ID and saw that it was Laura.
“Hello?”
“Oh thank God,” said Laura. “I’ve been trying to call you forever.”
“Did you see what happened at the hospital?”
“No. Did you see what happened in Central Park?”
“No. What happened?” I switched the phone to speaker so Barry could hear.
“I can't find any local news. They just have information coming out of New York. Twenty people were murdered. Eaten alive. People just started eating each other. The cops started shooting people, but they just… they just wouldn’t stop. They kept eating each other. It was on the news. I saw it happen.”
“Stay home, Laura,” said Barry. “I’ll get Dave there safely.”
“Okay." Her voice quivered. “David?”
“Yeah, honey, I’m here.”
She started to cry. “I’m scared.”
“I know. I’ll be home soon. Just get the girls upstairs and lock all the doors. Get some knives or something and just get upstairs. Okay?”
“Okay. I think I see Alfred coming over from across the alley. He might be able to help. I’ll take the girls up to the attic. We’ll be safe there.”
“Good idea. Tell Al and Kate that they can hide with us if they want. I’ll be home as soon as I can get there.”
“You promise?”
“Trust me.” It was something I said to Laura all the time and had become a joke over the years. I was a salesman after all, and you should never trust a salesman.
Barry and I told everyone goodbye and started to make our way to the hall, past the wall of windows that looked onto the street.
“Why the hell does everyone outside look so calm?” I asked as I stared out the window. If this was turning into such a catastrophe, why did everyone look so serene? What would happen when they learned about the attacks? I was afraid of the chaos that would engulf the city once that happened. We had to get out as soon as possible.
A man limped out of the alley across the street. He was a homeless man I recognized from my years working downtown. I'd never seen him walk in such a jarring manner before. His arms were pressed against his chest as if he was lying down and his legs wobbled beneath him as he walked. His feet struck the pavement in haphazard flops and his mouth sat open as he stared at the sky.
Barry and I rushed to get out of the office, but when I saw this guy walk down the alley I couldn’t help but stop and stare. There was something wrong with him that grabbed my attention.
“What’s with that guy?” I asked Barry. He had to turn around and come back to me.
“What? The bum? Since when do you get freaked out by the drunks around here?”
We watched the man attack. He emerged from the alley and took sudden notice of the people around him. It was like watching a starving man emerge from a desert to find a buffet stretched out before him. He reached out and grabbed the first person his fingers grazed in the flow of pedestrians. It was a young woman, in her mid twenties, with her hair tied up in a bun and a well-fitted, striped blouse and skirt. He grabbed her arm and pulled her out of her steady pace. She stumbled in her heels. Her right ankle crumpled and she fell up against him. I could see her expression turn from anger to terror and she slapped her assailant's chest.
The homeless man bit her face.
Barry and I screamed out a slew of curses and everyone still in the office ran to the window. We watched the scene unfold, as if staring at a massive television screen that couldn’t be turned off. The man’s teeth latched onto her with inhuman ferocity. She pushed and hit him with her clutch, but as she pulled away he stayed attached.
It took the nearby people far too long to notice what happened. A man in a yellow and orange construction vest was the first to do anything. He grabbed the assailant and tried to pull him away, but this dragged the woman forward and she lost her balance. She tumbled to the pavement. Her cheek ripped off in the bum’s clenched teeth as she
Carl Woodring, James Shapiro