"Shit!" was the only thing John could scream as he dived on the floor, rolling up into a ball behind the sofa as the shots continued to smack through the wooden door. He tentatively reached out towards the shotgun a few feet in front of him but snatched his hand back when an errant bullet smacked into the floorboard an inch in front of his hand. Instead he pulled out his Colt 45 and raised it above his head so it was clear of the sofa, blindly aiming it in the rough direction of the door.

John had never fired a weapon at anything other than paper targets before. He knew he was a decent enough shot, but he had honestly never considered he would be in this kind of situation the entire time the town had been on lock-down. He only wanted to have the pistol with him for peace of mind, or maybe to use in convincing someone to part with their food or car, but not this. The shooting stopped abruptly followed by the metallic thud of a magazine falling to the floor outside. Whoever was out there was clearly reloading, and now was as good a time as any to fire.

John screwed his eyes tightly shut and prepared to fire his pistol, which he hoped was aimed somewhere near the door. Nothing happened. He realised he was too afraid to pull the trigger, and it was already too late now as whoever was outside was now trying to kick the door in. Scrambling to his feet he grabbed the shotgun with his spare hand and fled to the bedroom. In a few seconds he had holstered his pistol and collected his emergency backpack next to his bed. A few seconds after that he was climbing out of his window and sprinting down the dark streets as fast as he could from his home.

He heard female scream coming from his house behind him, cut short by a single gunshot. He knew what that meant, acknowledging as he ran that in the rush he had not even considered his own Mother. He also knew there was no way he was going back to help her. Suddenly, he felt as if a great weight was being lifted from his shoulders making him feel almost giddy. No more caring for her, endless hours talking to her about long past events, having to coax her into believing the most obvious things, no more sitcoms he would have to endure. For the first time during the last few days, he smiled. John ran on into the dark...