Episode 1: Homecoming
Episode 1 - Homecoming
“Man... I miss Mom’s lasagna.”
Brett smiled to himself as he drove down the highway. “I texted her this morning telling her I was coming home too. Told her to make some.”
He glanced at his phone sitting in the cup holder.
Still nothin’.
“Actually... knowing Mom, she’s probably planning something.”
Brett tapped the steering wheel for a moment.
“Pfft... definitely a surprise party.”
The familiar sign welcoming him back to town appeared in the distance. Brett instantly rolled down his window, letting the cool breeze wash over his face.
“Agh... finally. It’s been almost a whole week of straight driving.”
He lowered the volume of his synthwave playlist until it faded into the background. Looking out the window, he took in the streets he had grown up around.
The old buildings, the roads, his school, and the gas station that always had less-than-stellar people hanging around it. Everything looked exactly how he remembered. He hadn’t realized how much he missed this place.
“Man... I didn’t think I’d miss this place so much,” Brett said to himself. “College really did a number on me. Really, I just want to go home, relax, take a bath, and eat some damn lasagna.”
As he continued down the road, Brett noticed the old baseball field up ahead. He expected to see the same field he remembered growing up, but instead large construction signs surrounded it.
“Wait... the baseball field is literally closed...”
He shook his head.
“FOR CONSTRUCTION.”
Brett laughed.
“This town, man. Always adding more apartment complexes we don’t need.”
As Brett drove past the baseball field, he noticed a woman sitting alone against the fence. At first, nothing about her really stood out. To him, she just looked like someone who’d had a rough day.
Her clothes were torn, her hair was frizzed and messy, and her head hung low, almost as if she had fallen asleep sitting up. She hadn’t moved an inch.
Brett glanced over as he passed. For a moment, he wondered if she was okay. Something about her felt... off, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.
He checked his rearview mirror.
The woman was still there.
Then, slowly, she turned her head toward his truck.
Brett’s smile faded.
The woman stood up.
“Ew...” he muttered.
He looked back at the road.
“I did not like that.”
Trying to shake the uneasy feeling, he chuckled to himself.
“Maybe this town is going to shit?”
A second later, Brett glanced into the mirror one last time.
She was gone.
His eyebrows pulled together for a second before he shook it off.
1 week of driving, he thought. I’m probably just tired.
All he wanted was to get home, see his family, and finally eat some of his mom’s lasagna.
A few minutes later, Brett turned onto the familiar street leading into his neighborhood.
Something felt...
Different.
There were far fewer cars parked along the road than he remembered.
“Man...” Brett muttered. “Maybe Bennington really is becoming a bad place to live, because I swear more people used to live here.”
He finally pulled into the quaint little cul-de-sac where his mom and siblings lived. Parking outside the two-story tan house with green shutters, he sat there for a moment, simply looking at it.
The grass had gotten a little overgrown, but nothing too crazy.
“Man... I missed it.”
Taking a deep breath of fresh air, Brett stepped out of the truck and shut the driver’s side door.
BANG.
The sound echoed throughout the strangely quiet cul-de-sac.
Brett frowned.
“Hey... what the hell?”
He looked toward the house.
“Why isn’t Chewy barking?”
"Maybe Zane took her for a walk. I know he’s been staying here with Mom."
Trying not to think too much about it, Brett walked up to the front door and grabbed the doorknob.
Locked.
He knocked.
“Mom?”
Nothing.
He knocked again.
Still nothing.
“Man... they’re really working at this surprise party thing, huh?”
With a shrug, Brett walked around the side of the house, stepping a few bags of gardening soil. Reaching the staircase leading to the back metal door leading inside Brett waited.
“Man... this better be unlocked.”
He climbed the steps.
The second he reached the top, a putrid, grotesque odor seeped out from beneath the door.
“Jesus—ugh... what the hell?”
Brett stumbled backward, nearly slipping down the stairs.
“Mom?! Zane?!
No answer.
The smell overwhelmed him, twisting his stomach into knots.
“Fuck... I hope this isn’t some kind of prank.”
His heart pounded in his chest as he tried to steady his breathing. He’d seen enough horror movies to know that whatever was behind that door wasn’t good.
Grabbing both railings, Brett drove his foot into the door.
THUD!
Nothing.
THUD!
The old door groaned but refused to budge.
A third kick.
The frame splintered.
“Come on!”
Brett planted his feet and put everything he had into one final kick.
CRACK!
The doorknob tore free, and the door burst inward.
Silence.
Brett stood frozen in the doorway, expecting his mom to come yelling at him for destroying her back door.
Nobody came.
The house was eerily still.
“...Mom?”
His voice barely carried through the hallway.
No answer.
Slowly, Brett stepped inside. The smell was even worse now, burning his nose and making his eyes water. Pulling the collar of his shirt over his face, he looked around.
Everything looked... normal.
The dining room table sat exactly where it always had. The television quietly played some daytime talk show to an empty living room.
“Mom?” he called again, taking another cautious step. “Zane?”
Nothing.
Every floorboard creaked beneath his feet, sounding impossibly loud in the silence. He glanced into the living room.
Empty.
His eyes slowly drifted toward the staircase.
“Mom... this isn’t funny anymore.”
Then...
A faint thump.
Brett froze.
Not upstairs.
The kitchen.
Brett cautiously made his way toward the sound, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. With every step, the smell grew stronger until it became unbearable.
He gagged.
The slushie and hot dog he’d eaten during the drive home came right back up onto the floor.
“Jesus...” Brett wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, trying to catch his breath. “...What the fuck is that smell?”
