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mouth and continued down his neck, matting his hairy chest.  Tiny bits of flesh could be seen peppering his body.  He had the same gaunt complexion Dave had.  His mouth was locked open in a silent scream and he had an angry, stone gaze that sent shivers down my spine.
    “Shit,” I managed to say as I let out a breath.
    I froze.  The sight of Dave coming at me freaked me out, but seeing John covered in blood almost sent me into shock.  I hadn’t seen anything this horrible since that car bomb in Afghanistan.
    He stood there and beat at the bay window.  There was a bang… bang, then it shattered on the third strike.  He let loose an eerie groan as he reached out in my direction.  I started to walk backwards, slowly at first, until I saw him attempt to climb over the broken window.  That’s when I turned and walked quickly toward my car, though my head was turned most of the time, watching his every move.
    John fell over as he tried to climb through the jagged windowsill and rolled into the front yard.  By the time I got to my car, he was up and moving again.  The bottom of the windowsill must have had jagged blades of glass because he had a fresh, deep cut in his belly.  Dark red blood was dripping down the wound, overshadowing the fresh red blood that already covered much of his stomach. 
    His shambling pace wasn’t very fast, and there was no way he could have caught me before I got into my car.  That was good because I stood there, unmoving.  I stared at him in awe and horror at what was unfolding.
    The gash on his stomach must have worsened from his movement because the tear grew and spread from his belly button to his left side.  I could see the muscles had ripped and bubbly looking flesh started to poke out.  It seemed like only a second, but when he reached the road, the rip opened and John’s intestines spilled out, flopping on the pavement with a sickening, wet thud.  His momentum never stopped, but he seemed to lose control of his balance.  It must have been hard to stand straight up with half of your stomach muscles ripped apart.  It didn’t take him long to figure out how to counterbalance his new disability, though.  His intestines dragged behind him, leaving a black gooey slug-like trail across the pavement. 
    An inhumane force was driving him to me.  Things started clicking in my head.  I wasn’t sure what conclusion I was coming to at this point, but I did know John wanted to eat me.  His mouth, still open, would occasionally chomp down.  The sound of his teeth gnashing made me cringe, just like when someone raked fingernails across a chalkboard.
    By the time he made it to my driveway, I was in my car and had the engine running.  I put the car in reverse and spun around to see where John was.  After going through what I did with Dave, you would have thought I wouldn’t care who I hurt.  For some reason, though, I backed up and around him.  I don’t know why I didn’t just run over him.  Hitting him might have done unwanted damage to my car, which I thought I would need.  But now, I think I didn’t hit him because I didn’t want to hurt the guy.  I liked him, and the human mind sometimes will not let you accept the horrors that reality throws at you.
    I sped down the road.  In my rearview mirror I could see John slowly lumbering in my direction until he was out of sight.  I made a few turns to get on one of the major roads that led toward Interstate 95.  I was going to try and find a FEMA camp, but the thought of jumping on the interstate and just driving as far away as possible sounded pretty good to me at that point.
    I could see more people in the streets as I drove.  Those close to my car started moving toward me as I drove away.  Others walked, seemingly lost.  Most were pale and gaunt like Dave and John.  Some had blood around their mouths while others looked like they had flesh ripped from various parts of their bodies.  All walked with slow, shambling