trash can blocking the other side of the stairwell. Once the bodies began to pile up against the impromptu roadblock, Harrison began to sprint down the staircase looking for the man in the football pads. “Phil!”
Once Harrison had reached the bottom of the staircase, he smiled at the green “Exit” sign pointing in the direction of the garage. Harrison continued sprinting down the corridor. Harrison had a car one time; it was a 1984 Jaguar, a silver 4-door. Harrison loved that car. He had to sell it when he retired and relied on public transportation. Since his world was falling around him, he decided it would be a good time to do some things he always wanted to do, but first, he needed to get out of this apartment building. When he reached the door to the garage, he found Phil in his football gear wielding the Babe Ruth bat like a madman. Many of the creatures had found their way to the garage. Paul had cornered himself with Phil.
Four red-eyed human creatures were closing in on them. Phil’s sports training began to run in the head. He got in a three-point stance and charged at the interceptors. The first one he speared fell to the ground. He began to stomp its face in. Once he heard an unfamiliar snap, he began to swing the bat connecting against the head the next contestant trying to get an all-you-can-eat buffet. Harrison came beside him and began swinging the golf club at the other attackers. After the bodies had fallen and showed no signs of getting back up, the men nodded heads at each other and turned to find little Paul cowering in the corner. Phil went to comfort his son, only to be stopped by Harrison. “Run!” Harrison exclaimed as he motioned to the door in front of them with red eyes spilling out toward them. “Paul! Come here!” Paul began to cry as he stood up and ran toward his dad in the blood-soaked football gear. Phil pulled his son close, so he didn’t watch the man from another floor being ripped apart in the stairwell behind Harrison.
“Where’s your car?” Harrison shouted as he paced beside Phil carrying Paul.
“Here! Left!”
Harrison followed the short commands. They came upon Phil’s vehicle. A Jeep Cherokee with bumper stickers of random sports teams. “Throw your shit in the back. We’re out of here! Paul! Seat belt!” Little Paul climbed in the backseat of the SUV and strapped in. He looked around the back of the car as his dad took off the football helmet and the old man threw bags into the hatchback of the vehicle. Paul began to whimper as he looked in front of him and saw people running toward him. “Daddy!” Paul shouted from inside the car.
Phil looked up to see people running in from the street trying to hide from the sea of attackers. “Run!” Phil shouted at the random people as he got in. “Because we’re outta here, ah!” Phil threw the vehicle into reverse, backing into the mass of people. Holding the horn, he swerved down the path and into the sunlight. Once they reached the outside of the sublevel garage under the housing structure, they were met by pure chaos. Phil slammed to a halt. Staring out the windshield, he gave a silent nod to Harrison who showed a look of despair on his face; Phil spoke to Paul who was in the backseat, “Remember what I told you about being a superhero? We’re going to get through this. We’re going to escape and wait for the superheroes to get here. But we need to get out of the city. I need you to close your eyes. There are bad things happening that I don’t want you to see. Can you do that for me, buddy?” Phil didn’t turn around to acknowledge Paul’s response. “Hang on!” Phil exclaimed as he forced his boot on the gas pedal.
“I-75 to Ohio?” Phil asked the old man for advice.
“We’ll have to get out of the city to go to another city. Everyone will take the interstate. Bad idea,” Harrison retorted.
“What else is there? Back roads?”
“I don’t know my way. Do you?”
“No!” Phil said as
Once Harrison had reached the bottom of the staircase, he smiled at the green “Exit” sign pointing in the direction of the garage. Harrison continued sprinting down the corridor. Harrison had a car one time; it was a 1984 Jaguar, a silver 4-door. Harrison loved that car. He had to sell it when he retired and relied on public transportation. Since his world was falling around him, he decided it would be a good time to do some things he always wanted to do, but first, he needed to get out of this apartment building. When he reached the door to the garage, he found Phil in his football gear wielding the Babe Ruth bat like a madman. Many of the creatures had found their way to the garage. Paul had cornered himself with Phil.
Four red-eyed human creatures were closing in on them. Phil’s sports training began to run in the head. He got in a three-point stance and charged at the interceptors. The first one he speared fell to the ground. He began to stomp its face in. Once he heard an unfamiliar snap, he began to swing the bat connecting against the head the next contestant trying to get an all-you-can-eat buffet. Harrison came beside him and began swinging the golf club at the other attackers. After the bodies had fallen and showed no signs of getting back up, the men nodded heads at each other and turned to find little Paul cowering in the corner. Phil went to comfort his son, only to be stopped by Harrison. “Run!” Harrison exclaimed as he motioned to the door in front of them with red eyes spilling out toward them. “Paul! Come here!” Paul began to cry as he stood up and ran toward his dad in the blood-soaked football gear. Phil pulled his son close, so he didn’t watch the man from another floor being ripped apart in the stairwell behind Harrison.
“Where’s your car?” Harrison shouted as he paced beside Phil carrying Paul.
“Here! Left!”
Harrison followed the short commands. They came upon Phil’s vehicle. A Jeep Cherokee with bumper stickers of random sports teams. “Throw your shit in the back. We’re out of here! Paul! Seat belt!” Little Paul climbed in the backseat of the SUV and strapped in. He looked around the back of the car as his dad took off the football helmet and the old man threw bags into the hatchback of the vehicle. Paul began to whimper as he looked in front of him and saw people running toward him. “Daddy!” Paul shouted from inside the car.
Phil looked up to see people running in from the street trying to hide from the sea of attackers. “Run!” Phil shouted at the random people as he got in. “Because we’re outta here, ah!” Phil threw the vehicle into reverse, backing into the mass of people. Holding the horn, he swerved down the path and into the sunlight. Once they reached the outside of the sublevel garage under the housing structure, they were met by pure chaos. Phil slammed to a halt. Staring out the windshield, he gave a silent nod to Harrison who showed a look of despair on his face; Phil spoke to Paul who was in the backseat, “Remember what I told you about being a superhero? We’re going to get through this. We’re going to escape and wait for the superheroes to get here. But we need to get out of the city. I need you to close your eyes. There are bad things happening that I don’t want you to see. Can you do that for me, buddy?” Phil didn’t turn around to acknowledge Paul’s response. “Hang on!” Phil exclaimed as he forced his boot on the gas pedal.
“I-75 to Ohio?” Phil asked the old man for advice.
“We’ll have to get out of the city to go to another city. Everyone will take the interstate. Bad idea,” Harrison retorted.
“What else is there? Back roads?”
“I don’t know my way. Do you?”
“No!” Phil said as
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