Fiction
The Day the World Ended
The day the dead started walking
Our neighbor Troy was different. He kept to himself, only once did I remember speaking with him before it happened. Our mother occasionally said hello, and I remember Lauren selling lemonade to him sometime before our Dad died. He was a tall man, and I remember him smiling when this little girl handed him a cup of warm lemonade. But that was one of the few times I saw him.
That changed during the event. It happened two weeks after my 16th birthday, and four days later I would have left for football camp.
It started with a television broadcast. I remembered the sound of the voice announcing that a new disease was spreading with rapid growth and unheard-of side effects, and how the public was advised to stay indoors until further notice. I remember the air raid sirens.
“Mom…did you see this?” I said.
My mother walked into the room from the kitchen, still holding the plate she was drying.
“What’s the matter?” Her eyes widened when the realization hit her. “This is some kind of joke right, Tim? Did you do this?”
As she said this the unmistakable sound of two helicopters roared overhead.
