Rule Number One

It was blissfully quiet the morning Jesse awoke. He stood on the front porch, his eyes sweeping the land in search of today's work. He placed his large hands on the small of his back and leaned backwards in an attempt to relieve the pressure in his spine and gave a small grunt of relief when he felt a small pop. All he wanted was to sink into his favorite leather chair and watch the game with a nice cold beer. Of course, with the breaker on the fritz, neither the game or a cold beer were possible. Jesse sighed again and looked around the porch. His eyes lit up when he spotted the dull green metal of his toolbox. If I hurry I'll only miss the first play, he thought as he set the toolbox on the porch railing and opened the lid. He sifted through the various objects and frowned. 

“Roy?" Jesse called for his eldest son as he dug deeper into the toolbox. "Damnit!" He felt a sharp jab of pain in his right thumb when it found a screw hidden from sight. He snatched his hand away to look at the damage. A large bead of scarlet had already formed and ran down the digit before he popped it in his mouth. "Roy!"

"Yeah?" The voice came not from the house behind Jesse but from the barn that stood a few feet in front of him. Jesse shielded his eyes from the sun with his other hand as he stepped off the porch, his thumb still stuck in his mouth like a toddler. 

Roy stared down from the hayloft window with darkened honey eyes which he shared with both his mother and brother. While the air around him was stifling, Jesse knew that it must have been hotter than Hell in the hayloft his kids had made into their personal clubhouse. Roy's tousled brown hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, but he looked comfortable as he leaned his arms against the window frame to lean out.

“Where's the Phillips head? It's not in the box." Jesse asked.

"Oh, sorry," Roy said. "I think I left it over at Mr. Felton's. He was having some trouble with his breaker yesterday. He came over lookin' for you but you weren't home so I helped him out."

"Him too, huh," Jesse muttered in surprise, then raised his voice as he asked, "Didja fix it?" Roy grinned broadly and gave a thumbs up. "It was no problem. It was way easier than that carburetor in The Beast." 

The Beast was the nickname the boys had given the giant four-wheeled tractor that sat in the barn. It was old and broke frequently, but Jesse just didn’t have the heart to upgrade to a newer model. Instead, whenever it broke he tried to use it to teach his boys a few things about mechanical work. Ethan, his younger son, had given up on it after getting disgusted by the amount of grime his hands collected during the work, but Roy seemed to relish in it. 

When Jesse had taught him how to adjust the carburetor, Roy had followed each instruction with enthusiasm and when they were finished and The Beast roared to life, his son gave him a toothy, grease-covered grin of satisfaction. 

From then on, Roy became obsessed with fixing things, much to his mother’s dismay. Jesse remembered the tongue-lashing she’d given him when Roy took the refrigerator apart to “try and improve its coolness”, whatever that meant. Funnily enough, when Roy was done the damn thing actually ran colder. I should get him his own toolbox, Jesse thought with a small glow of pride as he looked up at Roy's triumphant smile, then maybe he'll keep his mitts off mine. 

“Want me to run over real quick?” Roy asked from above, “I wanted to ask Mr. Felton to borrow his wire cutters anyway; I think we need to rewire the starter on The Beast." He gestured a thumb at the white house located an acre and a half away from the Connor's own canary yellow home. Jesse shook his head before he answered. "Nah, that's alright. Good on you for helping Andrew out like that. I'll go get it myself. Hell, maybe I'll just stay and watch the game and deal with that damn box later. I'll get those cutters for ya, too. We can work on the rewiring in the morning."

“Right on!" Roy said with a small fistpump.

"And Ethan?" Jesse called. He heard a cough followed by quick movement and the face of his youngest son appeared next to Roy's. “Yeah, Dad?" Ethan said when he finally peeked over the hayloft at his father. Much like his brother, Ethan's hair was plastered to his face. His T-shirt, which he'd taken off in an effort to cool down, was draped across his shoulders like a towel and looked suspiciously damp.

