I Work 911 Dispatch. Everyone In Town Started Behaving STRANGE!

Hello and welcome back to another episode by Sleepy Pasta. Before you doze off tonight, don't forget to leave a five star review and a comment where you are watching from. Let's begin now. I don't know about you, but I hated night shifts. I had been here for almost a full year, stuck behind a desk, midnight to 8 with my flavourless coffee that tasted like it was made with water from a toilet.

The dreaded call came in at 247. AMI remember the exact time because I just finished a bag of those gas station pretzels, the stale ones that somehow taste better, at 3:00 in the morning and was checking the clock to see how many more hours I had left. Six hours and 13 minutes. That was it.

My console lit up with an incoming call. The caller ID displayed all zeros, just a string of them across the screen. Not unusual really. Sometimes the system glitched with blocked numbers or phones that were too old to transmit proper data. I'd seem weirder.

911, what's your emergency? A kids voice came through, maybe 8 years old whispered so quiet I had to turn up my headset volume. My mom and dad won't wake up. I grabbed my pen and pulled up a fresh incident form on my screen. Standard protocol for unresponsive person calls.

OK, honey, I'm going to help you. What's your name? Tyler. Tyler. That's a good name.

Can you tell me your address? He rattled off an address on Elm Street. I typed it in while he talked. Kid sounded scared, but not hysterical. That was something.

Are your parents breathing, Tyler? Yeah, but they're just staring at the ceiling. They won't talk to me or nothing. I kept typing. Unresponsive, but breathing.

Could be a medical emergency, overdose, carbon monoxide, lots of possibilities. What do their eyes look like? They look like black buttons. That stopped me for a second. Black buttons?

Not exactly medical terminology. I was used to hearing from kids, but children describe things weird sometimes. Probably meant the pupils were dilated. Drug overdose seemed more likely now. Tyler, I'm sending an ambulance to help your parents.

OK. They'll be there really soon. Are you hurt at all? No. Good.

Now I need you to stay on the phone with me until the ambulance gets there. Can you do that? Yeah. I dispatched the call to Station 7, closest unit to Elm St. Paramedics would be there in maybe 6 minutes if traffic was clear.

It usually was at this hour. I kept Tyler talking while we waited, asking him basic questions. How old was he? Did he have any brothers or sisters? Stuff like that.

Kids seemed alert enough. Then he said something that made me sit up straighter. The people across the street are doing it too. Doing what? Tyler staring at the ceiling.

Misses Garcia and Mr. Thompson. I can see them through their windows. I frowned at my screen. Are there lights on?

Yeah, everyone's lights are on. That was weird. Middle of the night, multiple houses with lights on, people staring at ceilings. Could be some kind of gas leak affecting the whole block. I made a note to alert the fire department about possible environmental hazard.

Tyler, how many houses can you see from where you are? Like 6 or 7. And they all have their lights on. Yeah, and the people are all doing the same thing as my mom and dad. My stomach did this little flip.

Not panic exactly, but that feeling you get when a call starts heading somewhere you weren't expecting. I'd handled plenty of weird situations in 11 months. Domestic disputes, overdoses, people calling because their neighbors music was too loud. This felt different. Tyler, I want you to stay away from the windows for now, OK?

Just sit somewhere safe until the ambulance. The line went dead. I tried calling back immediately, straight to a busy signal. Tried again, same thing. Shit.

I said, then looked around to make sure Morgan hadn't heard me. Swearing on calls was frowned upon, even when the caller couldn't hear you anymore. I pulled up Morgan's desk on my console. Morgan Woods had been my supervisor since I started, and she knew pretty much everything there was to know about emergency dispatch.

Former paramedic with 20 years of experience before she moved to the radio room. If anyone could make sense of what I just heard, it was her. Morgan, I need you to look at something. She rolled her chair over to my desk, coffee mug in hand. Morgan always had coffee, black coffee that looked strong enough to dissolve paint.

What have you got? I pulled up the call details on my screen. Kid called from Elm Street, parents unresponsive, breathing but not responding. Said their pupils looked like black buttons. Then he said everyone on his St. was doing the same thing.

Morgan raised an eyebrow. Environmental hazard. That's what I was thinking, but then the line went dead and I can't get him back. She leaned closer to my screen, reading the notes I'd typed. Station 7 responding.

Yeah, they should be there in about 3 minutes. Morgan nodded and went back to her desk. I heard her typing, probably pulling up the address to cross reference with other calls. Standard procedure. When something seemed off.

