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“Don’t you remember, Kyle? I’m dead, too,” Mary said.

Kyle’s gaze met Mary’s. A large hole appeared at the top of her head. Tears made from blood began to fall down from her eyes. Bits of bone and gore rested on top of her head near the open wound.

“You did this to us, Kyle,” she said.

Eddie and Mary both stood up from the table. She extended her hand out toward Eddie. The faceless boy swung his arm around the area until it locked on to Mary’s. She walked around the table, guiding Eddie like a seeing-eye dog. They stood a few feet in front of Kyle now.

His heart raced a thousand beats per minute. Standing in front of him was his family, his dead family. He hadn’t awakened from a nightmare; this was the nightmare. Mary and Eddie slowly walked toward Kyle.

“You made us like this. You could have just stayed with us and everything would have been fine. But you wanted to be selfish,” Mary said.

“Stay back,” Kyle said, pinned up against a wall.

“Don’t let this happen to Victor and Jasmine,” Mary said.

Hugging the wall, Kyle edged over toward the sliding glass door. Mary and Eddie quickly followed. Kyle pulled the chain on the blinds. They moved out of the way, revealing the backyard. The sky was red and every house around the area was on fire. Smoke and soot blew into the air from the flames. The grass was no longer green, but as dry and dead as Kyle’s wife and son.

Dead bodies began to flow in from a break in the wooden fencing. Their faces were grey with brown dried blood around their mouths and clothes. They stared at Kyle as they slowly shambled toward him. Upon closer inspection, he noticed that the dead weren’t looking at him, but at a kid sitting on the ground in front of him. The fires had caught his attention before he could notice the boy.

The boy turned his head toward Kyle. It was Victor. He got up to his feet and banged on the sliding glass door.

“Let me in, dude!” he yelled.

Kyle reached for the lock and flicked it open. He tried pulling on the door, but it wouldn’t budge. It was as though the door was welded shut.

“Come on! Open the door,” Victor continued.

No matter how hard Kyle tried, the door wouldn’t open.

Mary and Eddie stopped a few feet behind him.

“What are you doing, Kyle? Open the door and let him in. You need to save him,” she said in an echoing, eerie voice.

“I’m fucking trying. The door won’t budge!” Kyle yelled, enraged.

The dead continued to walk toward Victor. He kicked and punched the glass door, screaming to be let in. The Existing Dead closest to him was naked, not only of clothes, but of skin as well. His half rotting stomach was split open. The dead man’s penis was fully erect. Kyle yelled as the monster wrapped its arm around Victor’s neck, putting him in a choke hold. The creature proceeded to unbuckle Victor’s belt. His pants and boxer shorts fell down to his ankles. The creature slammed Victor’s head up against the glass door and inserted its penis into him. A high pitched scream exploded out of Victor’s mouth as the monster thrust himself further into him. Victor flailed his arms, trying to escape its grip.

Kyle looked into the man’s face. It was Chet, their new companion. A large grin was plastered across his face. Victor continued to scream in a high pitched, deafening cry.

“Save him, Kyle. Wake up,” Mary said.

Kyle continued to pull on the sliding door, but it still wouldn’t open. He searched the area for anything to break the glass with. He lifted one of the chairs above his head and heaved it toward the door. It bounced off with no effect.

“Wake up, Kyle. Wake up,” Mary whispered.

Victor looked through the glass at Kyle. Tears built up in his eyes then came running down his face. “Help me, Daddy,” he said in Eddie’s voice.

Enraged, Kyle shrieked into the air like a wild medieval warrior in the heat of battle. He ran full force toward the door and braced himself for the impact. The glass door shattered into a thousand pieces as his body caved through. He felt the shards of glass scrape against his skin as they made invisible slices on his face, neck and shoulders. The entire world when black for a moment, and then Kyle’s eyes strained open.

Chapter Thirteen

The dream left Kyle with a combination of anger and fear. He didn’t know what to make of it, nor did he know if he was still dreaming. He remained on the ground with his eyes half open, staring up at the ceiling.  Slowly he closed them again, but he did not fall into another deep sleep. He sensed something was wrong and he needed to fully awaken. The noises of wood cracking in the fire and rain pouring down outside were prominent in the room. But there was another noise, something that Kyle couldn’t understand.

Kyle slowly sat up, his eyes half open, and the undistinguishable noise grew louder. It was the sound of weeping. Kyle’s stomach was sore, as if he’d been doing a thousand crunches the night before. He rubbed his abdomen softly, taking in a few deep breaths while the lamenting noise continued to grow louder. He looked around the area, but was unable to see anyone.

“Victor?” Kyle muttered, disoriented. “Chet? Where … where are you guys?”

He shook off some of his fatigue and stood, nearly tripping over his own feet. He grabbed on to the nearby counter for support. Again the crying sound continued. It was coming from the other room. Kyle searched the area where he lay for his weapons. They were gone. His Winchester shotgun, the Glock and most importantly, Eddie’s robot backpack: all gone.

Kyle’s anger and fear quickly turned into worry and anxiety. He looked into the metal can that they used as a fire pit, the blaze was almost out, but orange embers still flew into the air. The crying continued.

“Victor? Where are you?” he asked in the loudest voice he could muster. There was no reply, just more weeping. Kyle started regretting taking the pill Chet had given him. His head pounded and every nerve and desire in his body was telling him to go back to sleep. He needed to do something that would completely take the weariness away and let him take control of his body again. He looked at the fire again with one eye exposed and the other struggling to open.

The orange glow sparkled in his eye. Without much thought about how this act would affect him later, he reached down with his left hand and shoved it into the inferno.

A violent shockwave of pain and heat shot through his body, instantly taking away any fatigue or soreness he had. Sweat immediately began to build up on his forehead and above his upper lip. He snapped back his head as if he were looking to the sky and, with as much force and power that it could have shaken the walls, he screamed. He yanked his hand out of the scorching ashes and yelled again, this time louder than before.

The whole experience lasted only a second, and the damage done to his hand was nothing more than a minor burn. After all, Kyle was a welder and being burned at high temperatures was part of the job.

All of Kyle’s thoughts rushed into his head and besides the pain, he was fully awake and thinking clearly. He unhooked the front door from the chain—for some reason it was no longer open—and ran outside, quickly dunking his hand into the nearest puddle he could find. Once his hand cooled, he retracted it and turned it into a fist. The calluses on his hands really helped absorbed the burn.

Kyle turned to face the entrance to the post office when he heard another faint cry.

“Victor!” he yelled, and ran through the door.

Turning right immediately after entering, Kyle entered into the front desk area. The smell of blood and feces dominated the little room. He looked around the lobby area, but no one was in sight.