I shifted the girl in my arms and pulled the door open, stepping out into the night, gasping with relief as the warm air dried the sweat on my forehead. I quietly slid the door closed behind me and heard Tommy enter the house once again. Keeping low, I shifted my way around the side of the house, every sense cranked to eleven.
As I made my way to the front yard, the police car that had come to our aide drifted into view.
The two officers lay dead across its hood, their throats ripped out.
“Jesus Christ,” I cried softly, voice straining. My mind was an exhausted mess of heightened fear and crushing trauma, every ounce screaming for release.
“Run,” I said to myself, “Run, go now before he finds you!”
Taking a deep breath, I bolted from the corner of the house down the driveway towards my patrol car. My feet padded over the grass and then clacked against the asphalt as I fled, reaching the car in seconds. I threw the side door open and slid the girl inside, shooting a terrified glance over my shoulder.
After she was secure, I raced around to the driver’s side and practically tore the door open. I collapsed into my seat and brought the car roaring to life. As I slammed the gears into reverse and hit the gas, I saw the front door open.
I saw all the front doors open.
Every single house lining Tenner Street.
I shifted into Drive and floored it, the tires squealing. As we accelerated down the road, I watched in absolute horror as Tommy Taffy stepped out of every single house, a twisted smile lining his lips.
“My God,” I whispered, “He’s infected the entire neighborhood.”
I hit the corner and the rubber screamed beneath me as I gunned us away from the nightmare, away from the carnage…away from Tommy Taffy.
It’s been thirty years since that awful night. Not a day goes by where I don’t think about the depravity and horror I witnessed. How do you explain such bizarre violence and terror to someone who hasn’t been exposed to such things? You can’t really, and so I’ve suffered the memories in silence.
No trace of Tommy was found after the incident. By the time I got the little girl to the hospital, screaming into my radio the entire time, the neighborhood was gone. Yes, gone.