"You're old enough to decide if you wanna drown your lungs in tar, but I'm not getting into it with your mother again. Make sure you spray yourself with something before you go back in." Jesse could see the lingering white smoke that hovered around their heads and, although the musk of hay and dirt masked it well, he could faintly make out the smell of menthol cigarettes. Roy nudged Ethan with his elbow and said "I told you!" while Ethan smiled sheepishly and nodded. Jesse gave a small wave and started walking towards the Felton house.

A thin layer of sweat glistened off his skin by the time Jesse's boots reached the first step leading to Andrew Felton's house. He used the railing as a support as he hunched over to catch his breath. Jesse had done that walk over a hundred times, in all kinds of weather, but it had never seemed so gruelling before. He used the sleeve if his shirt to wipe the sweat from his eyes as he glared up at the burning sun. The summer had been an uncharacteristically hot one; it was nothing like the cool and rainy season that Jesse had become accustomed to. The hum of Andrew's breaker brought a smile to his lips. Roy did good work replacing it, he thought as he climbed the stairs and knocked on the screen door, here's hoping Andrew has some cold ones.

He waited a few moments. When he didn't hear the sound of footsteps from inside, Jesse opened the screen and knocked directly on the front door. "Andrew!" He called as he knocked. "It's Jesse Connors! C'mon and let me in before my ass boils out here!" No sign of movement came from the house. Jesse knocked again as he started to worry. The Felton house wasn’t a particularly large one; you could hear the creak of the rotted floorboard on the porch from anywhere in the house. It was strange that Andrew didn’t answer. Andrew usually would pop his head out of the bedroom window on the second floor and tell Jesse to go away if he didn’t feel like having company, which had been done on a few occasions when Andrew was feeling particularly grumpy. Could he be taking a nap? Jesse wondered. I hope he didn’t slip in the bathroom or something.

He placed his hand on the doorknob and hesitated before giving it an experimental turn. The door swung inward with ease. That wasn’t surprising. Andrew had lived alone ever since the passing of his wife three years ago. He had no children and, for as long as Jesse knew him, had never been a cautious man. He never locked his door, save when he left the house, and there was no fancy alarm system installed. “What do I need all that government tech crap for?” Andrew had asked when Jesse once tried to chide him on his lack of precaution, “Anyone breakin’ in here’s in for a disappointment when they see I ain’t got nothing worth stealin’. Nothin’ except maybe Ol’ Trusty.” He jerked a thumb at the Winchester lever action rifle that was mounted on the wall next to his recliner. “And if they bust in while I’m home, well, then I’ll introduce them to Ol’ Trusty on a personal-like level.”

"Drew?" Jesse called as he walked through the door and into Andrew's kitchen. He kept one hand on the door to keep its spring from automatically closing. If Andrew was taking a nap, Jesse didn’t want to wake him with the slamming of a door. The moment he stepped through the door, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand erect. Something was very wrong. 

There was a heaviness in the air that made his stomach churn–an indiscernible smell that threatened to choke him. His eyes traveled around the kitchen before they landed on the counter to his left. Staining the usually pristine white linoleum was a smeared handprint done in what looked like dried mud. From the print were splatters of the same dried brown which lead to the sink in a dotted path, the flecks growing denser and more frequent as they went. Jesse took a step towards the sink and peered inside.

Thick streams of what was unmistakably blood ran down the sides of the sink and into the drain as if someone had spilled a bucket of paint. Amidst the blood were what looked like chunks of meat. From the darkened color, Jesse knew that the mess hadn’t been done recently, it was at least a day old. Jesse held a hand over his mouth and gagged as his eyes followed the speckled flecks of blood across the counter and noticed even more of it on the floor. Spots of dark brown dotted the wood in a path that lead out of the kitchen and into the living room. 

“Drew?” Jesse called once more, his voice shaking slightly in his anxiety. As if to respond came the creak of floorboards and a weak groan from above. “Andrew!” Jesse took off towards the living room, heading for the stairs that would lead him to the second floor. The kitchen door slammed shut behind him.