About 30 seconds later, she called me over. Johnny, come look at this. I walked over to her workstation. She had the call log pulled up, filtered by address and time. Four more calls from that same neighborhood in the last 6 minutes, she said, pointing at her screen, all reporting the same thing.

Unresponsive family members breathing but not responding. Staring at the ceiling. I stared at the screen. 5 calls total, all from a three block radius around Elm Street, all describing identical symptoms. That's not a coincidence.

I said no. Morgan said it's not. The radio crackled to life about 15 minutes after we'd sent the first unit out. Jonathan Garza's voice came through and he sounded confused more than anything else. Dispatch, this is paramedic seven.

I grabbed the mic. Go ahead. Paramedic 7. Yeah, we're on scene at the Elm Street address. The reporting party said both parents were unconscious, but that's not what we're seeing here.

I waited. Jonathan wasn't the type to get flustered, so when he paused like that, it meant something. What do you have? Paramedic 7. Both subjects are standing upright in the master bedroom.

They're not unconscious. They're just standing there facing the wall. I looked at Morgan. She'd stopped typing and was listening. Are they responsive?

I asked. Another pause, longer this time. Negative. They're not responding to verbal commands, not responding to physical contact, but they're standing perfectly still, like they're looking at something on the wall. There's nothing there, though.

Just a blank wall. That bugged me a little. I'd taken plenty of calls about people acting weird, drugs, mental health episodes, medical emergencies, but people don't just stand and stare at walls for no reason. Copy that. Paramedic 7.

Any signs of trauma or distress? No visible injuries. Breathing appears normal. But Johnny, this is the radio went quiet for a second. This is really strange, Jonathan never called me by my first name on the radio.

That was the first thing that made my stomach tighten. Now Paramedic 7, can you? The radio cut in again. Jonathan's voice was different now, sharper. Dispatch, I need immediate police backup to this location.

Morgan and I both straightened up. Jonathan asking for police meant something had gone wrong fast. What's your status, Paramedic 7? I said. I tried to examine the female subject and both subjects turned to look at me in perfect unison.

They're staring directly at me right now, and they haven't blinked once since they turned around. I felt something cold settle in my chest. Are they saying anything negative? No verbal response. They're just staring.

It's been about two minutes now. Morgan was already dispatching a police unit. I could hear her on the other radio using that calm voice she saved for when things were going sideways. Copy Paramedic 7. Police are on route.

ETA 4 minutes. Do you feel safe to remain on scene? Affirmative for now. But Johnny, I've never seen anything like this. They turned at exactly the same time, like they were synchronized.

The radio went quiet after that. I kept checking in with Jonathan every minute or so, and he kept reporting the same thing. Two people standing perfectly still, staring at him without blinking. That's when the phones really started going crazy. The first new call came in maybe 5 minutes after Jonathan's request for backup.

Riley took it at the station next to me. 911, what's your emergency? I could hear the caller even from where I was sitting. An older man, voice shaking. My neighbour's been standing in his front yard for 20 minutes.

He's not moving at all. Riley went through her standard questions. Address description, Any signs of distress? But I was already pulling up the map on my screen, plotting where this new call was coming from, six blocks from Elm Street. The second call came in while Riley was still on with the first caller.

Jayden picked it up. 911, what's your emergency? There are three people standing on my street corner. A woman said they've been there for at least 15 minutes. They're not talking or moving or anything.

They're just standing there staring down the street. I checked the address 8 blocks from Elm Street. Then Thomas got a call, A man reporting his wife standing motionless in their kitchen, facing the sink, not responding to anything four blocks from Elm Street. By the time I looked up at the big board that tracked all our active calls, we had 12 open incidents, all of them reporting people standing motionless in various locations, all of them within a 12 block radius of Elm Street.

Morgan walked over to my station. This is expanding. Yeah, I said fast. That's when my phone rang. Line 3911, What's your emergency?

Please help me. The voice was young, female, scared. I'm locked in my bathroom and my mom is standing outside the door. OK, slow down. What's your name?

Daisy. Daisy Sawyer. I pulled up a fresh incident report. Daisy, how old are you? 16, please.

My mom's been standing out there for like 10 minutes and she won't answer me when I talk to her. What's your address, Daisy? She gave me an address that was seven blocks from Elm St. right in the middle of what was looking like some kind of pattern. Is your mom injured? Did something happen to her?

I don't know. She was normal when I went to bed, but I woke up because I heard her walking around in the hallway. When I opened my door to check on her, she was just standing there, not moving, staring at the wall. My hands got a little cold. How long has she been like that?

