Chapter 1
1. Return of the Tiny Fingers
The tiny fingers under the door were missing. Jenni stared down at the dark, terrifying crack under the front door, waiting for the tiny pink digits to suddenly appear and begin straining toward her.
Standing on the front porch of her home, she felt the cool morning air teasing her dark hair and ruffling her pink nightgown and robe.
“Benji?” she whispered.
The hard, steady knocking against the door was a terrifying reminder that her zombified husband, Lloyd, was just on the other side. She could barely make out the dim outline of his form through its frosted glass panes set in the door. Blood was smeared in the inside of the windows, making it harder to see into the house.
“Benji?”
Jenni waited for the tiny fingers, but they didn’t come. Slowly, she squatted down, her trembling fingers touching the cold cement of the front stoop. The crack under the door was far too big. She had told Lloyd that many times. It was so easy for someone to slide their fingers under it. . . or a tiny little hand, trying to reach its mother.
“Benji?”
Lloyd was throwing himself against the door now, and it shook beneath the impact of his body. Benji’s tiny little fingers should be pressed under the door right now, reaching for her, straining for her. But they weren’t there. The crack under the door, ominous in its promise, did not give birth to tiny bloody fingers.
“Mom!”
Jenni rose sharply to her feet.
“Mikey?”
Her twelve-year-old son ran around the side of the house, barefoot and in his pajamas, clutching his toddler brother tightly in his arms.
“Mikey! Benji!” Jenni stumbled as she rushed toward them.
“We got out the back door, Mom!”
Jenni crushed her sons tightly against her body, their small bodies pressing against hers. Benji’s arms wrapped around her neck, and she could feel his tears against her flesh.
“Mommy! Daddy is scary!” Benji wept and thrust one tiny thumb into his mouth.
Jenni smothered her boys with kisses. Clutching them tightly, crying, and thanking God for their survival, she pulled them away from the house.
“Mom, we gotta get away! Dad is crazy! Mom, he’s crazy!” Mikey exclaimed.
“We’ll get away! I promise. We just have to wait a minute or two and Katie will be here in a white truck,” Jenni answered him, clutching his hand.
“Who, Mom?”
“Katie. She’s coming to save us,” Jenni assured him. She looked back toward the house warily and saw Lloyd was now banging on the window next to the front door. Katie would be here at any moment now. She remembered from. . .
Scowling, she stood on her front lawn, trying not to think too hard about what was happening, of what had happened before. . .
Shaking her head, she looked toward the house. The window splintered and glass rained down. Lloyd began to push his way out.
“Mom! Mom! Where is Katie?”
Mikey was holding her hand so tightly, he was crushing her fingers. Benji sobbed loudly, his wet face against her neck, his tiny fingers gripping the collar of her nightgown.
“She should be here! She should be arriving right now!” Jenni dragged Mikey further from the house, her feet touching the cold asphalt of the street. The road remained empty. The white truck was nowhere to be seen. Jenni whirled around, her black eyes scanning her neighborhood for the white truck that should be their salvation.
“Mom! Mom!” Mikey’s voice was high and terrified. He was pointing at Lloyd, who had crashed to the ground outside the house and was struggling to get up.
“Katie, where are you?” Jenni screamed.