His shirt had been reduced to tattered ribbons, his pants caked with filth and gore. His bare feet were scraped from dragging them against the pavement. Droplets of blood trickled down his fingers, forming a scarlet pool around his feet. Behind him, the sun peeked over the horizon. Rows of empty houses stood tall on both sides of the suburban road. Slowly, the kid stumbled towards Ben Ackerman, who rested on his knees, his arms open, ready to embrace his only son. Ben heard himself cry, uttering Jake's name. “Daddy,” Jake said. “Daddy, you're home.” Jake shambled toward him, zig-zagging drunkenly. “Daddy, I missed you.” Ben told his son that he missed him too. Very much. More tears fell from his eyes. Ben watched his son grow closer, a tiny smile appearing on his blood-slicked face. His hair was matted with bodily fluids. Chunks of brains and bone rested in the tangled mess like dandruff. The white of Jake's eyes stood out through the gore.
