Adam couldn't move. He was stunned. And frightened.
The fighting continued. Though now it wasn't simply fighting. It was killing. And Adam was watching it happen.
He finally turned around. He didn't know what was happening. He had never seen anything like that before. But he couldn't watch anymore.
He quickly went over to his phone, picked it up and dialed911.
He waited. The line was busy.
Adam looked at the phone.How could 911 be busy?He had never heard of such a thing before.
He tried again.
Once more, he couldn't get through.
"What the hell?"
He threw the phone onto the couch and hurried back over to the window. It wasn't that he wanted to see what was happening out there, but he needed to try to figure out what was going on.
He looked outside. The fighting had continued.
Punches, kicks, blood.
Adam's eyes came upon the woman from the car again. She was lying out in the middle of the road. She wasn't moving. Adam presumed that she was dead; which wasn't much of a presumption. There wasn't much left of her face and part of her skull had been cracked wide open. There was a large jelly-like thing falling out from it. Adam knew that it had to be her brain.
He turned away from her and scanned the crowd. He wanted to see where the man who had done this had gone. He searched through the wild faces and erratic behaviour and saw him.
The man had moved on from the woman to a small man. Adam could see that the small man was trying to defend himself. He had his arms up over his head and was curled into a little ball. He wasn't fighting back like the woman had tried.
At the moment, Adam didn't find that odd. The woman probably had a lot of adrenaline running through her body after the crash. Of course, that didn't explain all of the others.
The man in the crash continued to beat at the small man on the ground. Only this time he wasn't using his fists. He was using his fingers like claws and he was gouging at the small man's face. He tore away at it, swipe after swipe.
Adam could see both men yelling. The man from the car screaming out of anger and the man on the ground out of pain.
It wasn't long before they stopped. The man from the car had done enough damage to silence the other. He stood up and ran into the crowd. Adam watched him go.
What the fuck is happening? Adam asked himself.
By now he was more than frightened. He was petrified. And confused.
He went back to his couch and sat down on it. He sunk heavily into the cushions.
He didn't know what else to do.
Chapter 2
Jane walked into her house. She was holding her baby in her arms. The little girl had fallen asleep on the car ride home. She turned to her husband. He was just coming through the door.
"I'm going to put her to bed," Jane said.
"Okay," Phil replied. "I think I'm gonna take a little nap too."
Phil went into their bedroom. Jane heard the door close behind him.
Once she got to her daughter's room, she placed the little girl in her crib. Becky was big, but not big enough to be sleeping in a bed. Maybe in a month or so. She couldn't believe how fast her daughter was growing.
Her silly little goose.
Becky stayed asleep. When her mother put her into the crib, she simply grabbed hold of her blanket and clutched it closely toward her.
Jane looked down at her daughter. She felt happiness at just seeing her. She thought about the joy that the little girl had brought to the family. She pictured her daughter getting older and maybe having children of her own.
She bent over and kissed her daughter on the side of the head. Becky murmured softly. Then she stood up and went into the kitchen. She wanted to get herself something to drink.
On her way, she turned on the television. There wasn't anything in particular that she wanted to watch. She just liked the noise in the background. She made sure to keep it turned down. After all, she didn't want to wake her husband and daughter.
Jane opened her fridge and pulled out a can of pop. She flicked open the top of the can. It hissed. She took a few sips straight from the can, then decided that it would be better if she got a glass. She went into the cupboard and took one out. She filled it with the black, bubbly liquid.
Jane walked back into the living room. She hadn't been paying attention to the television, but now she could see that something serious was happening on the news. She sat down on the sofa to watch.
"...don't know what's happening," the news reporter claimed. "There have been reports that it is happening all over the city and possibly the country. No one knows why."
There were images of car fires on the television. There was also a group of people fighting.
There must have been some sort of riot in the city, she thought.But the reporter had said all over the country too. Why would he have said that?
Jane took another sip from her glass. She continued to watch. There were more images of fighting. She was sure that several of the people had been hurt badly. Maybe even killed.
Then the camera turned back to the reporter. He was no longer talking. He was simply looking into the camera with a strange look in his eyes.
He started yelling.
Jane couldn't make out what he was saying, but she knew that it wasn't good. The camera man must have known it, too, because the camera spun around and began bouncing up and down as he ran away. Not long after, the camera was thrown to the ground. Jane saw a pair of feet (the reporter's?) run past. She heard some more shouting, more banging, before the screen turned black.
Jane was left staring at the television. There was nothing on the screen. She had no idea what had just happened. But, whatever it was, she knew that it wasn't good.
To make matters worse, she heard a noise come from her daughter's room. It sounded like an animal had gotten in there. She dropped her drink onto the floor and ran upstairs. She flew through the doorway, ready to attack whatever animal was there.
With one quick look around the room, Jane knew that there wasn't any animal. Instead, it was her daughter.
