cont...End of Chapter 4

.....Jerrid didn’t remove his gaze from Chris’ face. Even when he walked towards the apartment door, Jerrid standing in the same spot watching Chris; his hand was supporting his own weight on the trunk of Chris’ rental car. Chris only stopped long enough to see that the rear end of the car was dipping considerably under Jerrid’s weight.

When Chris got inside he felt a sense of relief when he locked the door. He leant against it and rubbed his head feeling the band-aid still gripping his skin. “Ugh” he sighed in embarrassment.
Remembering Mama trying to turn the lights on earlier, he reached for the light switch and flicked it up and down a few times. They all finally flickered on with the buzz of the energy flowing through the circuit. When he looked down, there was a red patch on the third step. 'My blood, I’ll wipe that up later' he thought. When he reached for the railing, he immediately retracted his hand when he saw four long, thin scratches dug into the wood. Chris’ thoughts turned into what he learned watching 'ghostly encounters'-type television shows. His heart dropped when he looked at the opposite railing; there were four more scratches exactly the same. 'Those have to be human!' He thought. He traced the scratches with his own finger-nails until the reality of the situation set in and he raced up the stairs.
“What took you so long?” Mama was sitting on one of the chairs in the living room. He sat down in the chair next to hers, leaving his bag at the front door.
“I ran into a lovely fellow named Jerrid.” Chris said sarcastically. He decided not to ask about the scratches on the wooden railings just yet.
“Oh.” Mama chuckled a high-pitched vibration. “Oh Darling, his intentions are good. You’re just new, so you’re going to raise red flags when they’re on the patrol.”
“They’re on patrol?” Chris said. “And there’s more of him?”
“Yes honey, we still have patrols even though the situation has been relieved. There’s three of those boys who still go out at night-time these days.”

Katrina came and sat indian-style on the couch.
“What’s with the hunting get-up?” Chris asked.
“Was he wearing his rifle?” Katrina interjected.
Chris shook his head, "um, I don't know. Maybe." He faintly remembered seeing a strap across Jerrid’s chest.
“Sometimes they’ll go deep into the forest and make sure there isn’t any stragglers.”
Chris nodded. “Stragglers?”
“Yes Baby.” Mama replied. “Somehow the infected found out they were more comfortable in the shade of the forest and they could come in to town when they were really hungry.”
“But the infected haven’t figured out how to coincide with each other yet so there’s only usually one or two together in the forest. When they’re in the village though, they seem to find each other and hunt in large groups.” Katrina watched Chris’ reaction. “It’s a bit more fun for Jerrid and Gregory when there’s only a couple in the forest; it's like, a game.”

Chris felt like he should be writing this all down but didn’t want to offend Mama. Instead he just nodded and tried to commit it to his already exhausted memory.
“Don’t look so scared baby. You don’t need to worry about it.” Mama comforted. “So, tell us again why your hear.” She popped a chocolate almond in her mouth and covered her lips with the crook of her finger.
“Well…” Chris started, “I just started a job at this paper in New York and the news editor wanted to do a piece on the Forest Hills plague and the people that were still infected, who were returning from Colorado. But since accepting the piece I now realized—with the help of Katrina—that this was not a plague at all.”
“No, I don’t think so.” Mama smiled. She squeezed her eyes together and grinned at Katrina. “But I guess in some sorts it was and with a few word games the government was able to cover it up as that.”
“I’m hoping to get some interviews tomorrow. Can you help me?”
“I would love to darling but I don’t know if that’s such a good idea for me to help; don't want to give people another reason to gossip you know. But I can tell you that there’s a few willing-to-talk people that hang out down at the coffee shop on the opposite corner of this building. It’s called Mary-Jo’s”
“That’s a start. Thank you.” Chris smiled at Mama and Katrina.

Mama and Katrina didn’t say anything else until Mama excused herself and announced that she was going to go to bed.
“Old ladies like me don’t stay up very late anymore. You kids don’t stay up too late either. I’m sure you’ve had a long day.” She started walking down the hall and turned around. “Oh Chris, I never asked you: How long are you staying here for? In Forest Hills I mean.”
“Only for a long weekend. If that’s Okay with you?”
“Of course Ducky, I was just wondering. You’re welcome to stay as long as you like.” She turned into her room and shut the door.

Chris turned back to Katrina. “Thank you.”
“For what?” Katrina asked.
“For being a part of letting me stay here. It can’t be fun having someone come in and take over your time alone with your grandmother.”
“Don’t worry about it. It’s probably good having you here; being a buffer for the beginning. Plus she likes you.”
“It seems like she likes everyone.” Chris was taking a dig at Jerrid, but didn't know if Katrina picked up on it.
“She tries to find the best in all people, but she definitely likes you.” Katrina got out of the chair. “I think I’m going to go to bed now too. We can get up early tomorrow and introduce you to the locals if you like.”
“Yes, I would like that. Say seven-thirty?”
“Sounds good. Good-night.”
“See you in the morning.” Chris got up, grabbed his bag and made his way to his new bedroom. Even though it was early, he was knackered and welcomed the bed with open arms. He knew that he should do some writing, but decided to start tomorrow when he had a clear mind. He fumbled with the futon until he got it laid flat and put the sheets on. He stripped down to his boxers and the t-shirt he had on, climbed under the covers and thought about the day's stories; afraid he would have nightmares. He fell asleep almost immediately.

