Living Dead- Phone Alarm

  At first, she thought the burbling bass note was the sound of a fourth besieger, until she recognized it as Daddy’s eight o’clock alarm, his reminder to take a baby aspirin for pulmonary health. It was a phone alarm. Daddy’s phone was inside the trailer. And Greer knew his passcode. She’d find it, call the cops.
...

But she couldn’t call the cops on Daddy without looking at him one more time, hoping that his eyes and mind had cleared. His face remained visible at the door’s window. He had quit moving, did not blink or twitch or breathe. Greer prayed for this to be a positive development. She took a single step closer. His eyes, beneath white mucus, moved as she approached, but he wasn’t staring at her. He was staring at his phone.

  Freddy Morgan, who had yet to recognize his own daughter, seemed to recognize his phone’s alarm. That upset Greer in a primal way, as if she had been erased. At the same time, she understood. Anytime she heard a digital bleep similar to her wake-up alarm or incoming texts, she acted the same way, just like she’d been trained.
...

He still seemed focused on the phone and its mambo beat. Maybe the alarm was preventing a more meaningful exchange. Greer thumbed the phone to life and swiped, killing the tone, then looked at Daddy for any changes in expression.

  There were many, all awful. Only when squinting down the barrel of his hunting rifle had one of his eyebrows peaked so sharply, and now both did, daggering like dragon wings, while his hairline drew downward. His nostrils flared so widely Greer thought they might tear. His mouth was the worst of all, The lower jaw had practically detached, as if straining to swallow the whole door, the whole trailer, the whole world.

- The Living Dead, chapter: No Longer in Service