Tommy Jackson bounded down the steps of his house, his sneakers thudding on the wooden porch. It was a crisp autumn afternoon, the kind that made everything seem a little bit magical. The trees had turned brilliant shades of red and gold, and leaves crunched underfoot as he made his way to the front yard. He had his football in hand, ready to practice some throws before his friends arrived.
As he positioned himself to throw the ball, something caught his eye. Across the street, old Mr. Jenkins was shuffling around his yard. This wasn’t unusual in itself—Mr. Jenkins was always puttering about, tending to his garden or fixing something. But today, there was something off about him.
“Hey, Tommy!” Sarah, his best friend, called out as she approached, her pigtails bouncing. “Ready to play?”
Tommy nodded but kept his eyes on Mr. Jenkins. “Yeah, just a minute.” He squinted, trying to figure out what was bothering him. Mr. Jenkins was moving slowly, almost robotically, and his eyes… they looked strange, almost vacant.
Sarah followed his gaze. “What’s wrong with Mr. Jenkins? He looks weird.”
“I don’t know,” Tommy replied, feeling a chill that had nothing to do with the autumn air. “He’s just… different today.”
Mr. Jenkins paused, his head jerking slightly as if he was trying to remember something. Then, with a stiff motion, he turned and stumbled back towards his house, almost tripping over his own feet.
Tommy frowned. “I’m gonna tell my mom and dad.”
“Okay, I’ll wait here,” Sarah said, her eyes wide with concern.
Tommy ran back inside, his heart pounding. He found his parents in the kitchen, his mom stirring a pot on the stove while his dad read the newspaper.
“Mom! Dad! Something’s wrong with Mr. Jenkins!” he blurted out, out of breath.
His mom turned, her brow furrowing. “What do you mean, Tommy?”
“He’s acting really weird. He was stumbling around his yard and his eyes… they looked empty.”
His dad lowered the newspaper, peering at Tommy over his glasses. “You sure you’re not exaggerating, son? Mr. Jenkins is getting old. Maybe he’s just having an off day.”
Tommy shook his head vigorously. “No, it’s not like that. He looked like a zombie or something!”
His mom chuckled softly. “Tommy, you’ve been watching too many horror movies. I’m sure Mr. Jenkins is fine. Maybe he’s just tired or feeling a bit under the weather.”
Tommy bit his lip, feeling a surge of frustration. “But what if it’s something serious?”
His dad sighed, folding the newspaper. “Tell you what, after dinner, I’ll go over and check on him. How’s that sound?”
Tommy nodded, feeling slightly reassured. “Okay.”
“Now, why don’t you go play with Sarah? Dinner will be ready in an hour,” his mom suggested, giving him a gentle push towards the door.
Tommy rejoined Sarah outside, but he couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling. They tossed the football back and forth, but his mind kept drifting back to Mr. Jenkins.
As they played, a few more kids from the neighborhood joined them—Mike, Emily, and Josh. They formed a small circle, passing the ball and chatting.
“Did you guys see Mr. Jenkins?” Tommy asked during a break.
Mike nodded. “Yeah, he was acting super weird. My mom said he’s just old and grumpy, but I don’t know.”
Emily shivered. “He scared me. He looked like he was sleepwalking.”
Josh, always the skeptical one, shrugged. “Maybe he’s sick or something. Old people get sick, right?”
“Yeah, but this was different,” Tommy insisted. “He looked like he didn’t even know where he was.”
They continued their game, but the conversation kept drifting back to Mr. Jenkins. It wasn’t until the sun started to set and the streetlights flickered on that the kids began to head home.
“See you tomorrow,” Sarah said, giving Tommy a quick hug before running off.
Tommy waved and went inside. Dinner was a quiet affair, the usual chatter subdued by the strange events of the day. True to his word, after they ate, Tommy’s dad headed across the street to check on Mr. Jenkins.
Tommy watched from the window, his breath fogging up the glass. He saw his dad knock on the door and wait. After a moment, the door opened slightly, and Mr. Jenkins appeared, looking just as vacant and disoriented as before.
Tommy’s dad spoke to him for a few minutes, his face a mask of concern. Then he nodded and returned to the house.
