Car horns blared in every direction. The seventeen year old was grinding her teeth together, hands gripping the steering wheel, while trying to avoid the lunatics, either speeding by her or slowly easing beside the 2005 blue Dodge caravan. Frustrated, the curly haired brunette unintentionally released several curses. She had never seen traffic this terrible, unless she was driving by the university; but this wasn't the road that led to College Town, this was the road she took to get home from Wal-Mart.
She recieved a text before first period from her mother reminding her to stop by the store to pick up two gallons of milk and three loaves of bread after leaving school. What surprised the teenager was the crowd of people shuffling in and out of Wal-Mart with baskets full of food and other essentials. Some of the charts that were seen carried supplies that towered at least six feet.
The brunette hurried in and out of the store with what she needed, pushing and shoving people aside to get to the exit. Approaching the caravan, her phone went off in her pocket. The teenager got into the vehicle, locking the door while doing so, before answering.
"Hello?"
"Jessica?" A woman's voice replied on the other end.
"Hey mom, what's up?" Jessica asked, placing the goceries in the foot area in front of the passenger seat.
"Don't worry about going to Wal-Mart, just go straight home. There are too many crazy people on the road and I don't want you getting hurt."
Jessica shook her head, releasing a light chuckle. "Too late mom, I just picked up what you needed."
"Oh, okay," Her mother sighed, concern laced with her tone "Just be careful getting home."
"Okay, I'll see you later mom. Bye."
The drive home was chaotic, though when entering her neighborhood Jessica found the place to be unusually bleak. The other thing that was bizarre was several of her neighbors were planted head first into their lawns or stumbling erractically across the road into other yards.
The Dodge caravan pulled into the driveway of Jessica's home. As soon as she got out of the vehicle, the brunette knew something felt out of the ordinary. Approaching the porch, Jessica noticed a figure, hunched over, standing a few yards away from her. The teenager trained her gaze upon the silhouette, while she unlocked the front door. The figure, who's slippers were rustling through the grass, was her friendly next-door neighbor, Mrs. Baxter. The older woman's vacant eyes narrowed upon the brunette. Foam-like drool cascaded from the corner of the neighbor's lips; her skin was as grey as her wild, frazzled hair. A growl struggled through Mrs. Baxter's vocal cords.
Jessica's eyes widened, realizing this woman wasn't the Mrs. Baxter she knew for three years. The body limped and stumbled towards the brunette. Jessica barged through the door, dropping the groceries onto the rug of the of the entryway, and locking the front door before any harm could come to her.
The evening’s dinner remained within the grocery bags, disregarded by Jessica who at the moment was struggling to comprehend what was happening outside. Her heart was beating frantically, while pondering whether she should confront Mrs. Baxter and congratulate the woman for scaring her, or stay inside and call her parents. The constant growls and the pounding on the other side of the door caused Jessica to choose the later.
The teenager sidestepped into the bedroom to her right, her gaze never veering away. Jessica’s fingers trembled as they extracted the red flip phone from her pocket. Dialing her mother’s cell phone number, the teenager waited anxiously for someone to answer.
The continuous banging, as well as the thought that the front door may be knocked off its hinges, told Jessica that she shouldn’t hide out in the room closest to the possible danger awaiting her. Quietly, the brunette tiptoed from the guest bedroom to her parents’ bedroom at the other end of the house. She slowly and deliberately closed, then locked the bedroom door.
Jessica’s high hopes of getting a hold of her parents diminished. Instead of hearing the concern tone of her mother’s voice, the voicemail answered with its customary hello. Her mother usually has a problem with answering her phone. The next number through her contacts was her father. Jessica could always rely on her father to answer his phone. Unfortunately, the same thing happened, her father’s business-like voice thanked her for considering their business.
“Was this really happening?” Jessica thought to herself.
The teenager scrolled through her contacts list once more until the name of her eldest brother, Jacen, popped up. The dial tone began to ring as she pressed it to her ear.
“Hello?”
“Jacen? Jacen, are you there?”
There was static for a minute or two until she could clearly understand her brother. “Jess, where are you?”
“I’m at home,” Jessica stuttered. “I just got home from the store.”
“Okay, whatever you do, do not, I repeat do not leave the house.” Jacen’s voice practically shouted in her ear. “Lock the doors, close the shades, whatever, just don’t be seen, do you understand?”
The teenager felt as if she was going to exploded from all the confusion and emotions swarming within her, but she knew that wouldn’t do any good.
“Jacen, what’s happening?” The words barely left her vocal cords. “Where’s Andy?”
“Don’t worry, Andy is with me,” Jacen reassured her. “He was attacked by Mrs. Rogers at the Easy Mail place, but he’s fine.”
