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FICTION
Will the Police Help Me?
Rotten House — Chapter 20
Welcome back! In our last chapter, I finally decide to call the police. Do you think they’ll help?
“Hello? Hello? 911?”
“This is 911. What seems to be the emergency?”
“My brother’s been kidnapped. I need someone to come to my house now.”
Notice how I didn’t use the words “zombies,” “possessed,” or “giant scary pit”? I gave the lady the address to Rotten House, which I had memorized for just such an occasion.
“Thank you. Police are on their way.”
I hung up and caught my breath. I always knew that calling the police would be a bad idea in a situation like this. They carry badges and guns, neither of which would work against the undead, not to mention a body-swapping imposter with problems recognizing eye color. But it was either call them or jump into the pit. At least this way, I’d have back-up.
So I waited by the door. And Fake-Mike stood outside, watching me. The doors were locked, but he could probably break them down. He could probably order his minions to drag me outside. But he didn’t. He just stood there, scratching his nose, waiting for me.
