassers devoured his mother and best friend.
Chapter Two
The hand violently slapped against the bedroom window. A wet meaty slap.
Rachel blinked several times. Gone with the Wind was stuck to the side of her face. She rubbed her eyes and a speck of mascara scratched her eyeball. Why was someone banging on her window? Or had she dreamed about a hand hitting the glass?
The clock on the bedside table blinked 4:56 P.M. It was safe to go out to the living room now because Gene was gone for the night. Happy hour at the Wooden Barrel started at 4:00 P.M. sharp and there wasn’t a day, in Rachel’s year and a half of living at the Jones’ house, that Gene had missed happy hour.
What could only be described as a groan sounded from the front lawn. Rachel pressed her forehead against the glass, half-expecting to see a bunch of Erik’s friends horsing around, but she couldn’t see the front porch or the driveway from this angle.
The noise on the front lawn escalated, despite the dog yapping in the backyard. Valerie’s rat terrier wasn’t deterring whoever was outside and if the trespasser wasn’t a friend of Erik’s, then he was going to blow a gasket. Her foster brother had a notorious temper. Rachel went to the living room to try to be the voice of reason and save the mystery groaner’s butt.
Erik was barefoot in the recliner. He wore his old Detroit Lion’s t-shirt and faded basketball shorts. He lowered the footrest and strained to listen to the strange sounds.
“Someone -” Rachel started.
“Shh!” Erik tilted his head in disbelief. “Is that moaning?”
A man crashed through the front door, ripping the screen, and fell onto the dingy carpet. Erik bolted from the recliner and yanked the intruder by the collar.
The man’s eyes were an icy shade of blue. The whites surrounding the iris were bloodshot, so it was a freaky combination of blue inside of red that didn’t look natural. His skin had a sickly gray pallor that resembled cement and an open gash snaked across his cheek to his jawline. His eyes flickered around the room erratically. This guy was on something serious. Meth? LSD? Bath salts?
Erik held the intruder by his neck like a crocodile wrangler. It was ironic, because the man snapped his jaws like he wanted to take a bite out of him. Erik made a face at Rachel. “Do you see this? Or am I hallucinating?”
“No, I see it. What do you want me to do?”
“Grab the bat.”
“Maybe we should call the cops.”
“This prick broke into my house. It’s not even dark out. Get the bat Rachel, I’m going to teach him a lesson.”
Erik kept his aluminum baseball bat in the corner behind the TV for break-in scenarios exactly like this one. The man’s head twisted in Rachel’s direction. His eyes were completely devoid of any rationality. “What’s wrong with him?” She gripped the heavily taped bat handle. “He looks like a zombie.”
“A zombie?” Erik made a face. “Are you crazy?”
“What’s all the commotion out here?” Valerie stumbled into the living room. “Who in the hell is that? And what happened to my door?”
The man, still on his knees, whipped his head around at Valerie. She jumped. “Jesus! What’s he on? Is he a friend of yours, Erik? I told you I didn’t want any drugs in this house.”
The man thrashed his arms and legs. Erik punched him in the face, but he didn’t flinch. The man was unfazed by the blow even though his nose was clearly broken. His lack of a reaction was more terrifying than his appearance.
Ice blue eyes locked onto Valerie. The man snapped his teeth. Erik raised his hand to punch him again, but the man lunged forward. Erik lost his grip on the man’s neck and the zombie rushed Valerie.
The man grabbed Valerie by the shoulders. He opened his mouth. Rachel and Erik stood dumbfounded. Surely, he wasn’t going to….
He bit Valerie.
His teeth sank into the sensitive area where the neck sloped into the shoulder. Blood, tissue, ligaments and all kinds of stuff you weren’t supposed to see stretched away from Valerie’s throat and dangled from the man’s mouth. She unleashed an ear-piercing scream.
Erik ripped the man from his mother. Valerie’s hand shot to her neck as blood streamed through her fingers and down her arm. She collapsed and crawled to the kitchen, leaving a trail of blood behind her. The man seized Erik and they fell to the floor in a rolling heap, wrestling on the carpet.
Valerie pressed a dishtowel to her
neck. She leaned back against the kitchen cabinet, her eyes rolling into her head. The color drained from her face as blood ran down her arm and pooled onto the tile floor. Her hand slid from her neck and fell limply to the side.
“Valerie?” Rachel peered into the kitchen.
