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                “I’ve walked these streets,
                In a spectacle of wealth and poverty.
                In the diamond markets,
                The scarlet welcome carpet,
                That they just rolled out for me.”

                                Natalie Merchant, Carnival

                The cell phone says its 3:18 when I open the front door. Armed with my machete, a half-full bag of the remaining food, full canteens, and a new sense of hope, I make my way out to the SUV. I keep the key to the apartment, hoping I never have to come back here.

                I search in every direction, looking for any signs of movement.

Nothing

                I unlock the front door and toss my stuff into the passenger’s seat, but then I quickly scour the vehicle, looking through the windows as I make sure nothing’s underneath. Once I decide the thing’s outside is clean, I make a quick check of the insides. But the thorough once-through reveals that nothing snuck in and waited.

                I hold my breath as I crank the engine. The display roars to life as does the engine. I’ve got almost two-thirds of a tank. I glance off over my shoulder in the direction of the red light, trying to get my bearings. Beyond the apartment complex, there’s more of the town. But beyond that, there’s merely forest all the way into the darkness. But in the darkness, I can’t tell what’s in that direction, if it’s a building or a tower or what. But I get orientated and pull out.

                Movement

                My head jerks to the rearview mirror, my eyes wide with terror. And I see them. Three of them. They appeared out of nowhere. Two teenagers and an older woman. They’re running at me, the teenagers gaining. But I step on the gas pedal and leave them behind. I have a hard time taking my eyes off the rearview mirror as I do. I can’t keep myself from watching as they disappear in the red ambient glow of my rear lights.

                Once I’m passed the sight of the monsters, I try to settle into the mode of driving. Unconsciously, I check the radio stations. Still nothing.

                As I pull out onto the major roads, something catches my eye on the dashboard. I see a space for a satellite radio display, but no control. It was removed. So this car had satellite, but then it was taken out. If they’re in a bio-dome, did they stop getting satellite signals?

                I turn right at an intersection, making my way towards the direction of the light. Streetlamps at half power keep me company as I drive. Their monotony keeps time with my speed as I scan the edges of the slight hill I drive up.

                I pass the edges of the town.

                I don’t know how much closer I need to get. I do know that the red flash came from this direction, but I don’t know how far it is. The burning red light was powerful, but not intense. It’s not like it was signaling at me.

                For the first time, it dawns on me that the monsters might follow it as well. They might have seen the red light and be heading after it. But then I think about the pair that jumped off the fourth floor of the Argent Labs stairwell and decide it’s unlikely. Besides, if they are then maybe that would mean that they can be . . .

                Boom

                Rumble rumble

                Thud thud thud thud thud thud thud

                “God, no!” I scream.

                A flat.

                I pull the SUV into the very middle of the road and turn off the engine. I listen.

                Nothing.

                I crawl through to the back of the car, making sure the doors are locked, watching through every window at once. I pull back the rear cover of the back area, opening up the space for the tools. I crawl over the covering and open up the space.

                Emptiness.

                I gape.

                “They don’t have a spare?” I exclaim.

                I look up, feeling defeated. Suddenly, the tree line looks a lot closer. And the darkness got a lot more intimidating.

                I grab up the tire iron and carry it with my machete, leaving the halves of the broken stick. I crawl to the front seat and grab my bag and sling it roughly over my shoulder. I sit in the front seat for a moment, looking and listening in vain, then open the door. I dive out from the front seat and look around, listening.

                Nothing.

                I move towards the right tree line and step just inside the trees. I look. I listen.

                Nothing.

                A slight breeze disrupts the leaves, causing a rustling. But there’s no real movement, no animals or creatures or monsters or anything. With my machete in my right hand and my tire iron in my left, I start down the tree line, towards the red light.

                For most of the walk, I listen. I don’t think.

                But soon, my mind wonders. I think back to a joke I heard on an HBO comedy special. I think back to a paper I had due soon. Then I remember I already did it. I think back to a girl I met, wondering if she’ll notice that I’m missing.

                I wonder if anyone will notice that I’ve gone missing.

                I think about my crew, the guys I ride with. I wonder what they’ll think if I’m there one day and gone the next. I wonder what will happen to my bike.

I wonder what my mom will say about all of this, especially when she finds out that my last meal was beer and pizza.

                The world gets darker. It’s not the light; it’s the stillness. No birds, no traffic, no lights, no movement. There’s nothing in the world to distinguish the passage of time. Except for me.

                There’s not really even any sound. Nothing that could be mistaken for being alive. A breeze kicks up and moves some leaves, but there are no animals. And the thought of the monsters, at the moment, doesn’t bother me too much.

                I glance down at my tire iron, the L-shaped black rod of metal, and my machete. The two weapons make me feel somewhat more comfortable than I think I would be with anything else. Though I must admit, the thought of a shotgun is pleasant.

                I hear movement.

                I freeze.

                It’s up ahead, from the other tree line.

                A deer.

                It throws itself out from the trees, collapsing onto the edge of the road.

                I stay still.

                A monster comes out of the trees. It stalks over towards the still-living deer. It grabs its head by the ear and grabs the top of its head. Gripping down on the upper jaw of its face, the monster pulls the top of the deer’s head off. It bites into the skull and flesh, eating greedily and disgustingly at the dear’s uncooked flesh and brains.

                But then the monster stands up. Thoughtlessly discarding the brains, and almost with an annoyed motion, the monster jerks away. It heads back into the trees with a semi-growl, moving at a deceptively quick pace.

                I watch the deer for a second.

                “So they’ll try to eat anything that’s alive, hoping it will help them regenerate.” I whisper. “But animals don’t.”

                I wait for a moment longer, then keep walking. Encloaked in the shadows as I am, I try to make quick time, leaving my silent car and the dead deer behind. I get about fifteen steps and stop.

                Movement

                I whirl around back in the direction of the deer.

                And my blood grows cold.

                The deer shambles up on a broken ankle, its rear left foot dangling gruesomely from its leg. With the top of its head missing, it has no eyes or ears, but it still moves. It jerks and pulses as it tries to walk, heading towards the trees.

                I watch in unimaginable horror as the deer disappears into the tree line, following the monster. I don’t move again until it’s long gone from my sight.

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