He looked back at his father again. Charlie’s body twitched. Suddenly, a high-pitched scream sounded from down the hall.
She’s alive! He thought.
Noah pulled out the blade and dashed into the hallway. He burst into his sister's room where he was surprised to find Adam Fitzpatrick pounding on the closet door.
“Adam?”
Fitzpatrick turned. His bug-eyed gaze and bobbing jaw resembled the face of a ventriloquist’s dummy.
“Get away from her!”
Darting forward, Noah swung the machete at Fitzpatrick’s head, but at that moment Adam lunged beneath the blade, tackling Noah.
As Noah slammed against the hardwood, his machete fell and clattered against the floorboards. Adam grabbed Noah’s shoulders and leaned in for a bite. Noah palmed Adam’s face with one hand and groped blindly for his weapon with the other. He could feel the edge of Adam’s teeth as they repeatedly grazed the meat of his hand.
Noah grunted, “You want it?” And in one quick, fluid motion he stuck his fingers into Adam’s mouth, cupping them over his lower teeth, and pulled. Before Adam could bite down, Noah dislocated his jaw from the base of his skull. Adam fell onto his side giving Noah the opportunity to scramble for his machete.
Noah got to his feet. He raised the blade over his shoulder.
Adam sat up. He touched his lower mandible, which sagged awkwardly. When he tried to close his mouth and could not, Noah thought he registered a faint look of confusion. Noah cared little to examine it, however, and lodged the blade into the side of his neighbor’s head. Adam’s animation ceased immediately, as if he were a mechanical toy that Noah had just switched off. Fitzpatrick fell to the floor, never to move again.
Noah hobbled over to the closet.
“Abby. Are you in there?” He called through the door.
“Noah?” Abby replied in a muffled voice.
“It's me, sweetie. You can come out. I got him.”
The closet door opened slowly, and Abigail stepped out. Her bloodshot eyes contrasted sharply against her pale skin as they nervously scanned the room.
“Oh, thank god,” Noah whispered. He squatted and pressed her to his chest. “I thought I’d lost you.”
Holding her out by the arms, Noah inspected Abby. She pressed a stuffed tiger against her forearm. It was soaked with blood.
“Oh no,” Noah’s voice quavered. “No. Abby?” he said choking back tears.
She collapsed into his arms.
“No, no, no. Not you too.” Tears welled in his eyes.
“I wasn't quiet enough,” she whimpered.
He pulled her to him. Her small body felt so weak and fragile in his arms. “No. It wasn't your fault, sweetheart. It was him.”
Noah picked her up and sat her on the bed. “Let me see,” he said, gently peeling the tiger off her arm.
Abby winced. The bite was deep. Blood pooled in the cavity with every beat of her little heart. Noah yanked off a pillowcase and wrapped it around her arm.
Abigail slumped back on a pile of stuffed animals and began to shiver. Noah took the sides of her quilt and wrapped them around her like a crepe.
“Did Alvin do something bad to you?” said Noah.
Abigail nodded her head gravely.
Noah pressed his eyes shut and turned his head away, as if he were about to be given an inoculation with a particularly large needle.
He turned back to her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“He said he’d let the bad men in if I did.”
His anger flared, but, as he looked at the light fading inside her eyes, the emotion was quickly overpowered by heartache. “I let you down,” his voice cracked. “I let you down so bad.”
She laced her fingers between Noah’s. “He's good at lying.”
“I’m so sorry, Abby. I should have been—”
“Daddy?” said Abigail, looking past her brother.
Noah's eyes widened as the color drained from his face. He turned to find his father, hazy-eyed and riddled with bright-red bite craters, teetering in the doorway.
Charlie reached for them, but strangely he didn’t advance. He seemed to be stuck at the threshold of the door. Perhaps, in a far corner of his mind, a smoldering ember of memory kept him from attacking his own children.
Noah’s eyes glanced at Adam. The machete was still lodged in his head. He stood up and took a deep breath. “I'm sorry,” he said, inching toward Adam’s body. “I’m sorry I let him in. I’m sorry I left.”
His father tilted his head.
“And I’m—I'm sorry for—” He glanced back at Abigail as she bled to death. Noah wiped his tears with the back of his bloodied hand. “Just—everything.”
Charlie moaned and stepped toward him. In a flash, Noah leapt onto Adam’s back, freed the machete, and swung the blade into his father’s temple. Charlie dropped to his knees and then slowly fell onto his side.
Noah turned back to Abigail. Her hands were butterflied over her nose and mouth.
“Don’t look at him.” Noah sat in front of her, blocking the view of the mangled bodies. “That wasn’t daddy. You know that.”
Abigail’s breath was fast and shallow. Her eyes opened and closed slowly. “Will I be like daddy?”
Noah caressed her cheek. “No, darlin’. I'll stop it from happening—after you go to sleep.”
“I don’t want to sleep.”
“But you’ll get to see mommy—and daddy. And everything will be like it was before —just somewhere else. Somewhere nicer.”
“But not you.”
“I’ll be there soon.”
Abby’s eyes slowly closed for the last time, like slipping into a deep slumber she had been fighting hard to ward off.
He began to cry. “I love you, sweetie.”
“I lo—,” she mumbled, and then she was gone.
As he walked across
