Empty Hands and Broken Glass

The day had started out normally, I got up at 6 am, got ready for school and went through my daily routine. But then I saw him. Eyes gouged out, skull crushed in, blood soaked clothing. And it wasn’t just him, there were dozens, maybe even hundreds, roaming the streets in the city. They must have gathered overnight. Out the front window, past the decaying man, I saw one beat down the door of the house across the street. My mind immediately went to my sister, in the house two blocks away.

I dashed out the door and ran past the man, and the dozens like him. One tugged on my shirt, another groaned. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw one bite into the neck of another. I looked away before I saw anything else and made myself run faster.

Seeing my mother’s house confirmed my fears. I glanced around in a panic as the shuffling feet grew closer. Windows shattered, door broken open, no signs of my mother or my sister.

I raced inside, hoping against hope that they were still here, still safe. Then I found it. Her note.

~
I pulled the crumpled note out of my pocket once again, rereading it for the hundredth time. Chicago. I had to go to Chicago. That was my only hope of finding them alive and well.