We saw Lance again that
night.
We had found a small,
ranch style house to camp in.
There weren’t too many
windows to board up, and the doors were solid pine.
We searched the whole
house.
Empty.
It was an ideal
stronghold.
It was around midnight when
the streetlights had flickered on.
That was when we saw
him.
Lance was making his way
down the street, a big smile on his face, his eyes…
His eyes were
missing.
He was laughing and
waving his arms over his head.
The way he moved seemed
wrong.
He seemed broken,
somehow.
He wasn’t alone.
Others walked beside
him. Still more seemed to hobble out of
the houses.
They walked, laughing,
waving their limbs.
A young man darted out
from behind a car.
He was normal.
Lance and his kind turned
on him, their laughter growing louder.
The young man didn’t
stand a chance.
They surrounded him.
He was screaming.
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