Becky was standing in the crib. Looking over the edge of it. Trying to climb it. She was mumbling something as she tried. She sounded upset. Almostangry.
Jane ran over to her daughter and picked her up.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
Without pause, Becky started hitting her mother. Her tiny fists banging against Jane's shoulders.
"Becky! What's wrong?"
Jane hugged her daughter closely and rocked her back and forth.
The daughter continued to hit. Then her mumbling turned into a scream. It sent a chill down Jane's back. Followed by pain. Her daughter had bitten her mother's shoulder.
The pain surprised Jane so much that she almost dropped the little girl onto the ground. Luckily, she managed to hold on.
"What are you doing?" she asked. Her voice stern, concerned.
The little girl didn't pay her any attention. She tried to bite her again. She continued to hit.
"Phil, get in here and help me! There's something wrong with Becky!"
Jane continued trying to hold her daughter, but it became too difficult. She had to put her back into the crib. Becky starting hitting the sides of it. She tried to climb out again.
"Phil! Get in here!"
There was no answer.
Jane went to the doorway to call for her husband. He was obviously in a deep sleep and needed to be shaken awake. She wasn't going to leave her daughter alone, though.
"Phil! GET...IN...HEEEERE!"
Finally, Jane heard her bedroom door open. But, as soon as she saw her husband, she didn't feel any better. Instead, she felt panicked, worried. He had the same look in his eyes that her daughter had.
Phil looked at his wife. Then he charged at her.
Jane reacted quickly. She saw him coming and was able to close the bedroom door before he arrived. She pressed the lock into place.
>
Phil banged on the door. His fists hit heavily against it. Jane could hear him screaming something unintelligible.
"Phil, what are you doing?" she screamed back.
He didn't answer. Just more yelling.
Jane thought back to the television and knew right away that it had to be something from that. The reporter. The fires. The screaming. The fighting.People were going crazy.And, just like that, she knew that her husband was going to try to kill her.
Jane looked back at her daughter. The little girl was still trying to get out of her crib. She was grabbing the sides of it, growling as she did.
Jane could feel her husband's fists banging against the door.
She didn't know what to do. She didn't want to leave her daughter alone, but she didn't think that she had much choice. The same thing had happened to the little girl. Becky had gone mad.
Jane looked to the bedroom window.She could go out there, she thought. Except she was on the second floor. The fall might hurt her. Besides she didn't know where she'd go after that.
Phil continued to hit the door. Jane knew that it was going to break any second. She had to act now.
She turned and ran into the closet. Her daughter's little clothes pressed against her back as she pushed herself into the small space. She closed the door. Not all of the way. She left a little gap so she could see what was happening. Her daughter continued to scream and try to get out of the crib.
The bedroom door burst open. Jane gasped as the wood cracked.
Phil ran into the room and took a quick look around. Jane did her best to keep quiet.
She watched as her husband continued to search around the room. He stopped as soon as he saw their child. He ran toward her.Her silly goose.She was screaming at him, trying to get tohim now.
Phil roared and stepped toward his daughter. He hit her across the face.
Jane winced as she heard the sound of her husband's fist connect. She wanted to run out and stop it. She just wasn't sure that there would be anything that she could do.
The reporter. Something had changed. Something had happened.
Becky fell down into the crib. Though that didn't stop Phil from continuing his attack. He hit the little girl a few more times. Then he picked her up and threw her across the room. Becky hit the wall and landed at the floor. She continued to scream. Jane could see her daughter's arms and legs swing wildly in the air.
Jane continued to watch. She couldn't believe what she was seeing.
None of this could be real. It justcouldn't.
Phil ran over to his daughter and fell onto his knees beside her. He started hitting her again. This time she tried to hit back, but there wasn't much that she could do much against a grown man.
Jane stared, frozen.
None of this made any sense.
Phil let out a huge roar as he picked Becky up in both hands and held her over his head.
Jane couldn't breathe.
Oh, no,she thought.No…
He let out another roar and brought the little girl crashing down onto the floor. Over and over again. He stopped only when there was a loud crack and Becky was silenced. She had stopped moving too.
Jane had to fight back her tears. She didn't want to make a sound, but her daughter lay on the ground, dead. It was too much to handle. She brought her hand up to her mouth and tried to stifle any sounds she might be making.
She watched as Phil looked down at his daughter. She saw him toss her aside. He stood up and looked around the room. He shook his head back and forth as though he was trying to remember something. He started walking around and came to a stop in front of the closet. He stared at it.
Jane wanted to close the door, but she knew that any movement would give away her position. She kept quiet and tried not to move.
Her heart was beating loudly. And, though it felt like he could hear it, she knew that he couldn't. She just needed to remain calm.
Phil came closer to the door. He lowered his head, listening for any sound from the other side. He lifted his hand and placed it along the wall. He looked at it strangely. His fingers scratched across the surface.
Then there was a crash.
