I couldn't stay in the house. As much as I know I needed to rest and try to sleep, I couldn't be there. Knowing what was happening to my family killed me. I had gone back and visited them. The fevers had set in, their coloring had changed. It was obvious to me, by now, what was happening. They were dying.

I grabbed a bottle of water and one of my dad's pistols and walked outside. He protested at first, but I don't think he really wanted me in the house anyway. He was always the one to push me away from bad things. That was his way of keeping me safe.

I didn't really have any idea where I was going to go. I just walked. I shoved the gun in my waistband, making sure the safety was on. It was dark and as quiet as it could be with the bugs buzzing away. I simply wandered. I didn't see the trees, the rocks, the branches, nothing. Tears streamed down my cheeks. It had to have been at least an hour of walking before I stopped.

I had come to a fallen patch of saplings. The soil must not have been stable enough for their root systems. For some odd reason, this struck me as funny. I fell to my knees, laughing like a crazy person. I couldn't stop myself. My emotions were too raw. By the time I stopped laughing, the tears had dried up, and I was completely worn out. I laid out on the grass and dirt, my knees curled into my chest, staring off at the saplings. I was so drained that I completely forgot the pistol on my back. I fell asleep. Not a good sleep, but one of those sleeps when you don't even realize you're really asleep.

I don't know how much later it was when I opened my eyes, but it was still dark. My eyes came open, the bugs had died away and it was eerily quiet. For a moment I almost forgot everything that had happened. Just a moment, though, before everything came rushing back to me. I didn't have tears to cry anymore. I didn't have any fear left, either. A strange acceptance had washed over me. Something told me I would do what needed to be done to make sure that I survived whatever this shit was. Fuck, if Dad could tolerate the death of his family under his own roof, so the hell could I. I just need to suck it up and deal with it. No tears allowed. No fear allowed. Man up, like Dad had always said.

I sat up, picking up the bottle of water that had fallen at my feet when I first got here. I drank greedily, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand before tossing the empty bottle into the dark. Something made me reach behind me. When my fingers brushed against the pistol, I finally remembered it was there. I pulled it out of my waistband; it was too dark to see it well. The pistol in my hand, I fingered the safety, making sure it was still on. Last thing I wanted to do was shoot my own ass. I made myself get up and I stuffed the pistol back into my waistband, in front this time, for easy access, I guess. I looked around, I'm not really sure for what, but I had that eerie feeling that something was out there watching me, waiting for me. Coming after me?

I'd lived here for so long that I knew these woods like the back of my hand. I turned and started making my way back to the house. Only now did I realize just how far I had walked. At the pace I was making myself keep, I was pretty tired and winded when I emerged from the trees and saw the lights of the house again. I could see Dad sitting in his rocker on the front porch. He seemed to be staring up the road, at what I couldn't tell from where I was, but the look on his face was not a good one. I recognized at least that much.

I walked up to the porch. I didn't bother with a fake smile or pleasantry. He didn't even move his eyes to acknowledge my presence, but he knew I was there.

"They're all dead."

I sank to my knees on the porch, beside him. I couldn't even cry. I knew it was going to happen; it was just a matter of time, really. I saw my Mom come out from the corner of my eye. Her eyes were swollen with tears; the front of her blouse was soaked with them. She just stared at me, not saying a word.

"The alarm went off, too."

He spoke the words like they were going to be his last. The tone of his voice, the lack of emotion in them, scared me most of all. At first, I didn't know what he was talking about. Then, I remembered. Years ago, he'd had a motion sensor system installed around the property's perimeter. The gate was the usual culprit for setting it off, but he also monitored the comings and goings of poachers on the land. For the alarm to go off, it meant that that someone or something had crossed the perimeter. My instinct said it had to have been an animal. Then I could hear them. I could smell them.

The stench of death wafted towards us on the breeze. Dad stood up, a look of resolution on his face. Mom came to stand by our sides for a moment before walking back inside. Dad followed her and I followed him. Inside, he'd already had his rifles and pistols set up and ready. He shouted for my other two brothers to get their asses to the front porch. I grabbed a rifle, the pistol forgotten in my waistband again. Dad, Mom, Matt, Steve, and I each had a rifle in our hands as we headed out to the porch in time to see a horde of them coming at us.

