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

happy to leave the Saviors nightmare behind even though we still keep our jackets with their badges on them just in case. These badges may help us get green lights from local mobs if they don’t want to mess with Saviors.

Kathleen is on the passenger seat with her feet on the dashboard. She even sang a couple of times. I think I finally found out why her dog used to bark a lot. She probably sang at home a lot too. I can’t complain, though. Without any radio channels or phones to play music, I would say her voice is soothing and entertaining.

She told us about her grandparents in Salt Lake City. It’s on our way to the West. I can see the excitement in her eyes for getting closer to the only relatives she has left after the first wave of the virus took her parents and sister from her.

She is concerned about not finding her grandparents at their apartment, but it doesn’t change her mood. With everyone enjoying the moment, it feels like a spontaneous road trip with friends on a beautiful summer day.

The sun is settling down. We don’t want to keep driving when it’s dark. This road trip is not for fun or adventure. It’s for surviving. We don’t want to be on the road with a noisy engine and strong headlights during the silence of the night.

I slow down and take an exit. Then I get off the road. I hit a wooden fence surrounding a wheat farm. I drive for about a quarter of a mile on the farm.

I don’t see any farmhouses or cabins around. Even if there is, I hope the owner of the farm has bigger concerns than somebody trespassing their land.

There are not many trees to get cover behind, but we manage to find some tall bushes on the border of two farms. I park the truck near them to have some kind of camouflage. I hope the truck is not visible from the highway.

“We should be safe here,” I say.

“What a day!” Toshi says, leaning back on his chair in front of the monitors and control panel.

“Is there any food in this truck?” Kathleen asks, looking around the cabin. It’s a good question. I would expect a post-apocalyptic truck to have a good amount of food stocked on board, but this truck may not have it since it was used only for the state leader’s daily commute.

Toshi crawls into the living compartment to find something to eat. One of the features I love about this truck is the ability to move from front seats to the command center and living compartment without getting off the truck. The openings between each section are not too wide but it’s big enough to crawl through.

“We got a few MREs and some water here,” Toshi says.

The ready-to-eat meals are better than nothing. We should be good for one day or two.

We climb to the roof of the truck and wolf down the MREs. They taste like expired unsalted rice, but we don’t mind it. We need as many calories as we can get.

“I hope you are not mad at me, Kathleen,” I say. I had told her the entire story on the way. She listened to me patiently when I explained why I wanted to communicate with her, which exposed her location to the Saviors on the street.

“I see your good intentions, Matt. I am actually honored that you wanted to invite me,” she says while snickering. It looks like she kept her sarcastic life view all these times.

“We should have hung out before the outbreak. We could have discovered a better way of communicating than throwing paper planes,” she says, laughing. I feel embarrassed.

“Ah, my bad...” I say and smile. Toshi seems to enjoy watching our conversation.

“What do you think about Steven?” She changes the topic. Hearing his name struck my nerves immediately. All residents liked and trusted him as our concierge. He betrayed us and joined Saviors when the hell broke loose.

“I believe in karma... He will get what he deserves,” I say.

“I hope so! He didn’t have even a hint of empathy when they dragged me away and shot Cub!” she says while tears fill her eyes. Cub is her Samoyed dog. He was a white flurry young dog full of life. He earned his name with his bear-like look. I can imagine how much she misses him. I close the space between us and put my hand on her shoulder. I try to find words to comfort her, but I freeze as soon as I hear footsteps from the nearby bushes.

It sounds like dead leaves on the ground are crushed by something heavy. I pull my sidearm and scan the surroundings of the truck. Toshi jumps into the machine gun hole and turns off the safety. Kathleen lies down, taking cover from the sandbags around the roof.

The moon is in the first quarter. We have limited vision in the dark. It’s hard to see if there is anybody near us.

“Let’s get back inside,” I whisper. I hope the night vision of the truck’s surveillance cameras helps with the visibility.

One by one, we get in the truck through the roof door and seal it. Toshi and I check the monitors in the command center while Kathleen goes to the passenger seat to watch the farm through the front window.

There are five high definition cameras around the Centaur. One camera in the front, one in the back, and two on the sides. Another camera is attached on top of a pole at the roof. It can be rotated 360 degrees for a panoramic view. All cameras are equipped with night vision. Yet, we don’t see anybody or anything around.

We think about driving away to find another spot to spend the night, but it would be an equally dangerous plan. There is no guarantee of finding another farm that is safer. Additionally, the highway in darkness is not a survivor dream in