Phil turned around. Someone had thrown a rock through the window.
He roared, ran toward the window and jumped out of the room.
As soon as Phil was gone, Jane rushed out of the closet. She hadn't meant to do it. Everything within her told her that it was a dangerous idea. But she couldn't stop herself. She needed to see her daughter.
She rushed over to the little girl. Becky was lying motionless on the floor. Jane picked her up. The child was dead.
She had known that, but she had kept hoping that she had been wrong. Holding her daughter in her hands now, she knew that she hadn't been.
"Becky," Jane whispered.
She lowered her head and snuggled it into the curve of her daughter's neck. She kissed the little girl. Then she rushed back into the closet. She felt safe there.
Jane closed the closet door and closed her eyes.
Within moments she was overcome with it all and fell asleep, her dead daughter in her arms.
Her silly little goose.
Chapter 3
Claire ran into the forest. Her brother was chasing her. He had almost caught up to her too. She made her way quickly through the trees. The branches and leaves scratched at her face.
She could hear him screaming behind her. He was getting closer.
Claire kept running. She was getting tired. She had been running for a long time now. Ever since…when?
When her father had charged into the living room and attacked her mother.
*
They were watching the television - Claire and her mother. There was something on about trouble in the city. People were attacking each other,killing each other.Even the news reporter seemed affected by it. He charged at the cameraman. The cameraman ran. The screen turned black.
Claire stared at the television for a moment before turning to her mother. Her mouth opened slightly to speak.
Then she heard a scream.
Claire looked in the direction it had come from. She could see that her father had come into the room, fists above his head, eyes searching. She didn't have any time to react.
As soon as he saw them, her father ran straight for her mother and grabbed her by the throat. He started shaking her. Scratched large cuts into her face. Threw her onto the floor.
Her mother.
Claire knew immediately what had happened. Whatever had happened to the reporter had happened to her father. She was positive about that.
Without thinking any more about it, Claire ran to her father and jumped on his back. She tried to pull him away from her mother. He easily swatted her off. She fell heavily to the floor.
Claire didn't give up. She got back onto her feet and picked up a lamp beside the sofa.
"Let her go!" she screamed. She knew that it wasn't going to make a difference. Her father wasn't going to listen to her.
This wasn't her father. Not anymore.
She ran at the man with the lamp raised over her head and brought it down on his. There was a loud crack as it connected with his skull and he was knocked down.
It hadn't been enough to stop him. He scrambled back onto his knees and went after her mother again.
Claire looked at her mother over the back of his shoulder. She could see that her mother was frightened, didn't have any idea what was going on. One minute she had been watching television with her daughter. The next she had been attacked by the man she had been married to for twenty plus years. Claire couldn't imagine what the woman was thinking. She didn't try to, either. She simply raised the lamp once more and slammed it back against her father's head. This time with more force.
There was another dull thud. Louder than the first one. Her father collapsed to the floor.
No, this wasn't her father.
Claire bent down to see if her mother was okay. She put her arm behin
d her and tried to lift her up. Her mother wouldn't move.
"Your father," was all she could say.
"That wasn't dad," Claire replied. "I don't know who it was, but itwasn't dad!"
"Your…your…father."
"No, mom, that wasn't dad. And we can't stay here talking about it. We have to leave. We have to find a place to hide."
"What…what…happened?"
"The thing we saw on TV. It must've happened here too. Maybe it happened everywhere."
"On TV?"
"From the news. The thing that had been happening in the city. People going crazy, killing each other. It must've happened here too."
"It did?"
"I think so."
"It was your father," Claire's mother argued again. She was obviously having trouble making sense of it all.
"I know. Hewas. Not anymore. Whatever it is must've affected him."
Claire's mother moved her eyes away from her daughter. She looked at her husband. He was lying lifeless on the floor.
"Did you kill him?" she asked.
Claire looked down at her father as well. "I don't know. But I didn't have a choice. He was going to kill you."
"He was your father."
Claire didn't want to get into an argument with her mother. Not now. Not over this. She knew that her father had changed, that he had been going to beat her mother -his wife - to death. Claire had stopped that from happening. That was all.
"We have to get out of here," Claire said. "We have to find somewhere safe to hide."
"But your father!"
"He isn't my father anymore!" Claire all but screamed. "He's changed. Don't you understand that?"
"No, no, no! He hasn't changed. He's your father. I'm sure he'll be all right."
Claire grabbed tightly onto her mother's shoulders. "He won't be all right. And we won't either unless we get out of here!"
"We can't leave," her mother continued to say. "We just can't."
"We have to! We have to find somewhere safe!"
Claire pulled at her mother to get her to stand. Her mother brushed her off.
"No, no, no."
Claire stood up. She continued to pull at her mother, at her arms, at her clothes. The woman wouldn't move. She continued to sit there, arguing with her.
Glory (Book 1) Page 2
