Free Hissers by Ryan C. Thomas Page A

toward the demolished gas station, praying she could keep up. Luckily she’d worn sneakers, unlike her friend, and was lithe enough to move almost as fast as he. Were it not for her purse she might even be faster, but he didn’t think to tell her to leave it. Besides, it had a phone in it, and even though it wasn’t getting service, it was a link to reality.
    They hit the street beside the station and he glanced back, saw Melissa Hodges and the substitute teacher being halted by an EMT. The freakish teacher jumped on him, Melissa wrapping her legs and arms around him like they were lovers reuniting after years apart. They all went down to the ground and the bloodshed began.
    “Where’s Am?”
    Connor took a second to scan the insanity. “There. With Seth. Running to the backyard of that house. See them?”
    “We have to go get them.”
    The scene spread out before them and Connor finally saw the new element that had been thrust into the night’s events. Everywhere around the plane people were savagely attacking one another. Someone would bite a chunk out of someone else’s face or neck or chest or arm, and within seconds that victim would be running around hissing as well, their eyes now glassy yolks. As he stood and watched, he estimated about twenty trauma victims tearing through the streets, hissing and sinking teeth into anyone they saw.
    Residents who’d rushed out of nearby homes to gape at the crashed plane were now screaming in terror and running away from bloodthirsty police officers and firemen and even their own friends. They took off down side streets, into homes, through yards, all of them hunted and chased. It was pandemonium. Homicidal pandemonium.
    “No,” Connor said, finally answering her question. “Seth knows the neighborhood as well as anyone. He’ll get them to another street. He’ll get them home.”
    “Are you sure? This is madness!”
    Hell no, he wasn’t sure. If this were all a video game then yes, Seth would get home safely no problem, but this was something else. He had no idea if he’d ever see his best friend again. The only thing he did know was that they couldn’t go back. People were turning into these lunatic monsters so exponentially fast it would only be hours before the whole town was seized.
    He spotted the flight attendant scrabbling over a police car, completely covered in blood, his clothes torn like a caveman, jumping off the hood and sprinting down the street into the heart of the surrounding neighborhood.
    The edge of the same neighborhood where he and Nicole lived.
    “Shit. We need to go. Now. ” He looked back once and prayed for his friends’ safety, then turned and ran back up the hill toward the supermarket, Nicole by his side.
     
    Saturday, 8:58pm
     
    The streetlights were off and the power was out in every house along the street. Inside some windows people could be seen lighting candles and checking flashlight batteries but they were few and far between; everyone had rushed down to the crash. Only two cars passed as Amanita and Seth emerged from the backyard of an unknown house. They had pushed through tall hedges, scrambled over one four-foot fence and were now three streets beyond the crash. The clouds overhead were still orange with the reflection of the fire, the towering flames still bright. The chorus of screams from the crash site continued to ride the night air.
    Amanita pressed herself against the side of the house’s garage, looking out at the dark, lifeless road running perpendicular before them. “What street is this?”
    “No idea. Maybe Madison? Recognize any of the houses?”
    “No. But it’s either Madison or Monroe. My house isn’t far away, maybe six more blocks. We can go left two blocks and catch Maple. That runs all the way down to my street.” Another scream echoed from behind them, on the street they’d just crossed. She turned and looked at him, her unspoken request plain as day on her face.
    “What, you want me to go