The savory aroma of beef and tomato filled the air in the Connors kitchen. Martha bent slightly as she opened the oven door to check on the meatloaf inside. Times like this I’m glad we have a gas stove, she thought as she closed the door again with a satisfied smile. She turned back to her cutting board and finished dividing the watermelon she’d been cutting into small chunks. This finished, Martha added the watermelon to the fruit salad she’d prepared for dinner and placed the glass bowl on the dining table. Even in the flickering candle light, the kitchen felt cheery and warm. The sound of the screen door opening behind her made her turn. 

Ethan and Roy traipsed into the house, both covered in sweat and smelling of hay. “Wow, Mom, that smells awesome!” Ethan said enthusiastically as he gave an exaggerated sniff and hung the old brass key to the barn’s padlock on its hook by the door. “Yeah, it really does.” Roy agreed. “We could smell it all the way from the barn.”

“I could say the same of you two.” Martha wrinkled her nose at the musty odor that wafted from her sons and frowned at the wrinkles and stains on their clothes. “What did you do, roll in the hay?” Roy and Ethan gave each other knowing looks. That was exactly what they’d done, in order to mask the smell of cigarettes. “I swear, you two! Can’t you keep clean just for one day? I’d expect something like this from Octavia. Always running around with grass stains and mud stains and whatever other stains she can manage to rub her clothes on.” Martha shook her head with agitation as she took a pitcher from the cupboard above the sink and filled it with cold water from the faucet. “You’re both nearly grown! Why can’t you just act your age?”

“Because then you’d have no reason to yell at us.” Ethan said cheerfully as he kissed his mother noisily on the cheek. She let out a small shout of disgust and flicked water in his face with her fingers. “Go wash up! You smell like a trough!” Ethan ducked away from the droplets and briskly walked out of the kitchen as Martha called after him, “And put those nasty things directly in the washer, you hear? If I find another of your disgusting socks in the middle of the hall again, Ethan, I swear I’ll beat you with it! And where’s your father? He went looking for you almost four hours ago.” She directed the last question at Roy who quickly popped a stolen strawberry from the fruit salad into his mouth before he answered. “He’s over at Mr. Felton’s. Said if he’s not back by dinner that we should start without him.”

Martha sighed. “I expect he’ll be over at Andrew’s a lot until the box is fixed. I don’t know what Jesse’s gonna do if Andrew gets sick of him.”

“Nah, that’d never happen.” Roy said as he reached for another strawberry and Martha smacked his hand away. “Dad and Mr. Felton are like bros. I think Mr. Felton likes Dad’s company as much as Dad likes his, even though neither of them would admit it.”

“I think you might be right about that.” Martha said with a nod as she snatched up the strawberry Roy had tried to take and ate it herself.

Ethan striped down to his boxers as he walked down the hall, humming to himself. He opened the folding closet door that hid the washing machine and dropped his clothes on top of the load that sat waiting for the next wash cycle. He eyed the clothes he’d put in and noticed something missing. Looking back down the hall he’d come, he saw the lone white sock he’d dropped and hastily picked it up. She probably really would beat me with it, he thought with a small laugh and plopped the sock into the machine as well. He left the lid to the machine open for Roy and made his way to the bathroom.

Ethan grabbed a large, fluffy white towel from the metal rack above the toilet and reached over the bathtub to turn the shower head on. He stood for a while, humming the song that had been stuck in his head all morning with his hand held under the spurting water as he waited for it to heat up. Steam began to quickly fill the bathroom as the water grew hot, and Ethan flicked a switch over the sink that would turn the overhead fan on. He was confused for a moment when he didn’t hear the familiar whirring of fan blades, before the dark of the room made him remember the breaker was out. He opened the bathroom window to let the steam out, wriggled out of his boxers, and stepped under the hot flow of water with a relaxed sigh. 

Hanging from a cord on the shower head was a waterproof radio. Ethan turned the knob to switch the radio on and fiddled with the scanner until he found a clear station playing alternative rock. With no one to judge him, Ethan grabbed the bottle of shampoo and sang along to the tune, alternating between squeezing shampoo into his hair and using the bottle as a microphone. Martha and Roy rolled their eyes at each other and laughed when they heard Ethan’s caterwauling from below. “He’s gonna wake the Devil like that.” Martha said with a smile and a shake of her head.

