Apartment 905

by Sahin, Ned

  “How many blocks do you think we should walk from here to their building?” I ask.

  “Probably about five or six blocks.” She looks up to the truck’s roof while reimagining the city streets in her mind. If it was six months ago, walking six blocks would be a piece of cake. It looks like a life-changing experience now.

  I take a deep breath and reevaluate the situation.

  “We can do it,” I say, still looking at the street ahead. “We can walk among the cars quietly without exposing ourselves.”

  Kathleen gives a little smile. I know that she likes this decision.

  “Thank you, Matt. I owe you one,” she says. It’s too early to say thanks. I just hope that it will be worth taking this risk.

  “Let’s try to get to the police cars to find a gun first,” I say, and she nods. We get off the truck and slowly go toward the barrier. We walk on each side of the cars lined up on the road.

  Without holding anything to fight with, we can only hope to not come across anybody or anything hostile. We keep checking on each other while walking down the ramp.

  I look inside the cars to make sure they are empty. One of them has a driver leaning on the steering wheel who must have died from the virus months ago. I pass another dead man as I continue to walk. It looks like he got shot from the head.

  A police officer is lying on the hood of a police car. I do a hand gesture to ask Kathleen to come to this side. She checks both sides before walking toward me.

  His handgun near the front right tire. I pick it up and check the magazine. Half-loaded. I give it to Kathleen, and I take his baton.

  Before crossing the intersection to walk toward the center of the downtown on the main street, we crouch and scan the area.

  “Nobody,” Kathleen whispers, and I nod.

  We stand up and walk across the intersection on the crosswalk. As we make it to the middle of the road, I hear some steps on the other side of the intersection.

  We both stop when we see them. Kathleen points her gun in their direction. There are four of them. They all have rifles pointed at us. Their backpacks are pretty big. They must have found supplies recently.

  After staring at each for five seconds that felt like an hour, the only woman in the group lowers her weapon. Kathleen does the same. They turn to the main street and continue walking cautiously. It looks like they have a business in downtown too, and we have common enemies. That makes us allies.

  We cross the intersection and pass the corner of the building. We check on the other side of the street while the group checks our side. Two of them raise their guns toward us again. I thought we were over trust issues.

  Shortly after, a man and woman turn the corner and appear right behind us. The man has a fearless look. He raises his at least 18 inches black machete as he stops after seeing us and the group. The woman’s eyes are red and watery as if she’s been crying for a long time. They must have been hiding near the bushes while waiting for an opportunity to get into the city.

  The man looks into my eyes before he turns to Kathleen. Then he shares a look with the group on the other side of the street. He lowers his machete and gets in front of us, and the woman follows him while holding hands. The group of four starts walking too.

  There are now eight of us walking toward the center city. I feel like we made a silent agreement on covering for each other. I don’t know what their stories are, but it looks like we have something in common, which is the survival instinct.

  I was first afraid of the automatic rifles the group members have, but I feel good about it now. They would come handy if a Rica or Rica-like animal attacks us.

  We walk through one block. There are no threats. There are just huge rats feeding on garbage bags and dead bodies. They don’t seem to be afraid of us, but they also don’t get in our way.

  Katleen looks up at the “7TH STREET” sign at the intersection.

  She lifts her hand and holds up four fingers. I think it means four blocks left. I hope the rest of the walk will be as easy as the first one.

  We glance at each other and with the group across the street one more time. Then they scan the area before passing their corner. The couple doesn’t wait for them. They take a few steps to the next crosswalk. That’s when a Rica on the crossing street sees us. He is on the side of the rifle group, but he can catch us in seconds if he wants to.

  He takes a deep breath and starts roaring looking up to the sky with his mouth wide open before running toward us. The birds on top of the surrounding buildings squawk and fly off. Their screams and the flapping of their wings echo on the main street.

  The group members see him, but they don’t do anything to stop him.

  “Get behind me,” the man yells to the woman. He raises his machete and waits for his hunt to get closer. As soon as the Rica is at arms-length, he gets ready to swing his machete, but we hear a shot first. The Rica’s head blows up from the back. One of the group members proved their marksman skills on a moving target.

  That’s a relief. They are good at using their weapons, and they cover our backs. The man raises his hand to thank them.

  We run through the crosswalk and get to the corner of the next block. After making sure there is nobody in all four directions, we slowly walk toward the middle of the block.

  All of us turn back when we hear a grunting Rica behind us. She must have been following her friend who had his head blown out.

  The group member who is closest to her aims his rifle. Before he pulls the trigger, another Rica shows up from the corner. Then three more Ricas come to the intersection roaring and grinding. Everybody in the rifle group starts shooting at them.

  “Let’s go,” I say to Kathleen. There is not much we can do with a baton and pistol. If that group can’t handle this situation, we can’t either.