“Well?” Tommy asked anxiously as his dad walked through the door.
His dad sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Mr. Jenkins said he’s feeling fine, just a bit tired. But he did seem… off. I told him to call us if he needs anything.”
Tommy’s mom looked worried. “Maybe we should call a doctor for him.”
“I suggested that, but he insisted he was okay,” his dad replied. “Let’s keep an eye on him. If he gets worse, we’ll step in.”
Tommy nodded, though he still felt uneasy. He went to bed that night with a sense of dread he couldn’t shake. His dreams were filled with images of Mr. Jenkins, stumbling around like a zombie, his eyes hollow and lifeless.
The next day, the news spread quickly among the kids in the neighborhood. More people had started acting strangely. Mrs. Thompson down the street had been seen wandering aimlessly in her front yard, and Mr. and Mrs. Clark had been found standing motionless on their porch, staring blankly into the distance.
At school, the teachers seemed tense, whispering to each other between classes. Miss Green, Tommy’s homeroom teacher, looked particularly worried. She kept glancing out the window, her face pale.
During recess, Tommy and his friends gathered in their usual spot under the big oak tree.
“Did you hear about Mrs. Thompson and the Clarks?” Mike asked, his voice low.
“Yeah,” Emily said, hugging her knees to her chest. “What’s happening to everyone?”
“It’s like they’re turning into zombies,” Sarah said, her eyes wide with fear.
Josh shook his head. “There’s no such thing as zombies. There has to be a logical explanation.”
Tommy frowned. “I don’t know, Josh. My dad said Mr. Jenkins seemed really out of it. And now more people are acting weird.”
They sat in silence for a moment, each lost in their thoughts. The world around them felt suddenly uncertain and dangerous.
The bell rang, signaling the end of recess. They trudged back to class, but Tommy couldn’t concentrate. His mind kept drifting to the strange behavior spreading through their town.
By the end of the day, the tension at school was palpable. As they left, Miss Green pulled Tommy aside.
“Tommy, I heard about your neighbor, Mr. Jenkins,” she said softly. “Is he okay?”
Tommy shrugged. “I don’t know. My dad said he seemed off, but Mr. Jenkins said he was fine.”
Miss Green bit her lip. “If you see anything else unusual, let your parents know, okay?”
“Okay, Miss Green,” Tommy agreed, feeling a bit better knowing that the adults were taking it seriously.
He walked home with Sarah, the two of them chatting nervously about what might be happening.
“Do you think it’s a virus or something?” Sarah asked.
“Maybe,” Tommy said. “Or something worse.”
Sarah shuddered. “I hope not.”
When Tommy got home, he found his parents in the living room, watching the news. The anchor was talking about a strange illness spreading in nearby towns, causing people to act erratically.
Tommy’s dad turned to him, his face serious. “Tommy, I want you to stay close to home for a while, okay? Don’t go too far, and always let us know where you are.”
Tommy nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. “Okay, Dad.”
The days that followed were filled with a growing sense of unease. More and more people began showing symptoms, and the town’s normally bustling streets grew eerily quiet. Stores closed early, and the school implemented new safety measures, keeping the kids inside during recess and lunch.
Tommy and his friends stuck together, finding comfort in each other’s company. They spent their days playing games and talking about the strange events unfolding around them, trying to make sense of it all.
One afternoon, as Tommy and Sarah were walking home from school, they saw a group of men in hazmat suits entering Mr. Jenkins’ house. They exchanged worried glances, their hearts pounding.
“Do you think he’s okay?” Sarah whispered.
“I don’t know,” Tommy replied, feeling a lump in his throat. “I hope so.”
That night, as Tommy lay in bed, he heard the distant wail of sirens. He pulled the covers up to his chin, trying to block out the sounds of fear and uncertainty.
The world was changing, and Tommy knew that nothing would ever be the same again. But he also knew that he had his family and friends by his side, and together, they would face whatever came their way.
And so, as the first signs of the apocalypse crept into their small town, Tommy resolved to stay strong, to protect those he loved, and to fight against the darkness threatening to consume their world.