5 A Close Encounter

We were in a frenzy for a couple seconds as we all tried to do something different. It was only for a bit, though, and then Dad got us back under control and we retreated back into the worship room. Or we would have if the bitch hanging in the broken window hadn't lunged and grabbed me. She tore the front of her shirt and part of her chest open on the jagged glass in her efforts. Blood dribbled down the wall and stained the floor.

I shrieked and tried to yank away from her but her grip was like steel. She even managed to pull me close while Mom desperately tried to pull me away. 

And then she sank her teeth into my arm. Panic gripped me, but all she did was chomp down on winter coat. Dad came sweeping in with a Christmas ornament, bashing it over the side of her head, and she let me go. 

Only then were we able to fully retreat. It was just a shame that there wasn't a door we could close to keep them out. Not that it seemed to matter: the door was going to be sawdust soon with how they were pounding on it.

"To the back. There might be another exit," Dad suggested, pushing us three girls in front of him. 

"We didn't do anything," I whimpered, glancing over my shoulder. "What do they want?"

Mom said, "They're infected . . . The virus is making them do it." When I caught a glimpse of her face, there were tears on her lashes reflecting the light from the entryway. 

I couldn't help but feel a great deal of bitterness toward this whole thing. What was the point of our desperate prayer earlier?

It hadn't helped one bit. Were we really not safe anywhere?

All hell broke loose as the door was busted from its hinges and was smashed apart into splinters against the wall. An extremely pale and under-dressed group of people scrabbled over each other to get inside; their shouts had devolved into incoherent wailing. 

It was hard, but I tore my gaze away. If there wasn't another exit toward the back . . .

I didn't want to think about it.

However, there it was—a nondescript door with a red "EXIT" sign posted above it. We were home free! The infected were still a distance behind us, all we had to do was—

Oh no. No no no no.

As we neared, we realized there were more infected on the other side. Pounding. Rattling. We slammed on the breaks and huddled together, calculating what our next move would be.

There wasn't one.

We were trapped. 

"Now what?" I sniffed, staring behind me. I could see flickers of shadows as the infected made their way toward us.

Dad looked around, then snatched Maddie away from Mom to give her to me. Before I could say or do anything about it, he was pushing me down and behind an old piano shoved in the corner. I barely protested, making myself comfortable while clutching a small child to me.

"Stay here, no matter what you hear or see. Keep quiet and always stay together," Dad said. 

"Where are you going?" I demanded. "There's room!"

I was kidding myself. Maddie and I barely fit in that corner, pinned between the walls by a heavy piano. But I wanted them to come hide anyway.

Ignoring me, Dad put his finger to his pursed lips and touched them to my forehead. Tears filled my eyes as he left and urged Mom not to look in our direction or go near our hiding place. The yells and pounding were getting louder, throbbing against my skull. I held Maddie against my chest, hoping I didn't smother her while trying to keep her quiet. 

My parents embraced, then turned to face the coming danger. I wanted to demand that they tell me what they were doing, but I didn't dare give away our position. 

"We love you guys. Be good to each other," Mom said, her gaze straight. She was swallowing down her sobs. Her hands were shaking, much like mine. Much like Maddie's whole body was.

Then, with all the force of a hurricane, the furious infected were upon them. I clenched my eyes shut and pressed Maddie harder against me. I covered her ears and quietly shushed her. The back door slammed open and we flinched. It sounded like our parents were putting up a fight, but I didn't dare look to find out.

I would just BELIEVE that's what I was hearing. That would work right? 

Believe that their screams were valiant battle cries. 

Believe the smacks and impacts were their courageous blows against the infected.

Believe they weren't things that no teenage girl should ever hear.

I tried to block them out. Tried to think of something—anything that would stop the sounds, the horrible sounds . . . but I couldn't. 

Then, something worse happened.

The noises stopped, save for the breathless panting of the infected. They were farther out, as if our parents had managed to lead them away from our dark hiding place: the only lights we'd turned on had been the entryway.

They wouldn't be able to see us . . . Right? 

Maddie had gone still; I checked to make sure I hadn't smothered her. She was still breathing, just scared stiff. I gave her some reassuring pats and she sniffed. 

Right then, I wished I could have been out there with my parents, fighting by their sides instead of cowering in a corner. 

But then who would have watched Maddie?

And I would just be out there, a lump on the ground. Still and silent. Maddie would be alone. So . . . it was better this way. It's what our parents had wanted. It didn't make me feel better and I had to force myself not to break down into a mess of bawling.

After I was sure my sister was as okay as she could be, I closed my eyes again and hoped they would go away. Hoped their blood lust had been satisfied. 

Go away, go away, go away . . .

It wasn't my silent pleas that made them leave, but passing police cars zipping along on the nearby road. The wail of their sirens drew the infected's attention and their ire, making them bolt from the church to follow them. 

I didn't move. Not for a long time.