  Kathleen and I run toward the corner to get to the next block. The couple follows us. Two Ricas turn the same corner and cut off our way. There are only a few yards between us. Kathleen pulls the trigger. Then she shoots again. Both bullets miss the Ricas. I grab Kathleen’s arm, and we run between cars to get to the other side of the street. The Ricas choose the couple as their target. The couple runs back to the block, but the other side is not in a good shape either. The group is dealing with at least twenty Ricas now. One of them already became lunch for several Ricas around him. The other three keep unloading their rifles on all creatures running toward them. It’s not looking good for humanity.

  We have a chance to make our way to the next block while the Ricas on both sides of the street are busy. My hope doesn’t last long. A Rica breaks through a window on the second floor of the office building in front of us. He lands a few feet away from me. I hit my baton on his head before he tries to stand up. I can hear his skull cracking. Toshi’s face appears in front of my eyes. A parade of our memories goes through in my mind while I keep hitting the Rica’s head.

  Another Rica jumps off from the same window as her colleague. Maybe we interrupted an office romance. Whatever was going on in that office building, their story will end right now. Before the creature gets on her feet, Kathleen puts a bullet in her brain.

  As I struggle controlling my anger while smashing the other Ricas’s head, Kathleen touches my shoulder to remind me that it’s time to move on.

  The couple was able to take down the Ricas that were coming after them. We all run to the next block before any more Ricas show up or rain down on us. One of the members in the rifle group tries to catch up with us. He is retreating. I can see one of his recently turned friends behind him. She is trying to get closer to bite him. Our fear became reality. Ricas can turn people here too. It wasn’t just Toshi.

  We run through another block, but Ricas are closing in. I pull Kathleen inside a restaurant with an open door. The couple follows us inside. The man closes the door. I help him to move a table to support the door. We go back behind the bar and crouch down. I hope none of the Ricas saw us entering
this place.

  We hear the last member of the group screaming before we watch him get torn apart by a dozen Ricas. Some Ricas don’t bother and keep running. They pass the restaurant. The Ricas who can’t find an opening spot around the hunt follow them.

  There is only a handful of Ricas left in front of the restaurant. Their hands are going deep in the poor man’s body. Blood and organ pieces are dripping from their mouth. I can see the lust in their eyes when they look at each other. They are celebrating their hunt.

  I sit on the floor next to Kathleen. I can’t watch those animals anymore. The couple in front of me are hugging each other with their eyes closed. The woman hiccups and wipes a tear from her cheek with her wedding ring finger.

  The man lifts his head toward us. “Are you going to the museum too?” he whispers.

  I glance at Kathleen. She stares expressionless at the man. She doesn’t seem to know what he is talking about —just like me.

  “I heard they made the vaccine,” he says.

  “Who are they?” I ask.

  “Paizen… The manufacturer of the Oxyrica. I saw one of their scientists on TV months ago. He said they were very close to making the vaccine. Someone in our camp told me that they finally made it…and now they are injecting it to everyone for free.” He talks like the value of money actually means something in this world. What would they do with the money if they were charging for the vaccine?

  The name Paizen evokes some nerves in my head. I try to refresh my memory about Salt Lake City. I had never been here until today, but I remember hearing about this city in the news. It was one of the cities that had the highest number of cases in the early weeks of the pandemic. It even became the epicenter of the first wave, but it flattened the curve quickly and then disappeared from the headlines.

  When I think about what I saw on the Oxyrica box Toshi had, I can finally put the pieces together: Manufactured in SLC.

  SLC. I first thought it’s an acronym for a country like PRC for the People's Republic of China. I now realize that it’s the acronym for Salt Lake City. This city is the epicenter of the virus that healed quickly, and nobody heard about it again. It’s because Oxyrica is manufactured here. That’s how they got access to an insane amount of pills in the early days of the outbreak. Hospitals were overflowing with patients before they started using Oxyrica. Then, everything went back to normal quickly.

  It was probably the city they used this unproven drug on the biggest percentage of people infected. They felt blessed for getting the drug for free. They didn’t know that they were used as the guinea pig of the country.

  This explains why the entire city is overthrown by Ricas now. It all started with Paizen and their drug Oxyrica.

  “You can’t be believing that they made the vaccine…” I say to the man. “You know that their drug Oxyrica created these Ricas, right?” We can hear them grunting outside of the restaurant.

  “Ricas?” he asks. I notice that the word Rica is invented by Saviors. The world is not yet aware of this name.

  “Those creatures outside…” I say.

  “Ah… We call them Runners,” he says. This name makes sense too.

  “Yes, I heard about how they turned to what they—” His sentence gets cut off by a Rica hitting the window as he tries to see through. He might have seen us getting inside.

  “We have to go!” I say. “And no, we are not going to the museum.”

  The man seems disappointed while I crawl to the back.

  I slowly open the sliding door of the kitchen. The four of us get inside and close the kitchen door. We walk over several dead cooks on the floor in their white aprons. It seems they chose a slow death from the virus instead of trying an experimental drug.

  We find the back door of the restaurant. I place my ear closer to the door to pick up any sounds of movement on the other side. There is total silence. I push the doorknob and check the alley before stepping out.