Jesse burst from the Felton house with a grunted pant. He fell to the ground on all fours. A choked growl ripped through his throat and barely passed his lips as he staggered blindly to his feet. Blood was smeared across his blue T-shirt, which was ripped and a large chunk of flesh hanged in sinews from his shoulder but Jesse didn’t feel it. A wall had formed between his mind and body that shielded his mind from the pain.

His head snapped up at a strange sound that was carried to his ears on the wind. A voice. A strange noise, with the voice matching the noise, following along. Jesse raised his head and inhaled deeply through his nose, his mouth slightly open to taste the air. Something was that way, some ways ahead of him. That was where the noise and voice came from. Something inside Jesse told him this. It told him to go. Go that way. It told him to run. Run it down. It told him to attack. Bite. Consume. Jesse lowered his head with a growl and obeyed.

“Mom, you’ve outdone yourself.” Roy said in admiration as he and Ethan sat at the dining table. The finished meatloaf steamed in its porcelain dish and made Roy’s mouth water. Beside the meatloaf sat the colorful fruit salad of apples, various melons, pineapple and strawberries. Roy grabbed a spring roll from the small wicker basket in front of it and held it to his nose. His eyes grew misty with hunger as he opened his mouth and took a bite. Damn, that’s good. He moaned inwardly and Martha gave him and Ethan a smile. “Dig in, boys. I already set a plate aside for your father, so eat as much as you-” her words were cut short when they heard a crash from outside. It came from the front of the house. The three of them looked at each other, puzzled. “I’ll go check it out.” Ethan said as he made to stand up but Roy waved at him to sit back down. “I got it. I bet it’s that stray we saw last week. The mutt with the bushy tail?” 

“Oh, yeah! Bet you’re right. Hey, Mom? Could we-”

“I know you’re not about to ask if you can bring a mangy animal into this house,” Martha cut Ethan off as she cut him a slab of the meatloaf. “Because you already know what the answer is.” Ethan’s indignant retort trailed behind Roy as he walked into the living room. He went to the window next to the front door and pushed aside the black laced curtain. Is that . . . Dad? 

Roy saw Jesse leaned over the garbage bins he’d knocked over. He stumbled as he tried to walk over them, swinging his arms in his attempt to push the obstacle out of his way. Wow, Roy thought with a small sigh, he and Mr. Felton must have gotten wasted watching the game. I’m surprised he was able to walk all the way back here. Roy unlocked and opened the front door. “You know I would have come and got you if you called my cell.” Roy told his father as he walked down the three steps that lead to the front porch. “Mom’s gonna throw a fit if she sees you like-” Roy’s words failed him as he froze. 

Jesse had snapped his head up at the sound of Roy’s voice and the light of the nearly full moon illuminated Jesse’s face. 

His eyes were gone. Empty, gored, bloody sockets stared up at Roy where he stood rooted, one foot on the ground and the other on the last step. Blood streamed down from where Jesse’s eyes used to be, streaking his face like dried tears. A chunk of meat, what Roy realized was part of an eyeball, hung from Jesse’s right socket on a sinew of flesh. Holy shit, was all Roy could think before Jesse lunged at him, fingers curled like claws and teeth bared in a snarl. Roy heard a scream as he felt teeth connect with his left shoulder and tear into his flesh. It was high pitched and terrified scream, the sound of prey when it meets its predator. With a wild realization that the scream had come from his own throat, Roy fell backwards on the stairs as he kicked Jesse away. He raised a hand to his shoulder and gasped at the red that covered it when pulled away.

He bit me, Roy thought in confused horror as he watched Jesse struggle to his feet. When Jesse lunged at him again, Roy scrambled backwards. In a stroke of luck he was saved from another attack when Jesse fell over the strewn garbage bins he’d criticized Roy for forgetting to take out earlier that very morning. Roy took the opportunity to run to the front door. His bloodied hand slipped on the doorknob and smeared the golden metal. He contemplated jumping over the railing and running for the back of the house when the door suddenly opened and Ethan’s confused face looked out at him.

