by Angie Morel
No sound came from within.
Knock knock knock. “Mrs. Lansky?”
Preparing to knock again, I happened to glance down the hallway to my left. What I saw made every muscle and ligament freeze in position.
There were four or five bodies lying in heaps on the hallway floor. I stood there and looked at them stupidly, as if in a minute this would somehow make sense to my brain. I turned my head so I was facing Mrs. Lansky’s door again and blinked at the wreath a few times.
Jeez, maybe I was sicker than I thought. Squeezing my eyes shut, I sucked a breath in through my nose, bracing myself before cranking my head back down the hallway.
Yep, still bodies there.
That’s when I noticed that instead of the normal noises in and around the apartments; yelling kids, thumping tunes, loud arguments—as there is no such thing as quiet discussions over different opinions in the hood—there was a kid or two screaming, but it was muted, like they were far away. I realized my arm was still up and locked in mid-knock position. Fisting my hand, I banged it on the door.
“Mrs. Lansky!” I flat out yelled this time.
There was movement out of the corner of my eye and I whipped my head in that direction. It looked like someone poked their head out and then back into of one of the doorways.
Pivoting, I took a step down the hall.
Smack!
My body froze. It was hard to be in stealth mode wearing flip flops. Should I kick them off? Dropping my gaze to the dirty floor, my lip curled as I took in the discarded Band-Aid, cigarette butts, and the used condom that lay limp and sticky next to the wall. To be honest, I wasn’t sure what I was more afraid of—walking barefoot on the nasty hallway floor, or the possibility that whoever was hiding in the apartment down the hall would know exactly where I was by the sound of my shoes.
Screw it. There was no way I was touching my bare feet to this floor. Clenching my toes to the foam, I held them snug to my feet. The awkward position made me walk funny, but at least my steps were quiet now. There was a door open not quite half-way down on my left. One body was lumped in front of the door and the rest that littered the hall were beyond that, nearer to the stairwell. As I approached the open door, my gut was tight. Armed with only my fists, I crunched them up and got ready.
It was the apartment where twelve-year-old DeShawn Barnett lived, or “D” as he liked to be called. Whenever I saw him he had his ear buds snuggled in, singing and shaking along with whatever tune was playing. He could do that while carrying on a complete conversation with someone. He was a funny kid.
In addition to his mom, D’s aunt and two older sisters resided there as well. Even though I didn’t know them much beyond a passing greeting, Mary sure liked them. They were very large women, even D’s sisters, and they did everything big; laughing, talking, hugging. When Mary saw them, his mom in particular, she’d go near just to get pulled into a hug. D’s Mom would say “Come here little lamb!” and surround Mary like soft dough, swishing her side to side.
Edging around the body near the door, I was prepared to move fast as I peered inside the more traditionally laid-out apartment. “DeShawn?”
“Asha!”
He yelled my name right before flinging himself at me. He’d been waiting to the side of the door jamb. I stiffened as he hugged me tight. Not knowing what else to do, I brought a hand up and awkwardly patted him on the back. He held on an instant longer before reluctantly loosening his arms from my midsection.
“You have to help my mama and Aunt Peaches. They like, dropped to the floor for no reason and I think they’re dead!” One of his ear buds had popped out of his ear and dangled down in front, swinging like an out of control pendulum.
He grabbed my hand and tugged me into the kitchen where I was met with the familiar sight of a body on the floor—two, in this case. They’d been in the process of getting hamburgers ready because both had raw hamburger meat mashed in their hands and there were ten or so fat patties already made, stacked on a plate next to the big mound of meat they’d been grabbing from.
I squeezed my eyes shut one last time, hoping for this to be an amazingly realistic nightmare that morphed from my find the unknown thing in the cushions dream.
Wake up. Wake up.
My eyes opened.
No such luck. Sighing, I observed the bodies.
