He pulled out his cell phone and dialed 911. There was no answer. He dragged the body, weighing eight pounds lighter, behind a bush and put his jacket over it. Brewster was still quite disoriented. He had no recollection of how he came to be at the park. He didn't know what happened to the homeless guy. As a matter of fact, the last thing he remembered was putting his son to bed and lying down in his own bed. Then something clicked into place inside him. He had left little Oliver at home all alone.
Brewster began to make his way out of the park. As he made it to the street, he noticed smoke coming from a house down the road. There were several cars on the road at odd angles. Some had shattered windshields. Some had blood all over them. Off in the distance, he heard a dog bark. He also noticed several dead bodies lying on sidewalks and in the street. There was a growing sense of dread in the pit of his stomach. He needed to get back home to his baby.
He broke into a sprint and was about half-way there when he was attacked. A crazed man ran from between two houses and tackled Brewster painfully on the asphalt. It was the father of a classmate of Oliver's. Brewster punched him in the side repeatedly until his grip loosened, then he grabbed his pants and offset his balance, causing him to fall face down. When the man made to get up, Brewster kicked him in the side and the man stayed down. Now the coast was clear. Brewster ran into his front door and into his son's room. The bloody mattress told him all he needed to know, except where his son's body was.