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A thick damp fog, visible through the now open garage door, lies heavily over the street and yards outside, as if God had wanted to sweep away from view, beneath a rug, the horrors of the night before.
As Travis Allen hurriedly loads food, weapons, and other supplies into the cab of his truck, he notices that he cannot hear any birds chirping and recalls, wonderingly, that he had noticed that same silence a few days ago before this whole thing started.
Backing down the driveway through the opaque fog, feeling the tell-tale bump of an unseen something under his tires as he goes, Travis knows from the hard-learned experience of the previous night that the monsters who used to be his neighbors, strewn up and down the street, are not dead, that they will rouse themselves once more at sunset, and he intends to be hiding somewhere with the birds, a thousand miles away from here, by the time that happens.