The Last Embrace

Chapter 2

Mr. Harris began walking toward their house.

Slowly.

Not like the old man who usually walked with careful patience while watering his garden. This movement was wrong—jerky, unbalanced, almost mechanical.

Daniel felt the first real wave of fear spread through his chest.

“Mr. Harris?” he called through the window.

The old man did not respond.

He simply kept walking.

Sylvia’s fingers tightened around Daniel’s arm.

“That’s him,” she whispered. “That’s really him.”

Daniel didn’t answer.

Because something about the way Mr. Harris moved told him the man they knew was already gone.

Behind the old man, the woman he attacked lay motionless on the street. Blood spread across the pavement beneath her neck like a dark flower blooming.

For a few seconds, nothing happened.

The quiet felt unnatural.

The neighborhood had always been full of sound—dogs barking, children laughing, lawnmowers humming somewhere down the block.

Now there was only silence.

Then Mr. Harris reached their front gate.

He grabbed the metal bars with both hands.

And shook them violently.

CLANG.

The sound rang through the street like a warning bell.

Sylvia flinched.

“Daniel… he’s trying to get in.”

“I see that.”

Mr. Harris shook the gate again.

CLANG.

CLANG.

The force of it surprised Daniel. The old man had never been particularly strong. In fact, Daniel had helped him carry fertilizer bags just last week because Mr. Harris complained about his back.

But now the gate rattled as if a much stronger person was pulling it.

“Mr. Harris!” Daniel shouted again. “Can you hear me?”

The old man lifted his head slowly.

For a moment Daniel hoped recognition would appear in his eyes.

But there was nothing there.

No warmth.

No understanding.

Only emptiness.

Then Mr. Harris opened his mouth and released a low, guttural sound that barely resembled a human voice.

Sylvia gasped softly.

“That’s not him,” she whispered.

Daniel didn’t answer.

Because at that exact moment the woman lying in the street moved.

He noticed it first.

A twitch of her hand.

Then her fingers curled against the pavement.

Slowly, painfully, she rolled onto her side.

Sylvia followed his gaze.

“Oh thank God,” she said. “She’s alive.”

But Daniel’s stomach twisted.

Because the woman’s neck was torn open.

Blood soaked her clothes.

No one with an injury like that should be moving.

Yet somehow she pushed herself upright.

Her movements were stiff.

Unnatural.

Her head tilted to one side at an odd angle.

Then she looked toward the house.

Sylvia’s voice trembled.

“Daniel… why is she standing?”

Daniel felt the terrible realization forming in his mind.

“I think we need to leave.”

“Leave?” Sylvia repeated.

The gate suddenly snapped open.

The latch had broken under Mr. Harris’s violent shaking.

The old man stumbled into their yard.

The woman followed him through the gate.

Both of them moved slowly across the grass.

But their eyes were fixed on the house.

On Daniel.

On Sylvia.

Sylvia stepped away from the window.

“They’re coming here.”

Daniel’s heart pounded.

His mind raced through possibilities.

Maybe they’re sick.

Maybe it’s some kind of d**g.

Maybe…

But deep down he knew the truth was something worse.

Something far more terrifying.

“Stay here,” he said.

“Where are you going?”

“To get something.”

Daniel rushed into the kitchen.

His eyes scanned the counters desperately.

Knife.

Too small.

Glass bottle.

Too fragile.

Then he saw the heavy iron frying pan resting on the stove.

He grabbed it.

The weight felt solid in his hand.

Behind him Sylvia appeared in the doorway.

“You’re not seriously going to hit Mr. Harris with that.”

“I don’t know what else to do.”

The front door rattled violently.

THUD.

THUD.

Sylvia jumped.

“They’re at the door.”

Daniel stepped into the hallway.

The door shook again.

Wood splintered near the frame.

Through the small window beside the door Daniel could see Mr. Harris standing there.

The woman stood beside him.

Her head hung loosely to one side.

Both of them stared forward with blank expressions.

Sylvia’s voice cracked.

“Daniel… that’s our neighbor.”

He knew that.

And that knowledge made everything harder.

Memories flashed through his mind.

Mr. Harris laughing about crooked tomatoes.

Mr. Harris helping him repair the fence.

Mr. Harris knocking on their door during Christmas with a box of homemade cookies.

Daniel’s grip on the frying pan loosened slightly.

This is insane.

I can’t hurt him.

But then the door burst open.

The old wood gave way under the impact.

Mr. Harris stumbled inside.

The woman followed immediately behind him.

For a moment the four of them simply stared at each other.

The air smelled strongly of blood.

Sylvia whispered, “Mr. Harris…?”

The old man lunged.

Daniel reacted instinctively.

He shoved Sylvia aside just as Mr. Harris grabbed for her.

The old man’s fingers brushed Daniel’s shirt.

Daniel swung the frying pan.

But at the last second he hesitated.

The blow landed weakly against Mr. Harris’s shoulder instead of his head.

The old man barely reacted.

Instead he grabbed Daniel’s arm.

His grip was unbelievably strong.

Daniel struggled.

“Let go!”

Mr. Harris snarled.

Up close the smell of blood was overwhelming.

Daniel saw pieces of flesh stuck between the old man’s teeth.

His stomach lurched.

That’s Mr. Harris.

That’s Mr. Harris.

The thought repeated in his mind like a broken record.

Behind him Sylvia screamed.

The woman had reached her.

Her blood-covered hands clawed toward Sylvia’s face.

Daniel jerked his arm free.

This time he didn’t hesitate.

He swung the frying pan hard.

CRACK.

The metal connected with the side of Mr. Harris’s skull.

The old man collapsed onto the floor.

Daniel spun around.

The woman lunged toward Sylvia again.

Daniel swung the pan a second time.

CRACK.

She fell instantly.

Silence filled the hallway.

Daniel stood there breathing heavily.

His hands trembled.

Sylvia stared at the two bodies on the floor.

“Oh my God,” she whispered.

Daniel looked down at Mr. Harris.

Blood pooled beneath the old man’s head.

“I didn’t mean to…” Daniel said quietly.

Mr. Harris’s fingers twitched.

Daniel froze.

Slowly the old man began to move again.

“No,” Daniel whispered.

Mr. Harris pushed himself up.

His head hung at an unnatural angle now.

But he was still moving.

Still reaching for them.

Sylvia’s voice broke.

“Daniel, he’s getting up!”

Daniel felt panic surge through his chest.

This isn’t possible.

He raised the frying pan again.

For a brief moment he saw Mr. Harris exactly as he remembered him.

Smiling.

Holding a basket of tomatoes.

Calling them over the fence.

Daniel swung.

CRACK.

The blow landed directly on the old man’s head.

This time Mr. Harris stopped moving.

Completely.

Daniel waited several seconds.

Nothing.

No movement.

Behind him Sylvia began crying quietly.

Daniel looked at the woman next.

She twitched slightly.

He struck her again just to be safe.

Then silence returned.

Daniel lowered the frying pan slowly.

The metal felt heavy now.

Too heavy.

“I… I had to,” he murmured.

Sylvia didn’t respond.

She simply stared at the floor.

Outside, distant screams echoed through the neighborhood.

Daniel moved toward the window.

Smoke rose somewhere down the street.

People were running in every direction.

Two figures chased a man across the road.

The man fell.

The figures attacked him immediately.

Daniel’s blood ran cold.

“We can’t stay here,” he said.

Sylvia wiped her eyes.

“Where do we go?”

“I don’t know yet.”

But one thing was clear.

Their home was no longer safe.