Blood. Teeth. Screams.

Blood. Teeth. Screams.

The images and sounds replay over and over in my head as I dream.

Blood. Teeth. Screams.

I startle awake with a shriek bursting from my lips. I glance around the unfamiliar room—the soft blue walls, the beige carpets, the white comforter covering my body. I sit straight up, pulling the blanket up to my chin as if it will be some sort of barrier to whatever torment is waiting for me.

A familiar face fills the open doorway, sending my hammering heart into a calm pitter-patter in my chest. I breathe a sigh of relief as Cody enters the room, his wide eyes searching.

"What is it?" Cody asks, scanning over my face. "Are you okay? I heard you scream."

"I'm alright," my voice cracks as I nod my head. "I just..." I trail off, not wanting to bring everything back into my mind. My tongue is like sandpaper in my mouth. "Do you have any water, by chance?"

I fling the comforter off of my body, the air feeling much cooler than it should. Cody's cheeks redden as he quickly looks away from me. I glance down at myself and realize why Cody is blushing, why I am cold. I am practically naked.

"Oh my God!" I yell, whipping the comforter back across my body. "How—who—did you?" I can't even form the right question, I am so flustered.

"I'm sorry," Cody said, the blush still filling his cheeks. "You were covered in blood and I thought you would feel better if you woke up with it gone." He places his hand against his chest. "I didn't do it. I asked Selma to do it." Selma? Who is Selma?

It won't matter anyways after I flashed my body at him, but I admire his attempt. He turns around and walks back through the door, popping his head back through the doorway before leaving completely.

"Stay here," he says. "I'll bring you some water and some clothes." Then he is gone.

"Thank you," I reply, even though he can't hear me.

I stand from the bed, dragging the comforter off with me. Wrapping it around my shoulders like a cloak, I go to the window. I take a deep breath, knowing I shouldn't look out there because it might send me right back to where I was before I passed out, but I have to know.

I slip my fingers between the blinds and pull them apart, peeking out through the slit. I'm not sure what I expect—cars and houses on fire, herds of crazies screaming down the street, total carnage? The fact that the streets are eerily empty is even scarier. What happened to the destruction and chaos I had witnessed?

There is a car across the street with its door open. Blood is smeared along its side and splattered on the windows. A few bodies lay in front lawns, only fragments of them left in the grass. My vision scans down the line of familiar houses until they land on Adriana's home.

My car still sits untouched in her driveway. My eyes trail just a bit farther and I jump away from the window with the gore seared into my brain. I close my eyes, hoping to unsee the remnants of Adriana's body scattered around her yard.

I bring my trembling fingers to my lips. It all must be a dream, a horrific nightmare. Soon, I will wake up back in my bed and everything will be back to normal. A scream lodges itself in my throat, trying to claw itself out. I swallow, but it doesn't help.

"You okay?" Cody's voice echoes in the room. I spin around to face him, spying a glass of water in one hand and clothes tucked under his arm.

"I'm fine," I croak, reaching for the glass. I tilt my head back, letting the cool water run down my throat. The glass is empty when I hand it back to Cody. "Thank you."

"No problem, seriously. Anything you need, you let me know." He holds out the clothes for me to take.

"Um, how long was I out?" I ask, clutching the clothes in my hand. "I looked out the window and everything is calm." Aside from dead bodies.

"You slept for close to twenty-four hours. Dad and I got worried, but we figured you were just sleeping off...everything."

"Where did they all go? There were so many of them."

"We don't know, but we aren't going out there to check."

It is then that I notice the ends of my hair. It hangs over my shoulders, reaching halfway down my torso. All of it is red, like someone had taken my hair and dipped it in my loved ones' blood. My face turns clammy, the color draining from it, the scream I had been holding in bubbling to the surface.

"Shower?" Cody asks, distracting me. He eyes me, waiting for a confirmation.

I nod my head, biting the inside of my cheek. I swallow. But the knot will not go down.

~ ~ ~

I wish that I could have stayed in the shower longer as chills sweep up my body. A shower is just what I needed to clear my mind, but my wet hair and my shivering body make me think otherwise.

I dry my hair the best I can with the towel before opening the door to the hallway. A jumble of different voices reach my ears and I follow them down the hall to a staircase I hadn't seen when I first entered the house.

I stop at the head of the steps, my fingers gripping the wooden railing so hard that my knuckles turn white. My mother is crawling up towards me, her hands leaving bloody prints on the wood, her black eyes glaring into mine with nothing but hunger.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

But I can't. I open my mouth, trying to gulp down air that won't come.

My mother crawls closer and closer, her fingers reaching to claw my ankles. My chin trembles, the corner of my eyes stinging with tears. I blink, and she is gone. No blood is left behind, no snarls echoe in the air. She was never even there—just a figment of my imagination. And I will never see her again.

My knees wobble, but I shake my head clear and continue down the stairs. I refuse to look at the steps where I had seen my mother. Instead I look at the pictures that line the walls.

A family—a man, woman, and their son smile at me as I pass in front of them. The boy is Cody. I can tell from the light eyes and the dark hair that matches the woman's. He looks so much like her—his mother. His dad looks the exact same as he does now, except his eyes turn down more and look hopeless.

I reach the bottom of the stairs and follow the trail of voices into a large living room. Varied lengths of brown leather couches span the room with a crimson rug in the middle of the wood floor. An unlit fireplace is embedded in the opposite wall.  The ceiling is high and arched. In another life, I would be obsessed with the interior, but not when everything had gone to hell in a blink.

