His sister ran a few feet ahead of him, Ryan’s limp legs dangling at her side. He passed her, without looking back.
ALEX
Alex didn’t know how long he stayed in the tub, shivering, crying, and sore. His knee throbbed from when he had fallen in earlier. The worst part was the sound. Again, he found himself wishing for the creepy silence. He could hear them out there, pulling at the car: crunching metal noises, glass smashing, trying to get further into it, looking for more people to eat. And the chewing. He could hear them through the window. Chewing on the woman. Probably the driver too. The driver must have gone through the windshield and then they ate him. Probably died on impact. The woman was alive when they ...
He threw up again. He tried to do it quietly. He was worried that since he could hear them out there, they might hear him in the house. He’d be trapped upstairs if they came in after him.
Then they’d eat him.
He glanced up at the window. It was much darker than when he first went upstairs; the sun was setting. At that moment, he heard a creak on the staircase.
Did I lock the door?
It always scared him when he had slept over here with Mark—the stairs always sounded like something was coming to get him. Now he knew that something actually was. It—they—had come in while he lay useless in the tub. He could hear their feet on each stair. He could hear them breathing.
He closed his eyes and sank deeper into the tub, trying not to make a sound. It was in the room with him. It was standing by the tub. Looking at him. Waiting for him to start screaming before it tore into him.
He opened his eyes, holding his shaking hands in front of his face. Through his fingers, in the faint light, he saw—fur? Shadow stood by the tub, looking down at him. He wrapped his arms around her neck and pulled her into the tub.
They lay there for hours. A flickering orange light came from outside; the car was on fire—burning, with no one to put it out. He held onto his dog even tighter.
Eventually, it started raining. He heard a few drips hit the window, then hundreds and thousands of tiny drops falling on the house all around him. Finally—a familiar noise. He fell asleep, exhausted, his arms wrapped around the dog, who drifted in and out of dog dreams all night.
KAITLYN
Kaitlyn watched the things—covered in blood and drool—tearing through the crowd of people at the school, blood and screams filling the air. She was frozen, trapped there with the insanity. She wasn’t sure what she feared most: those things, the fire, the crowd breaking down into violent anarchy, or the fact that she was all alone. Her mom was gone. Her friends were gone. Just her and the wave of mayhem bearing down upon her. Paralyzed, until they were right on top of her, tearing at her—
“Oh my God,” Dave said.
She snapped back to the present and had to force herself to remember. She wasn’t alone. She hadn’t been left there. The four of them—Kaitlyn, her mom, Hannah, and Hannah’s dad, Dave—had all rushed out as soon as the first crowds burst out of the school. They were at Dave and Hannah’s house, just a few blocks away.
When they had first entered the house, Kaitlyn felt a wave of relief. Everything was calm and comfortable—as if all that had happened that morning was merely a bad dream. Maybe she would quickly forget about the things that she—that they all—had seen at the school.
Dave and Joanne had spent an hour boarding up windows, securing doors, and finding whatever they could for supplies: blankets, candles, water, and the very small amount of food left in the house. Kaitlyn heard Dave curse from the kitchen. When he came back, he explained that taking their extra food to the emergency centre had been such a good idea at the time.
Not that anyone felt like eating. Instead they lay low, huddled together in the Moore’s living room. For a while they heard people running down the street, screaming, or calling out names. They heard windows smashing, cars starting up and speeding away, and crashes and explosions, distant and very nearby. Flashes of light and shadows streaked by the almost completely covered windows. When things got quiet, Dave left the group to look through cracks between boards.
“Oh my God,” he said, then for a while he was silent, clearly distracted by the events outside; otherwise, he would have noticed Kaitlyn approach the window as well.
She peeked out. Fog, mixed with smoke from some unseen fire. No—there was a truck on fire. Through another crack she saw a truck wrapped around a pole. The windows were shattered, and there was a splatter of blood, but no one was there. How could someone survive that? she thought to herself. Maybe they need help? Could they call someone? Maybe—
Her thoughts ceased when she saw someone staggering in the street. He was bloody, and soaked, and walked with a limp. The victim of the crash. He’s walking around in a daze and—
“Why is he going back to the truck?” Dave said; he still hadn’t noticed that Kaitlyn stood just three feet away from him.
Kaitlyn moved to another opening to get a better view. She would regret that move.
The scene was practically silent, though she thought she could hear the sound of the fire. It might have been her imagination. The man was definitely headed for his truck. Maybe someone else is in there! Someone I can’t see! Oh, someone should help!
The man got to the truck and reached in. He pulled something out. A sweater? No! It’s an arm. There is a person in there! She was just about to yell to them, or tell Dave to go out and
