Still Alive

The evening of that Saturday in Brooklyn Heights, a quiet and peaceful neighborhood located in an affluent district in the heart of Brooklyn was cool. In Brooklyn Heights, most families owned their homes. The area was meticulously planned by renowned architects across the country. Rhododendron trees were planted in front of each apartment. Varieties of Nemesia shrubs are used as edging plants to create a border between apartments and define the sidewalk.

All these lined up like a beautiful mini-forest, something close to the biblical Garden of Eden, giving a mesmerizing appeal to the area, especially in spring. The sun could be seen faintly as it prepared to set. Now and then, a gentle breeze blew to replace the heat of the earlier scorching sun. People were stepping out to enjoy a walk with their babies or dogs.

Emily and Melissa were going to have their usual movie night at Melissa's. Melissa lived with her parents in one of the magnificent three-bedroom apartments that Brooklyn Heights boasts of.

Emily had arrived an hour earlier to help Melissa make some snacks for the movie night. They had different kinds of snacks - chips, a full plate of macaroons, caramel popcorn, a box of pizza, and bottles of coke - arranged on the center table. Melissa settled on the very comfortable couch while Emily went into the kitchen to get a bottle opener and some serviette papers.

"Emily! Get over here, you won't believe this," Melissa yelled from the living room.

Melissa was at the window. It looked like her eyes were going to pop out. Emily wondered what could be wrong as she hurriedly walked over to the window to take a look at what terrified her friend.

"What are those?" Emily shrieked.

The whole street was filled with people walking around as if they were sick. The two girls stared in horror for a couple of minutes.

“What is going on?” Emily asked again, not particularly expecting an answer.

"I don't know, but they sure look like freaks," Melissa said. “Just like in the movies,” she continued.

Men and women walked slowly up and down the street, with heads bent sideways. Some of them had blood on their mouths, hands, and necks. Their hair seemed in place; their clothes were not particularly dirty, a contrast to their bloody faces. Cars were trying to maneuver their way through the traffic of sick-looking people, some of whom were trying to open the car doors, hitting on the car windows, and trying to reach the occupants of the cars.

“Why are they attacking the cars? Are they trying to kill people?” It was Melissa's turn to ask questions to which both girls did not have answers.

As Emily and Melissa continued to stare at the frightful event, a young man in a yellow polo shirt and blue jeans alighted from his car and looked intently ahead, probably trying to figure out how he could drive through. Suddenly, one of the sick people - a woman - appeared from nowhere and snuck up behind him. Emily and Melissa tried to get the man's attention.

“Hey, hey, man, look behind you! Get in the car! Run!” Both girls babbled simultaneously

to the man.

But it was too late as the sick woman pounced on him from the back. The man tried to ward her off, as he swung from side to side, trying to get her off his back; but no matter how much he fought, the sick woman seemed stronger. She scratched the man’s face and kept trying to strangle him. The sick woman had the man on all fours in no time. She wound her legs tightly around the man's lower stomach as she bit him everywhere her mouth could reach; then got off him.

Emily and Melissa muffled their sobs as they watched on. The injured man started to twitch and jerk. He hit himself several times, trying to stop what was going on in his body. Shortly after, his face became contorted, and he looked exactly like the sick persons who had taken over Brooklyn Heights. He got up and headed in the direction of the other sick people.

“What in the world is this? I need to call my parents,” Emily said amidst tears.

The girls hurriedly walked to the couch to pick up their phones. Emily picked up her pink iPhone 12 Pro Max and dialed her dad’s number, but got the voicemail.

“Hi there. Jack here. I'm unavailable at the moment. Please leave a message.”

“Dad, please call me as soon as you get this. I'm at Melissa's. Something is happening on her street; we don't know what it is. We're so scared. Please come pick us up,” Emily cried.

“I can't reach anyone. Seems like all calls are going to voicemail,” Melissa said tiredly as she reached for the television remote.