I've had some time to separate my old life from the way things are now, and I thought, while it's a bit quiet and the others are resting, I'd put some thoughts down. Maybe it will be useful someday. Providing anyone lives long enough to read it. I really don't know what to say. It all still seems a bit surreal, yet it's almost like the past is wiped out and this new "life" is all we know.
I guess I should start simply. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my Father. Prepare to die. Ha! Still got it!
Seriously, my name is David. I was working my part-time job at the video store, near the beginning of November, about a year and a half ago. I got a very strange call from my wife. She said the neighbors had killed our dog, Lizzie. When I asked her why, she said "I really don't know. They're just standing in the street in front of the house, sort of swaying, looking this way." My wife was very clear about this "Their eyes seem... dead. Please come home, Dave." I'll never forget the chill I felt in the seriousness of those last words. It was too early for me to close, but there was no one in the small store, and we would be closed in 20 minutes, anyway, so I decided to go home. The boss lived in Lafayette, which was a good 40 minutes away, so even if he did decide to make one of his patented "after-hours visits" it wouldn't matter.
I closed up and went to my car. Wow. I haven't even thought about that old car until now. It really saved me. Luckily Indiana is pretty cold in November, so I let the car warm up for a few moments before I backed out. As I stepped on the gas, I turned to look over my shoulder (the rearview mirror had dropped off in the summer, and I hadn't gotten around to re-attaching it) and something moved past the back of the car. I thought it might be a customer who wanted me to let them drop off their movie so it wouldn't be late. That happens on a regular basis in a small rural town like ours. I saw a figure standing next to the passenger side of my car. Thank God that window stopped working about three years ago, because if the fact that this guy wasn't wearing a coat didn't tip me off, the blood running down the sleeve sure did. I knew something was wrong, so I rolled down the rear window on the passenger side, and yelled "Hey, man, are you all right?" The smell hit me before anything else. The stench was enough to, as my dad used to say, "Puke a buzzard off a gut wagon."
At that instant, the rear window groaned under his weight as he tried to squeeze through the 8 inch opening between the top of the door frame and glass.
That was the moment I saw his face.
The blueish-green hue of his skin, the one empty eye socket, the blood staining his face all startled me. I pissed a little and hit the gas, screaming like a girl. The car was still in reverse, so I knocked him over. I was still screaming when my rear tires hit the curb on the other side of the street. I was able to quit screaming long enough to put the car in drive and gas it out of there.
It's kind of funny to think about it now. Kind of.
Anyone who might have been watching would have thought so. But I DON'T CARE! I'm alive to tell the tale. So I pissed my pants. In hind-sight, I'm lucky I didn't crap them.
The drive home was no picnic, either. Several people whom I had previously called friends, peers with whom I worked at the high school seemed insane! I watched Erick fighting off one of the Pickett boys with a shovel. The librarian, Chris was being disemboweled on the steps of the library by what I could only describe as a mob of bloodthirsty freaks.
I admit, after hitting the first body, I cried a bit. "What have I done?!" I thought. "These are my friends and neighbors for crying out loud!"
But my neighbors were just beginning.
My street was quiet, as usual, but the headlights of my car normally don't illuminate people on the road. I stopped about 50 feet from the drive. Tonight there were two figures in front of my driveway. The Frowman's, Pete and Linda, were standing there, just like Pam said they were. She neglected to tell me Linda was still holding Lizzie's corpse.
The amount of blood that sprayed out as I hit them with the car was absolutely shocking. I didn't even try to miss the mailbox. I figured we'd worry about that another time.
I pulled into and shut the garage before I got out. I listened very hard for any sounds or movement. Once it was safe, and the ticking and steaming of the engine was the only sound, I got out. I puked before I even knew why. That smell.
I got in the house and yelled for Pam and the girls. They were cowering in the basement. I had gotten home in time.
Well, my shift is almost over, so I will close and try again tomorrow night.
I pray there is a tomorrow night.