First, it was the Millers.
They were a fine family. Decent house, car, job. A family of four. Elena, the oldest child and my best friend, went missing first.
She went outside for a walk one day and never returned. They haven’t found her body. No trace. No note. Nothing.
Then it was her brother, Roger. Roger was no older than 9, and one day as he was returning home from school, but he never showed up to the bus. Disappeared into thin air, just as his sister had.
Then it was their mother, a lady who I’ve lived next to for the past 13 years, a woman who has helped me through much. 2 years have passed since she went missing yet I’m still not over it.
Mrs. Miller stayed home one day as her husband went to work. She was quiet and sullen after her kids disappeared. Never said anything. Didn’t come out of the house. Didn’t talk.
Mr. Miller returned home late only to find that his wife was gone, too. This devastated him so much that he hung himself right there in the kitchen.
I was the one who found his body. Holding a plate of freshly baked cupcakes, I stood in the doorway of their house, waiting for Mrs. Miller to open the door with her sad eyes and sad smile. But when nobody answered ten minutes later, I invited myself in.
Of course, it was terribly traumatizing for me to find the body of my best friend’s father right there in the kitchen, his head tied with a rope to the ceiling, his face bloated and blue, his eyes dead, staring right through me.
I cried for weeks. Therapy didn’t help. I didn’t go to school for 2 whole months.
Then other families began disappearing, one by one. The Parkers, The Evans, the Harts, the Smiths. The police couldn’t figure out the cause, and people began moving away, horrified.
My family doesn’t want to move because both my parents grew up here. I don’t want to, either.
Now let me tell you why this story is important to what I’m going to tell you.
One fine afternoon, after I returned home from school, I came home to an empty house with a note from my mother and a text from my father. My mom had gone to a coffee place with a friend and my dad was at a restaurant with a new client.
I was fine by myself. Until I wasn’t.
It was 9 pm and I was beginning to wonder if I’ll have to spend the night alone. The thought freaked me out, and to distract myself, I went into the kitchen to make myself a snack.
As I was walking, though, I noticed something through our sliding glass doors. Outside it was dark and none of the houses behind ours had their lights on.
I practically jumped when something thwacked against the glass doors, and when I turned to look there was a piece of paper stuck to the door.
Carefully, I pressed my head against the glass to read what it said. The door was locked and I couldn’t see anything outside, so I figured I was safe.
Pretty stupid, right?
The paper read, “Outside in 5 minutes” in messy handwriting, as if it was written by a little kid who was just learning to use a pen.
Frowning, I moved away from the door and looked around the backyard, checking to see if it was a prank. But there was nobody, and in the dead of the night the silence felt creepy.
I took my phone out to text my parents. Just then, the lights began flickering on and off and after a minute the power shut down. All the lights switched off, the TV even. Everything went dark and still. No hum of the fridge. No hum of the AC. Nothing.
My heart began racing as I called my mom. She didn’t pick up. Dad didn’t pick up either. I tried texting them but the internet had shut off with the power.
I was scared out of my mind. It didn’t help that the sliding glass doors were right behind me and they were making a creaky sound, like someone trying to push a door when it’s lodged shut.
My whole body shuddered and I closed my eyes, took a deep breath. Chanted prayers in my head. I turned a tiny bit, just to see out of the corner of my eye.
What I saw next will forever be wedged in my brain.
It was the Millers. The whole family. Except they looked very much different - they were all taller and skinnier, like walking skeletons, and their skin was grey and soggy. Their eyes dangerous and low, piercing right into me as they all continued staring through the door.
Elena’s long dark hair was chopped off and there was blood oozing from her forehead. Her green eyes looked right into mine and I haven’t felt to scared in my life.
For a moment nobody did anything. Suddenly, Roger jumped up with a shriek and began clawing at the door like a dog, trying to open it.
The others joined in. My body was paralyzed with fear as I watched Mrs. Miller try and break the lock with her teeth, as Mr. Miller, the man whose body I’ve found with my own eyes, began thumping on the door with his whole body.
Then everything stopped as a scream pierced through the air. After a minute I realized it was me.
I started crying, screaming, trying to get away from this horrible scene. All of them were still staring at me as I pushed my body back, trying to find a place to hide.
I could go upstairs. I could lock the door and hide in my closet. But I know they’ll eventually get in.
I could sneak out through the front door or the bathroom window, but then the realization hit me: What about the other families? The Evans? The Parkers? The Smiths?
What are the odds that the Millers have gone crazy and the others haven’t?
My whole body began to feel like ice as I slowly, through my tears, made my way upstairs, my body jittery and shaking like I was cold. My phone shut down and I thought of my neighbors. Can’t they hear me screaming? Can’t they hear me pleading for help?
But another realization hits me in my gut like a brick. The others must have been hunted by them already. Otherwise they would call the police. Right?
I make my way upstairs, silently praying that I wake up, because this feels like a terrible nightmare. I’m well aware of the fact that it is much past 3 am already and my parents haven’t returned.
I cry harder as I think of them pulling up in dad’s car, seeing the mob outside. They wouldn’t stand a chance against the whole neighborhood of zombies. They’re dead meat.
Currently I’m hiding in my room, under the bed. I can hear them all now, all of their cries and shrieks and howls, all around my house. They’re all trying to bang their way in.
Please, remember me.