“Rachel!” Erik screamed. “Hit him!”
Erik had his forearm pinned under the man’s chin. The crazed man’s fingers raked across Erik’s chest, shredding his shirt and leaving bloody scratches over his skin.
Valerie’s body twitched.
Rachel froze. Wait. Was Valerie still alive? How was that possible?
“Rachel!”
She ran toward Erik. Ice blue eyes flickered to her and the man unhinged his jaw. She choked up on the handle and swung. The aluminum bat connected with the man’s torso with the satisfying crunch of breaking ribs. The blow knocked the man into the recliner, toppling it over backward.
Erik rolled to his feet. His shirt was ripped to shreds. Deep scratches covered his chest and arms. “Nice swing, Rach.” Erik’s eyes roamed over her shoulder. “Mom!”
Blood stained Valerie’s neck and chest. Her eyes had transformed from muddy brown to frosty blue. Valerie’s normally leathery tanned skin was now a light shade of gray. Her body twitched as if electricity pumped through her nervous system.
“What’s wrong with her? Is she having a seizure?” Erik asked.
Rachel caught him by the arm. “Wait.”
“Wait for what? She’s still alive,” Erik said. “We need to get her to the hospital.”
Then, as if Valerie hadn’t just bled out on the kitchen floor, she rose to her feet. Her stride was erratic, but efficient. She stumbled into the living room.
“Mom?” Erik cautiously stepped forward. “Are you okay? Your neck it’s…. We have to get you to the hospital.”
“Erik, I don’t think we should get any closer.” Rachel’s heartbeat pounded in her ears. “Look at her eyes.”
“Mom?” Erik bent to his mother’s eye level.
“Erik, watch out!” Rachel screamed.
The man slid across the carpet on his stomach like a snake, but Erik couldn’t pull his eyes away from his mother. The crazed man, still on his belly, lunged and wrapped his arms around Erik’s leg. He reared his head back and bit Erik’s calf.
Erik screamed.
She ran to help him, but Valerie charged. Rachel ducked and Erik tackled his mother to the ground with the man attached to his leg. “Run, Rachel!”
Erik held his mother down on the carpet while the man gnawed on his leg. Valerie sank her teeth into Erik’s arm. He screamed. “RUN!”
Oh God.
Rachel trampled over the broken screen door. Zombies. The man was a zombie - he bit Valerie, she died and then reanimated. How was that possible? This couldn’t be happening.
She ran down the porch and onto the front lawn. Everything about the neighborhood looked wrong. A man and woman struggled in front of the Anderson’s house. Another woman screamed from across the street. Rachel turned in a circle. Was this really happening? Was Flint going up in smoke?
Morgan.
Rachel was so amped up by the attack that she’d momentarily forgotten that her little sister was away at camp. She had to get to Morgan.
Erik’s car was parked in the driveway. Rachel yanked the handle with enough force to pull the door off, but it was locked. She’d given the keys back to Erik this morning. She couldn’t go back inside. Not with that man and Valerie in there. Would Erik turn into one of them, too?
She needed a car. Fast. Gene was at the Wooden Barrel, which wasn’t that far away – maybe three miles. She could run there, get his Jimmy and drive to Ann Arbor. She could be with Morgan at the University of Michigan in two hours.
Valerie’s mangled face poked out of the broken doorway. Fresh blood – Erik’s blood – dripped from her chin and stained her shirt. She scanned the lawn until her eyes landed squarely on Rachel.
Rachel sprinted down McKeighan Street and turned right onto Red Arrow Road. It was awkward running with the baseball bat, but the bat was her only weapon. She pumped her arms and willed herself to run faster.
She raced down the uneven sidewalk. On the corner of Dell and Red Arrow, a woman crouched beside someone lying on the cement. Did one of those things attack the lady’s friend?
“Are you okay?” Rachel asked.
The lady didn’t turn around.
Rachel crossed the street. “Hey, lady? Are you okay? You can’t stay here. It’s not safe. There’s some weird crap going on.”
The woman was a runner – she had on black spandex shorts and a bright pink sports bra. Her hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail. Muscles lined the woman’s arms and legs.
The lady’s head slowly turned.
One eyeball was missing. The other was a frosty blue. The man lying on the ground, the one that Rachel thought was hurt, was indeed hurt. The lady had chewed off his face. Bits of bone and cartilage poked out from his cheeks.