Several pairs of eyes lock onto me.

I spot Cody instantly as he rises from the longest couch. Everyone else stays seated and silent. I know their eyes are assessing me, judging me and the screams of mine I'm sure they heard yesterday.

Then Cody is at my side, his fingers grazing my elbow. He guides me to sit on the couch next to him, the leather cool against my back through the thin shirt I am wearing.

The eyes are still watching me.

"Everyone," Cody announces. "This is..." He looks to me, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Help me out here."

"Desi," I whisper, my voice not allowing me to speak with everyone watching.

"This is Desi," he amplifies for me.

"I'm Selma," says the woman seated on the couch adjacent to the one Cody and I are sitting on. Her black hair cuts off sharply at her jaw, bangs grazing her brow. Her accent is thick as she speaks. "I hope you are doing alright."

"I'm better," I lie, my voice still betraying me.

"This is my daughter, Aundrea," she says with a smile, her arm wrapping around the shoulders of a small girl. She looks so much like her mother with her black braided hair and doe eyes. She gives a little wave and glances away from me quickly.

"I'm Sheridan," says a petite blonde seated in a love seat across from me. She is beautiful with her aqua eyes and her rosy cheeks. Her nose curves delicately, her eyes twinkling as she looks at the man next to her, giving him a pat on the leg.

"Jason," the man says, nodding his head towards me. While everyone else looks at me with friendly gazes, his is cold. So cold. He doesn't want me here.  I can tell that right away. But the question of if he will do anything about that lingers in my brain. I take a mental note to stay away from him.

"And I'm Rich," says the man who helped calm me down yesterday. His hair is sandy brown and cut neatly on his head. He has a strong jaw and an angular nose. "This is my house. I opened my door for them and you can stay here as long as you need."

"Thank you," I say. "I don't know how long. I don't have anywhere to go..." My voice trails off as I think about my home and my mother who is probably still inside, snarling and growling at the window I had escaped through.

"And that's okay. We just need to wait this out, let the government get control of whatever it is that is going on, and then we can sort everything out."

"What is going on, anyways?"

Everyone swaps gazes.

"We've been getting a few news broadcasts here and there," Rich continues. "Other than that it's been static on the networks. They've summed it up to an unknown infection. There's been debates on if it is natural or maybe even a terrorist attack."

"How far spread is it?" I ask.

"So far? Everywhere."

"Everywhere?" I can't contain the disbelief in my voice.

"Well, we don't know if it has spread across seas. Everyone cut off communication with us. But it's all over the U.S."

A chill sweeps up my spine. If it is everywhere then the odds of getting the country back to stability are very slim. I'm not sure there is going to be any 'waiting it out'.

"Terrorists," Jason says from the love seat. "A natural illness doesn't spread over night. This was planted in major cities across the country. I'd bet my life on it."

"Why would someone do that though?" I ask, curious.

"Why would someone crucify children? Why would someone drive planes into the tallest buildings in the world? There are people in the world sick enough to unleash a plague upon our country."

"Jason's right," Rich agrees. "I fought overseas a few years ago until I lost my leg in a car bombing." He reaches down and pulls up the cuff of his pants revealing a rod of metal rising from his boot.

I'm not sure what to say. What do you say to a man who lost his leg? Finally I stutter out, "Th-thank you for your service."

Rich tosses his head back and laughs, making me sink back into the cushions of the couch. My face flushes. Is it such a foolish thing to say?

"What good did it do me?" he muses.  "Us? Whether I had gone or not, the world still would have gone to shit in the blink of an eye."

"Dad," Cody warns his father.

"What? It's the truth. You, Desi, are a damn peach. Do you know how many people over the years have personally thanked me for putting myself on the line to protect this country? I can count them on one hand."

"I'm sorry," I say, my heart dropping for him. To lose a limb—I can't imagine.

"Don't be," Rich replies with a wink. "Don't apologize for other people's actions—only for yours."

"Got it," I say, giving him the smallest of smiles, which is the most I can conjure.

A bang sounds from the doorway. Everyone's head snaps towards the noise, listening. It seems we all hold our breath, waiting for the next clatter. I'm sure every mind is thinking the same way mine is. It is one of those things.

Tapping. Bumping. A growl. I whimper.

Cody is the one that stands up. I curl into his empty spot on the couch, moving myself as far away from the noise as I can.

Blood. Teeth. Screams.

I shake my head, trying to clear away the images and the sounds. But they won't leave.

Blood. Teeth. Screams.

I can see it in my head—hear it in my ears. It is all around me. In every breath, in every blink, in every heartbeat. I cover my ears as I close my eyes.

Make it stop. God, please make it stop.

"It's gone," Cody says.  His voice is much farther away than it was a second ago. "It must have moved on when it didn't see or hear anything."

But they aren't gone in my head. They stay. I am gone, so far gone I'm not sure if I will come back.

Blood. Teeth. Screams.

Blood. Teeth. Screams.

Hands are shaking me, trying to startle me out of my thoughts, out of the hole I've buried my self in. I crack open my eyes, seeing Cody bracing my shoulders, his lips moving, saying something—but what?

His voice slowly comes to me, like someone is turning up the volume knob.

"Desi?" he asks, his eyes wide and searching mine. "Desi, are you okay?"

Then I am back. The living room comes into focus behind his hard-breathing body.

"What's wrong? It's gone. There's nothing to be afraid of."

He is wrong. So wrong. There is the whole world to be afraid of.