The New Year’s Eve party was a bust. Two people showed: one neighbor Chuck and some strange new neighbor lady predicting the world’s end. Ryder was upset. What was wrong with people? Ever since the virus, no one had fun anymore. It was time to turn the tap of life back on and enjoy, as far as he was concerned. So many lily-livered friends couldn’t gather together, wouldn’t go into a bar, just kept hiding. 2022. The year had just started and it sucked already.

Ryder slept restlessly, angered by his lack of a social life. He’d spent a lot of money on snacks that Melanie made special. Booze and a few ounces of good weed. Tonight should have gone down as the party of the year.

He turned, seeing Melanie’s back as she breathed deep and steady. Ryder envied her ability to let go when he was startled by a ruckus outside. His dog Buzz was barking at the fence. Ryder trotted down the stairs and outside. The screen door squeaked as it closed. If someone wanted to come upon him to surprise him, he’d just ruined it. Frost touched the trees, his breath seen in the moon’s light.

“Buzz, quiet,” he reprimanded the dog, feeling terrible that he had left him outside. He called to the mutt who rushed through the opening, running upstairs. Ryder scratched his head. What had gotten into Buzz? Grabbing his shotgun above the fireplace, he walked outside, ducking when he saw them, a group of people on the road. They must have been partygoers because they were all drunk, walking that staggered walk he recognized instantly. They weren’t loud; they mumbled as they moved past his place.

He lived several miles from town. Where had they come from, and where were they going? Ryder watched until they were out of sight. He was cold and decided to go inside, head upstairs, grab Melanie, and warm up. She’d holler at him over his frozen feet. He chuckled, reaching for the door when he heard a bloodcurdling scream.

His neighbor, Chuck? Ryder put on his shoes and coat, grabbed the shotgun, and jumped into his pickup truck. Chuck’s house was half a mile down the road. He drove with his headlights off; he was unsure why he did that, but thought those drunks could be why Chuck was screaming. He wanted the element of surprise. Ryder turned on the truck’s headlights at the last minute, watching them scurry like cockroaches in all directions, but something remained on the road. He reached into the glove box, grabbing his high-intensity light.

“Chuck?” he whispered, stepping out of the truck. He left the door open because he wanted to run to safety if he needed to. Ryder crept closer, seeing blood and entrails in the form of what once was human, not an animal, gagging from the bile coming up his throat.

“My God, Chuck, what happened?” There wasn’t much left of his neighbor. What could he do? Ryder heard a moan coming from the bushes. Looking up, he saw several of them walking toward him.

“Screw this!” He ran back to the truck, relieved he’d left the door open. “Oh, God!” Ryder shouted as the things bumped into the truck, trying to get in. He wanted to drive off, but realized that one of them was already in the cabin. Ryder blew through the attackers, slamming on the brakes, pushed the thing out of the passenger door, and pulled it shut. He stomped the accelerator to the floor, leaving them behind.

“Shit, shit, shit!” he screamed. He had to get Melanie; they would go after her. The only way to not go past them again was to take Bone Lake Road, the back way to his house. How long had it taken for those things to walk from his home to Chuck’s? There wasn’t much time if they were going back. He reasoned that when Buzz was left out, he acted as a deterrent, but now he’d put the dog inside, and they wouldn’t be so shy.

Ryder bounced along the dirt road, willing himself to stay calm. He’d read too many stories about how people lost their lives because they hadn’t remained calm. Why didn’t he think to bring his phone? Ryder cursed out loud, hitting the side door panel with his fist. His phone was on the nightstand. He couldn’t call Melanie to warn her to lock the doors, get his pistol out of the bedside table. He blew through a stop sign and got back to his road, hanging a right, stopping when he saw them. They weren’t people.

Were zombies real? He’d always thought they were just scary stories told around the campfire. They were already in front of his house.

Ryder pressed the gas, plowing through the group, backing up, putting the truck in drive, and backing up over and over until he had destroyed them all.

Then the realization hit him. What had he done? What if they were real people? He would be in jail for the rest of his life. He was sobering up and wondered if that was Chuck on the road, or was he coming off a high from good weed and drinks?

He could hear Buzz wild in the house, snapping him to the present. He grabbed the shotgun and raced inside.

“Melanie! Wake up!” he shouted; she didn’t respond. Ryder took the stairs two at a time. Buzz lunged at him in the hall, sinking his teeth into Ryder’s leg.

Ryder screamed in pain. “Buzz, stop!” The dog seemed to come out of his frantic haze, backing up. Ryder used the shotgun as a crutch, struggling to get back on his feet. He limped to their bedroom.

“Melanie?” he held his breath as the door creaked open. One of them had already ripped Melanie open and feasted on her innards. Ryder aimed and shot. Buckshot sprayed the room and hit the animal on the bed. It screamed, jumping through the window, fell two stories, limping away on a broken leg.

“Melanie, oh, honey,” he felt for a pulse. Ryder sat hard on the floor and wailed. Buzz came in, whimpering. Ryder pulled him close and buried his head in the dog’s shoulder. “What’s happening?”

