***
When the police pulled up in front of Thomas Duckett’s house, the red and blue lights on their patrol car flashing across the entire street, they immediately saw someone standing in the front yard. The driver, Officer Dan Howard, radioed in to the police station that they were on the scene, while the other cop, Officer Paul Simmons, immediately got out of the car.
He placed one hand on his weapon and held his other hand out. “Don’t move,” he announced loudly at the figure, who stood in front of the house, his face obscured in shadows. The front porch light was on, but the figure stood in the long shadow cast by tall bushes next to the porch. The cop car’s flashing lights flickered red and blue across the figure’s body.
“Come toward me, very slowly, with your hands in the air,” Paul said.
The figure took a hesitant step forward, and then another, his hands at his sides. It stepped out from the shadow and into the light of the front porch.
“I said put your hands ...” Paul started, and then went silent.
The man, wearing dark blue pants and a blue shirt, walked toward him. His face was drenched in blood, and it was spilled down the front of his shirt almost down to his waist. He stared with wide eyes, his mouth open, with saliva and blood dripping off his chin. The police lights seemed to entrance him, the light glinting off his eyes and teeth, making him appear to be smiling gruesomely.
Paul drew his gun, and Dan, still standing by the patrol car, drew his as well. Paul said, “Don’t move. Put your hands in the air right now.”
The man lifted his arms up as if to follow orders, but he merely reached out and groaned, more blood drooling from his mouth. He staggered forward, his pace quickening.
“Jesus, look at him,” Dan said nervously.
“Do not take another step!” Paul shouted. “Or I will open fire!”
The man paused and took one more step. Paul pulled the trigger and shot him square in the chest, but he only leaned back with the bullet impact instead of falling over. He groaned again and suddenly staggered forward in a rush.
Paul fired three more times, hitting him in the chest and throat. He backpedaled quickly as the man came at him, arms outstretched. Dan shouted something and opened fire as well, striking the man in the shoulder. The man stumbled back, the bullets knocking him off balance. Dan fired again and the bullet struck him in the side of the head. He gasped and pitched over to the side, falling into the grass.
“God,” Paul whispered, staring down at the body. “I don’t believe this.”
Dan immediately sat back down in the car and picked up the radio. “This is car twenty-nine, please send backup. There’s been an officer-involved shooting. We approached a suspect and he attacked us.”
“Backup is on its way, twenty-nine. Emergency services have been notified,” the radio announced.
“Thank you,” Dan said, hanging the radio back up. He got back out of the car and walked around to where Paul knelt beside the dead body. He didn’t smell it before, but he suddenly got an overpowering whiff of decay.
“This is all wrong,” Paul said, as if to himself. “This guy smells like he’s been dead for a week. And he walked right through four bullets. I don’t understand this.”
“I called for backup. You gonna be okay?”
Paul nodded. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“He came right for you. We didn’t have a choice,” Dan said supportively.
“I know that. But look at all that blood on his face.”
Dan looked up as the house’s front door opened slowly and a middle-aged woman poked her head out. She wore a blue nightgown and slippers, and took one step out the door before stopping, covering his mouth with her hands. “Oh my God,” she squeaked.
Dan rushed over to her. “Ma’am, it’s okay ...”
“I heard gunshots,” she whispered, staring past the officer to the dead body lying in her front lawn. “Where ... where is Tom?”
“Who?” Dan asked.
“My husband,” the woman said, her voice unsteady. “He came outside and he ... I heard gunshots ...” She swayed on her feet, as if about to faint, and Dan grabbed her shoulders to keep her from falling over.
“Over there!” Paul shouted, and Dan looked up to see a man stumble out from around the side of the house, wearing nothing but thin pair of pants. Before he could react, the woman pushed him away and ran off the porch.
“Tommy!” she cried. “Honey, are you –”
The man turned to face her, and she screamed when she saw the huge gaping rip across his throat and the torrent of blood spilling down his bare chest. He grabbed her arms and she screamed desperately, trying to pull away, her feet slipping on the wet grass.
“Freeze!” Paul shouted, running forward with his gun out.
Thomas Duckett growled and bit down on his wife Carla’s arm, his teeth sinking hard into her flesh. She screamed even louder and managed to pull away when Thomas opened his mouth to take another bite. She fell to the ground, blood oozing from the gory wound on her forearm.
Paul and Dan opened fire simultaneously, blasting Thomas with bullets. He jerked backward as bullets tore through his chest, twitching left and right with blood spurting from the wounds. Carla’s continuous, agonized scream was drowned out by the sound of rapid gunfire. One of the shots got lucky and struck Thomas in the eye, and he toppled over backwards.
Dan pulled Carla to safety as she continued to scream, blood from her arm smearing across her nightgown. Paul looked in disbelief at Thomas’ body and the jagged wound across his neck. He slid his pistol back into its holster.
A few minutes later, the backup arrived.