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Choosing not to comment on his language - he deserved to curse up a storm after all - I allowed him to help me to my feet.

The world momentarily began to spin as I struggled to maintain my footing. Once I was positive that I would be able to stand without puking or falling over, I nodded for Tommy to lead the way.

I couldn’t help but glance over my shoulder, just once, at the highway. Flames of fire licked the sky, though I wasn’t sure if it was coming from the cars or an-out-of-control campfire. The further we walked, the quieter the screams got until I could almost imagine they were a figment of my imagination.

Almost, but not quite.

I could still feel the blood on my hands. A real, tangible liquid.

I could still hear the screams, though faded, in the distance.

My stomach churned angrily.

I couldn’t handle this world anymore - the injustice, the senseless violence, and the feeling that, somehow, I could’ve stopped it all.

I wondered if Tommy blamed me for his mother’s death. Heaven knew I blamed myself. This little boy had chosen me over a woman he loved. How could he stand holding my hand? Where was the resentment? The hatred?

We stopped in front of a modest house with peeling paint and torn shutters. The floorboards of the front deck creaked beneath our combined weight.

Hands trembling, both in fear and anticipation, I knocked on the door.

Silence greeted me.

Feeling desperate, I raked my knuckles against it again.

And again.

And again.

I didn’t dare scream in fear that Ragers were lurking nearby. Was there anybody home?

Were they merely asleep, unable to hear my persistent knocking? Were they ignoring us?

I refused to think that they were dead, though a tiny voice in my head warned me that we might not be coming home to live bodies.

All I knew for certain was that we couldn’t be out here any longer than necessary.

“Stay behind me,” I ordered Tommy, turning the knob of the door. It opened easily.

The house was dark. After an ineffectual swipe at the light switch, I realized that the power was out.

My phone battery was nearly dead, but I flicked on that light anyway. Immediately, the room was suffused in a yellowish glow.

The light was so small that it did little to distinguish the shadows. Something, anything, could be lurking in this darkness.

One hand holding my phone, the other my knife, I ventured cautiously further.

I didn’t like this feeling, not at all. I had always been afraid of the dark, even when I became older. There was no rational explanation for this feeling - I knew that there were no such thing as monsters - but the fear paralyzed me all the same.

I checked the living room first, a thorough sweep that included crouching on the floor to look under the couch. The kitchen and dining room were also clear of any Ragers or dead bodies.

Tommy continued to hold the back of my shirt like a lifeline.

“Stay here,” I whispered, putting a foot on the bottom step.

“Alone?” Tommy asked, voice trembling. “In the dark?”

“There’s nothing down here,” I assured him. “I’m going to check upstairs too.”