"You'll never get me!"
Sam pushed a small, plastic car in circles around him, trying to keep me from slamming my miniature cop car into it. I whipped my hand up to my face and pushed my index finger against my lips.
"Shh! You can't yell Sammy! We're not supposed to be noisy!" I whispered to my little brother.
He looked at me, pouting.
"Why do we have to be quiet still?" he whispered. "We've had to be quiet for forever."
I looked into his large brown eyes and my stomach dropped. He was only six, there was no way he could know what was really occurring. Once again, I would have to lie to him about it.
"Mommy needs her rest, she's still sick."
It wasn't completely a lie. Mom was sick, but who could rest anymore? No, we had to be quiet for something else.
I heard a loud thud from the living room suddenly. Sam spun around and backed away from the door, confused. If he had known what made the sound, he would have been terrified.
"It's nothing Sammy. Mom probably just dropped something. I'm going to go make sure she's alright. You stay here."
I rushed out of his bedroom and closed the door behind me, then tip-toed down the hall until I could peek around the corner at the door. Mom was standing there, her fingers resting on one of the wood planks we had nailed over the door to keep the Things out. Her forehead was pressed against the highest plank, and she stared out the peep-hole, counting the victims. She turned around and looked at me. Dark crescents sat under each eye, fresh tears covered her pale cheeks, and her irises had turned from green to a gloomy grey.
"Oh, I was just about to get you," she sighed, her voice cracking slightly. "There's more out there, about five. Will you please go take care of them?"
I looked at the fragile figure in front of me, my eyes tearing just a bit.
"Do you think my dad would have done this if he was still here?" I asked, not sure if I really wanted to know the answer.
"I don't know, Honey. I think he would, because if he was here that would mean he actually gave a shit about..." she bowed her head down and began to press on her forehead with her left hand. Tears poured down her cheeks again and I couldn't help but notice the scar on her ring finger.
"I'm having headaches again. Please, just go take care of those people out there. We'll talk more when I feel better."
I nodded to my mother and turned back to the hallway. The door next to Sam's bedroom lead to the old shop my dad had before...
The disgusting smell of decay and death filled my nostrils once I entered the shop. Deer heads, bears, foxes, and wolves lay scattered around the room, untouched for years. I took a Buck knife from the blood-stained table and exited the house into the backyard. The yard had a single tree in the middle with white flowers scattered among the branches. A strong wind snaked its way through the green leaves and carried hundreds of small petals with it. I picked up one of the petals and examined it. It was such a bright white color that it almost seemed to glow. These small flowers were the only things that kept me hoping that one day this would all be over. One day these little flowers wouldn't be the only things still alive. One day we could return to our old, pure selves, instead of the monsters we were all becoming. The wind blew again, stronger that time, and my brown hair flowed over my face, blinding me for a moment. When I was able to see again, the petal was gone.
I started toward the metal gate and prepared myself for the horrors on the other side. My knife was firmly in my hand, and I was ready to kill.
One of these days we would be pure again. But not yet.