Apartment 905 by Sahin, Ned (readnow .TXT) 📕

It scares me to think thousands of people who used this drug can turn into a monster like him. I just hope he was a rare case or a straightforward psychopath.

Right before leaving the tree line to cross the road, I hear a vehicle approaching. I get down and look at the direction of the engine sound.

It’s a red SUV. I recognize it right away. The family I had a pleasure of meeting at the gas station.

Only the father is in the car, though. Passenger seat and back seats look empty. The wife and daughter are probably at their bug-out location. He must be doing a supply run.

I wait for him to pass by and disappear at the next turn behind the trees.

I climb over the rocks to get to my safe hilltop and check the bushes I buried my stash under. It’s still here. The bag of the dried peach is also where I left it.

This hilltop already feels like home, but I know that I should move. I don’t think I can spend another night here knowing that the creature’s body is nearby.

I wonder where I should go next. I wish I had a physical map. My phone’s battery died long ago. Without a map, I can still find my way back to Old Fort but there might be Saviors lingering there.

There is nothing else human-made in the sight. Just an endless looking forest. I don’t think I can find my way to California without getting lost numerous times.

There is one option left.

I will follow the red SUV. There is something about that family that makes me think they are reliable. I can trade some of the treasures in unit 218 with a gun, map, light, battery, water purification filter, and anything else I may need on my trip to California.

I fill my bag with as much food and water it can take and go down the hill over the rocks.

I am back on the road. I look back to my vista point one more time to memorize the location.

I hope this won’t be a long walk and the family is as welcoming as I expect.

Chapter 7

I have been walking for three hours when I see a “DEAD END” sign.

The family in the red SUV is nowhere to be seen. I wonder if my brain is playing a game with me after a high-level of adrenaline my body never experienced before.

I look around one more time. It doesn’t make sense to build miles of the road from Old Fort to here for nothing. The family’s cabin, bunker, mansion—or whatever kind of shelter it is—should be somewhere here.

After all, a big vehicle like that SUV can’t just disappear, especially if it’s red. There is a reason why red cars are the second most pulled over for speeding by police. It’s easy to notice them.

I could really use a 911 call to get help right now. I miss those days when we were able to call the police for help.

Without a better idea, I decide to continue walking in the same direction. I leave the road and enter the jungle.

Minutes after, I spot an abandoned-looking cabin. I scan the area for any sign of human beings or the kind of creature I killed today.

There is nothing. I hear only the birds chirping and the wind is blowing in a calming harmony.

Branches snap and leaves crunch under my sneakers as I get closer to the front door. A sign above reads, “National Park Ranger.”

The spooky appearance of the cabin may not be misleading. It could actually be abandoned. They might have decided to move the ranger’s office in another location even before the outbreak.

Although every cell in my brain tells me to go back, I can’t resist my curiosity. I approach the door and knock.

“Hello! Is anyone here?” I say.

I always wondered why people yell like this and announce their location in thriller movies. I understand it now. I did it because I don’t want to keep my blood pressure elevated. I want this intense moment to be over as soon as possible. If there is someone kind inside, they will open the door and we will be friends. If there is someone not-so-kind here, they will open the door too, and we probably won’t get along well. Either way, the high tension will be over.

The door slightly pushes back after I knock again. Realizing the door is loosely closed, it opens as soon as I push it.

I pull the spray out of my belt and place my finger on the trigger. I am ready for a challenge.

I see a dark hallway with broken and dusted furniture around. I wonder why everything has to be this cinematic.

My brain cells send another signal to go back, like the last warning to myself.

I glance back. A green jungle with everything the beautiful nature offers. The road lays under the bright sun. It’s the route that goes back to civilization or to whatever is left of it.

In one of the post-apocalyptic TV shows I watched before, a couple buried their bunker underneath an abandoned cabin with all windows and doors wide open. Hiding in plain sight strategy worked for them. This family might be following the same tactic. The basement stairs might be going down to their bunker door. It might also be going down to a dungeon full of ghosts and beasts as well.

No matter what there is, I must find out. I am too desperate for the supplies that the family can help provide for my California trip.

I enter the place and take a few steps. There is an open door on the left for the living room and another open door on the right for the kitchen. They both look very small. I lean my head forward to check each room, but nothing captures my attention.

Through the hallway is a half-open bathroom door. I don’t bother checking