I awoke to a banging from the front door. My bedroom was directly above the porch, and in the old house we lived in, I could hear every step someone took on the porch. I looked at the time that was projected onto the ceiling by my clock. “Who would be coming to our house at 12:38?”, I thought.
I continued to lay in bed listening to the occasional bang. I knew my mom, whose bedroom was on the first floor of the house and was a light sleeper, would answer the door eventually. A few moments later I heard her scream. It wasn’t a scared, I’m being attacked scream, more of a surprised one. I put my glasses on and hurried downstairs.
“What’s going on?”
“There are people at the door trying to get in!”
My mom was one of the sweetest people you could ever meet. Despite being 5’4”, she could be quite tough when need be. She was standing a few feet from the door with her hand over her mouth, her hair somewhat frizzy.
I slowly approached the door, not knowing what to expect. I pulled back the curtain on the window to see through.
Zombies.
Life was about to get real shitty.
