A loud scream came from downstairs.
I saw the stranger turn around and run down the stairs, and then I heard gunshots. Lots of them. I jumped up from under the bed and grabbed the rifle from inside the closet. I stood by the doorway to the bedroom and waited until the shots stopped.
There was silence, or what I thought was silence. I listened closely and heard reloading, and somebody crying quietly. Another scream, and then silence. I slowly started walking down the stairs. Something bad had gone down, but I didn't know what. As I turned the corner, I saw two bodies laying on the floor. The first one's insides were completely hanging out, as if someone had gutted him right there in the kitchen. Another man was laying on top of him, guts still hanging out of his mouth. A gunshot went straight through this one's head.
I ran to the sink and began to vomit into it. The taste burned my throat and it started coming out of my nose. Fucking hell. I start searching the cabinets for my napkins, but I can't find them. I remembered afterwards that I might not be alone. I quickly stood up and searched around the room for another visitor, but there was no one there. I quickly looked around the kitchen to see what food I could still salvage. Food cans were thrown on the floor and the fridge was left wide open. As I was searching through what was left in the fridge, the door to the garage opened very quickly. I attempted to hide below the counter but I slipped and busted my ass on the blood-covered kitchen floor.
Mark ran in, and gave me with a look of worry. "We need to go. Now!" he yelled. I could see from the open doorway that Mark didn't have enough time to get the garage closed completely, and the dead were crawling under. Lizzy was standing near the door, trying to keep them from getting inside. "Why didn't you go through the back door, Mark?" I'm pissed. Beyond pissed. He put my daughter in harm's way. "It was locked!", he responded. Of course it was locked. I'm an idiot.
I grabbed an empty grocery bag, and began piling cans of food and vegetables into it. I snatched the keys off the coffee table and rushed outside while unlocking the truck with my key fob. "Get in now!", I screamed at Mark. Lizzy jumped into the backseat while Mark rode shotgun. I opened the driver's side door and threw the rifle in the back. I opened the garage door, shifted into reverse, and put the pedal to the floor. So many of those things began standing up and walking towards the truck. I could practically feel their bones crunch underneath my tires. I will never forget how it sounded.
I stopped in the middle of the driveway to take in my surroundings. I see somebody laying in our yard. I remember the silhouette of the intruders and realize that I am looking one in the eyes, weapon laying beside him. It was Jeff, who lived a couple houses down from us. The nicest guy on the block came to steal our shit. He silently reached out to me as his insides were being torn apart, begging for mercy and help. If it had been a different kind of day, I might have done something. Jeff broke in to steal our shit, and there's consequences for actions. I had to pull my eyes away from the scene as I backed away from that house, full of memories, and drove off into the distance.