Still the omega

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.