Infection |Infected Book 1|

(2) Murderer

I eye my car keys on the nightstand next to my bed, knowing that I have to leave. There is no helping my parents. The pounding against the door continues and finally a bloody fist breaks through. Dad's face fills the hole in the door--his eyes black, his face filled with rage.

My eyes stay glued on him as he continues to break through the door, pushing against the dresser. Mom is trying to shove her way through right with him. I reach for my keys, grasping them tightly in the same hand that is holding my phone. Stepping backwards, I slide my empty hand behind me, keeping my eyes on the strangers in front of me, and crack the window open. I turn my body so that I can open it all the way. My only option is to jump out of the window.

I can't leave without one last confirmation. "Daddy?" I ask, my voice quivering with the slim hope that maybe I am wrong about all of this, that maybe I am still dreaming.

They both stop, silence overwhelming the bedroom that was once my sanctuary. Then suddenly the silence is cut off by blood-curdling screams erupting from both of them. Dad's eyes stay locked on me as he uses all of his strength to push the dresser over, bursting into a sprint towards me.

I fling myself out of the window without a second thought, landing on my feet and bending my knees. My momentum shifts me forward and I roll into the wet morning grass. Then I watch in horror, as my dad, my hero, launches himself out of the window with his arms and legs flailing around him. I can't hold in my scream any longer.

My scream pierces through the front yard, stopping when Dad's body hit the ground with a thud, His head twists at a grotesque angle. His back and neck breaks with a loud crack.

My shaking hand reaches out to touch him, hovering in the air as I wrestle with the emotions inside of me. I don't want to leave Dad lying there. I don't want to, but I have to. Something is horribly wrong and I am not safe here.

Dad continues to growl even though he is paralyzed. He isn't even moaning in pain.

Screams erupting through the morning air snaps me out of it and brings me to my feet quickly. I snatch my car keys and phone that had fallen out of my grasp during the fall and grip them tightly, the teeth of the keys digging into the flesh of my palm. I run around the side of the house, towards the driveway, my eyes scanning every inch of our front yard for anyone that might attack me. Cries for help and painful wails continue in the neighborhood around me. I want to help them badly, but if I want to stay alive I have to get to my car.

And there it is, my red BMW, sitting untouched and beckoning for me to climb in the front seat and drive away as far as possible. I close the distance between my getaway and me, my nervous hands fumbling for the unlock button on my keys. I pull open the door with such force that it comes back and hits me in the shin, making me cry out as I throw my body into the driver's seat.

Putting the keys in the ignition, I rev the engine, finding relief when it starts with ease. I lock the doors, shift the car in reverse, and back out of the driveway, my tires squealing as I try to gun it down the road. Soon I find that I won't be getting anywhere very fast as I witness the chaos surrounding me.

A woman is in her yard with three men around her, one I recognize as Mr. Johansen, Dad's friend. The men are ripping into her with their teeth, the woman screaming as she falls limp and bloody in their arms.

A man runs across the street, right in front of my car, his handgun pointing at the pack of men. His hope is to save the woman, but every shot is useless--the bullets embedding into the side of the house or shooting out the windows instead. I watch in horror as the men drop the woman. I gasp when I notice that her bones are showing. The men turn their attention towards the shooting gun, charging at the man wielding it. He brings the gun to his temple and ends his own life without hesitation.