Neighborhood Watch Read Free

could there be? Would it multiply like in the movies? Would there end up being hordes of them, roaming Dansbury?
    Then again... What if Mitch and Sam were right? What if I really was being a scared, stupid kid? What if the 'zombie' I had seen was perfectly explainable ?
    Oh yeah, well how?
    I didn't know but maybe it was something else, like a serious medical condition... Maybe... I had imagined it?
    But I knew what I had seen. I knew that what I had seen was something the likes of which nobody could understand. I used to hate the saying, “you have to see it to believe it”—but now it made perfect sense. And it was up to me to find it.
    Maybe it's already dead
    This was true. Whoever had fired those shots could have killed it. Right? That's all they needed to do, was shoot it in the head and it was dead. Or undead. Or, well, whatever..
    I scratched my head. And then the words appeared on the website: “ Nearly all zombie survivalists are in agreement that the destruction of the brain is the only surefire way to neutralize the zombie (though a few rare types of zombies require complete dismemberment).”
    Complete dismemberment. What did that even mean? You had to cut off the head—then what? Was that enough or did you have to do something else... something, different to the brain?
    I shivered, as the next passage came before my eyes: “ Many instances of Fast Zombies are not truly dead, merely humans in a rabid state, immune to pain, exhaustion, and mercy. While faster, and more hostile fighters than their slower cousins, they are ultimately more fragile. They can bleed out (major damage to the arteries of the neck, upper arms and legs can incapacitate them), and destroying the heart, lungs, spine or aorta can be instantly fatal. Still, because of their overwhelming ferocity, a glancing or mistimed blow with a melee weapon is usually the last mistake a human makes, so firearms are strongly advised .”
    Was that what I had encountered? A “fast” zombie?
    I could hear a siren growing louder. The noise pierced the hissing rain, and then the red and blue of the police car was breaking the dark. I could just make it out through the trees. It rolled down our street, coming to a stop at the end of the cul-de-sac.
     
    My heart was practically in my throat. I knew the gunshots had come from close by, but this was too close. It couldn't have been this close. My legs trembled, my heart throbbed. I couldn't wait.
    ***
     

The 415
     
    I sprinted in the rain, already soaked, like a helpless child beneath the bleak, black curtain of the sky; as if the deadliest tornado were seconds from descending. By the time I got to the cop car, I could barely see the police officer. He was sitting inside his cruiser checking his computer. Swallowing, I stood off to the side, obscured by a overhanging tree on the edge of a neighbor's property.
    The cop didn't seem to be in a hurry, and he was young looking, probably early twenties but he looked younger. I waited a few moments, steadying myself against the stout tree and bracing against the wind. The rain, though thick, could barely penetrate the canopy.
    A few more moments passed and then the cop was out. He moved quickly to the big white house at the center of the cul-de-sac, Miss. Lenner's. He rung the door bell a couple times, standing there waiting. Again and again and again he rung the doorbell, before knocking several times as well.
    The lights were on in the house upstairs but there were no cars in the driveway. Looking around, I could tell that many driveways were empty. I had noticed the same thing earlier,on my paper route.
    And then I remembered the festival. There was supposed to be a festival in downtown Dansbury, which was probably where my parents had gone. I couldn't remember the reason for the festival, but something told me that most of the people in my neighborhood were partaking. Instead of coming back home, I assumed they were mostly holed up in some inn or