Casimir finished his unpacking and room arranging alone, as I snuck off to begin my homework in my own room. Not soon after Grandpa stuck his head, asking what my preferred pizza toppings were before letting me get back to studying.

An hour later we were all seated at the small kitchen table enjoying pizza from the only place that delivered to our farm, which happened to be pretty good in my opinion. Casimir sat across from me in my grandfather’s regular seat, while grandpa opted to sit on the outside edge of the table. They were talking animatedly about cider making and the best type of apples to use, and I kind of zoned out. I found I was still nervous around Casimir and was quickly realizing how different everything was going to be around the farmhouse. I hoped he wasn’t a messy housemate, especially since we only had one bathroom.

After dinner was over I was staring into our haphazardly unorganized refrigerator, wondering where to stash the leftover pizza when my grandfather waved to catch my attention.

“Hm, whazzat?” I murmured.

“We’re just running out to the barn, I’m going to show Casimir a few things really fast,” Grandpa said, already heading for the back door of the kitchen.

I raised my eyebrows at him. “It’s already nine o'clock at night, you usually go to bed,” I lectured.

“We’ll be super quick, thanks for cleaning up,” he added, smiling at me. Casimir threw me a look as if to say ‘I’m sorry’ and the two escaped out the screen door.

I huffed slightly but as far as dinners go, cleaning up a few greasy pizza plates wasn’t so bad. I was nervously fidgeting around the kitchen, tidying as I replayed the events of the day in my head.

I had started the day worried about my English essay, ended up fainting at school, and then was nearly attacked by Zachary. To top it all off, I found out the new boy in my class was, in fact, an old family friend who would conveniently be helping out at the farm from now on. Not to mention being picked for the showcase and the news of a student dying of an overdose. That was too much for just one day.

I threw a used paper towel into the trash, mulling over how full it had gotten. I sighed to myself and bit the bullet, deciding to empty the trash can. This was not my favorite activity to do, especially at night, but our tiny kitchen would start to smell very fast if we didn’t remove it at least every other day.

We are going to make a chore wheel or something, I thought to myself, pushing open the back door to the kitchen.

I stepped through the mudroom and out onto the small backyard deck. Our farmhouse was a strange design, with the basement level half-exposed making our first floor taller than ground level. It was called the gazebo house by the people in town due to the front door having a gazebo-style veranda built around it. My grandpa had added on to the house over the years, building out an extra room at the end of the house, where an old screened-in porch once was. It eventually became his room when I moved in. He also rearranged the kitchen and added the mudroom and a deck for easy access to the back of the yard. The deck had a nice table and chair set that looked out onto the orchard. I had decided long ago to set up a string of fairy lights on wires around the edge of the deck for decoration year-round. My grandfather kept a collection of potted plants in the corner along with a small herb garden, which made the whole porch smell amazing.

I took a moment to enjoy the cool night air, despite my lack of socks and a good coat. I could see the lights of the barn off in the distance. Grandfather was going to be cranky if he didn’t go to sleep soon but it was sweet how excited he was to show Casimir all of his tools. I peered over the edge of the railing only to discover that the trash can was gone. Grandfather must have taken the garbage to the front road, which was considerate, but now I had a bag of trash with nowhere to go. I ran back into the mudroom to throw on my rain boots and a sweater, determined to get this chore done so I could go back inside and finish my homework. It’s not like I slept much anyway, but I was going to try.

I hurried down the path towards the front gate, glancing at our pond as I did. The moon reflecting off the surface of the water was always so pretty. I was humming to myself, glancing around at the dark shadows of the trees and bushes nearby. I had to remind grandfather to buy some lights for the front path because being out in the country, things got plenty dark. Being all alone at night is when my imagination tended to go into overdrive, the dark creatures from my dreams rising from my memories. I decided to focus on the lone street lamp by our mailbox, ready to be rid of the trash in my hand.

A flurry of movement caught my eye and I stopped suddenly. Just over the fence, across the road, I could see the shape of a person. I stood very still, wondering who or what it could be. This was our private residential entrance so we never really got people hanging out this far down this road, especially at night. The shape moved closer, it was definitely a person.

The stranger twitched, turning to look at me. “Help,” a man’s voice called out.

All the hairs on my arms stood up and a shiver ran down my spine. Normally I would go see what kind of help he needed, but I could read his emotions from here and they were strange. He was desperate, with a sad longing. These emotions were mixed heavily with anger and a strong desire for violence. They told me one thing for sure, that this man was dangerous.

“What kind of help do you need?” I asked hesitantly.

“Help.”

I placed the garbage on the ground, my eyes not leaving the stranger. He had begun to shuffle closer towards me, his features now illuminated by the glow of the streetlight. He was no one I knew, not from town or school. He looked sick with his bloodshot eyes, deep sunken cheeks, and a waxy complexion to his skin. Given his appearance and the way he moved I would have thought he was an actual zombie if such things existed.

“I’m calling 911,” I shouted, hoping that perhaps my Grandfather would hear me, which I knew was a long shot at best. I patted down my pocket and cursed under my breath. I had left my phone on the kitchen counter when I picked up the trash.

The man continued forward, dragging his feet as he walked. He was wearing brown pants and a plain white dress shirt. His hairstyle and features were so nondescript that he could have been any man I passed on the street. I took a step back instinctively.

“Come back,” he gasped.

“What?”

“Back home,” he begged. As he opened his lips to speak a trail of black liquid oozed out of his mouth. I gasped and felt my fear skyrocket.

This guy is really sick.

“I’ll be right back,” I lied, turning slightly, getting ready to run back to the safety of my home.

“It... will... be... too... late...” he spat out, his head twisting dangerously from side to side. I knew I should be running but I couldn’t help but stare. I could hear the loud cracking of bones and the strange tearing of what I hoped was fabric. The man in the street shook and flinched and I swear I could see his flesh begin to rip, exposing a blackness below. Blood flew everywhere, quickly staining his dirty white shirt.

The man screamed and I covered my ears as it was frankly terrifying. I had to get out of there. I turned quickly and slammed into something hard. I shouted in surprise and felt myself pitch backward, falling towards the ground. A pair of hands grabbed at mine and I caught a glimpse of Casimir’s shocked face before a pain washed over me and I passed out.