Monday, February 21, 2011

Homecoming 2/3

*BANG BANG* The banging continued to echo all the way up into my mothers bedroom. It sounded like someone was banging on the back door, which leads into the kitchen from the backyard. “Maybe it’s mom!” I thought to myself. Maybe she was outside in the backyard and she got locked out. She has a tendency of always leaving her keys in the house whenever she goes out to do little things like running to the corner store, or even just going downstairs to the laundry room. She never really went very far, but I always told her to take her keys with her just in case. I used to lock the door sometimes, just as a joke, and lock her outside for a minute or two. But this time there was nothing funny about what was happening outside. I ran downstairs to see what the banging was, hoping it would bring me some good news.

Just as my foot reaches the last step, I hear the back door shatter. Glass comes crashing down onto my kitchen floor in a million broken pieces. I hear foot steps entering the kitchen, crunching down on the broken glass, and I freeze in place still standing one step off the ground. Who the hell just shattered my back door? I pause on the first step, and slowly turn my head around the banister and towards the kitchen. Unfortunately for me, the wall between the living room and the kitchen blocks the back door so I couldn’t see who or what had come into the house. “Great,” I thought to myself, “now I have to walk into the kitchen and see who or what the hell that was.” As I stepped off the last stair it creaked, the same way all wooden stairs tend to creak when you’re trying to quietly sneak in or out of your house. It’s almost as if parents put a magic spell on staircases to make a ridiculously huge amount of noise at the most inconvenient times. Before I got both feet down on the floor, I heard the footsteps from the kitchen come sprinting down the hallway in my direction. Fear locked me in place as I saw my neighbor Chris come barreling toward me. His shirt was ripped and covered in blood, as was his face. He had scratches going up and down his arms, blood dripping from his lips, and a chunk of flesh missing from the top of his right forearm. Even as he was still a good 10 feet away from me I could smell something that just reeked of rotten or infected flesh. I was hoping the banging from the back door would bring me some relief from this nightmare I had come home to, but clearly this was not to be the case. I knew I wasn’t going to get any answers from my blood drenched neighbor, who was now charging at me as if he just caught me sleeping with his wife, so I did the logical thing and tried to get my ass the hell out of there.

Luckily for me I turned and made it up two stairs before doing the stupidest thing you could possibly do in a situation like this. Yep you guessed it, I fell. My neighbor, or whatever the hell this thing was now that used to be my neighbor, grabbed my left ankle and started dragging me down the stairs. Lucky for me despite losing some weight I was still pretty damn big, and not that easily dragged. I turned over and kicked him square in the face with my right foot, and sent him flying backwards into the wall. He hit the wall with such a thud that he broke a nice sized hole in it. Great now I have to worry about fixing a wall when all this mess is over, exactly what I needed! I run up the stairs and go straight into my mothers’ bedroom, because it’s the only room with a phone in it on the second floor. I locked the door and dive across the bed reaching for the house phone. I don’t know what I expected to happen when I picked up that phone, but I dialed 911 and of course…busy. “Shit! Now what?!” I hear my neighbor make it to the top of the stairs, and of course he can tell which room I’m in seeing as how it’s the only one with the door closed. I don’t know how much protection I thought a thin wooden door and one lock was going to offer me, but it clearly wasn’t enough. I’ve gotten angry and punched holes straight through doors like these before, so it was no difficult task for this thing to just charge at the door and break it off the hinges. Now he’s in the room with me, and I’m standing there wide eyed like a deer in headlights with nothing but a house phone in my hand and that annoying busy signal noise chirping away like there’s no tomorrow. The only thought racing through my mind is “Now what the hell am I going to do?”

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