walks up the sidewalk and onto the porch. She unlocks the door and,

  leaving it open, walks inside.

  She takes longer than Lori expects. Lori hears a creaking noise

  from outside, loud enough to be heard over the engine. She looks over

  and sees the large tree in their front yard. Its thick branches are

  swaying back and forth in the wind. Dry, colored leaves fall to their

  yard. Rain spatters on the windshield.

  Something about the creaking branch bothers Lori, so she turns

  on the radio. She finds nothing that interests her, so she turns it off. She

  shifts in her seat nervously. What is taking Mom so long?

  A loud "pop" comes from the house.

  Lori is so startled she jerks back in her seat. Later she'll realize

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  she heard a gunshot. Now, she's mystified. The sound is nothing like the

  massive explosions guns make in movies. It's a sharp, cracking sound.

  Like something breaking.

  A few seconds later, Gregory exits the house. He doesn't stop to

  close the door. He looks pale and shaken. He looks as though he's

  headed for the garage, then he stops, seeing Lori in the car.

  For a moment Lori sees panic on his face.

  Then it's gone. He smiles, looking like it hurts him to do it, then

  walks toward the car. Lori recognizes the smile. It's the smile he uses

  when he's explaining something very serious.

  He opens the car door and climbs inside. "Hello, Lori." He

  shuts the door. "I'm sorry but we have to hurry." He pulls the shifter

  into reverse, without even pausing to put on his seat belt. Gregory

  always uses his seat belt.

  "Where's Mom?" says Lori.

  "She's staying behind," says Gregory as he eases the car back

  out of the driveway. "I'll explain in a second."

  Lori knows that can't be right. Mom had just started her shift at

  work. Sure, Gregory ran the zoo so Mom could skip work if she wanted,

  but Mom isn't the type to abuse her position.

  "Where's Mom?" repeats Lori, a little more insistent this time.

  "Please Lori, give me a second. I'll explain." Gregory backs

  out of the driveway and turns. He backs along the road, straightening

  the car. He slows alongside the open door to the house. Lori sees

  inside.

  She sees Mom's foot, lying on the floor. The rest of Mom is

  hidden from view.

  "Mom!" she yells.

  Not thinking, not planning, not acting like herself, she opens the

  door. The car is still rolling as she jumps out. She hits the ground and

  stumbles, not thinking of how crazy she's being. Not thinking of how

  she's acting more like her twin sister than herself. Just thinking of the

  sight of her mother, lying on the living room floor.

  "Lori stop!" yells Gregory, slamming on the brakes. The tires

  make a squeaking sound as they skid on the wet road.

  Gregory's calls come from behind her. She recovers from her

  stumble, clutching the wet grass and using it to pull herself back to

  standing. She bolts for the house.

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  She hears the car door open behind her. "Lori!" yells Gregory,

  farther away as she draws near the porch.

  She hits the concrete of the porch, her wet shoes nearly

  skidding. Not stopping, she runs inside.

  "Lori!" yells Gregory from outside.

  "Mom!" yells Lori, stumbling into the living room and turning.

  Seconds later, she runs back out, screaming and crying. She

  collapses, screaming until she's hoarse.

  * * *

  Lori jerked awake. She'd fallen asleep sitting up. Her neck ached.

  She couldn't move her arms or legs. Her mouth was covered with

  something. For a moment she panicked.

  Then she remembered. She was tied to a chair somewhere in the

  zoo. Tied there by her dad. By Gregory.

  He stepped into view. Lori grunted muffled obscenities at him,

  biting at the gag over her mouth. Then she slumped in her chair. God,

  she was so tired. How long had this been going on?

  "I'm sure you are tired," said Gregory, apparently noticing her

  slump. "You've been screaming and thrashing all night and most of the

  day."

  She glared at him. Her eyes blurred. She blinked to clear them.

  They blurred again.

  "Poor girl," said Gregory. "You're exhausted."

  She pulled herself straight in the chair. She would not show

  weakness. Not to him.

  "I bet you're starving, too."

  Oh god, she was. The realization sent a cramping wave through

  her stomach and throat.

  "Aren't you?" Gregory said.

  She stared at him, then nodded. She hated herself for doing it, but

  she nodded.

  He nodded back, then knelt down before her. He rubbed his

  neatly-trimmed beard. "I can take off the gag. Maybe even untie your

  arms. But you have to understand why I did what I did. You have to

  understand I had to."

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  She panted into the gag, her stomach quivering from hunger. She

  stared at him, saying nothing.

  "Do you?"

  She looked down at the floor. God, she was hungry.

  "Lori look at me," said Gregory. He reached out and lifted up her

  chin. She recoiled from his touch. He dropped his hand. She lifted up

  her head and looked at him.

  "Do you understand, Lori?"

  She stared at him.