The lady unleashed an animalistic growl. She hopped to her feet – much too fast, much faster than the crazed man and Valerie – and lunged at Rachel.
Chapter Three
The room was absolutely dark. Cage Vance shot to his feet. Something banged against his legs, trapping him. Where was he? He twisted in the darkness and tried to loosen himself from the… metal?
He reached for his cell phone. The screen’s blue illumination lit a small circle around him. The metal chair with the attached desk was overturned on the floor. He swung the phone around and saw the TV locked into the stand. He was in the athletic department’s video room.
Cage had no idea how long he’d been asleep. The smell of sweat filled his nostrils – he stunk. He hadn’t showered after practice; instead, he opted for the video room where he was supposed to be watching game footage; not napping.
He straightened the desk chair and went to the boys’ locker room. It was empty, but Cage wasn’t surprised. Football practice ended hours ago and he was usually the only one who ever stayed late to watch tape or lift weights. He grabbed a pair of khaki shorts and a black t-shirt from his locker and noticed six missed calls and three messages on his cell phone.
One call and voicemail were from his mother, reminding him to swing by Cecilia’s Pizzeria to pick up her credit card that she’d accidently left there the night before. The other calls and voicemails were from his psycho ex-girlfriend, Lindsay Donovan. She was the last person he wanted to talk to. He tossed the cellphone into his gym bag and went to shower.
Five calls from Lindsay in a span of four hours. Most people would assume it was an emergency, but Cage knew better. If Lindsay Donovan called you and you didn’t pick up, she’d call until you answered. He might have to get his phone number changed. He should’ve listened to Marc last winter and stayed away from Lindsay. She was trouble, but she was hot and Cage was an idiot sometimes when it came to girls.
He dressed, grabbed his bag and pushed the creaky door that led to Flint Prep’s gymnasium. Rays of weak sunlight poured down from the skylights and onto the shiny gymnasium floor.
His sneakers squeaked on the polished court. He snatched a basketball off the rack, dribbled and shot it from the three-point line. The ball swooshing through the net was followed by a crash and scream from the girls’ locker room.
Cage ran to the door. Should he knock? Were naked girls in there? He banged his open palm on the wood and poked his head inside. “Hello?”
Three of the fluorescent lights above the door were out. The fourth was blinking, making the room pulsate like a techno club. “Is anyone in there?” Cage called out. “I heard screaming, are you okay?”
No response.
Cage pushed the door open and stepped inside. The silence, combined with the oppressive summer heat, made it hard to breathe. He went back to the gymnasium, but the nagging feeling that someone was hurt and needed his help wouldn’t let him walk away. He propped the door open with his gym bag and walked into
the girls’ locker room.
“I’m coming in – if you’re naked – it’s not my fault what I see.” Cage walked under the blinking light and rounded the corner. A skinny wooden bench ran down the center of an empty row of pink lockers. It was identical to the boys’ locker room, except everything was pink instead of green.
“Hello?” He walked down the aisle to the showers. “If you’re playing games, this isn’t funny.”
He drew back each plastic curtain, but the showers were empty, too. Maybe he’d imagined the sounds? He searched the locker room one more time and then, with a shrug, he headed back to the gym.
The girls’ locker room door slammed shut behind him. He had a strange urge to get out of the building as quickly as possible. The feeling of unease lifted as he looked up at the clear blue sky. Cage strode across the empty parking lot and slid inside the black Escalade with a strange sense of foreboding. What was the matter with him?
He drove down the long driveway that led to the street. A few people lumbered aimlessly over the baseball field. He didn’t recognize any of them, but it was hard to tell from this distance. The more he stared, the more they resembled bums. Their clothes and skin were covered with dark mud stains.
He ignored the bizarre sight and headed toward Cecilia’s Pizzeria, clear on the other side of town. His mother was always misplacing things and last night she’d forgotten to take her credit card with her. It was a twenty-minute ride, but the pizza place was famous in Flint and well worth the drive.
Cage’s cellphone vibrated in his pocket. It was Lindsay. He didn’t want to talk to her, but she’d just keep calling and that was slightly more annoying than listening to her voice. He picked up on the fifth ring. “Hello?”
“Where have you been? I’ve been calling you all afternoon. Practice got out two hours ago.” Lindsay’s voice was high and squeaky – like a cartoon mouse’s voice. He’d found it endearing when they first started dating, but now it was like nails on a chalkboard.
