A cold, quiet domicile. Perfect.
Then, sirens. Sounds. Painful, unwanted noise.
They scream, panic. Usually at my hands. Today, something else.
A growl, slowly building. I sense it.
They hide on the second floor. Watch from windows. I lurk, unseen, silent.
Sirens drowned out. Now, only a roar.
They see it. A rising carpet of blue and black. They hug, pray, whisper. I simply watch. For a moment, the warmth of normality.
But the blue rises.
Soon, the domicile is gone. So are they. Their screams washed down.
I drift away. Searching for somewhere new to rest.
Not a good day. Trapper sick.
Trapper worse. Overheard Daddy say he’ll have to “deal with him.” He thinks it’s the Infection. Mom agreed.
Saw Mom stroking Trapper and crying. I snuck out of my room earlier and said goodbye to him myself. He just led there.
Trapper is gone. Daddy took him into the backyard and then came back in shaking. Mom hugged him but I ran upstairs.
Daddy is sick. Mom’s crying.
Mom says we’re leaving. I’m packing now.
Daddy is dead. Mom won’t say what happened. We’re going to Aunt Ruth’s.
Short red dress, long auburn hair, tight creamy thighs; she stood out from the rest. He pulled over.
“Chessels, please.” Her voice was soft, careful. She slid inside.
Mirror adjusted, he watched her, red dress riding all the way up.
“I do believe you plan on raping me.”
His body stiffened. “I’m-”
“Except, you will not. You see, if you were like me, you would already know what was soon to occur. And, importantly, who I was.”
A half-formed realisation was blasted from his consciousness. Pink and red painted glass.
A short roll and a sudden stop later, she was gone.
The winter chill bit hard. John tightened his scarf and rushed Megan out of the front door. The garage spotlight, long-since on the blink, fought valiantly against the dark.
John slammed the door behind Megan as she slid onto the back seat. He climbed into the car himself and turned the ignition.
He took a short breath, then tried again.
Not even a splutter.
“It’s fine, dear. It’s fine.” He almost believed it himself.
She shifted behind him.
“Daddy,” Megan whispered softly. She hadn’t called him that since the day Andrea died.
“There’s a man sat next to me.”