His eyes slowly lifted toward the kitchen. Brett gently pushed open the kitchen door. The old hinges creaked as it slowly swung open. He stood there for a moment, peering inside.
Nothing.
The smell was unbearable, but he forced himself forward.
“Mom...?”
His voice came out barely above a whisper. There was only silence.
Then he heard it.
A wet, crunching sound.
Something tearing,
Brett froze.
Slowly, he turned the corner.
His entire body went cold.
Blood covered the kitchen.
It was splattered across the cabinets, smeared over the counters, and streaked across the white refrigerator.
“Who the hell—”
His eyes locked onto the figure in front of him.
“Mom!”
Brett didn’t think.
He reacted.
He charged forward, slamming his shoulder into the figure and sending it crashing into the cabinets hard enough to crack the wood.
The figure stopped moving.
For a moment, everything was silent.
Brett barely noticed.
He dropped down beside the body on the floor.
“Mom...?”
He looked closer.
“...Mom?”
His voice started shaking.
“MOM?!”
He grabbed at her, panic setting in.
“Are you okay?! Hello?!” Brett dropped to his knees beside her. “Mom... Mom, come on.” His hands moved before his brain could catch up. He pressed down against her wounds, desperately trying to stop the bleeding.
“You’re okay. You’re okay, I got you.”
His voice shook as he looked around the kitchen.
“Where’s Zane? Where’s Chewy? What happened?”
But there was no answer.
Only the sound of his own breathing.
“Mom, please...”
He pressed harder, panic starting to take over.
“Come on, you gotta wake up. Please.”
For a moment, Brett forgot about everything else.
The blood.
The smell.
The Body...
All he could see was his mom.
Then...
A noise behind him.
A wet, ragged breath.
Brett's eyes moved toward the kitchen floor.
The figure he had tackled into the cabinets began to move.
At first, Brett felt relief.
Someone was alive.
Then the figure slowly pushed itself upright.
Wrong.
Something about the movement was wrong.
Brett stared.
“...No.”
The person in front of him wasn’t getting up because they were okay.
They weren’t getting up because they were hurt.
They were getting up because they didn’t feel anything.
And then Brett finally saw the face.
Hwan.
“Nononono...”
Brett stared at him, frozen.
“Hwan...”
His voice cracked.
“Why?”
The figure standing in front of him barely looked human anymore. His breath rattled heavily, wet and uneven. Blood and pieces of meat hung from his mouth. “Why the fuck did you do this to Mom?”
Hwan didn’t answer.
He just kept moving.
“Hwan... stop.”
Brett backed away, shaking his head.
“Come on, I’m your brother. You can talk to me, okay? Just tell me why you did it.”
Nothing.
Only that horrible rattling breath.
“Hwan, please!” His brother continued forward, faster now. Brett’s eyes widened as Hwan reached out to grab him.
“No!”
He shoved him back.
But Hwan barely reacted.
He kept moving.
“Hwan, stop!” The infected lunged forward, slamming into Brett and forcing him backward.
“What?!”
Brett struggled against him.
“Why... how are you so strong?”
His foot slipped.
The blood covering the floor sent him crashing down, the back of his head slamming against the hardwood.
For a moment, everything spun.
Before Brett could recover, Hwan was on top of him.
His teeth snapped dangerously close to Brett’s neck.
Brett pushed against him with one arm, desperately trying to hold him back.
His eyes darted around the kitchen.
Anything.
Anything he could use.
Then he saw it.
An old six-inch glass snow globe sitting on the counter.
Brett reached for it.
“I-I’m sorry, Hwan...”
WHACK!
The snow globe shattered against his head.
Hwan staggered, but he didn’t stop.
He tried to push himself back up.
CRUNCH!
Brett hit him again.
Hwan crawled forward.
Still trying.
CRACK!
The third hit landed.
And finally...
Hwan stopped moving.
Brett sat there, trying to catch his breath.
His entire body shook as he looked down at his hands. They were covered in blood.
Not a stranger’s blood. His family’s.
Slowly, Brett pushed himself up from the floor. Every movement felt heavy, like his body didn’t want to accept what had just happened.
He looked down at Hwan. For a moment, he didn’t see the thing that attacked him.
He saw his little brother.
Brett reached down and gently brushed the hair away from Hwan’s face, just like he had done countless times before.
“I’m sorry...”
His voice barely came out.
Brett turned away.
His eyes moved toward his mom.
“Mom...”
His breath shook.
The tears came before he could stop them.
“Ahhh...”
A broken sob escaped him as he collapsed forward, the weight of everything finally crashing down.
He had made it home.
But he was too late.
Brett finally forced himself to move.
The backyard was quiet. Too quiet.
There was enough dirt to bury his mother and Hwan, but that didn’t make it any easier.
“Fuck...”
Brett gripped the shovel tighter.
“Zombies? ZOMBIES?!”
His voice cracked.
“And Mom and Hwan... they’re the first things I see?”
Hours later, Brett stood over two fresh graves.
He didn’t know how long he stayed there before he heard it.
Thump.
Thump. His head slowly turned toward the basement door.
Brett grabbed the shovel, his heart racing.
Not again.
He carefully opened the cellar door.
A blur shot past him.
“WHOA!”
A 10-year-old pit bull burst outside, running circles around him.
Brett froze.
“Chewy?”
The dog immediately recognized him, jumping up before rolling onto her back.
“Oh... hey, Chewsif.”
For the first time all day, Brett smiled. A few hours later, he packed a backpack, grabbed Chewy’s harness, and loaded the car.
He looked over at his dog.
“Just you and me.”
