Rabid by J.W. Bouchard Page A

“It’s always like this here at night.  That’s why my brother likes to take his long walks.”
    Taylor looked at the houses lining either side of the street, wondering if there were survivors in any of them .  If there are, then they’re the smart ones, he thought.  Smart enough to stay put and be quiet.
    “I don’t see anyone,” Tina said.
    “They’re hiding somewhere,” Carl said.  “I’d bet money on it.”  The rifle stood upright between his legs, resting against the back of the driver’s seat.  Carl had one hand wrapped around the barrel.  His window was cracked to provide easier access in case he needed to start shooting from the car.
    They passed an elementary school.  The playground was visible just west of the school.  The jungle gym caught Carl’s attention.  In the dark, it resembled a giant steel spider web. 
    As they reached the outskirts of town, the houses were spaced farther apart.  Taylor drove them another half a mile, at which time their parent’s house became visible a quarter mile down the road.
    Carl pointed.  “That’s it up there,” he said to Tina.
    It was a two-story house, painted white with brown shingles on the roof.  A sizeable deck was built onto the left side of the house.  A picnic table sat on the deck.  Taylor slowed the car.  For some reason, he felt the urge to keep going.  He told himself that maybe it was better not to know, that some of the alternatives were far too dark to entertain.  But he also realized he must be feeling the same way Carl had felt when they had pulled up in front of his and Angie’s house.  Now that the shoe was on the other foot – his foot, to be exact – it wasn’t as difficult to empathize with his brother.  
    Taylor sucked in his breath and turned into the driveway.  Putting the car in park, he leaned over the wheel and peered up at the front of the house.  “Looks quiet.  You guys want me to go -”
    Carl had already exited the car, rifle out and at the ready.  He approached the house, eyes darting from window to window.  Please, God, let them be all right.  Let Angie be here and let them be all right.  You know how much I hate asking for favors, but I’m asking now.
    Taylor walked over to the two car garage.  The garage doors were lined with windows.  He pointed the flashlight through them.  “Van’s gone,” he said.  “The truck is here, but no van.”
    The front door was unlocked. 
    They had grown up here.  All of their senses were attuned to the house.  By the time they entered the kitchen, both of them could already sense that the house was empty.
    Carl said, “Forget it.  There’s nobody here.”  He flicked the lightswitch and the lights came on.  “Power works.”
    “Must be the backup generator.  Dad put it in a few years ago, remember?”
    Carl placed the rifle on the kitchen table.  “They’re not here.”
    “Check anyway.”
    Carl explored the house, calling Angie’s name as he poked his head in the various rooms, knowing full well he wasn’t going to find anyone.
    “Where the fuck could they be?”
    “Do you think she would have left another note?” Tina said.  “I thought maybe she might have left one like she did at the other house.”
    “Where would they have went?”
    Taylor tried the phone.  No dial tone, which wasn’t at all surprising.
    “Why wouldn’t she leave a note?”  Carl said.  He rummaged through the papers, bills, and receipts that were scattered across the countertop in the corner.  “If those things had been breaking in, I can see them having to make a break for it, but there aren’t any signs that that happened.  Nothing’s broken.  It doesn’t make sense.  Angie wasn’t that scatterbrained.  Not like some of the chicks you’ve gone out with.”
    “Thanks,” Taylor said.
    “You know what I’m sayin’.  Shit! ”
    Tina said, “Is there anywhere else she might have left it?  Someplace she might have chosen where she knew