“What’s going on?” Ethan asked worriedly when his brother shoved passed him and slammed the door shut. “Shit, you’re bleeding!” 

“Who was screaming?” Martha asked as she walked in from the kitchen.

“Dad’s gone crazy!” Roy said as he locked the deadbolt and looked out the window. “He attacked me!”

“What are you talking about?” Martha asked. Her eyes widened in surprise when she saw the blood pouring from his shoulder. “What happened?!” As Roy opened his mouth to answer, the window shattered. Jesse had thrown himself through the glass and crumpled on the floor with a deep grunt. Martha screamed and started towards him to check on him, but Roy shoved her away.

“Go!” Roy shouted as he pushed Ethan and his mother back behind him. The three of them hurried into the kitchen. Roy hurriedly shut the swinging door behind them and looked around for something that would keep it shut. “Was that Dad?” Ethan yelled in his surprise. “What the hell?” 

“Help me with this!” Roy yelled back when he failed to find anything. “We can’t let him in here! Mom, use my cell! Call Sheriff Reynolds!” Before Ethan could move to help him hold the door shut, Roy felt a powerful source slam into the kitchen door. The force knocked him backwards and the wind was knocked from his lungs as he landed hard on his back with a grunt. Jesse was immediately upon him; his hands wrapped around Roy’s throat as he bared his teeth in a snarl. 

“Jesse, no!” Martha screamed and rushed forward to try and pull him off of Roy. Jesse lashed out at her with a snap of his jaws, his hands still crushed down on his son’s neck. His teeth found her arm and sunk into her skin before she screamed and ripped her arm away. She held her arm against her chest as she backed away in terror, unsure of what to do, when Ethan suddenly charged at Jesse with a roar. His father looked up at the sound, startled, and Ethan kicked him as hard as he could square in the face.

Jesse tumbled off of Roy who gasped for air. Ethan grabbed his brother and hauled him to his feet. He supported Roy’s arm across his shoulders and screamed at his Mom to run. Martha nodded and ran for the back door with her sons close behind. Ethan took one last look at Jesse, who laid sprawled and stunned from Ethan’s kick on the floor, before he snatched the barn key off its hook and followed Martha out into the night.

Ethan breathed hard as he ran. Roy’s arm was slung over his shoulders and the extra weight made it difficult to move but Ethan gritted his teeth and went as quickly as he could. Roy gave a small shout of pain and his head fell forward onto his chest. Blood poured freely from his shoulder. It dripped onto Ethan’s face and neck in great globs of crimson that made him feel hot and sticky and horrified.

“Hold on,” Ethan said as he readjusted his grip on his brother’s arm. His face and neck felt hot and sticky with blood; he tried not to think about how much Roy had lost. “Just hold on!” He surged forward, dragging Roy along as they stumbled down the front steps to the porch. Martha stood a few feet ahead of them. She kept glancing behind her back into the house, her face a taught mask of fear. “His eyes,” She whispered to herself as Ethan passed her and made for the barn. “His eyes! What happened to his eyes?!”

“Mom!” Ethan frantically called to her as he stood in front of the barn. The heavy padlock which held the doors shut glistened in the moonlight. “Mom, the barn,” Ethan called again, “Get the lock!” He passed her the key as she approached and almost fell over as Roy’s full weight suddenly pressed upon him. Roy had fallen unconscious.

Martha’s hands trembled as she tried to fit the key in the padlock. The shaking key kept missing the keyhole only to hopelessly scrape against the metal with each attempt until, with a small cry, she dropped the key altogether. It vanished in the dirt and darkness. “Oh no!” She dropped to her knees and began to search for the key, sobbing as she did so, when they heard a crash from within the house behind them. He’s awake. Ethan thought with a shudder. He knew what would happen if Jesse got to them. Ethan didn’t think he’d be able to fight his father off again.

“Let me!” Ethan shifted his weight to hand Roy to his mother as she stood. She buckled at first as her hands slipped on Roy’s bloodstained T-shirt but locked her knees to steady herself, her hands dark with Roy’s blood as she got a better grip. Ethan made sure she wouldn’t fall over before he crouched down to search for the key—his hands brushing over the mixture of sawdust, stale hay and dirt.