“But what’s going on?” Jessica nearly screamed.
“I don’t kn-“ Her brother’s voice was cut off, leaving Jessica with nothing but the blaring of the dial tone, indicating that the phone was out of service. There was no point in calling out to him, either something happened to him or his phone was dead.
Hoping that Jacen and Andy were coming to get her, Jessica spared a few minutes going around the house locking doors and closing curtains. She was tempted to check the front door, to see if her neighbor was still waiting outside, but as soon as she took a peak through the blinds of Jacen’s bedroom window, she hightailed it back to her parents’ room, locking the door behind her.
After secluding herself in the bedroom, the red cell phone began to vibrate against her thigh. She retrieved it from her pocket, her hands once again trembling as they flipped it open. “H-hello.”
“Jess!”
Jessica’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, until fear etched themselves into olive gaze from hearing the panic within her younger brother’s voice. “Michael?”
“J-Jess, where are you?”
Jessica could hear the sob behind his stuttering. She had never seen or heard her brother so frightened. “I’m at home-“ The teenager’s body jumped against her mother’s dresser, crashes and screams echoed in the background. “Michael?” Jessica shouted into the cell phone.
A whimper entered through the receiver. “C-come get me, Jess.”
Her mouth hung open, words barely escaping the barrier of her lips. “Where are you?”
The curly haired brunette found it difficult to understand her younger brother, as static circulated through the earpiece. “Guidance Office.”Static. “Conference Room.”Static. “Hurry.” Before the line went dead, Jessica could hear his voice calling out for someone, as well as a solemn groan.
Jessica’s lips parted to releasing a shuddering gasp. What was happening in front of her home was happening at the high school. What was she supposed to do? If everyone was turning into zombies, like the neighbor who was still pounding her flimsy fists against the front door, then how was she going to leave the house without being attacked?
Jessica drew away from the dresser and found her body lying against the comforter of the king size bed. Her thoughts were rattled with so much confusion, but fear dominated every crevice and space in her mind. She could wait for Jacen and Andy to arrive, but there was the chance that they may never come, that she would have to hold down the fort herself. Then there was Michael, what was she supposed do about him?
The curly haired brunette blocked her olive gaze with the palm of her hands, hoping to push back all the negative thoughts. What was it that Master Yoda would say, “Do or do not, there is no try.” She had to rescue her brother, she would strive to do anything to make sure her family was safe; they would do the same for her under these unusual circumstances. The question that pondered within her mind was, how?
The teenager sat up from where she laid, twiddling her fingers. The movement of her hands came to a halt, her gaze widened, before scrambling out of the bedroom and toward the front door. She maneuvered the grocery bags away from her purse. Jessica’s gaze fell upon the car key to the 2005 Caravan dangling off her key chain. The teenager remembered that the car was parked upon the lawn in front of the house. The only thing standing in her way was the infected Mrs. Baxter.
Jessica moved away from the front door and toward the extra pantry closet in the hallway to the right of the kitchen. She practically pulled the door off its hinges, before grasping for the yellow broomstick. From the hallway, the teenager walked straight into her bedroom, snatching her school bag from the carpet floor. With confidence in her stride, Jessica marched toward the dining table. She dropped her bag upon the table before gripping the broomstick, as if she were up to bat at a baseball game. With a powerful swing, the teenager snapped the broomstick against the wooden round table. The cleaning tool was broken in two, both ends splintered. She examined the tips before tossing the pieces onto the table.
“Now for the supplies,” Jessica said aloud to herself.
The brunette dropped all the contents of her backpack onto the wooden floor. Quickly, Jessica ran toward the main pantry and grabbed whatever would be easy to snack on later. Then, the teenager raced into her parents’ bathroom, opens the supply closet and seized the first aid kit.
“That should be it,” Jessica muttered, as she shouldered her backpack before grasping one of the broken ends of the broomstick.
Still unsure whether she was doing the right thing, the brunette crouched in front of her forgotten purse. She removed her car key from the key chain. The teenager glanced down at the broken half of the broomstick. She furrowed her eyebrows together, confused as to why she was carrying a stick. Its not like she was Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Jessica tossed the broken half of the broomstick and returned the kitchen. Beside the oven was a holder for an assortment of knives. Jessica smoothly removed one of her dad’s good chopping knives, the kind that could cut a Thanksgiving turkey, before returning to the front door. The teenager closed her eyes, praying for some ounce of courage. Once calmed and sure of herself, Jessica tugged the door open, the tip of the blade held above her head.
“I’m sorry,” Jessica stuttered to the once kindly neighbor.