They could hear the screams through their back door, but it really didn’t matter because the same screams could be heard through their television screen. The reporter, her own image disheveled with smeared makeup and a black eye, stood fearfully in the center of the screen, shaking and screaming while bruised and bloodied faces wandered around helplessly in the background. The petite family of five sat in their seats, chewing on buttered popcorn, and stared at the screen, not even daring to blink.

The reporter was frantically trying to deliver the news while at the same time, wiping her lips in a dim effort to remove her smudged makeup. “It seems that these…these demons have started to make their way across the border and are starting to swarm into Southern California…a blockade has been set up around all of the major cities to try to prevent further invasion of these strange attackers…the military has been putting all of their effort into fending them off but they just don’t seem to die…”

“Mommy, what’s going on?” The youngest, a tiny girl of seven, looked up at her mother, her wide eyes exhibiting more curiosity than fear.

“It’s the Apocalypse, honey,” the mother answered casually, tying her smooth blonde hair back behind her head.

“What’s that?” asked the middle child, a nine year old boy.

“It’s the end of the world, dumbass,” spoke the teenager, rolling his eyes.

“Quiet! Just watch the damn TV.”

“Daddy, why is the world ending?”

“I don’t know.”

“Shut up already!”

“I hope that news reporter gets her head bitten off by a demonic raptor,” the teenager muttered under his breath.

It had started barely a week ago; odd, inhuman monsters began to make appearances throughout various, small towns in Italy. Their deadly attacks rarely left survivors in the villages that they inhabited and while many efforts had been made to extinguish the strange brutes, none were successful. A few days later, the demonic attacks had become an international crisis and it seemed that the attackers had multiplied in number. Half of the world’s population had been depleted; meanwhile, it appeared that the monsters could not be killed or harmed in any way.

While the strange monsters were massacring any human being in other parts of the world, the western hemisphere had yet to be touched. Many hoped that the monsters would be unable to make their way across the ocean to find the remaining continents, but their hopes were proven unsuccessful as armies of flying demons made their way across the Atlantic and began destroying major cities along the east coast. Nevertheless, entire families had already died from the attack without brute force; many people were starving to death in front of their television screens, watching the genocide take place in other parts of the world without bothering to leave their seats.

“Hey, isn’t that our neighborhood?” piped up the young girl as the reporter led the camera around a corner and onto a residential street.

“Yes, now be quiet,” urged the father, who leaned over in his seat.

“Are they coming to our house?” the little boy wondered aloud. “Are we going to die?”

“Just watch the damn TV!” the mother shrieked, angrily tossing the popcorn bowl to the floor. “We’ll never know what to do to save ourselves if we don’t keep watching the news!”

The reporter was walking backwards along the suburban street, screaming illegible jibberish into the microphone with loud shrieks of fear and bewilderment. At that moment, a large figure that looked somewhat liked a cross between a bear and a dinosaur crossed onto the screen, thrashing its claws at the doomed reporter and throwing her off of the screen. The camera man took the opportunity to turn around and run further down the street, camera still in hand, thus giving the viewers a first hand view of the strange attacks.

“Yeah! That bitch had it coming to her,” said the teen, referring to the dead reporter.

“What a way to die,” the father commented.

“Daddy, did that happen just down the street from our house just now?”

“Yes, honey, just don’t worry about it.”

The running camera man appeared to stop in his tracks, surveying the scene around him. The television screen illuminated a large, white house, complete with an elderly couple running from the front door, screaming.

“Hey, look, it’s the Hendersons’!” said the little girl, wide-eyed with excitement. “They’re on TV!”

Suddenly, a large explosion could be heard, not only through the television screen, but outside on their own front porch. The screen exhibited the beautiful, white house collapsing on top of the poor, elderly couple and the camera man. Outside, the very same white house abruptly fell and though the screen didn’t show it, a large reptilian creature emerged from the center of the house, the roof bursting off as the monster burst through the plaster. Bits of the house scattered everywhere and the father turned to look out the window, a disgusted expression on his face.

“Goddammit, those damn Hendersons’ got pieces of their house on our property! I just mowed the lawn last week too!”

“I always liked them too,” the mother said nonchalantly, crossing her arms in front of their chest. “Pity they had to die that way.”

“Too bad we didn’t get to see any blood,” murmured the teen.

“Mommy, what are we going to do if that monster comes by our house?” the little boy asked, tugging on his mother’s sleeve.

“It won’t, darling.”

“But it was just down the street! The Hendersons’ got their house on our garden!”

“I know, honey. The news will tell us some sort of evacuation plan, I’m sure. We shouldn’t leave until they tell us what to do.”

“And if they don’t?” the teen asked in a heavy drawl.

“They will, they have to,” the father qualified. “They always tell us what to do. Why should this be any different?”

Suddenly, a blast was heard from the kitchen, followed by a loud roar.

“I think they’re coming,” the mother said, casually looking over her shoulder.

“What do we do?”

“Just wait,” the father said, his eyes returned to the blank screen. “Just wait and we’ll know. Just wait and they’ll tell us.”

The creatures were coming closer; they could hear glass breaking and explosions, screams of fear and pain coming from themselves, from each other. There were minutes of screaming confusion, of an immobile family stationed in front of their television, staring with empty eye sockets with their last, questionable facial expression plastered upon their pale faces.

And then, it stopped; the creatures left the home, moving onto their next quarry. There was one last movement in the lifeless living room as the father pulled up his broken, left arm, in an attempt to grab the remote control.

In his last breath, he whispered, “Just wait…they…will tell us…what…to do.”