Chapter 2: Laughter

It was a sound he simply couldn't forget.

Sunlight forced its way through the cracked glass, poorly illuminating the dim room. A stray ray that had found its way to my eyes awakened me from a nightmare that I had experienced many nights over. 

In it I am a younger version of myself, seeming to be no older than grade school. I am laying on my back with my head in my mother's lap. I am sleeping, and suddenly her soothing voice wakes me. She sang a song she had sung countless times to me, and her soft and slightly squeaky voice brought a smile to my face. Upon the ending of the song, her voice contorts into a shrieking. The high pitched shrill sound of a siren is now all that protrudes from her mouth, and the scene around me shifts rapidly. In the blink of an eye I am standing in front of a mirror, the siren only a dull roar now.  A light illuminates only my body, and my eyes remain glued to my figure. The light sways side to side as if only hanging by a wire. The siren is louder now, and as it grows in volume the light grows in intensity. The synchronized sound of a bomb impacting the ground and the light bulb shattering overwhelms all of my senses. The sound and light dissipate as promptly as they began. All that is left in the silence is the silhouette of my body, which is suspended by a wire and swaying in the same manner as the light. 

          

I was sweating when I woke up, and my throat was sore. After taking a few minutes to allow my eyes adjust to the room, I sat up and glanced at the broken window. It was tinted from a thin coat of filth that had gathered on it from exposure to the elements. One of the two panes was still intact, and I had managed to carefully wipe it enough to be able to gaze at the front yard through it. Four days had passed since I first came across this house, and I spent most mornings observing the neighborhood from that window. The houses surrounding my position were in extremely poor condition; it seemed that time was not as merciful on them as it was with the house I was in. It relieved me to know I did not have to resort to residing in the other houses, as nature had crept its way into the house and destroyed the interior. Many of the roofs showed visible damage, suggesting that something may have contributed to their deterioration besides the weather. There was a significant amount of space between the houses, and each one had a rather large and flat lawn. I solemnly pictured children playing tag in the backyard while their parents shared a drink on the patio and rambled about the meaningless events of their work day. The house directly across the road had a thick oak tree in the backyard with a tree house that was still intact. I had explored it out of curiosity yesterday, and it stung my eyes to only find a waterlogged base with the decomposing carcass of a squirrel inside. I found it difficult to focus on survival when surrounded by so much death. Sometimes the two felt indistinguishable as if I was merely existing in the same manner as that squirrel. 

          

The sound of a car engine approaching woke me from my daze, and I glared down the road silently. As the jeep came into view, I moved away from the window slightly, still allowing myself to view it. Only the bold and the stupid relied on vehicles as transportation, and I wondered to myself curiously which attribute defined the driver. It passed slowly as if they were searching for something, and I moved closer to the window to allow myself to get a better view. The windows were tinted black, making the interior difficult to see. However, I was able to clearly view that the vehicle was in fairly decent condition. Not only that, but it was  surprisingly clean. I pondered why one would take the time and effort to maintain the aesthetic appeal of their vehicle in their current situation for a moment. That thought left my mind once I saw the jeep roll to a stop in front of the neighboring house from me.

          

I watched cautiously as a tall and lanky man stepped slowly out of the car. He looked middle-aged and was wearing a thin jacket with slightly ripped jeans. Like his vehicle, he looked well kept and healthy. His boots left prints in the tall grass as he approached the house he parked in front of. I had already explored that house and found nothing of any importance in it. His manner was neither rushed nor cautious, but rather very casual. He behaved as though he was simply returning from work to relax in his own home. He calmly opened the front door and strolled inside, closing it behind him. It was at that moment that I laced my shoes and grabbed my switchblade, running to the back door.

          

I was agile with my movements outside, trying not to leave any noticeable prints in the tall grass as I moved across the yard. There was little cover between the houses, so I rushed to the wall of the other residency and pressed my body against it. This house was painted a light green that had been chipped away in most places to reveal a dark gray color. The white accent around the windows was filthy but intact, with the windows remaining unbroken in the majority of the house. Recalling how I had explored the house, I moved towards the front window of the house and glanced inside, expecting to see the man take the same route as me. The layout of the house was strange and put emphasis on that main room to an unnecessary extent. As I expected, the man was walking through that room. A closer look at him revealed a light stubble on his face and short light colored hair that looked freshly cut. 

