He was thirteen years old, stretched out on the carpet in the basement, watching television before bed. The windows were propped open, screens in place to deter the neighbour’s curious dog from poking in her head. The sound of feet passing by didn’t startle him. All outside noises had become one — ball hockey, wrestling cats, a car radio. The gate was locked. If someone was in the backyard, it would mean they’d scaled the fence.
That was the night he learned to believe in monsters.
READER
East African male, mid-30s, wearing brown leather jacket, white dress shirt, purple bow tie, and tweed cap.
World War Z: An Oral History of the Zombie War
Max Brooks
(Three Rivers Press, 2007)
about halfway in