I opened my eyes and saw what I had done. I stared at the bodies. My parents, my brothers, and their families were lying about in a horrendous mess that only nightmares could be made of. There was blood, brain matter, bone fragments spewed across the floor onto the walls. I moved among the bodies, forcing myself to look at each one. I wanted them etched on my brain. I never wanted to forget.
I should have cried, but I couldn't.
I should have felt something, but I didn't.
I picked up all the rifles, the pistols, and ammunition and brought them out to the truck. I placed them in the bed of the truck, wrapped in a blanket. I walked back inside, to where dad had kept the food supplies. I grabbed a couple cases of water and lugged them out to the truck, stepping over the bodies as I went. Back inside, I grabbed cases of MREs and packed them up. My clothes were still in the truck and I had the keys in my hand, standing on the porch. I stared at the bodies surrounding the truck, thinking of the best way to get the truck out of the center of the pool of bodies.
"Fuck it."
I climbed in the truck, fired her up, slipped her into gear and stomped on the gas pedal. The truck crushed the bodies beneath its wheels as I moved forward. I spun the truck around and headed towards the gate. Stopping just short of where the gate should have been, the truck's headlights showed the gate had been forced off its hinges. More of those people were still pouring in, headed towards the truck, the lights seeming to attract them.