I am running. Sweat dripping down my face and collecting under my collar. It’s after me, I know it…and it’s only a matter of time before it catches me. In my peripheral vision, I see the sky’s brilliant blue morphing into a deep black. Suddenly, I run into something, and am pushed onto the pavement. I look up into the grinning face of a cop.
His face is pale and under his bristling mustache sits a mouth full of yellowed, crooked teeth. His eyes are a bright, solid white, no iris or pupil.
“What are you doing out your house, citizen?” he asks. When I step towards him, he draws his gun. His gun is orange in color, like a water gun except full of deadly bullets instead of a stream of water.
“Back up.” he says. He swings at me with his gun suddenly, trying to push me back into the enveloping darkness of swirling black clouds. I dodge him and he is swallowed into darkness. He goes flying behind me as the winds carry him up and he falls into the sinkhole that has formed in the sidewalk. I jog down towards my street. I stop for a split second to see that one side of my street the sky is blue. Houses perfectly line the block, all in shades of white, peach, pink, yellow. Cars are parked at perfect angles in the driveways.
But on the other side of the street, it is hell. Houses are torn apart by the sinkhole and their denizens are corpses on the sidewalk. The sky is black and swirling, the cars are smashed into flat shapes from the trees and power lines falling. I begin running again, towards the end of the block...my house.
When I reach it, I enter through the window because the door is blocked by something. When I get in, something attacks me. It has three eyes and large fangs. It squeals highly and lunges to bite me. I scream and my boot meets its head, sending it flying into the wall across the room. Only when it hits the wall and lays still, not making a sound, do I see that it was once our family dog.
My oldest son screams as he lunges at me with his fists, when I duck he runs past me and out the open window. Maybe he’ll be the first to get away. I suddenly feel sick when I think of the baby. I sprint up the staircase.
When I reach the top, I hear a high scream…my wife. In her hand, she clasps a butcher knife like a sword. She is standing in front of the baby’s room, who is wailing. I notice her eyes are the same color as the policemen’s: a blank, solid white.
“Stay away from me and my baby!” my wife cries, waving the knife at me.
“Sally!” I say, “Sally, no, it’s me!”
“Stay away!” she tearfully yells. Suddenly she breaks away and runs into the baby’s room.
“No!” I say, and sprint down the hallway towards it. I hear crashing and run faster. But when I reach the room, it is too late. My wife has slit her throat and lies on the ground. In the pool of blood sits the baby, whose crib has fallen over and now lies on its side. I run over and pick the baby up, but I feel a sharp jab in my back and some piercing giggling.
Oh, no. I think. The baby’s got the knife.
I fall to the ground, still holding the baby tightly. The baby crawls away, spouting baby talk. I sigh and my vision fades and gives away to black. My life gauge is at zero.
I’ll start life over soon, but for now, it’s game over.
“Oh shit!” Owen said aloud, throwing the controller across the room.
“What?” his girlfriend asks from the other room.
“My video game has a virus!”