  Then shook her head no.

  He hung his head. He sighed, then looked back up at her. "Fine.

  Do you at least promise not to scream? Or try to hit me?"

  Her stomach clenched. Her hands, tied behind her back, trembled

  from exhaustion.

  She nodded.

  "Okay then."

  Gregory stood and walked behind her. She felt his fingers

  working at the cords around her wrists. She flinched at his touch, but

  did her best to hold still. A few more seconds and her hands were free.

  She briefly entertained the thought of punching him, but repressed it.

  She brought her hands around to her front, rubbing her raw and

  aching wrists. Gregory's hands changed to the gag. She felt him tugging

  at the knot, wincing as it tangled with her hair. The gag loosened and

  slipped off.

  She panted and spit. Her mouth was dry and her stomach ached.

  "Ready for some food?" said Gregory, walking back around to

  stand in front of her.

  "Okay," she said, her voice low and hoarse.

  She looked down at the cords around her feet. Gregory followed

  her gaze down, then met her eyes when she looked back up at him.

  "Not yet, Lori," Gregory said. "Not until you understand."

  She looked down at the floor. "Food."

  "Okay," said Gregory. "I'll be right back."

  He stepped over to a closed door. He fished a keycard from his

  pocket and held it up to a reader set in the wall next to the door. A red

  light on the reader changed to green, and the door clicked. He opened

  the door and walked out, shutting the door behind him.

  She waited for a moment, making sure he was gone.

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  She shifted in the chair, hiking up one hip. She dug around in her

  jeans pocket until she found her cell phone.

  She pulled the phone out and flipped it open. Her first thought

  was to call the police, but she was afraid Gregory would hear. How

  close was he to the door? Her next though was to text Ella, let her know

  where she was. She frowned, trying to remember clearly. Had Ella

  forgotten her phone yesterday, or was that some other time? She

  couldn't remember.

  She glanced at the door. The lock still showed red. How long did

  she have? And did Ella have her cell phone or not?

  Her head hurt from hunger and exhaustion. She couldn't

  remember. She opened the text function on her phone and started

  typing.

  Six

  Park inched Angie's car down the road, reading the house

  numbers as they went by. Angie looked out the passenger window,

  doing the same.

  "There," said Dalton from the back seat. He pointed over Park's

  shoulder, out the windshield and farther up the street.

  Park nodded and drove to the house Dalton indicated. He pulled

  alongside the house and stopped.

  "This look right?" said Angie.

  "Don't know," said Park. "Never saw the house."

  Angie gave him a look. He didn't need it. He surveyed the

  house, as if he'd see any element that would indicate to him his

  daughters and ex-wife lived there. How the hell would he know? What

  the hell was he doing? He briefly reconsidered his old plan of killing

  himself.

  He dropped that line of thought and returned to investigating

  the house. The number was right, which he liked. What he didn't like

  was the large front window, which was smashed. Large plastic decals

  of fall leaves hung from what chunks of glass remained. The front door

  stood open. No movement inside.

  "Something happened here," said Maylee from the back seat.

  No shit, kid, Park wanted to say. But the kid didn't deserve that.

  Park was just upset he hadn't seen his girls for so long. Upset at the

  state of the house he assumed they lived in. Shit, assumed. They were

  right. They had just been little girls when they gave him that look, but

  they were right. He was a failure.

  "Something happened everywhere," he said in response to

  Maylee. He opened the door and stepped out, slinging the rifle strap

  over his shoulder.

  Rain fell, just intermittently enough to be annoying. It hit Park's

  head and ran down his face. Angie and her kids climbed from the car.

  Maylee had her bat.

  They all looked up and down the street. At the far intersection,

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  a corpse stumbled by, not noticing them. That was fine with Park.

  Faint screams came from far off. A siren sounded somewhere

  far away. Rain pattered on the dry leaves of the huge tree in the front

  yard.

  "Seems quiet," said Angie.

  Park nodded.

  A dog barked, so loud and close that all four of them jerked at

  the sound. Park turned and saw the dog standing on a lawn across the

  street. The house behind the dog was badly damaged. The dog barked

  over and over at them but did not leave its yard.

  Park snorted at the dog and turned back to the house.

  Maylee kept looking at the dog. "What's that dog's problem?"

  "It's probably scared," said Angie.

  They all stood quietly for a moment, taking a last look around.

  Rain pattered down. Faint moans and screams came from far away. The

  dog barked.

  "Alright," said Park, swallowing. "I guess this is what I came

  here for."

  Angie stepped up next to him. "I'm sure they're fine, Parker."

  Park looked over at her. "You mean that?"

  Angie looked at him, saying nothing. Her expression was blank.

  "Yeah," said Park after a moment. "That's what I think, too."

  The dog barked and rain fell.

  "Let's go," said Park.