Maybe 20 minutes now. I got scared and locked myself in here. She followed me to the door, but now she's just standing there. I can see her feet under the door. I looked around the dispatch center.

Riley was still on her call, but I could tell from her voice that things weren't getting better. Jayden was typing fast while talking to someone and Thomas looked like he was getting frustrated with whatever he was hearing. Daisy, I'm going to send paramedics and police to help you. OK? Can you stay on the line with me?

Yes, please don't hang up. I started the dispatch process, but there were no available units. Everything was tied up with the other calls and the requests for backup kept coming in. Daisy, the officers might take a few minutes to get there. Are you safe where you are?

I think so. The door is locked, but she went quiet. What is it, Daisy? She's moving. Something in my chest went tight.

What do you mean? She's walking away from the door. I can hear her footsteps going down the hall. I could hear Daisy breathing hard through the phone. In the background, I could just make out the sound of footsteps.

Slow, deliberate footsteps. Where's she going, Daisy? Toward the front of the house, I think. Yeah, she's walking toward the front door. The footsteps got fainter.

Then I heard another sound. The front door opening. Daisy. She opened the front door. She just opened it and walked outside.

Is she still walking? I can't see from here, but I can hear her. She's walking down the driveway really slowly, like she's counting each step. The footsteps faded completely, then silence. Daisy, are you still there?

No answer, Daisy, the line was dead. I tried calling back immediately, but it went straight to voicemail. I tried again, same thing around me. The dispatch center was getting loud. Riley was on another call and she was talking faster than usual.

Jayden had two lines going. Thomas was practically shouting into his headset. Johnny Morgan called from across the room. How many active calls do you have in that area? I checked my screen 23, same symptoms.

All of them. People standing motionless, not responding, then walking away. Morgan's phone rang, then mine, then Riley's, then Jayden's, all at once. I picked up my line 911, What's your emergency? There are dozens of people walking down my street, A man said.

His voice was shaking. They're all walking in the same direction and none of them are talking. They're just walking. I looked around the room. Riley was getting the same kind of call, so was Jayden.

Thomas was writing notes as fast as he could while someone described the same thing. Hundreds of people all walking, all at the same time, all heading in the same direction. Morgan was on the phone with Chief Weaver when everything changed. I could hear both sides of the conversation because she had it on speaker protocol during multi agency responses.

We've got units converging on the area. Weaver said his voice sounded tired but controlled. Bravo and Bishop are coordinating with your paramedics. Copy that. Morgan said she had her headset pushed back, hair coming loose from her ponytail.

Fire. Captain Green is on route with additional medical personnel. I was still taking calls, but they'd slowed down. Maybe people were running out of things to report, or maybe whatever was happening had moved past the phone calling stage. That's when Mackenzie Bravo's voice cut through the radio chatter.

Dispatch, this is Officer Bravo. We have a situation developing. Morgan grabbed her headset. Go ahead, Officer Bravo. The affected individuals are exiting their residences, All of them.

They're walking. Walking where? Static crackled for a few seconds, then toward the river, the old industrial complex on Riverside Drive. Morgan's expression changed. Not gradually, Just like someone flipped a switch, the professional mask slipped, and something that looked like real fear took its place.

How many individuals? She asked. Unknown. Hundreds, possibly. They're coming from all directions but converging on the same location.

Chief Weaver's voice came through the speaker. Officer Bishop, what's your 20? Following the crowd, Chief, about two blocks out from the complex. Describe what you're seeing. Travis Bishop's voice was quieter when he answered.

They're not talking, not responding to verbal commands, just walking. Same pace, same direction. I pulled up a map on my computer. The Riverside Industrial Complex had been abandoned for maybe 15 years, used to manufacture something, car parts. I think the whole area was fenced off, but people cut through there sometimes.

Kids, mostly. Are they responsive to your presence? Morgan asked. Negative. We might as well be invisible.

That's when Captain Green's voice joined the channel. Dispatch fire. Captain Green, I'm observing the same phenomenon from the north side. Large group of individuals walking in single file toward the complex entrance. Morgan looked at me.

How many calls are we getting now? I checked my screen. None in the last four minutes. None. That's weird, right?

We were getting flooded and now nothing. She turned back to the radio. All units report status. Officer Bravo here, still following the crowd. They've reached the complex perimeter.

Bishop checking in. Same location. The fence has been opened. Somehow. Opened how?

