Chapter 23: Night of The Dead

0200

His slumber was startled by a distant cry. As he slowly regained consciousness the echo of the cry faded away. He couldn't tell if it was from his dream or was it of this world. He found himself in his bedroom snug underneath thick sheets. Silence save the deep and constant drone of the air conditioner. It wasn't a particularly hot season, but he liked keeping his room extra cold and himself tightly bound in fleece blankets. 

As all sensation returned to his sleeping body, he suddenly felt the urge to pee. Reluctantly jumping out of the warmth of the bed, he quickly rushed over out of his room, pass his little sister's room door, and through the next door into the washroom. 

He turned on the lights. It blinked. Again. And again. The room was illuminated. He emptied his bladder, let out a shudder and depressed the flush button. As he turned around and reached for the door knob he heard a loud scream. This time it sounded like it came from inside the house. Not a dream, he thought. He didn't know what to do. It sounded like a man. It sounded like his dad. 

0210

Harnessing all the courage he's got, he crept out of the washroom and into his room to get his trusty baseball bat. It was tucked just behind the room door. One of the places around the house he kept crude weapons for break-in instances like this one. His mom called him paranoid, seeing as this was practically a crime-free neighborhood. She was wrong.

He got out of the room, passed his sister's room which was still closed. He walked pass the washroom, lights still on and the door halfway ajar. Then he got to his parents' room door which was just before the stairway down to the living hall. It was open, completely dark inside. 

"Mom. Dad." he whispered. No response. Slowly he pushed the door open to check on his parents. The hinges creaked and almost immediately his attention was turned to a crashing sound heard from downstairs, most probably from the kitchen. He tried as quietly as possible to descend the wooden steps, hoping not to rouse the robber and be able to  have a swing at him for messing with the wrong house. 

The living hall was pitch black save road lights flooding in through the windows. The window sheers moved slightly to breeze, but he was too focused on the kitchen to notice. As the walkway ended and the kitchen hall opened up he saw the a figure standing behind the island counter. It seemed to be digging at something on the ground just beyond the counter. 

"Oi!" He yelled, breaking silence. Just as the figure was turning around it's face was lit up by the outside light. He swore he saw blood all over the figure's face and mouth. He couldn't make out the figure's face through the mess of hair all over it. 

0220

Without thinking he rushed towards the figure and swung his aluminum weapon around in hope it would hit something. It did both times but that didn't seem to harm the figure. Instead it reached out both hands to grab him. He stumbled backwards barely missing it's reach by a few inches. But it didn't come any closer. Something below the figure seemed to have prevented it from moving. Then he heard the faint sound of his father. 

"Run, Tom. Get your sister and run!"

The figure went down and attacked his father. Refusing to let it harm his father, he swung the bat right onto it's head. Twice it hit the head, causing a loud cracking sound. His father was screaming out, he could see the figure plunging it's hands into his chest and ripping flesh off. One more hit on it's head and it cracked. It landed on the ground next to his father with a loud thump, lifeless. 

Dropping the bat he crashed onto his knees, landed on a massive pool of blood. He removed his shirt and compressed it against his father's open chest. 

"Dad. You're gonna be okay."

"Tom." his voice weak. It sounded as if those words took all his energy to muster.

"I'm gonna call the ambulance now. Hang in there."

"Tom. Listen to me."

"No dad. You should keep quiet. Your wound don't look that bad. You're gonna be fine." He was lying. His father's wound was so bad he could barely look at it again. He didn't dare press too hard against the wound because he could already feel the broken ribs and something that could've been the organs beneath. 

"Tom!" His father grabbed his arm. He was shivering, sweating. He was trying so hard to hide the panic that was overwhelming him entirely. 

"Get your sister and run. There are more of them around. Be careful. Go for their heads. Find the police. Your mom is gone." Words came out very slowly and very difficult.

0300

No words were uttered after that. Slowly he watched as his father groaned in pain, threw a few episodes of fits, and began chocking in his own blood before passing out. He cried and shivered. He didn't know what to do. He sat there in the pool of blood right over his father's body. He cried. He trembled. He didn't know what to do. 

0335

He sat right over his father. No longer crying. He was trying to recollect what happened the past hour. What was that figure? Why did it want to hurt his father? How was it able to tear open his father's chest with it's bare hands? 

Mom is gone? Where has she gone to? She has to be somewhere around. Maybe she will know what to do. 

He stood up, for the first time since the whole incident his head was clear. He knew what he needed to do. He needed to find his mother. She would know what to do. As he turned around to head to the front of the house, a sparkle from below caught his eyes. It was an object below shiny from the reflection of the outside lights. The object was around the dead figure's neck. With it's head crashed open he could not see the person's face. But that reflective necklace looked mighty familiar. It was... 

"Mom?" It suddenly dawned to him that the figure was his own mother. The very person who tore his father open. The very person he killed with the baseball bat. 

His own mother. 

"M.. Mom?" 

"Mom!!!" 

0400

The police needed to know this. He needed to contact them. They would know how to handle it. But he would be going to jail for killing his mother. But his mother tried to kill his father. And why would she try to kill him? What on Earth is going on here?

He stood up and started towards the front door. His legs soft, gave way a few time s causing him to crash onto the ground. He got up again, headed through the main door and slammed it close behind him. 

He needed to get to a police station. His body was soaked with blood. He was without a shirt. His right hand still holding the baseball bat with traces of his mother's brain matter still stuck at the edge. The cold air struck his bare skin, but he couldn't feel anything. The neighborhood was dead silent. There were two people dead in his house, and not a single soul heard what happened. Both his parents were dead and he killed one of them.

The police will have the answers. They have to have the answers.