Gracefully, Murphy dropped down beside him and pulled Jacob to his feet by the back of his shirt. Once more, they were up and running through backyards—fortunately ones without fences. Murphy slowed to a jog, then to a brisk walk. He kept his rifle up as he continued forward and scanned ahead. At the corner lot, Murphy stopped and moved in closer to the back of a home. He paused just off a back patio that led up to a room filled with furniture.
Murphy held up a hand, halting Jacob, then pointed a finger at the patio door. Walking low with his back to the wall, he approached the patio. As Jacob watched, Murphy lightly walked up the steps to a large deck before he crept to a sliding patio door. Moments later, the door slid open and Murphy waved Jacob forward as he disappeared inside. Jacob took a deep breath and followed the soldier into the home.
The patio door opened into a dining room dimly lit by the floodlights from down the street. The space smelled of death and rotting food. A round wooden table held a carton of milk that was knocked over; its spoiled contents splashed across the table and onto the floor. Jacob closed the door and followed Murphy deeper into the house. In the living room, they found piled luggage and an open closet with coats and shoes spilling out.
“They left in a hurry,” Murphy whispered as he walked to a partial wall banking an open staircase. He pulled back a curtain to allow more of the light to pour in and peered into the front yard.
“Is Stephens out there?” Jacob asked.
“Somewhere… he’s smart; he’ll find a tidy spot where he can watch for us.”
“Why did he fire, you sure they didn’t get him?”
Murphy clenched his jaw, looking to the front yard. “They might have gotten the jump on him, but more likely he was providing a diversion for us—”
A noise near the front of the house caused Jacob to drop down and pull his elbows in. Murphy heard it too and dropped the curtain. In one fluid motion, he spun on his heels, pressed his back to the wall, and brought up his rifle. Murphy looked across the room at Jacob and pointed to the kitchen. Jacob nodded then turned and moved quietly across the floor to get behind a kitchen island. He knelt down, his head just out of sight.
An already partially open door squeaked as it swung inward, bleeding more light into the room and backlighting the cabinets over Jacob’s head. More noise echoed through the space with the sound of a vase or pot being tipped over and rolling loudly across a hardwood floor. Jacob squatted lower as he heard wet shoes squeaking on the waxed wood floors. They moved closer and seemed to stop just beyond the kitchen. After a short pause, they moved again and stopped at the island. Jacob could hear the thing’s breath and the rustle of its clothing as it moved its hand over items on the island. A glass was knocked over; it rolled across the island’s surface and dropped to the floor, shattering at Jacob’s feet.
A shard of glass slid and rested against Jacob’s boot; it rattled and chimed with the shaking of his knee. He held his breath and tried to stop his trembling. Finding it impossible, he steeled his nerve, gripped the pistol, and rose to face whatever was there. He stumbled as he stood too quickly and caused blood to rush from his head. His already weak knees taking him off- balance, Jacob dropped a hand to the island to steady himself as he looked into the blackened eyes of a broad-shouldered man. He was wearing a collared work shirt with one sleeve ripped free, a pink and black tie still knotted around his neck.
The thing looked through Jacob like it was focusing on the wall behind him. Its lips curled back to reveal glistening ivory fangs and blackened gums. Suddenly, the thing’s arms shot out. Reaching for Jacob, it lunged forward over the island. It opened its mouth to yell but was halted by Murphy leaping from out of the dark and landing on the thing’s back. Murphy quickly wrapped his forearm around its mouth to block the scream from escaping. Pulling a knife with his free hand, he shoved the blade into the creature’s neck. Together they flew over the island and crashed into Jacob, the three of them dropping hard to the tile floor.
Murphy held on until the thing stopped moving then rose above it, continuing to stab at the base of its neck. When the black-eyed man finally stopped twitching, he pulled his arm away and rested back on his ankles. Jacob struggled below them and pulled himself clear. Murphy dropped back to his rear and scooted until he was across the kitchen, pressed against the refrigerator. Jacob continued to crawl away toward the light then rolled to his back and looked up at the ceiling.
Breathing hard, he pushed himself to a sitting position and nursed his wounded hip. The thing’s head was turned in his direction; its blank eyes seemed to glare at him as the black, oily blood drained from its neck onto the tile floor. Jacob looked across the kitchen at Murphy, who reached up and ripped a decorative towel from the refrigerator handle then used it to wipe the blade of his knife.
Murphy rolled to his knees and climbed to his feet. He pulled open the refrigerator door then looked
