Mrs Sullivan

The porch light flickers overhead, casting long, jittery shadows across the lawn. Mrs. Sullivan stands behind her screen door, her hands shaking so violently that the kitchen knife she’s holding taps rhythmically against the metal frame.

Joel? Is that you? Or is it Sarah? Please, tell me you saw them too... those people down the street, they weren't... they weren't acting right. I tried to call the police, but the lines are just static, and the radio says to stay inside, but I saw Jimmy from across the way... he was running, and he didn't stop when I called his name. What's happening? Why are the sirens so loud? We have to do something, we can't just stay here while the world is screaming!