Pitch

CHAPTER TEN

Bodies. Blood. Burning cars. It had been a massacre. With a mix of horror and morbid fascination I stared out my bedroom window to the street below. Bodies littered the pavement like broken dolls, their necks ripped open, their limbs twisted in horrible angles. A police car had crashed through the drug store. The cop who had driven it there was mangled almost beyond recognition. Even Barnabus, the gray cat that lived in the alley, had not survived the night.

I lurched away from the window and covered my mouth to contain the scream that threatened to burst free. Keeping my hand firmly in place I rushed into the bathroom, collapsed in front of the toilet, and was sick for the first time since my parents sat me down and told me about the big D.

My dad was still sleeping off his hangover. I took a quick shower – so cold it instantly cleared my head – and got dressed in cropped off jeans and a plain black t-shirt.

Before falling into a restless sleep last night I had packed a green duffel back I found in the back of my closet chock full of things I thought would be useful for an apocalypse: clothes, an extra pair of sneakers, sun screen, toothbrush, little bottles of shampoo and conditioner, peanut butter (it never went bad), batteries, and all the flashlights I could find, which only ended up being three.

I put together a bag for my dad as well. In his I stuffed as many bottles of water as I could fit and any food that wasn’t perishable. I wasn’t positive, although I was pretty sure, that since the electricity was still out the water would stop working soon. When that happened I wanted to be prepared. Why die of dehydration when there was a perfectly willing vampire ready to rip your throat out?

Vampire. Drinker. Whatever they were called; I believed in them now. How could I not when I had looked out my window and seen what they had done with my own eyes? And even worse than the broken bodies outside – even worse than the senseless murder of innocent people – was the knowledge that no one had come. No one had saved us. Not the police. Not the army. Not the secret service government people. Which had to mean this was happening all over, because how could anyone just sit back and let an entire town be wiped out? The answer was they couldn’t. They answer was the only ones who could help us were fighting somewhere else or they were already dead. No one was coming to our rescue. We were on our own.

“Dad, you have to get up now. We have to move.” I knocked on his door and when he didn’t answer I opened it and shook him awake. He groaned and covered his eyes against the light that was streaming in through the windows. If this was a regular day I would have closed the blinds and let him go back to sleep. But this wasn’t a regular day. I didn’t know if there would ever be a regular day again. “Dad?” I poked him.

“Whaffisit?” he mumbled.

“Well…” I took a deep breath. It was probably better just to get it over with all at once. “Vampires invaded the town last night. Everyone is dead. If we want to stay alive, we have to find a safe place to hide before dark.”

That certainly got his attention. He sat bolt upright and said, “What? What? Lola, is that you?”

This again? Good thing I had dumped all the beer I could find last night down the sink. “Yes it’s me,” I said impatiently. “Don’t you remember?”

“I… Yes.” His eyes cut away to the bureau in the corner of the room that had been flipped on its side. “I remember. But vampires, Lola? That’s… that’s impossible.”

I shrugged. “Go look for yourself.”

He shuffled over to the window. I waited by the bed. I did not need to see what he was looking at. It was already imprinted in my brain; sizzled into my memory like some sort of hot brand.

“All those people,” he whispered, still looking out. “I don’t understand. Who could have done this? Where are the police?” He swung around, his eyes a little wild, his face a few shades shy of albino. “Have you talked to your mother? Your sister? Are they all right?”

“I don’t know. I dropped my phone last night. It won’t turn on.” And just like that, all of my contact with the outside world had been severed. No cell phone. No regular phone. No internet to send an e-mail or a message on Facebook. No text messages. I had always taken it for granted, how easily I could get in touch with someone, no matter what distance separated us. Now I had no way of knowing if my own mother was alive.

My dad rubbed his face. “Someone will come. Someone has to come.”

“Dad,” I whispered. “There isn’t anyone left.”