The first swing didn’t do the trick. The mace head crashed into the door and left a sizable dent of splintered wood below the handle, but the lock held. On the second swing, there was a snapping sound and part of the door frame came loose. Rather than hit it a third time with the chain mace, Eric took a few steps back, then strode forward and sprang into a kick.
The weakened door burst open. Sammy was the first inside, calling out to her parents and rushing to the kitchen.
Kingsley tightened his grip on his machete.
“Dad? Mum? It’s Sammy!” She went through a doorway on the left at the end of the entrance hall, into the kitchen, and they followed.
“I’m sorry for breaking in! I had to make sure you were—” She went silent. Oh no. Kingsley’s heart almost stopped as he entered the kitchen and saw her standing by the utility room, frozen as she stared at what was inside.
Joining her, he looked into the utility space and right away wanted to throw up.
Sammy’s dad hadn’t moved, still kneeling over something in the little room. He couldn’t tell what it was, but the dark red stains on the pale linoleum told him enough. And the sound of her dad – or what was once her dad – eating, teeth squelching in something wet and fleshy.
Sammy shook her head. “No, no, no, no… NO.” She started to back away.
Eric reached into the utility room for the light switch and Kingsley prayed that the darkness was deceiving them and their fears had not come true.
A hanging light bulb flickered on. Sammy’s dad turned toward the new stimuli, chewing. His eyes were murky, red-rimmed, and on the floor at his knees was a small dog with it’s belly torn open, it’s insides on the floor like spilled mincemeat.
“NOOO!” Sammy staggered backwards into the kitchen counter. The snapper that was once her dad limped out of the utility room and she sidestepped to get away from it. “I CAN’T DO IT! I CAN’T!”
The snapper shifted it’s attention to the others, reaching for Eric as he was the closest person. But Rebecca moved behind it and drove her blade into the back of it’s head before it could do anything.
Sammy crumpled to the floor and cried. Eric grimaced, staring at the body of her dad. Kingsley was shaking with adrenaline and nausea; yet his eyes wandered back to the floor of the utility room, morbid curiosity taking over. He identified the dog as a Yorkshire Terrier before looking away again, the lurching of his stomach driving him out of the room.
Seeing innocent animals needlessly hurt or killed always got to him. Kingsley had always had a soft spot for animals. But since his accident and the consequent loss of his child, the longing to protect innocent life – and the aversion to seeing it torn apart – had only grown stronger in him.
He couldn’t imagine what Sammy must be going through now. He had never really known her dad well enough to form an emotional connection with him, but it was sickening to see the man in that state and Sammy on the ground in despair, nothing they could do for her.
Kingsley couldn’t take it. Exiting the kitchen, his erratic legs took him a few paces down the hall and he found himself standing in front of another door. It stood open an inch or two, light seeping through the gap.
Where is Sammy’s mother? The thought suddenly occurred to Kingsley. Is she in there?
He had to check. If her mum had also turned, he didn’t want Sammy to be the one to find her.
He nudged open the door with his foot and sidled into the living room. A TV sat on an antique wooden cabinet in the far corner, switched off, the only light in the room coming from a standing lamp in the opposite corner. Cream, floral-patterned curtains covered the window. Facing the TV was a sofa, an armchair and a coffee table.
Nothing seemed amiss. But as Kingsley listened, he heard the susurration of movement somewhere in the room. Then, a more worrying sound – the hollow clack of teeth snapping together.
They had heard that same sound many times in the past two days, always heralding the arrival of the dead. There was another snapper in here.
As much as he wanted to turn around and leave, Kingsley knew he had to find the snapper before Sammy did. If Kingsley’s own mother had turned, he definitely would not want to see it for himself, especially if he had just walked in on his zombified dad eating the family pet.
Kingsley crept towards the sofa where the sounds seemed to be coming from. When he peered over the back of the sofa, though, no one was sitting there.
Then he saw her.
The elderly woman on the floor, staring up at him with eyes like pale, bloodshot fish eggs and incessantly biting at the air. The lower half of her torso looked like it had been snacked on by a pair of wolves. A cane leaned against the sofa. Kingsley deducted that Sammy’s mother must have had trouble walking when she was alive because her undead body couldn’t seem to stand.
At a guess, Sammy’s dad had been bitten a few hours ago, locked himself and his wife inside their home and called the police to no avail. Then her dad had turned, killed her mum and started feasting on her body, been distracted by their yapping dog, cornered the animal in the utility room, and…
Kingsley felt a new wave of guilt start to form as he realised that they probably could have saved Sammy’s parents had they come a few hours earlier.
Kara, Rebecca and Eric appeared at the living room door. Kingsley shot them a pained look, then knelt down beside the snapper. A sickly lump formed in his throat.
He held his