Dropping close to one another, D’s mom was on her side, one knee up and both hands about a foot from her chest, palms up—one filled with a glob of meat, like a miniature hamburger football. D’s aunt was on her side as well, facing her sister’s back, as if she was running after her. They filled the floor of the kitchen, these two big women, and after I checked for pulses—for D’s sake only—and then took big steps over them to exit the kitchen, I knew for a fact that I’d never be able to eat hamburger again. Or drink milk for that matter.
“D, two things. First, do you have a phone, and second, where are your sisters?”
Chapter 3
D’s mom had a phone, but when we called 911 it cycled into the “please hold” loop for a while before disconnecting. We tried four times, all with the same result. Apprehension was making my stomach churn. Something bad was going on, and it must be affecting a large part of the city. That’s the only logical explanation.
Since both of D’s sisters were at a friend’s house blocks away, I decided it would be best for him to come back to my apartment. We made our way to the door where I stopped and leaned out, scanning both directions for any type of change or danger. Detecting none, I stepped across the threshold and out into the hallway, followed by D.
“Watch your step,” I said as we came to the body directly outside the door.
Was it my imagination or did his arm just twitch? Putting my arm out to halt D, I stared hard at the prone figure, watching for any type of movement. I thought I recognized him but he was lying on his side with his head twisted towards the floor, so I wasn’t sure.
“Is that Ray?” Ray Freeman was a senior in high school—quite a feat for these parts—and lived in the apartment next to D.
“Yeah, that’s Ray. I saw him when I opened the door. But I didn’t, you know, check on him or anything.”
Dropping my arm, I squatted and was in the process of stretching a hand out to shake Ray’s shoulder when I heard a pounding coming from the stairwell; someone was coming down in a quick, jumping descent. D and I froze, staring like idiots at the stairwell opening as we waited for whoever was in there to come out.
Fifteen-year-old Rolando “Rolo” Valladolid rushed out and came right at us.
“Don’t touch him!” he yelled. “I think somethin’ is wrong with all of ‘em!” He ran towards us, darting around and over the bodies with ease. When he reached us he stopped and put his hands on his knees, breathing hard. “Manny woke up just now and he was pissed! Both him and Rabbit were passed out on the bedroom floor and now they’re up and smashin’ furniture and shit, tryin’ to come after me!” Rolo continued on breathlessly, “And more of ‘em are waking up, but not like they was, I mean, not like normal. It’s like they went batshit fuckin’ crazy!”
“What?!” D and I said in unison.
I wasn’t sure what I was more shocked at—what he’d just told us, or that I actually heard him speak. Not that he and I hung out by any means, but he was in the same gang as my brother so I’d certainly seen him around. I couldn’t recall hearing him talk, not even once. He was always watching though. Whenever I’d be walking through the commons, if my gaze happened to catch on him, he’d be looking at me. It was like he had some sort of sensor that let him know the second someone had eyes on him.
I tried to digest his words. What he said didn’t make any sense. Manny was Rolo’s older brother. Manny and Rabbit (named so because of his reproduction skills—four kids and counting so far) were also in the same gang as Harvey, and I was familiar enough with both to know that if they were causing trouble, it was best to stay out of the way.
But why were
they going after Rolo, who was one of their own?
Realizing I was still crouched, I stood and had just opened my mouth to speak when something scratched at and then grabbed my foot. I couldn’t help the squeak of surprise that escaped. Falling against the wall, I yanked my foot away and looked down. Ray was awake and had my flip flop crunched in his fist. When he turned his head, the look in his eyes made my blood run cold.
My head jerked towards the stairs. Rolo and D’s attention was focused there as well. Subtle noises were drifting to us from the opening.
“Move, MOVE!” Rolo shouted, pushing us down the hallway towards my apartment. My bare left foot and still flip-flopped right one made a thump-SMACK-thump-SMACK sound as I ran—some part of me aware enough to strategically place my bare foot in the right places.
Hesitating when we arrived at my doorway, I shot a quick glance down the hall towards Ray. My flip flop lay bent and forgotten on the floor beside him. His head was clutched in his hands and his mouth was stretched in a silent scream as the bodies behind him began rising. The last thing I saw before Rolo shoved me inside was Manny and Rabbit bumping into each other as they emerged from the stairwell.