  We leave the place quietly and get to the corner of the building. On the right side of the street, I can see a Rica wandering around near the intersection. Other Ricas are probably somewhere near him if their celebration is over.

  He walks away toward the other side of the street. He turns back and walks toward us. Then he turns again and starts another cycle. He must have been a very disciplined and punctual guy when he was a human.

  “One person at a time… I will go first,” I whisper to the others. They nod their heads. Kathleen is ready to fire her gun.

  I lean forward to see where he is. He is coming toward us, but he is probably about to make a turn. I tilt my head back. After waiting for a second, I lean forward again. He made his turn. I run fast enough to make it across the street but slow enough to keep my steps quiet. I enter the alley on the other side.

  I look at the intersection to see the Rica. He turns back to our direction again. I hold my hand still to keep Kathleen in her position. The Rica has already made his turn. I wave my hand, and she runs to my side safely. I breathe a sigh of relief.

  The man holds his wife’s hand. It may make more noise if they both run at the same time, but it’s their choice. If things go unplanned, Kathleen and I can run down the alley as fast as we can.

  The man looks toward the intersection. The Rica is walking toward us, but he is about to make a turn. As soon as he does, the couple takes a step. The Rica stops and turns back to us. The couple moves back. I don’t look back to the intersection, but I can hear the Rica’s skeptic grunts. The grunting gets closer to us. I look at the couple, and they look back at us with fearful eyes.

  We can easily take one Rica down with the gun, but it would draw many more to us instantly. The couple hides behind a garbage container while Kathleen and I get behind an open back door.

  The Rica suddenly stops moving. We then hear footsteps moving away from us. Hopefully, he thinks the excitement he has had so far is enough for the day.

  The couple moves to the corner again. As the Rica walks away from us, they run to our side. They make it to the alley before the Rica makes a turn to our direction again.

  We walk another block through this alley and come to another crossing street.

  “It’s right there,” Kathleen whispers, showing a light gray building about ten stories high on the other side of the street. There is only a half block in between.

  We lean over the corner to scan both sides of the street. It looks empty. This time the couple goes first. Then Kathleen and I run across the street.

  We are finally on the backside of her grandparents’ building. There is no entrance from the alley, but there are fire escape stairs. I jump to catch the iron ladder, but I can’t reach it. The man merges his hand to elevate me up. I step on his hands with one foot and jump higher. I catch the ladder and pull it down with my weight. I help Kathleen climb up first.

  “Good luck,” the woman says after watching us.

  “You too…” Kathleen responds.

  The man gives me a fist bump and shows a friendly smile with his head slightly tilted down. They walk away through the alley while holding hands.

  I climb up the fire escape stairs following Kathleen. Somewhere in the middle of the building, she stops and points to a window with several plants hooked in front. She tries to open the window, but it’s locked from inside. She gently knocks it. Nobody shows up on the other side of the window. She uses her hand to create a shade to see inside. She looks down at me and shakes her hand.

  She glances over the alley. Then she takes her gun out from her back and holds it from the barrel. She looks down the alley one more time.

  She smashes the window with the back of the gun. We quickly crawl through the window before any Ricas wanders in the alley and discover us.

  As soon as we take a step in the apartment, a cat jumps up on Katleen.

  “Oh, hey, Rose! How have you been?” Kathleen says. I haven’t seen this smile on her face since the last time I saw her with her dog. S
he takes Rose in her arms and they give kisses to each other until we notice a sharp moldy smell in the apartment. I pick up a pillow from the bed to cover my nose on top of my mask. Kathleen uses the sleeve of her t-shirt to cover her face.

  I think we are in a modestly decorated guest room. There is a bed with a white frame and a brown drawer with a green desk lamp on it. The door is open.

  She walks to the hallway that goes to the living room and kitchen. “Grandma? It’s me.” No response. Apparently, her grandparents are not here. Maybe they went to the camp or museum the man was talking about.

  Kathleen turns back and passes me. She stops in front of the only closed door in the hallway. The cat gets grumpy and jumps off her arms growling. She runs back to the living room. She looks behind her before turning to me. I am confused as much as she is.

  She takes a deep breath. Then she pushes the doorknob and opens the door halfway. She freezes right away. Her eyes get bigger, and her arms drop on both sides. I grab her lower back before she loses her balance.

  Glancing inside, I see her grandmother and grandfather. They are hugging each other in the bed. Bugs are coming out of their rotting skins.

  Chapter 34

  The sunset behind the city skyline reminds me of the day I moved into my apartment in Charlotte. I had gone up to the rooftop to watch the growing city finish a busy workday. I am on the roof of a building again, but it’s in another city and a different world this time.

  Kathleen is sitting next to me on the outdoor couch. She is devastated. It wasn’t the way she imagined how she would reunite with her grandparents. After seeing their heartbreaking end, she didn’t want to stay another second in the apartment. We loaded two bags with food, water, and everything we could use for the road and climbed up to the roof.

  Rose jumps on my lap to have a closer look at me. She is trying to get to know her new friend. She is a beautiful and happy cat. Her brown and white fur shines under the golden lights of the setting sun.