The Empty House.
1032 Words
Marcus froze in the hallway, staring up the stairs. The floorboard creaked again, slow, deliberate, like whoever was up there knew he'd heard it the first time.
"Elena," he called, quieter now. "If that's you, say something."
Reyes stepped inside behind him, rifle raised toward the staircase. Priya stayed near the door, watching the street through the gap.
A voice came down the stairs, shaky. "Dad?"
Marcus felt his knees almost give out from relief. "Elena. It's me. Come down, baby."
"Mrs. Hart said to hide and not come out for anybody."
"I'm not anybody. Come down here so I can see you."
A pause, then footsteps, careful, moving down the stairs one at a time. Elena appeared at the bottom, nine years old, hair a mess, clutching a stuffed rabbit like it was the only solid thing left in the world.
She ran the last few steps and Marcus caught her, picking her up even though she was getting too big for it.
"You're really here," she said into his shoulder.
"I told you I'd come."
"Mrs. Hart said the news said not to leave the house. She said stay upstairs and don't make noise." Elena pulled back to look at him. "Where's Mrs. Hart?"
Marcus looked past her toward the kitchen, where a light was on but nobody answered when he'd called. "Stay by me," he said, setting her down but keeping her hand in his.
They moved together into the kitchen, and Reyes clicked on a flashlight to cut through the dim. Mrs. Hart sat at the kitchen table, an older woman, gray hair pulled back, hands folded in front of her like she was waiting for something. She didn't look up when they came in.
"Mrs. Hart?" Marcus said.
She looked up slow. Her eyes were clear, not flat and wrong like the infected. Just tired. Just scared.
"I heard the radio say to keep her quiet and safe indoors," Mrs. Hart said, voice thin. "I did that. I did exactly that. But I heard them outside a while ago, and I didn't know if I should open the door for you or not, so I just sat here and waited."
"You did good," Marcus said. "You kept her safe. Thank you."
Mrs. Hart's hands shook where they rested on the table. "I don't think I can walk far. My hip's been bad for months, and after tonight, I don't have it in me to run from anything."
Elena's grip tightened on Marcus's hand. He crouched down to her eye level.
"Hey. I need a minute to talk to the grown-ups. Can you go grab your shoes and your backpack? We're going to go somewhere safer."
Elena nodded, but she didn't let go of his hand right away. "Is it going to be like the tunnel man on the news? The one who bit people?"
Marcus's chest tightened. He hadn't realized she'd already seen anything. "You don't need to worry about that. I'm here now."
She studied his face a second longer, the way kids do when they're checking if an adult is lying, then nodded and went to get her shoes.
Once she was out of earshot, Marcus turned to Mrs. Hart. "We can't leave you here."
"You can, and you should," Mrs. Hart said. "I'll slow you down, and that little girl needs you moving fast, not carrying two people."
"Ma'am, with respect," Reyes cut in, "staying here isn't a plan. We got a beacon off a dead soldier a few blocks from here. This whole sector might get flagged for a strike."
Mrs. Hart's face didn't change much, like she'd already made peace with something before they'd even walked in. "Then you'd better hurry."
"No," Marcus said. "We're not doing this. You're coming with us, even if I have to carry you myself."
Priya stepped in from the hallway. "Marcus. Time."
"I heard her the first time too," Marcus said. He looked at Mrs. Hart.
"I'm not leaving the woman who kept my daughter alive tonight sitting in a kitchen waiting to die because her hip hurts. We'll go slow if we have to."
Mrs. Hart's eyes went wet, and she nodded, letting Marcus help her up from the chair.
She leaned hard on him, favoring one leg, but she moved.
Elena came back with her shoes on and her backpack slung over one shoulder, the stuffed rabbit tucked under her arm.
She looked at the group…her dad, a soldier she didn't know, a woman with a phone still recording, and Mrs.
Hart limping between them…and her face did the thing kids' faces do when they understand more than adults want them to.
"Are we going to be okay?" she asked.
Nobody answered right away. Reyes finally crouched down to her level. "You know what, kid? I've been shooting at things all night that I never trained for, and I'm still standing. That's gotta count for something."
Elena almost smiled. Almost.
They moved out through the back door, avoiding the front street, cutting through a row of narrow backyards that Reyes scouted first with quiet efficiency. Mrs. Hart moved slow, leaning on Marcus, and every few yards Elena checked over her shoulder like she expected something to be there.
Near the end of the block, Priya's phone buzzed, an alert cutting through the emergency broadcast tone. She stopped and checked it, frowning.
"There's a shelter listed two miles from here," she said. "Broadcast says it's operational, taking in survivors, guarded."
"Two miles is a lot of ground with her hip," Marcus said, nodding at Mrs. Hart.
"It's also the only listed safe zone in range," Priya said. "Unless you've got a better option."
Marcus didn't. He looked down at Elena, who was watching him with the same patient trust she'd had her whole life, the kind that assumed her father always had an answer.
"Shelter it is," he said, and they kept moving, following Priya's phone toward the one place on the map that promised safety, none of them yet knowing the broadcast had been runnin
g on a loop for hours, over a building that didn't have a single living person left inside it.
- Writer
