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

The deal is off.

“We are leaving now.” I close the trunk and push the younger man away from the car. The man stands up and puts his finger on the trigger of an AK-47 and raises it halfway.

“Fuck off,” I say.

His smile turns to anger. He throws his cigarette at my shoes. They say each cigarette a person smokes will cost eleven minutes of their lives. This guy might have just multiplied it by hundreds with this move.

I look at my bow through the rear window.

“It’s fine, Matt,” Kathleen says.

I turn to her. She can’t be serious.

“Make sure the tank is filled up,” she adds.

“Don’t,” I say, shaking my head.

She glances at me before turning to him and waiting for the next move.

“Ladies first,” he says, showing us all his yellow teeth with his hideous smile. He points to the store, and Kathleen walks toward the front entrance.

He slaps her butt cheeks. She pauses for a second and looks down trying to hold her anger. She continues to walk.

I can’t stop grinding my teeth. I can feel Toshi is doing the same.

“What are you waiting for?” I say to the other man. He places the hose into the cap and starts filling the tank.

There is no way I am giving food or water to that human waste. I look at the store to figure out a plan to storm into the place and take him down.

Toshi gets out of the car and looks at the store. From his knitted eyebrows and clenched jaw, I can tell his brain is running with possible scenarios as well.

Approaching the door cautiously and running inside together should create a surprise effect that can help us take the gun away from that monster.

The younger man doesn’t seem to be a threat to us. I assume he won’t make a move behind us.

I nod toward Toshi. He nods too before walking after me.

We take a few steps when we hear screaming. It’s from the guy.

Kathleen runs out of the store toward us. “Get in the car!” she yells.

The younger man panics. I run to him and punch his face with all the anger I built up. His torso hits the car before falling. I punch his face again. His nose turns to a waterfall of blood.

Kathleen runs to the hose and pulls it out. Toshi gets back to the driver seat. I run to the back of the car and open the trunk.

“Matt! What are you doing!” Kathleen yells while I am picking up the empty gas can.

“Fill this too!” I tell Kathleen. I drop the can next to her. She turns her head to the store. She pauses for a second to catch her breath. Then she puts the edge of the hose into the can.

I hear the guy crawling through the store door.

“Get in the car guys!” Toshi yells.

“Almost done!” I say.

Toshi glances at the guy crawling through the store door by dragging AK-47, then turns to us. His eyes are wide open, and he is biting his lower lip. Knowing we are in the target of an automatic rifle, Toshi looks frightened. He picks up the bow from the passenger seat and inserts an arrow. He shoots at the door, and the arrow hits the wall a few feet away from the crawling guy who leaves a trail of blood on the floor. The man pauses for a second and tries to aim his gun at us.

“Done!” Kathleen says and pulls the hose up, but the gas is still flowing. My lower arms are now soaked with excess fuel.

“Get into the front seat!” I tell her. I place the cap and take the gas can to the backseat with me.

Toshi hits the gas pedal as soon as I close the door. The engine of the old Taurus revs up as if waking up from decades of sleeping.

“Fuckers!” the guy yells before firing his rifle.

A few bullets hit the metal and fly around us. One of them shatters the passenger side window. Kathleen screams. Toshi turns the car around drifting the rear tires and speeds up toward the exit of the station.

I lean forward to see Kathleen’s face, fearing she was hit.

“I’m okay!” she says. Toshi forces the car to its limits while driving up the ramp to the highway.

I lean forward again while holding the gas can on my side.

“What happened?” I ask Kathleen.

“He is not a man anymore,” she says.

Chapter 26

We pass by Denver.

Before the pandemic, I always wanted to visit this city for a day and then go to a nearby ski resort to spend a few nights. This is far more different than the trip I thought I would be doing.

The city skyline is not the same as it used to be. Most buildings are heavily damaged by the bombing the US Air Force conducted as a last resort to control the riot. I heard that the military had to retreat eventually, resulting in a civil war between the wealthy who bought grocery stores and people who are desperate for food.

The green and blue silhouette of downtown turned to gray and black because of the debris and burned structures. There are still ashes flowing in the air. Overgrown plants surround the roads and fences. Their thin and yellowish branches are dying out.

The highway is jammed with cars bumper to bumper. I know that this is not unusual for Denver, but it’s a different kind of traffic jam this time. The cars are either empty or they are still doing their duty carrying their owners whose souls are no longer among us. Many of them were broken into or siphoned out. Some of them are covered by a thick layer of dust while others have handprints on their hoods to show scavenger activity took place.

We slowly drive on the side curb, trying to avoid dead bodies. Some of them are in a pool of dried blood around their faces. This is not what the