The only drawback to buying this small house back in December is that about a mile and a half away from my lovely 4 bedroom abode rests a small cemetery. I don’t consider myself a very superstitious person, yet every time my little CR-V drives by the rusted, black iron fence, chills crawl against my skin. As a kid, I was told that you had to hold your breath when you passed by the tombstones, so that the ghosts buried beneath the earth couldn’t steal it away.
It was the police sirens that woke me this morning at 3 a.m. Thinking it was another vehicular accident on a nearby intersection, I closed my eyes and tried to drift back to sleep. I relaxed and cozied back up to my pillow with heavy and tired eyes.
That’s when I heard it.
Three sounds hit my ears in rapid succession; a low and eerie moaning, a scream from what sounded like a female and the first of many gun shots.
I’ve been awake ever since.
Please tell me that this is a dream.
Tell me that I’m lost in some subconscious imagery taken directly from too many hours of playing scary video games.
It’s now 6 a.m.
Although muffled through the thick concrete walls of the basement, I have heard intermittent screams throughout the last three hours, usually followed by the popping sound of a discharging weapon. Guys, for the first time in my life, I am deathly afraid. I don’t know how long we will be stranded here. I’ve had to make numerous trips upstairs to gather food and other supplies, and from what I can tell from each hurried pass by a window, we are surrounded.
I will do my best to update this blog as the slow moments pass, but I can’t guess as to how much time we’ll be stuck here, or how long the electricity will last. I’ve moved my father and girls downstairs and barricaded the doors with every piece of available furniture, but the only thing that worries me is the entrance to the garage. Given the weak point of the sliding glass upstairs near the deck and this particular vulnerability beneath, I hope I’ve chosen correctly. I’ve backed the Honda against the door, but I don’t know how well it will hold if overwhelmed.
I don’t know how many of them are out there.
I never thought it would end like this. I thought it would be some sort of biological or nuclear strike. Perhaps another terrorist attack that spiraled our country into a final death spiral. These are the kind of stories you hear in church that are supposed to guilt you into throwing a few extra dollars in the collection basket.
The dead aren’t supposed to rise from the grave.
If you can send help, please do. I don’t want to die here. I will protect my family until my last breath, but I don’t know if we’ll be able to do this alone. From the sounds of it, the neighbors have already been attacked. From the moaning that is growing louder with each moment, I am certain we are next. I was able to snap this picture of what we’re facing here, but as I listen, it sounds like this isn’t an isolated incident.
Help us, please.