  Park walked up the street, turning into the driveway. Angie and

  the kids followed behind. "Stay close to me," Angie said to them.

  "Fine," said Maylee, sounding annoyed.

  Partway up the driveway, Park stopped and stared into the

  garage. A SUV sat inside. There were no signs of movement. Angie

  and the kids stopped behind him.

  "Someone in there?" said Dalton.

  "Shh!" said Angie and Maylee in unison.

  "Hello?" said Park toward the open garage. "Anyone there?"

  They listened and stared at the garage, at the back of the SUV.

  No sound and no movement. Slowly, Park slipped the rifle strap from

  his shoulder. He brought the rifle around to his front.

  "You just have the one shot?" said Angie.

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  "Just the one," said Park.

  "Great," said Angie. "Everyone keep quiet and be careful."

  Park slowly stepped into the garage, stopping at the back of the

  SUV. He peered through the tinted glass of the back window. It was

  empty.

  He stepped back and looked around the garage. He turned to

  Angie and the kids. "I'm gonna look deeper."

  Angie nodded, walking in on the other side of the SUV. She

  motioned for the kids to stay in the driveway. Maylee frowned but

  stayed put. She gripped the bat and Dalton clung to her.

  Park walked along the drivers side of the SUV. Angie kept

  pace with him on the other side. Rain echoed off the roof. No other

  sound or movement presented itself.

  A clatter came from Angie's side. Park jerked around, startled.

  The butt of the rifle scraped along the drivers door of the SUV. The

  SUV's alarm started going off, loud and blaring in the confines of the

  garage.

  "Shit," said Park, wincing at the noise.

  "Sorry," said Angie. "There was a can on the floor."

  Park grabbed the door handle and pulled, meaning to turn the

  alarm off. The door was locked. The alarm blared, making his ears ring.

  "Fuck," said Park, stepping out of the garage and back into the

  rain. "That goddamned thing is gonna bring dozens of those things." He

  pulled on the back door to the SUV. It stayed put. He brought up the

  rifle butt and slammed it into the glass. It cracked but held together.

  "Fucking safety glass," he muttered.

  Angie looked up and down the street. The siren blared and the

  dog kept barking. "The front door's open. I'll go see if I can find the

  keys. Maylee, you and Dalton stay here."

  Angie turned and headed up the sidewalk, toward the house.

  Park watched her go, then returned to trying to break into the SUV.

  Angie disappeared into the house. Park hit the glass again with

  the rifle. Nothing. The siren kept going. The dog barked. Park turned

  and saw Maylee clutching the bat. "You wanna have a go?"

  Maylee looked at him, then realized what he was saying. She

  nodded, looking almost happy to use the bat. "Sure."

  She stepped up and was about to swing for the glass of the SUV

  when Angie called out from the front porch.

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  "Park," she called, loud enough to be heard over the alarm and

  barking. "You need to see this."

  Park frowned at her, then walked toward the door. Maylee

  lowered the bat and followed, motioning for Dalton to come along.

  "Not you guys," said Angie. "You stay out here with me." She

  stepped aside to let Park by.

  Park stepped into the living room and looked around. Furniture

  was overturned. Pictures hung crookedly from the walls or were simply

  smashed on the floor. Glass from the window crunched under his feet

  as he stepped farther inside.

  Then his breath caught as he looked down.

  Jennifer, his ex-wife, lay dead on the floor. She was facedown,

  but he recognized her hair. He recognized the shape of her body. Even

  after all these years.

  She lay in a pool of thick blood, congealed and still. A hole in

  the back of her head stained her hair red. The hole was torn outward.

  Park swallowed. He'd hunted for years, and he knew a gunshot wound

  when he saw one.

  "Oh shit," said Park, stepping forward and kneeling next to the

  body. He grabbed her pantleg and flipped her over. Her limp hand fell

  into the congealed blood, splattering thick globs of it along the carpet.

  "Shit, Jenny," said Park. Her face was smeared with blood,

  originating from a bullet hole that took up most of her left eye.

  Angie stepped in, her arms crossed. She kept her eyes on the

  kids in the front yard. The alarm was still going off, sounding far away.

  "I'm so sorry Parker."

  Park nodded.

  "I was never a doctor or anything," said Angie, alternating her

  gaze between Park and the kids, "but it looks like this happened before

  we even left Lakewood."

  "Yeah," said Park, sitting back on his heels and wondering why

  he was so upset. He hadn't seen Jennifer in years. And for most of those

  years he hated her. "She must have been bitten." He looked over her

  body for bite marks.

  "Mom!" yelled Maylee from outside. She ran up onto the

  porch, pulling Dalton with her. "Those things are coming!"

  Park stood and looked out the front window. Corpses stumbled

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  down the street, nearing the house. He turned to Angie. She was