He moved slowly forward, wanting to avoid making any noise. A floorboard creaked here and there, making his heart pound a little harder.
Halfway to 3R, he heard a soft click from behind. Turning around, he was shocked to see 3F’s door open. A large man with a shaved head and tattoos covering his arms, wearing jeans and a wife-beater, was pointing a double-barrel sawed-off shotgun at him. The man put a finger to his lips, then motioned for Jack to come to him.
Dumbfounded, Jack was unable to move. He could go for one of his guns, but with one pull of the sawed-off shotgun’s trigger, and he’d be plastered all over the walls.
“Listen,” he whispered, but the man shook his head, eyeing Jack angrily. The guy put a finger to his lips again, his eyebrows coming together, then motioned again for Jack to come forward.
Jack walked slowly, just as he had been doing. Within a few feet of the door, the big guy backed into the apartment, keeping the gun aimed at him. He couldn’t go inside. His friends were depending on him. At any moment, the undead could come upstairs and their plans would be ruined. But with the gun on him there was nothing he could do but obey.
Jack stepped into the apartment and was motioned to halt.
Stepping forward, the man placed the sawed-off’s twin barrels under Jack’s chin, the cool steel sending a chill down his spine. Jack felt a tug at his waist, then under his right arm, as the guy removed his guns.
Baldy tucked the 9mm into the back of his pants and the. 45 in the front. Jack was then ushered forcefully passed the man, farther into the apartment.
Jack stopped as he heard the door close. Not hesitating, he turned around and saw his kidnapper’s back was to him. Bending down, Jack pulled the knife from his boot and jumped onto the man’s back, slipping the weapon’s blade under the man’s throat. The big guy slammed Jack into the wall, knocking the air from his lungs, but Jack held on, pressing the blade harder against the man’s neck.
“Another move and I’ll end you,” he said, through clenched teeth.
The guy stopped struggling and stood still.
“Baby?” came a woman’s voice.
Whispering, Jack told the man to place the sawed-off on the ground. Holding the knife firmly against Baldy’s throat, Jack lowered his feet to the floor as the man bent down and released the weapon.
“Baby?” the woman said again, before coming around the corner. She wore a half-shirt with jeans. Her red hair was curly and came to her shoulders. Her brown skin looked as smooth as silk. Some kind of tattoo that Jack couldn’t make out wrapped itself around her pierced belly button. Bright red lipstick made her lips glow. Jack thought she was pretty, but slightly emaciated, as if she hadn’t eaten properly in a while.
“What the fuck?” she asked, putting a hand over her chest. Her eyes were wide with fright. She turned to run, but Jack called out, telling her to freeze or her man’s throat would be slashed.
The woman stopped.
“Please, baby,” the big guy said.
“Everyone shut the hell up,” Jack whispered harshly. “We don’t need the undead coming up here.”
“Place’s soundproof,” the man said. “That’s why you and your crew never heard us up here.”
Jack reached down with his free hand, keeping the knife’s blade firmly against the man’s neck, and took back his 9mm. He pressed the barrel to the back of the man’s head and sheathed his knife, then reached around and grabbed his. 45. Shoving the man forward, he told the two lovebirds to walk.
They went into the living room and Jack felt as if he’d entered another world. Compared to the other apartments, this one was a luxury suite. A plush wrap-around leather sofa took up half the room. A beautiful glass coffee table rested in front of it, an ivory looking statue of two dragons sat at its center. A large fifty-inch television set hung on the wall above a faux fireplace. The wood floors were immaculate, as if they’d just been polished. The end tables had lamps appearing to be made of marble. A thick, heavily lacquered mahogany desk lined with intricate designs and legs carved into lion’s paws sat in the corner.
“Take a seat,” Jack told them, not showing his amazement.
“Why you letting this asshole tell you what to do?” the woman asked, facing the man.
“Because I’m the one with the guns,” Jack answered.
“Never stopped him before. He’s been in a lot worse situations than this. Haven’t you baby?”
Jack didn’t have time for this. He just wanted to get him and his friends to safety and lay low until the undead cleared out. Looking around, he saw that the windows were covered with mini roll-down gates, similar to the ones businesses used. And the walls looked strange. At first he thought they were painted black, but looking closer he saw they were covered in something. Keeping the gun trained on the two on the sofa, he walked to a wall and felt it.
“Soundproofing,” the big guy said.
The walls were covered with a thick, soft, rubber-like material. The place was perfect for holing up in, the only problem being if the undead didn’t leave, they’d be trapped with no fire escape with which to flee by.
Jack produced a few zip-ties from his pocket and tossed them to the woman. “Tie up Baldy here; hands behind his back. Ankles too.”
“Fuck this,” the big man said, getting to his feet.
Jack stiffened his arm, aiming the gun at the man’s head. “Sit down.”
“Shit, baby,” the woman said, grabbing the man’s wrist. “Just sit down.”
“No. I don’t think this punk-ass-bitch has the balls. To shoot a fucking deadhead, sure. But he ain’t no killer.”
“Sit down,” Jack demanded.
“This is my home; my place of business, and nobody’s going to tell me what to do.” The man walked over to the desk. There was purpose in his stride. He knew what he was going for.
“Stop,” Jack warned. He didn’t want to shoot, let alone kill anyone, but he would if he had to.
Baldy reached under the desk.
“Stop, I’m warning you.”
“Baby, stop.”
Jack heard the sound of tape ripping. He fired a shot high, but the big guy kept on, not even flinching. The man grabbed something from underneath the tabletop. The room’s light glinted off it as Jack saw the gun. The guy turned, raising the weapon.
Jack fired. The man’s head snapped back, then came forward, revealing a small dark hole in his forehead. With a deadpan expression on his face, the man toppled forward, landing face down with a crash.
“Motherfucker!” the woman screamed, then reached under the sofa.
Shaken, Jack turned toward her. “Stop. Don’t move.”
The woman didn’t listen and came up holding a handgun. She fired, missing wide. Jack pulled the trigger on his Sig Sauer and sent a bullet, dead center, into the woman’s chest. She fell back into a seated position onto the couch, seeming to stare at the ceiling for a moment before her head fell lifelessly to the side.
Shaking his head, he said, “You stupid-” but cut his words short as he brought his hands to the sides of his head. Closing his eyes, he yelled at the top of his lungs. He grabbed the flat-screen and ripped it from the wall, sending it crashing to the floor. Breathing hard, he focused in on the dragon statue, picked it up and threw it across the room where it shattered into pieces.
He had been through so much in such a short amount of time. All he and his friends wanted was to leave the building. Why’d this asshole have to get involved? Angered beyond control, he kicked the dead man in the ribs a few times, hearing bone snap. Damn it. This wasn’t the time to lose it. What was he doing? Defiling a corpse? He needed to focus. Get to apartment 3R before the floor flooded with zombies.
“Shake it off, Jack,” he said aloud, his voice booming in the silent room.