If it had been a scary movie, it would have been better. Unfortunately, it was real. They came around the vehicles, from all directions. There wasn't a moment of hesitation from any of us. We all started opening fire. Practiced shots, it wasn't difficult for us to pick off the people on the edge of the crowd. It didn't occur to me at the time that these were the people of the town, the neighboring farms; it was just clear that we needed to stop them. That whatever they were coming after us for was not something we wanted to give up. Later it would hit me, I was sure of it. That thought kept nagging at me as I fired the rifle.

It didn't take long to go through the rounds the rifles were loaded with. Mom and Dad ran inside to grab the cases of shells and bring them out, but Matt, Steve, and I knew we couldn't exactly wait. What few rounds we still had, we used as we stepped off the porch towards the horde of people. Before I realized it, though, Matt and Steve had pulled back to the house to reload. I was alone with the horde. There weren't many left. Head shots seemed to take them down pretty quick, but really, they would take down most people quickly. My vision was focused on the last few people stumbling about. I was out of rounds and resorted to using the butt of the rifle to smash in their faces when they came at me. They tried to grab me; if it weren't for my jean jacket, I was sure my arms would have been all scratched up. Exhausted from the fight, the last person down on the ground kept crawling after me. I really didn't know what else to do, so I stomped on her head. My boot went down hard, I could hear the awful crunch of bone, and then hear the squishy sound of her brain beneath my heel.

I looked around at the bodies all over the ground. Satisfied they were all down and not moving anymore, I took a deep breath and stumbled back towards the porch, using the rifle like a crutch. My energy was drained. I just wanted to crawl into a bed or onto the couch and sleep for the rest of my days. At the door I paused. I could smell that same smell inside. I didn't know what to do. My vision went dark, the lights inside nearly blinding me. In the chaos, I didn't decipher where some of the shots came from, apparently. From the doorway, I could see the bodies of my brothers, my sisters-in-law, and my nieces and nephews all sprawled along the floor. Their positions told me they had come out from the back of the house. Mom and Dad were standing there; Matt was sitting on the coffee table, staring off at the bodies. Steve was one of the bodies on the floor, but his wound appeared self-inflicted to me. My nursing training told me that. Common sense about where the gun was and the way he was positioned did, too.

I saw the scratches. Matt had one on his cheek and another going down his arm. Mom had a bite on her forearm. Dad seemed to be safe from both, but he had his arm around Mom like he wouldn't be able to go on without her. I saw the look on his face. He knew what was going to happen. They'd become whatever it was everyone else had. He looked me in the eyes then he moved his eyes to the pistol that had been poking out of my jeans. I followed his eyes with mine, and it dawned on me. I knew what he wanted me to do. My head snapped up, shaking it "No!" at him. The look in his eyes didn't accept my rejection. My heart died in that moment, knowing what I was about to do. I breathed heavily and I could feel the weight bearing down on my shoulders. There was no going back from this moment – this action.

My right hand raised itself to the grip of the pistol, pulling it free from my waistband. It was an automated response. No normal person would have even considered this. I wasn't normal anymore. There was no "normal" anymore. Of that, I was sure. With my index finger, I flicked the safety-switch off and slid my middle finger across the trigger. Dad stood there, resolute. Mom was cradling her bitten arm, staring at the bodies on the floor. Matt looked as if he could already be dead. He probably was, inside. His new bride was one of the ones on the floor. I didn't bother asking for forgiveness – from them, from God, from myself. I was tasked to do this and I would do it.

I aimed at Matt first. He was the closest to death from my vantage point and thus the first that needed to go.

Through his ear.

I looked at Mom and Dad. They weren't looking at me anymore. Was I the ghost and this was merely a nightmare? Either way. I aimed at Mom first. Dad would never want her to suffer through his death. I should have felt something. She was my mom.

Through her left eye socket.

Then, it was Dad's turn. Like a game. He stared at Mom down on the floor.

Through his forehead.

In all honesty, I held the gun to my temple. I pulled the trigger, but the bullet jammed in the barrel.

It was only then that I screamed. Not in fear, but in rage. Why would any higher power have let me kill my family and so many other people without letting me send myself to hell to pay for it? That's what I needed right? I needed to atone for what I had just done.

That was it. The bullet did go through my brain. This was purgatory. To be here and look at and tolerate the evil I had committed.