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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2206042
by Triv
Rated: E · Fiction · Contest · #2206042
Flash Fiction
Dr Larry Ambrosio was a recluse. He went to work and returned to his family, never a change in his routine. He had a beautiful wife and two sons, one a newly minted teenager, the other close to the magical double-digit number.

Everyone stayed a good distance from him. He wasn’t threatening in any way; rather he was mild mannered and barely spoke above a whisper.

It was a Wednesday, when the neighbors saw Larry’s green Prius pull up with some speed outside the driveway. Jane, who lived directly opposite the Ambrosios, peered out her window and wondered at the haphazard parking of the Prius on her neighbor's lawn and Larry running inside the house.

The front door banged shut. This was very unlike Larry who never drew attention to himself. Even more uncharacteristic was the shouting that began inside.

Jane was not going to investigate all this by herself, so she got Fred who lived next door to the Ambrosios . She knew he’d be in. On a hunch, Fred picked up a wrench from his garage.

Both walked with trepidation towards the house where a full-scale war seemed to be in progress.

Their speed increased as a bright flash of light followed by a loud bang came from the house.

Fred didn’t think twice and barged into the front door, wrench raised.

The gun was smoking in Mrs. Ambrosio's right hand as she stared without expression at it.

“Y..y..you don’t understand,” she whimpered.

“Put the gun down Gina.”

You don’t know the real story,” she continued, in a trance.

“This was the only way. He was infected”

Larry’s stomach moved. As it split open, a dark red blob slid out. It had two tiny hands and a grotesque face.

A moment later it stopped moving.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2206042