Dad had to work Sunday, never made it home, never called, we just never saw him again.
Mom packed up the car, tossed us in the backseat without worrying about our seatbelts for once, and wouldn't answer any questions about what was happening or where we were going. Mommy needs quiet right now, really quiet, all right?
She drove fast, and we recognized the way to grandma and grandpa's house, but we didn't get off the highway, we just kept going. I was half asleep when my brother, face pressed against the window, whispered, "I think that's a for-real zombie."