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The same thing she was currently wearing.

Her breath caught in the back of her throat and Cindy could not find the courage to breath until her lungs were about to burst.

He was in the house, or at least had been.

Every creak in the house now sounded sinister. Every gust of wind screeched like something out of a nightmare.

She fought through the fear and double-clicked the Internet Explorer icon with shaking fingers.

Nothing happened.

The web browser refused to connect. After a few moments, Cindy hit the icon again with similar results. An error message filled the screen stating that the connection with the wireless router was down.

The router was in the next room, attached to an older Hewlett-Packard desktop that Cindy rarely used but kept around for network connections and system backups.

Hesitantly, she made her way into the front room being sure to turn on the lights before she did. Nothing seemed out of place. She grabbed the only weapon within reach – a stainless steel flower vase filled with fake roses.

The computer sat on top of an old wooden desk across the room, between the front door and a large picture window that overlooked the lawn.

Without leaving the doorway, Cindy could see that the wallpaper had been changed on this computer as well.

It wasn’t a picture of her this time.

It was a hand.

Ghostly white and pointing downward under the desk.

Where the router was connected.

Every fiber in her being was screaming for her to flee - just rush right out the front door and don’t look back. But despite it all Cindy found herself walking forward; drawn towards the computer as her curiosity temporarily overcame the sense of dread.

Cindy crossed the room slowly, ignoring the new alarms going off inside her head, and peered under the desk into the open space where the router sat atop the large CPU.

Except the router was gone.

It had been replaced with her dog’s severed head.

The coaxial cables which had connected the router and modem now ran into Butch’s empty eye sockets. The S-video cable was wrapped around his swollen tongue.

Cindy lost it. Officially.

She didn’t hear her own screams as she rushed towards the front door. She pulled the handle in desperation but it refused to open.

Cindy did not stay to figure out why it had stuck.

Instead, she rushed back through the kitchen to the back door. Her dark blue Saturn was visible through the window - parked in the driveway just outside. The keys hung on a peg next to the door.

She pulled on the doorknob but found it hopelessly stuck as well. Cindy cursed in frustration and pulled even harder; causing her hands to slip off the handle. Only a sudden grab of the railing prevented her from tumbling down the basement steps.

There was something seeping from the door jamb, she saw it while pin-wheeling on the top step. It was clear, fairly viscous, and caused her thumb and forefinger to stick together after she touched it.

Crazy glue.

Cindy pounded on the glass hoping that Glenn would notice. Her neighbor usually went on pre-dawn runs before getting ready for work and she hoped that today would be no exception.

She froze when her car’s headlights came on.

There was someone sitting in the driver’s seat. Cindy could not make out a face against the glare of the lights. It was only a dark figure with both hands on the steering wheel.

The fucker is in my car, she thought incredulously.

She watched in silence as the stranger backed the car down the driveway, out into the road, and disappeared into the darkness.

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