***
Katrina fell asleep with her clothes on. She had intentions of staying awake just long enough to re-familiarize her self with her old room; she didn’t want to wake up and not know where she was-- like so many times before. Her exhausted body had another plan.
She tossed and turned all night, the familiar and re-occuring dream of her parents snuggled up in their favorite chairs in the front room. It was their favorite room because of the massive granite fireplace. Katrina noticed the fire was almost out; the last pieces of wood were nothing but glowing lumps of ash. Her family lived in the oldest house in Forest Hills. It had been passed down from generations-- since her relatives had built it and founded most of Forest hills. Most of the house was still intact with the original features. The only thing that had been changed were the wooden window sills and some floor panels that had disintegrating from being food for pesky termites. The walls in this particular room matched the dark burgundy of the rugs. Katrina walked towards the old leather chairs turned towards the fire, their backs to her as she came into the room.
She had just come home from visiting Mama and she was early as requested by her parents.
Katrina announced her arrival “Hey.”
There was no movement from the chairs. Her mom who was usually knitting or crocheting was not moving and the yarn and needles were on the floor haphazardly. Her dad’s book was draped across his knee as if he had fallen asleep. Katrina thought this was odd since she had never seen her dad fall asleep anywhere other than his bed, and her mom was a very organized person, especially when it came to her crafts. She brushed it off as a first and moved a little closer. That’s when she saw both her parents jerk and stiffen.
“Mom, dad?” She became worried and unwillingly prepared her muscled for a possible escape.
Without warning, her parents pounced up from the chairs, searching until their fourth sense honed in on her. When they locked on, both simultaneously turned and soared across the room at Katrina in one leap. On the second pounce—the one that she knew would be fatal if she didn't move-- Katrina whipped around and threw herself through the big wood doors she had just come, closing them behind her until she felt them click shut.
She was aware of the fall breeze and was lucky she had her coat and shoes still on.
“GREGORY!” She yelled. Nothing. “GREGORY!” She screamed again, this time with a blood-curdling tone. She was running towards the bell tower hoping to find someone on watch. After she hopped the fence into the cemetery, hoping to slow them down, she turned around and saw the two figures gaining on her, running endlessly without tiring. “GREGORY!” She kept sreaming until she saw him running towards her. Thank god! She thought. She experienced an extreme burst of energy and all of a sudden felt like she had been lifted from the ground and was flying.

Katrina would never forget Gregory’s reaction: he had stopped, in shock of what he was seeing: Katrina’s own parents, flesh and blood chasing after her for their next meal. “No, it can’t be!” He said out-loud.
“GREGORY YOU HAVE TO SHOOT THEM!” Katrina had already accepted the reality that she was parentless and If they didn't die, she would be viciously ripped apart--eyes first--and turned into food.
Without any more hesitation, Gregory pulled the rifle off his back, aimed and fired twice. He didn’t miss. He replaced the rifle on his back just in time for Katrina to fall lifelessly at his feet. She started weeping into her hands.
Gregory bent down and wrapped his arms around her. Katrina could feel warm drops falling onto her neck: Gregory’s tears. “I’m sorry Katrina. I’m sorry.” He whispered into her hair.
This was the reality of what happened, but Katrina’s dream always continued on with a different, surreal ending each time:
Gregory tried to protect her with his own body but instead was ripped from her back. When Katrina looked at the spot where Gregory’s body landed, both her parents were hovering over him. The woman looked at the man and he nodded at her. She bowed down to Gregory’s eyes and one at a time, covered each with her mouth sucking them out and viciously chewing on them; shoving the nerves and membranes into her mouth with both of her bloody hands. Gregory was shrieking in pain trying to grab at his face, but the man—Katrina’s transformed father—was holding him down for the woman.
Katrina wanted to run but her legs felt like lead. She didn’t want to scream, but she couldn’t help herself and she yelled “NO!”
Immediately they turned and the man jumped on top of her in one leap. The woman was on top of her just as quickly. Her last sight was Gregory was still screaming, grabbing at his empty eye sockets. An open mouth, smelling of death covered her vision and everything went dark. She jolted awake and realized she was safe in her bed at Mama’s. She wiped the tears off her face and looked at her watch. 3:25 am. She decided to get up and get a glass of water, only to find Mama in the kitchen as well.
“You finally woke-up child.” Mama wrapped her arms around Katrina and they both started to weep.