“Roy, wake up!” Martha shook her eldest son whose eyes had rolled back in unconsciousness, “Come on, honey, please!? Open your eyes!” The feel of the thick liquid on her hands made her want to scream. In the light of the nearly full moon, she could see how pale Roy had become. His eyelids fluttered but didn’t open as he groaned weakly.

Ethan frantically patted the ground in search of the key. For an agonizing moment he thought that maybe he had brushed it under the door and doomed them all, but then his fingers found the soft fabric of the ribbon his father had tied to the old brass key. He grabbed the key, felt around for the padlocks, and jammed the key in. Try as he might, the key refused to slide into the padlock. Ethan cursed in his frustration before he realized he had tried to put the key in upside-down. Before he could correct his mistake, the nearby sounds of grunts and growls drew his attention back to the house.

Jesse stood on the porch. With his back turned to them, he seemed to simply stand looking up at the flickering porch light as he gave small, animalistic snorts through his nose. But then he turned his head and the light fell on his blood streaked face. His eyes were gone; mangled bits of flesh and blood which hung from their sockets. Completely blinded, the Jesse’s nostrils flared as he gave a great snort once more, his head raised and swinging to and fro. He can smell us, Ethan wildly thought in horror, he’s sniffing us out like an animal!

Martha noticed Ethan’s attention was not on opening the door and turned to see what he was looking at. At the sight of her husband on the porch, she gave a small whimper of fear. Jesse’’s head snapped towards the sound and he took a shuffling step forward. He stumbled momentarily on the first step and almost fell flat on his face but righted himself. He quickly made his way down the last two steps, lifted his head to take a deep, snorting breath, and suddenly began to run in their direction. 

Martha screamed. The scream seemed to shake Ethan from his paralyzed state and he turned back to the padlock. He rammed the old key into the keyhole and in his panic, twisted the rusted handle too forcefully. With a snap the key broke off in the lock.

Doomed.

Ethan turned, the useless stub of brass still in his fingers. His mother screamed something at him, but he couldn’t hear her. He had gone suddenly deaf to all the sounds around him save the amplified pounding of his heart in his ears. He could not make out Martha’s screams. He didn’t hear Roy’s groaning pant. All Ethan could make out was the certainty of his own death as Jesse drew nearer. He could see the glob of chewed flesh–Martha’s flesh–in his father’s jaws as Jesse opened his mouth wide with a hand reached out to grab at his wife.

With the crack of metal on bone, Ethan’s sound was restored. Jesse flew to the side as a flash of silver collided with his head. When the ringing in Ethan’s ears had subsided a little, he finally focused his eyes forward on the stranger that had saved them.

She held a partially flattened silver baseball bat in her hands, which was flecked with blood after having used the weapon with full force on Jesse. The girl shouldered the bat and glared at Ethan. “Get that damn door open, Varrick!” At her words, a man swiftly appeared from the shadows on the other side of the barn. Ethan blinked at the sight of him–towering and muscular with the aura of a soldier, the exact opposite to the girl and yet he moved to do as she ordered without hesitation. Varrick rammed the butt of a large shovel against the padlock. The decrepit metal broke at the force of the second impact and fell away just in time for Ethan to hear more snarling coming from both the house and the shadows where his father had tumbled away. Varrick motioned for them all to get inside the barn.

Martha took a step forward and almost buckled under Roy’s weight. Without a word the girl swept passed them. She motioned to Varrick as she strode into the barn. He sprinted over to Martha and gently took hold of one of Roy’s arms as he said, “Let me take him.” His voice was kind in comparison to his companion’s and Martha hesitated at first but relinquished her hold on Roy in appreciation. She followed close behind as Varrick effortlessly carried the bleeding boy into the barn. Ethan slammed the barn door shut as he followed lastly behind the group. Even through the heaviness of the wooden doors, he could still hear the snarls of his father beyond the door and something else, what sounded like a horde of raging creatures outside.

Then they heard the sirens.