Morgan turned and stared out into the street. It was chaos. The whole neighborhood was going to hell. She stumbled across the lawn to get a closer look. Were there more people as sick as her husband? Was this a disease? Something that drove them crazy? It was the only explanation her frozen mind would accept.
Whatever it was, it was spreading with the ferocity of wildfire. A car sped around the corner, tires screeching. The driver never spared her a glance, and she was too numb to care.
To her left, a trio of sick people cornered a woman and ripped away at her flesh. The agonizing screams tore at Morgan’s heart before they were abruptly cut off. More bodies lay scattered around on the immaculate green lawns of their front yards.
A corpse stirred and rose to its feet. A man. He stood there, strips of flesh hanging off of limbs covered in blood. His intestines dragged on the ground as he staggered around. Morgan reeled, vertigo making her sway. It can’t be. He can’t still be alive!
Dogs barked at the monsters that used to be their owners until they too died in a welter of howls. Wincing at the distressing sounds, she realized anything and everything that moved would fall victim to these things. Further up the street, shots rang out. Through her fence, she glimpsed a man herding his family into a car.
Morgan knew she should move, but her limbs remained frozen to the spot until something caught her eye. One of the walking dead clawed at the palisades bordering her lawn. It rasped through a ruined throat and reached out a bloody hand as if in supplication. Behind it, two more had noticed and followed. I’m being surrounded!
This thought galvanized Morgan into action, and she sprinted around the house to the backyard. Brian’s truck was the only realistic means of escape. She ran to it and reached for the handle, crying out in frustration when she realized it was locked.
“Shit, where are the keys?” They hung on a board in the kitchen. “I can’t go back in there.”
She had no choice, though. Maybe if she moved fast enough, she could grab them and get out while Brian still hammered on the front door. Luckily, the back door was unlocked owing to her clandestine smoking habits. She had snuck out for a quick cigarette that morning while he still slept.
Before her nerves could fail, she rushed into the kitchen and ran to the board, searching for the keys. From the front of the house, she heard Brian’s growls pause before they resumed in heightened pitch as they headed her way.
Morgan ran trembling fingertips over the keys, and heart hammered in her chest until she found the right ones. Grabbing them, she turned to run but fumbled her grip. They clattered to the floor.
“Fuck,” she cried, scrambling around on all fours.
The slap of Brian’s feet on the kitchen tiles caused her heart to stutter. She snatched up the keys and lunged outside. A brief glimpse of his pale, inhuman visage tore at her as she shut the door in his face. Morgan crumpled to her knees with a cry. “I can’t do this. I can’t.”
She reached up and laid a hand on the wood. It shivered beneath her palm from the force of his blows. “Brian, please come back. What am I supposed to do now?”
She was ready to give up and slumped down, but a voice from within nagged at her. Get up. Run.
“I can’t,” she whispered.
Do it. You can’t give up now. What about your family? Your friends?
“Oh, my God. Mom. Dad.”
Morgan bolted for the truck, barely noticing the gravel cutting into her bare feet. She pushed the remote button to unlock it and jumped in. After a deep breath, she turned the key in the ignition and shifted into gear.
At the gate, a mob of infected had gathered. They clawed through the gaps with creepy yearning. She hesitated. They were people, after all, but they also blocked the exit. This left her no choice. She had to go through.
“Here goes,” she said and pushed the remote button.
The gate opened, and they flooded inside, swamping the car. They beat on the windows and climbed onto the hood, crawling over each other like insects. She shuddered in disgust as one licked the window next to her face, leaving a smear of bloody spittle behind. For once, she was grateful she’d never gotten to know her neighbors.
When the gate was finally open, she floored the gas and roared through, biting her lower lip when she ran over a few of them. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth.
A glance at the clock read twenty past eleven. She’d hidden in the shower for far too long. For all she knew, her parents, her sister, everyone she loved, could be one of those things. “I’m coming. Please be okay. I need you to be okay.”
The trip through town gave her a clear view of the chaos breaking out everywhere. It was horrific. People tried to escape, loading possessions, kids, and pets into cars. Most didn’t make it. Infected swarmed through the neighborhoods and descended on the healthy with rabid hunger. They left the dead in their wake, only to have them rise minutes later to join the hunt. Screams rang through the air and confronted her at every turn.
A young mother ran out of her house, dragging a little boy by the arm. She spotted Morgan and rushed out into the street. “Help us! Please, help!”
Behind her, a man burst through the door and sprinted towards them. Morgan slammed on the brakes and leaned over to unlock the passenger door. “Get in. Hurry!”
The woman ran towards her, feet slapping on the tar road as she closed the distance. The child cried, his mother half-carrying and half-dragging him. Morgan stared at the unfolding scene, and