Weaver asked. Cut through clean cuts, like with bolt cutters? But I didn't see anyone carrying tools. Morgan was writing notes, but her handwriting looked shaky. That bugged me a little.

Morgan never got shaky. Fire Captain Green, she said into her headset. What's your current position? 200 yards north of the main entrance, I count approximately 300 individuals entering the complex grounds. 300 Morgan's voice went up half an octave.

Affirmative. All walking at identical pace, no verbal communication observed. I figured this was probably some kind of mass hysteria thing. You hear about that sometimes, groups of people getting swept up in weird behavior, but 300 people all at the same time, Officer Bravo Morgan said. Are you able to approach any of the individuals I tried?

They don't acknowledge contact, physical or verbal, describe their condition. Pupils are dilated, fully black like we reported earlier. They're not blinking much, walking in straight lines. The phones had gone completely quiet. That never happened during a shift.

Even on the slowest nights, we'd get at least one drunk dial or noise complaint. Dispatch. Came Bishop's voice. We're at the complex entrance now. They're all going inside.

Inside the building. Affirmative. Single file through the main entrance. I checked the time. 3/14 in the morning, exactly 27 minutes since that first call from Andy Sanchez.

All units, maintain your positions, Morgan said. Do not enter the complex. Repeat, Do not follow them inside. Copy that dispatch. But something was off about Bishop's response.

His voice sounded different, flatter. Morgan tried raising them again 5 minutes later. Officer Bravo, please respond. Static. Officer Bishop, Radio, check more static fire.

Captain Green, do you copy? Nothing but crackling. Morgan looked at the radio like it had personally insulted her. She tried different channels, adjusted the squelch, even smacked it a couple times. That's when you know someone's really frustrated when they start hitting the equipment.

System malfunction? I asked. Can't be. We just ran diagnostics yesterday. I pulled up the call logs on my computer to double check the timeline.

The first call came in at 2:47, then a steady stream until three O 9. After that, nothing. But when I looked at the actual data, something was wrong. The time stamp gap wasn't just empty, it was like those 5 minutes didn't exist in the system. The log jumped from three O 9 straight to 3/14 with no record of the missing time.

Morgan, I said, you need to see this. She came over to look at my screen. Her coffee mug was still steaming, but she'd forgotten about it completely. That's not possible, she said, staring at the logs. That's what I thought, but look at the server timestamp.

It matches. We've been in dispatch long enough to know that computer glitches don't work that way. Systems crash. Sure, data gets corrupted sometimes, but they don't just skip time like someone edited out the boring parts of a movie. Morgan was reaching for her radio again when my monitor flickered, just for a second, long enough for the screen to go black and show my reflection.

Except it wasn't just my reflection. Behind me, in the dark surface of the monitor, I could see rows of people standing perfectly still. Their eyes were completely black, just like the officers had described. They were close enough that I should have been able to hear them breathing. I spun around in my chair so fast it squeaked.

The dispatch center was empty. Morgan was gone. Riley's chair was empty, even though I could have sworn she was there 30 seconds ago. Thomas's workstation looked like no one had been there all night. Not a soul around.

Just me, sitting in a room full of blinking lights and humming computers with the taste of stale coffee in my mouth and the sound of static coming from every radio in the place. I don't know what made me run to the window. Maybe it was the silence or the way my skin felt like someone was watching me even though I was alone in the building.

But I pushed back from my desk and went to the big window that looks out over the employee parking lot. That's when I saw them. Riley was walking toward her Honda Civic. Not walking like a person walks, though. Walking like she was on some kind of invisible track.

Her arms hung at her sides and her steps were perfectly even, like she was counting them out in her head. 1234, each foot hitting the pavement at exactly the same interval. Jayden was doing the same thing, heading for his Subaru. Same weird mechanical pace, same dead straight line from the door to his car.

Thomas was behind him, walking toward that beat up Ford pickup he'd been driving since college. And Morgan. Morgan was walking toward her department SUV with the exact same robotic manner. I figured they were just tired. We'd all been pulling crazy hours lately, and the night shift messes with your head after a while.

That's what I told myself, anyway. People get weird when they're exhausted. They move differently, act differently. But then I looked at Morgan's face. Her expression was completely blank.

Not tired blank, not stressed blank. Just nothing. Like someone had erased everything that made her Morgan and left behind a mannequin wearing her supervisor uniform. Her eyes were wide open, staring straight ahead. And they were wrong.

Not the warm brown I've been looking at for almost a year. They were black. Completely black. Like someone had filled them with ink. That's when I started pounding on the glass.