He grabbed his cellphone off the nightstand and dialed for help

“What’s your emergency?”

“My girlfriend and my neighbor were attacked and killed tonight. I don’t know what to tell you. For lack of a better word, they were killed by zombies.”

“Sir, is this a prank call? I can assure you that calling emergency services and fooling around has severe consequences.”

“I’m not joking; you’ve got to believe me. These things attacked my neighbor Chuck and came back for my girl. I killed a bunch of them in front of my house.”

“What is your name and address, sir?”

Ryder kept the shotgun at his side, sitting on the front porch with Buzz on a leash. He would wait on the steps for the police to get here. In the distance, he could hear the sirens.

Something in the road moved; he rocked himself back and forth, trying to be brave enough to defend himself. He aimed the shotgun.

“What the hell?” Ryder shouted. Several of them came out of the forest to collect their dead from the road. Ryder shot a few times to scare them off, but then thought better. He must save his ammunition and not waste it—the difference between life and death. The creatures were proficient in their cleanup, picking up what they could, disappearing into the dark.

The first squad pulled up. “Ryder Bates?”

“Yes.”

“Can you tell me what’s going on?” The officer stood a distance from him with his hand on his weapon. In a commanding voice, he told him, “Please put your gun down.” Ryder set the shotgun on the steps, holding his hands up.

“Move forward toward me. I am going to restrain you for both of our safety.”

“They are out there. Please don’t put me in cuffs. I won’t be able to protect myself.”

“Mr. Bates, that is why we are here.” The officer motioned to his partner, who pulled Ryder’s hands behind his back to cuff him.

“What do you want to show us?” The officer spoke quietly to keep Ryder calm.

“Out in the road. There were several of them. I ran ’em over, but more came out of the woods and took the body parts off the road.” Another officer went out on the highway with his flashlight.

“Looks like there was something hit on the road. Lots of blood,” the officer called.

“Down the road is my neighbor, Chuck. They tore him apart.” Two squads took off in the neighbor’s direction. “My girl is upstairs. Melanie didn’t answer when I came home. I could hear Buzz, my dog, was going nuts. He bit me in the leg when I tried to go upstairs. She’s in our bed. Melanie’s been torn apart.” The last bit of the story came out in spurts and sputters. Ryder was in hysterics. The radio on the officer toned, he responded.

“Yeah, I’m down here by Chuck Gaatz’s place. It looks like something happened on the road here, but I didn’t find anybody, just a lot of blood.”

“Let’s go see your girl.” The officer turned Ryder around.

“Please don’t make me go up there again. I am sick. I forgot to bring my phone to warn Melanie to lock the doors. I can’t look at her again.” The officer called another officer, asking her to sit with Ryder while he checked upstairs.

“Please sit down.” Ryder had no choice but to follow her orders.

“You don’t need to speak. Wait until you’ve been given your Miranda rights,” the officer advised him.

The screams of the officer upstairs made her race up the steps with her gun drawn.

“Officer Matthews?” she shouted. There was no response. Seconds later, Ryder could hear her screams.

“Oh my God!” Ryder ran out the door as the other officers came in. Buzz followed. Outside, Ryder stepped through his hands, putting them in front of him. Still cuffed, he threw the gun in the truck, allowing Buzz to jump in. Ryder knew that he couldn’t defend himself or the police on his own. He drove to where he’d seen Chuck on the road and saw the empty squad car lights as they rotated, throwing shadows around, marking dead officers.

Ryder stopped near the furthest dead man, searching for his handcuff keys. Several people were killed, and more would die. He needed to warn them and get help.

Pulling over where he felt safe, Ryder managed to get the cuffs off, throwing the key in the ashtray—easing back onto the highway, he screeched to a stop, seeing a young girl standing in the middle of the road.

“Hey! Little girl, get home now!” He shouted out the window.

“They’re all dead,” she cried. “I’m scared.” His heart went out to her. Hell, he was an adult and didn’t understand what was happening.

“Hop in.” He threw the passenger side door open, making Buzz sit in the back of the pickup. Buzz growled while Ryder reprimanded him. She put her doll in first and then climbed in after. “What’s your name?”

“Sadie.”

“Sadie, I will try to help. Do you have any relatives in Saylorville?” Her head shook from side to side. Ryder sighed. What was he going to do with a kid? She crossed over the bench seat and sunk her teeth into him, tearing flesh as she pulled away. Ryder screamed. Grabbing the handcuffs, he attached the little girl to the gun rack. She growled and pulled at her restraints, trying to bite again. Buzz snapped at the back window.

“What are you?” Ryder cupped his injured hand with the good one.

“What you will become,” she answered, licking the blood from his bites off her lips.

Ryder felt his body shake all over. The virus was working its way into his body.

“Why?” he asked. He didn’t expect an answer but remembered the crazy neighbor lady’s prediction of doom and gloom at the party.

2022 was off to a hell of a start.