“If you’re wat-cing this, listen to me. I don’t ha-e time to explain what’s hap-ening. You probably haven’t heard th- news yet. Don’t go over and switch on the TV. Keep your eyes focused on me right n-w.”
David snapped to attention – Tricia.
Riveted to the screen, he watches the girl – she’s older now. She’s holding the camera with both hands, hyperventilating. The camera shakes with her every breath. It pans to the window. A man is crouched over a victim – he’s ripping the flesh off the victim’s face. The monster turns, and glares hungrily. Then, static.
The chief clicks off the TV, and addresses the room, “Gentlemen, this video was recovered from the 600 block of Maplewood…”
David shoves through the audience, to the aisle. He stumbles and nearly falls, but panic is exploding in his chest and it throws him out of the room.
If you have to shoot your own grandmother, do it!
The words echo in his mind.
Not his daughter – anyone but her.
648 Maplewood, that’s where they live now… Elaine and Tricia.