“Those things just killed my dad,” I said as I buried my face into Hattie’s chest. She had no words for me. There was nothing she could have said that would have changed anything or made me feel better. She just held me close and rubbed my back.

Were those things coming to the house? Were they coming for us? Where was my mom? I finally pulled away from Hattie, wiping my eyes. I took a handgun from the safe, unsure of myself. I checked to see if it was loaded. Neither of us knew what kind of enemy we faced, but we knew we had to fight it, no matter what it was.

We went back into the living area and my eyes were glued to the television. I stood there numbly, unable to comprehend that I had just finished the last conversation with my dad that I would ever have. The reports kept coming in about these mindless grey people going around biting, scratching, and eating human flesh. That was all anyone knew. Had my father just been eaten by one of these things? A few of these things? Were these just normal people with a sickness like rabies or something?

I wanted to throw up. I wanted to cry more. I wanted my parents to be home. As I stared at the screen, just as clueless as the reporters at the station, I couldn’t help but wonder how big this must be.

I was lost in my thoughts until my heart jolted at the sound of the someone banging on the front door upstairs. “Mom?” I said as I stood up sharply. I headed straight for the stairs, but Hattie grabbed my arm and pulled me to the ground. She raised a finger to her lips and motioned for me to stay quiet. The thought then hit me that it might not have been mom at all. I froze when I realized that it could have been those creatures. The banging got louder and louder. I could hear the wood start to crack underneath the weight of the intruders. Finally, there was a crash and the door sounded like it was flung open.

I held the handgun close to me. I hoped beyond all hope that my mother wasn't on her way home. As we sat at the bottom of the stairs, I could see shadows move under the doorstep. Something, a hand maybe, grabbed for the doorknob, but never turned it. Next, it started scratching, then hitting its fists hard against the wood. As the pounding became louder, I nearly screamed. Hattie pointed her rifle at the door, ready for anything to come through.

The noise, I thought. I instantly stood and ran for the television and shut it off. I then walked quickly to the light switches and shut off all the lights in the basement.