          

I waited patiently for him to wander to the back of the house, and when he did I dashed towards his car. He didn't look to be armed, so I made the most of this opportunity. Opening the driver door slowly, I rolled down the back window of the vehicle that was facing away from the front of the house. Doing so was a gamble, as there could have been someone who had remained in the car. It was moments such as these that I scorned myself for acting out in such a reckless manner, and then thanked myself for also being extremely lucky. 

          

Two duffel bags were all that resided in the back seat, and I took a glance up at the house before opening the closest one. I saw no sign of the man and reminded myself that I had a small window of time before he would be done in the house. Inside of the bag, I found an abundance of water and canned foods, causing a wide grin to spread across my face. I had not brought my bag with me for the sole purpose of not wanting to leave a noticeable trace. By forcing myself to only take what I could carry, I eliminated the chance of me foolishly taking an amount that the man would catch before leaving. After fitting a single can of beans under my one arm, two water bottles into my front pockets and three cans of varying soups in my sweatshirt, I closed the duffel bag and rolled up the back window. Before closing the driver's door, my gaze came across the shine of the sunlight reflecting off of a knife laying under the passenger seat. It was partially concealed, but not sheathed, revealing a long blade with a partially serrated edge. 

          

I hesitated for a moment before sliding the knife into my back pocket. I didn't fully close the front car door, afraid that the sound would be easily heard by the man in the silence of the morning. Instead of darting back to where I was residing, I rushed back to the front of the house the man had entered. I took slow and light steps as I made my way to the back of the house, not risking looking in any window. I waited near the back of the house for a few minutes before I heard the front door open and close. I listened intently for the car to start, but after several more minutes heard nothing. I tread very lightly making my way back to the front of the house and peeked at the car. The man was standing in front of his car, intensely staring at the driver's door. His expressionless face made me feel uneasy, but I continued observing him nonetheless. Despite how passionately as I had wished to encounter another survivor only days before, I couldn't help but wish for this man to leave. The way he sauntered with no remorse and no fear led me to not trust confronting him. A smile broke the silence, and the man suddenly began to laugh. The only audible sound in the area was his maniacal laugh, and I watched him, horrified as he stood motionlessly and cackled. He stepped forward and fully opened the door, yanking at it violently. I thought he was going to rip the door from its hinges with the way he forcefully opened and slammed the door shut. As the car started, I could still clearly hear his laugh. He drove off as casually as he had arrived, leaving no trace of his presence beside imprints in the grass. 

          

It took a while for me to float back to reality and move from that spot. The man's laugh still echoed around the walls of my mind, making me feel disoriented. I dragged my feet heavily to the front of the house, walking in a daze. I explored the inside of that house again but discovered nothing significant. He hadn't left a trace of being inside as if everything I had just witnessed and become involved with was a mere hallucination. The only proof of the encounter I had left was food, water, and the knife in my back pocket. I waited until I was back in my room to fully inspect its blade. It was much sharper than my switchblade and was in a fixed position to the handle. The blade was slightly curved, and the handle fit comfortably in my hand.

          

I stared deeply into my reflection, mentally analyzing the options I had at this point. I was already aware that the man knew I was there. I doubted that he knew where I was, and that was why he left in the dramatic manner that he did. I also didn't doubt that he would return to the house soon, and if he came across me I wasn't going to put my money on expecting a friendly encounter. I slept that night with the knife beside me, which demoted my switchblade to my supply bag. I didn't dream that night, but when I woke up the laughter of the morning before still had a detailed imprint on my memory. I cleared the house in the same manner that I had when I first arrived at it, finding nothing on the interior. I ducked under windows as I passed through rooms, and felt a short-lived sense of safety for the majority of that day. I had planned on taking a walk around the neighborhood to clear my mind, but upon opening the front door I found a message carved into the wood of the door.

          

"YOU'RE NOT ALONE" was left in large letters for me to read. It was a simple message and one that I did not have to read twice.

          

Within the hour I was walking away from that house with my gear on my back and my knife in my back pocket again. I wasn't risking another moment there with others lurking in the shadows. I didn't fret over the outcome of it all, though. After all, I was still breathing, and my legs still took each step strongly. I was amused with my success the past week and didn't have any idea that my good luck was going to be over for the next month. I never saw the man in the jeep again, but I hadn't heard the last of who he was.

Author's Note

Feel free to leave any input or opinions on the story so far, I appreciate any critique. I hope you enjoyed, and thanks for taking the time to read!