Morgan. I yelled, hitting the window with my fist hard enough that the whole frame shook. Hey, Morgan. She didn't even slow down, didn't turn her head or glance up or give any sign that she'd heard me screaming her name from 20 feet away. Just kept walking in that perfect straight line toward her vehicle.

I kept pounding and yelling anyway. Riley, Jayden, what the Hell's going on? Nothing. Not one of them looked up. Riley reached her car and opened the door in this smooth, deliberate motion.

No fumbling for keys, no pausing to check her phone or grab something from her purse. Just opened the door, got in, and closed it behind her. Jayden did the same thing. Then Thomas. Then Morgan.

The engine started at exactly the same time. 4 vehicles, four different makes and models, but they all turned over with this synchronized movement that made my stomach clench up like they were following some kind of script. I ran back to my desk and grabbed the radio. Morgan, this is Johnny, please respond. Static, any unit, this is dispatch, please respond.

More static. I tried her cell phone straight to voicemail. Tried Riley's, same thing. Jayden's phone didn't even ring, just dead air. Then that automated message about the number being temporarily unavailable.

When I looked back out the window, they were pulling out of the parking lot. Morgan's SUV led the way, followed by Riley's Honda, then Jayden's Subaru, then Thomas's pickup. They moved in perfect formation, like they were part of some kind of convoy. Their headlights cut through the darkness in parallel beams, and they all turned left onto Main Street at exactly the same moment, toward the river, same direction.

All those people in the emergency calls had been walking. That's when I grabbed my keys and ran. I don't remember much about getting to my car. I know I grabbed my jacket from the back of my chair and my wallet from my desk drawer, but it was all automatic muscle memory. My brain was stuck on Morgan's black eyes and the way they'd all moved like remote controlled toys.

My hands were shaking when I started the engine. I reversed out of my parking space too fast and had to slam on the brakes to avoid hitting the concrete barrier by the building entrance. The car rocked forward and I could hear loose change rattling around in the cup holder. I pulled out of the lot and turned left onto Main Street, following the route they'd taken.

My headlights swept across empty storefronts and dark windows. The street was completely deserted except for a few parked cars and a shopping cart. Someone had left by the bus stop. I pressed down on the gas pedal, trying to catch up with them. The speedometer climbed to 40, then 45.

Main St. has a speed limit of 35. But there wasn't any traffic to worry about. No cars, no pedestrians, no cops. Just me driving through what felt like a ghost town. That's when I reached the parking lot exit and every street light in the city went dark.

All of them at the exact same moment, like someone had thrown a giant switch and cut power to the entire grid. The traffic lights went out too. The intersection ahead of me just disappeared into blackness. Even the illuminated signs on the businesses went dark. The McDonald's, the Shell station, the 24 hour Walgreens that never closes, everything.

I hit the brakes and sat there for a second trying to process what I was seeing or not seeing. I guess the only light came from my headlights cutting through the darkness in this narrow cone that made everything beyond it look like a black wall. I thought maybe it was a power outage that happens sometimes, especially during storms or when the grid gets overloaded, But the timing felt wrong.

Too convenient, too perfectly synchronized with everything else that was going wrong tonight. I turned my headlights to high beam and started driving again, slower this time. The light reached maybe 50 feet ahead of me, enough to see the road and the curbs and the parked cars, but everything else was invisible. That's when I saw them.

People. Hundreds of them, maybe thousands. They lined both sides of the street like they were watching a parade, but they weren't moving or talking or making any sound at all, Just standing there in perfect rows, facing the road, facing me. My headlights swept across their faces as I drove past, and every single one of them had those same black eyes.

Men, women, kids, elderly, people, all different heights and builds and ages, but they all had the same blank expression and the same ink black eyes that reflected my headlights like animal eyes in the dark. They weren't blocking the road, they were just standing on the sidewalks and in front of the buildings, perfectly still and perfectly silent, waiting, like they were expecting something to happen and they all knew exactly what it was going to be.

I kept driving and they kept watching, row after row of motionless figures, all facing the same direction, all staring at me as I passed. That's when I made the mistake of checking my rear view mirror. More figures were coming out of the buildings behind me, not walking out like normal people would, just appearing in doorways and then stepping into the street.

They moved with that same carefulness I'd seen from the crowd in front of me, forming rows that stretched back as far as I could see. The street lights caught their faces as they turned toward my car. That's when I started recognizing people. Tom Wong from the convenience store stood in the 2nd row, still wearing his blue polo with the name tag.

