[ WP ] A 18 years old guy wakes up on a hot summer sunday at 11 AM . His parents are out of town , he was drinking and partying all night long . He heads out to the grocery store to buy some food . There are unconcious bodies all over the streets , in huge piles . He panics . Runs back to his home .

Rising from his dream, Levi allows the tattered remnants of images and thoughts to sink back into nothing. 
 
 They ’ ve never made much sense to him, anyways. 
 
 He groans, pulling the sheet over his eyes, and the red behind his eyelids fades to a dull orange. Sunlight. 
 
 What time is it? 
 
 Rolling out of bed in an unceremonious heap, he glares at the clock. The red bars say 11 AM. 
 
 A distant throbbing radiates from the front of his skull, edging his mind with fuzz. He gropes for the glass of water on his nightstand, remembering something about hangovers and dehydration, how alcohol stimulates water loss, blah freaking blah. He just wants the headache to go away. 
 
 What happened last night? 
 
 Once he manages to drag himself to the kitchen, Levi finds a disappointing lack of breakfast. Mom and Dad are still off in England, visiting some relatives he ’ s never heard of. Something about a sick great-grand-uncle. Of course, Levi had wanted to go, but nooooooooo, he might miss something important in school, and besides he doesn ’ t have a passport, and since when has he wanted to visit England, anyways? 
 Levi knows they just want to get away from him for a week, but he understands. He sometimes wants to get away from himself, too. 
 
 From the cupboard, he pulls a box of colored sugar rings and tosses it onto the table. A few pieces roll out and fall to the floor. 
 
 Levi shrugs. The dog will clean it up sooner or later. 
 
 He cracks open the fridge, and lets out a disappointed sigh. No milk. 
 
 A prolonged whine rises from his stomach. Now isn ’ t the best time to drive, but he needs food. Then again, he could walk. The grocery store is only three blocks away. 
 
 As he shoves some of the food money in his pocket, he realizes that the dog hasn ’ t touched the cereal. Strange. She usually eats everything before it hits the floor. 
 
 “ Mazy? ” he calls, perking his ears for a response. There is none. 
 
 Levi shakes his head, frowning. Something is off, but he can ’ t tell what. Probably the hangover. 
 
 Outside, the sun shines bright in a cloudless sky. There is no wind. Across the vacant lot on the other side of the street, the horizon is the same color as the sky overhead. 
 
 Levi sucks a sharp breath through gritted teeth. Science has never been his strong suit, but he knows this is wrong. It ’ s not the hangover. 
 
 Stumbling across the lawn and into the street, the absolute silence bears down on him with sudden and overwhelming intensity. No cars, no television, no talking, no cooking, no walking, no breathing. Nothing. 
 
 He finds the first pile in his neighbor ’ s side yard. 
 
 The guy was always a neat-freak and obsessive about privacy, which makes Levi suspicious when he finds the gate open. The hedges are all trimmed to perfection, like the lawn. Azaleas line the freshly washed fence, and a birch tree stands motionless in the deathly still morning. 
 
 In the center of the uniformly green rectangle, twenty people lie on top of each other, apparently stacked with no design in mind, although the pile is no more than two people deep. A mound of rag dolls. 
 
 Levi recognizes two faces: the neat-freak, and his wife. Both ugly. Like the horizon, their skin is the wrong color. Too gray. Dead? 
 
 Hesitantly, he leans down and places two fingers against the neat-freak ’ s neck. One Mississippi. Two Mississippi. Three Mississippi. Four Mississ- 
 
 A weak pulse. Almost too weak to notice. 
 
 Levi withdraws his hand, resisting the urge to wipe it off on the grass. Not dead. But not okay, either. 
 He blinks. A prickling wave of needles washes across his neck and shoulders as reality sets in. Is everyone like this? No, someone had to stack them. 
 
 The thought of someone running around, stacking unconscious and possibly dying people into piles sends his heart racing. What if he isn ’ t alone? 
 
 He bolts from the yard, ears rushing with every heartbeat. They aren ’ t dead, but he suspects that they aren ’ t quite alive, either. 
 
 The next pile lies one block over, about thirty people in all, baking in direct sunlight. These people, unlike the others, are stacked in neat rows about five bodies deep. Old, young, middle-aged, male, female, all ethnicities. Whatever happened, it didn ’ t seem to discriminate. 
 
 Except that it skipped him. 
 
 Levi backs away, bile rising in his throat. He needs to get home. 
 
 His feet start moving on their own, carrying him across lawns and streets and through the utter silence, until he finally reached his front door. Tears stream down his face as he wrestles with the doorknob. When did he start crying? 
 
 He flings the door open, but closes it as gently as he can, and locks it with equal care. The silence demands compliance. 
 
 When he swipes his cell phone off of the countertop, he almost collapses with relief. He still has service. 
 
 9-1-1. 
 
 He waits. He listens. No one picks up. 
 
 He dials again. 
 
 9-1-1. 
 
 This time, a pleasant voice asks, “ Hello, 9-1-1. What is your emergency? ” 
 
 Levi leans against the counter, unsure how to continue. How should he describe the bodies? The piles? 
 
 He squeezes his eyes shut, wracking his brain for the proper words. “ There ’ s, uh, there ’ s something wrong with my- with my neighbors. ” 
 
 “ Yes? ” 
 
 “ They ’ re non-responsive, and their skin is going gray and they ’ re outside together and I don ’ t- ” 
 
 “ Sir, please calm down. ” 
 
 “ Lady, you didn ’ t see them! Don ’ t tell me to calm down! ” 
 
 “ Sir, please- ” 
 
 “ No! ” Her incessantly tranquil voice is starting to irritate him. “ Until you see what ’ s out here, you have no idea- ” 
 
 “ Levi, please calm down. ” 
 
 He blinks. She hadn ’ t asked for his name, and he hadn ’ t given it. 
 
 “ Levi, ” she continues. “ Please turn around. ” 
 
 “ Why? ” he asks, his voice on the verge of shattering. 
 
 Despite the silence on the other end, he obeys. Turning on his heel, he looks behind him, and the phone slips from his hand. The lump of black plastic clatters against white tiles, and a few broken bits scatter across the floor. 
 
 The too-pretty face leans closer, black eyes like open pits. “ You woke up. We didn ’ t expect that. ” Her eyebrows draw together, a simultaneously familiar and foreign gesture. “ A shame, really. I had high hopes for you. ” 
 
 Before Levi can ask who ‘ we ’ are, the too-pretty girl places a too-perfect hand against his forehead. Despite the fear screaming through every nerve in his body, he doesn ’ t move. A brief frown darkens her features, though it ’ s quickly replaced by a bright smile. “ Dream well, Two. ” 
 
 A black haze fills his mind, clouding everything out. He pitches forward into nothing.