What the hell was wrong with them?
Once inside, Rolo locked the door and said, “Don’t open this door for nothin’, got it? Not until we figure this…” his words trailed off as a crash sounded deeper in the apartment.
The blood drained from my face…I forgot about Harvey. And Mary. Kicking off my one remaining flip flop, I took off in a run.
“Mary!” I yelled, just as my sister screamed.
Mary had squished herself into the corner of the living room, staring bug-eyed at Harvey who was stumbling around like he was an enraged drunk. The table lamp lay in pieces on the floor and the end table was flipped over, scattering all the crap that had been stacked on top of it.
As I charged into the room, my right foot stepped on the neck end of a bourbon bottle that was on the floor. It served as a high speed trundle, launching my body sideways into the couch, where the frayed arm punched into my thigh painfully. Grunting, I bounced off and landed hard on my knees next to the couch, the threadbare carpet doing little to cushion the impact.
Harvey turned from where he’d corned Mary, looking at me with no recognition in his eyes. I stood, knees throbbing, as Rolo and D came into the room behind me. Harvey turned back towards Mary and took a step.
“Harvey!” I yelled, wanting his attention focused on me, not Mary.
He grabbed his head in the same fashion as Ray, and looked down for a second before twisting back towards me. He had an enraged expression on his face, but his eyes were as lifeless and flat as a black wall, which was scary as hell.
“Easy Harvey. Hey, you okay? What’s goin’ on?” I spoke quietly to my brother, hands up and palms out towards him in the standard I’m not making any moves against you position.
I motioned for Mary to come to me. Mary continued to stare at Harvey like she’d never seen him before. Of course she’d never seen him like this before. He may be a thug but he never treated us badly.
“Mary,” I said through my teeth. With effort Mary pulled her eyes from her brother and scrambled to my side. Relief washed over me.
“Take D and Rolo to our room, okay? And then stay put, I’ll be there in a minute.”
“What’s wrong with Harvey?” Mary whispered as she clung to me.
“I dunno Junebug, just go, please.” Peeling her away, I pushed her in the direction of the hall, eyes never leaving my brother. Top priority was for my sister to be in a different room and safe, and then I could focus.
Harvey’s feet finally moved as he made his way towards me, his pace slow and lumbering. Thankfully, Mary and D had left the room. Rolo had not. He hovered in the hallway. As I backed away, I stepped around a chair, putting it between me and my brother. Tossing a quick glance at Rolo, I shook my head. He stayed where he was, looking like he was getting ready to charge Harvey.
“Go,” I said firmly, “He’s my brother, I’ll deal with it.”
Rolo, to be sure, wasn’t the type that liked being told what to do. For a second I thought he was going to ignore my request, but then he backed away until the darkness of the hallway swallowed him up completely.
Harvey was almost to me. As I stepped out from behind the chair, he made a clumsy grab. I twisted to the side and hooked a foot around his ankles while giving his chest a shove with both hands. He went down like a tree falling in the forest, body stiff and arms sticking straight out, still reaching for me.
It was odd to watch him fall like that, and the thought went through my mind that a normal person would’ve wind-milled their arms, or at least made some sort of attempt to break their fall. But at least he fell, which was all I cared about as I darted to the coat closet on the opposite side of the room, the weapon inside my goal. Thrusting my hand into the closet, my fingers blindly searched for the baseball bat I knew my mother kept in there for security reasons.
Harvey got to his feet. He definitely wasn’t moving quickly, which was a good thing for me as I hadn’t yet made contact with the bat.
Oh for shit’s sake—where the hell was it? I had one under my bed as well, buddied up with a steak knife, but it wasn’t like I had time to go in there and get it. Keeping an eye on Harvey, my hand was touching on items such as boxes and shoes and clothing and papers, all of which had been jammed into the small closet.
Oh yeah, great idea. Fantastic security. If someone had broken in, what had my mom been planning on doing? Asking them to wait five fucking minutes before they attacked so she could dig around in the goddamn closet for—wait, there it was!