I'd bought coffee from him maybe three times a week for the past year. Nice kid, always asked about my shift work. Now he just stood there with that same blank expression as everyone else, staring straight at me. My neighbor Callie Bishop was in the third row. She lived 2 doors down from my apartment and always said hello when we passed in the hallway.

She had this habit of watering her plants on her balcony every morning around 9, right when I'd get home from work. I could see her brown hair under the streetlight, but her face was completely empty, like someone had erased everything that made her Cali. Matt Green, the postal worker, stood next to some guy I didn't recognize.

Matt delivered to our building every Tuesday and Thursday. Solid guy, never missed a day, even when it was pouring rain. He'd wave when he saw me heading to my car for work. Now he was just another statue in a blue uniform, watching my Honda Civic like it was the most significant thing in the world.

I kept scanning the crowd, and it got worse. Way worse. Becky Daniels from First National Bank was standing right next to Lincoln Morales, who worked at checkout at the grocery store on 5th St. I'd probably talk to both of them within the past week. Becky always remembered my name when I came in to deposit my paychecks, and Lincoln was one of those cashiers who actually seemed happy to be there.

He'd make jokes about my late night shopping trips since I usually hit the store around 10:00 PM when my schedule was weird. Now they stood shoulder to shoulder like they've been assigned spots in some kind of formation. Their faces had that same patient emptiness as everyone else. Catherine McCarthy was there too. She taught at the elementary school a few blocks from the dispatch center, and I'd see her sometimes at the coffee shop on Maple Street.

She always had this stack of papers she'd be grading while she drank her latte. Smart woman, the kind who'd remember your name after meeting you once. She was positioned right next to Andy Sanchez, who ran the auto shop where I got my oil changed. Andy had fixed my transmission last spring and only charged me half what the dealership wanted.

Both of them stared at me with identical expressions, nothing behind their eyes at all. That's when I spotted Missus Addie Moss. She was maybe 72 years old and lived on the first floor of my apartment building. Sweet lady who always asked about my job and told me to be careful driving home from my night shifts.

She'd bring cookies to the building manager, sometimes the kind that actually tasted homemade. Seeing her standing in that crowd, her white hair neat like she'd just fixed it, but her face completely vacant, that hit me harder than the rest. Because if they'd gotten Missus Moss, they'd gotten everyone. I sat there with my hands gripping the steering wheel, looking at maybe 100 people I recognized.

My mailman, my bank teller, my grocery store cashier, my neighbor, the old lady who worried about me driving tired. All of them transformed into these silent watchers, all of them staring directly at my car. The thing that really messed with my head was how they were looking at me. Not angry or threatening or even particularly interested.

Just patient. Like they had all the time in the world and they knew exactly what was going to happen next. Like they were waiting for me to figure something out. That's when it hit me. The full weight of what I was seeing.

I was looking at my entire world. Everyone I talked to in the past year, everyone who knew my face, everyone who made-up the background of my normal life. The guy who sold me gas, the woman who made my sandwich at the deli, the kid who bagged my groceries. All of them standing in perfect rows, All of them focused on me.

I was the only one left, Not just the only one unaffected, the only one they were interested in. Whatever had taken Morgan and Riley and Jayden, whatever had transformed hundreds of people into these blank faced watchers, it had left me for last, on purpose. I could feel that certainty settling in my chest like a weight.

This wasn't random. This wasn't some kind of outbreak that I'd managed to avoid by being in the right place at the right time. This was planned, organized. And I was the final piece they needed to complete whatever they were doing. The crowd didn't move, didn't blink, didn't shift or fidget or do any of the small human things that people do when they're standing around.

They just maintained their vigil. Watching my car with infinite patience, I realized I was holding my breath. Had been for maybe 30 seconds. I let it out slowly and tried to think through what was happening, but my brain felt like it was moving through mud. Too many faces I recognized too many people who used to be normal and weren't anymore.

The headlights from my car were illuminating maybe the 1st 5 rows of the crowd in front of me. Everyone else faded into shadows, but I could see the shapes stretching back into the darkness. Hundreds of them, maybe thousands, all standing in those perfect formations, all facing my direction. I reached for the headlight switch and turn them off.

The darkness was complete. Not even the street lights seem to be working anymore. Or maybe the crowd was just so thick that they blocked out most of the light. I sat there in my Honda Civic, afraid to move or breathe too loud, while thousands of transformed neighbors maintain their silent watch around my trapped vehicle.

I couldn't see them anymore, but I knew they were there waiting.