Yanking out the aluminum Easton bat, I held it in front of me, showing it to Harvey. He wasn’t fazed. In fact, it was like he didn’t even see it. Certainly a familiar item, as he was the one who’d brought the bats home for us—each no doubt fondled by numerous gang members. Raising my eyebrows, I waggled the bat for emphasis.
He kept coming.
“Harvey, stop.”
Cocking it back, I watched him approach. I’d use it. I would. And he’d know that if he was thinking clearly.
Five feet, four feet, three.
I swung and cracked him in the shoulder. He staggered sideways a couple of steps. The blow had to have stung a bit, but the pain didn’t even register as he tried hitting me and missed.
He left me no choice.
I kicked him hard in the balls, wincing as he dropped. Another lesson I’d learned—if you’re going to knee or kick a guy there, do it like you mean to knock his nuts up through his throat and out his head, otherwise don’t bother.
“Harvey, I’m sorry!” I started to reach down and then paused, not knowing if I should I help him or what. He was acting so strange. Another odd thing, he hadn’t made a sound when he went down. Not a groan or anything. The dilemma of what to do was solved when he knuckle punched me, a direct hit on my shin bone.
“What the F!” Although that had to have hurt his hand just as much as it hurt my leg. And speaking of hurt, how was he even functioning after my kick? He should be dry-heaving and clutching himself and wishing for death right now.
Limping back a couple of steps, I raised the bat again. He started crawling toward me, punching the air. I swung the bat at his head, checking it at the last second.
CLONK!
The impact twisted his upper body to the side. Waiting to see if it knocked him out, I backed away and watched. He kept moving. You have got to be kidding me, I thought in disbelief. His eyes looked in the general direction of my legs as he turned on the floor and reached for me again. Steeling myself, I did a full swing, my stomach instantly queasy as the bat made a sickening connection with my brother’s skull.
He didn’t move again. Needing to secure him in some way, I hustled to the kitchen and proceeded to dig through three junk drawers before finding the item required. As I returned to the living room with duct tape in hand, Rolo emerged from the hallway
, a pillowcase dangling from his fist. The pillow had been removed and a hard object had taken its place, nestled down at the end and ready to do some serious damage to whatever it whipped around and connected with. Kids in gangs were resourceful that way.
“He’s down,” I informed him. Wow. What a way of stating the obvious.
Returning to my brother’s side, I set the bat on the floor and dropped to my knees, immediately regretting the action as my bruised kneecaps complained from the recent smack down in the living room. Grimacing, I ignored the pain as I pulled a long length of tape from the roll and attempted to rip it with my fingers, and when that didn’t work, my teeth. Getting tape to tear that way always looked so easy when others did it. And then (after practically chewing on it to get it to separate it from the roll) the sticky side of the length came together like magnets, rendering it useless.
“Stupid tape,” I muttered.
I was about to try again when Rolo grabbed the roll, and keeping his eyes locked on me, pulled a long length of tape from it, tearing it off with his fingers. He made it look so easy. Sitting back on my heels, I gave him a bland look. He returned the look, probably thinking I was a dumbass. He then proceeded to secure Harvey’s wrists behind his back in a figure eight pattern.
“Feet?” he asked.
I nodded, not willing to take any chances.
After he circled Harvey’s ankles with silver a couple of times, he patted it to make sure it had good contact all the way around. Harvey was going to be pissed when it came time to rip the duct tape off. It had direct contact with the skin at his wrists and ankles, which meant as a special bonus, the hair on his arms and lower legs would get ripped out when the tape was removed.
As Harvey became aware again, his body began to slowly jerk and twitch. His eyes focused on me and a hate that felt palpable emanated from them. Observing his snarling expression, I cocked my head for a moment.
I didn’t allow myself to feel too bad as I held my index fingers up, about four inches apart. Rolo didn’t question my request, he simply tore off a short piece of tape and handed it over. Slapping it across Harvey’s mouth, I barely avoided his biting teeth. There. Just to be on the safe side.