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

I gently touch the microphone and the tapping sound from the speakers echo throughout the lobby and building.

“Attention, Uptown Sky residents. I am Matt from Apartment 905. We took down the piece of trash Steven and Saviors. We are offering safe passage out of the city. Please come down to the lobby. We are leaving in ten minutes.”

I am sure there are still people hiding in their apartments. Hopefully, my announcement will convince them to come out so they can leave the city safely.

I lean over the microphone again. “If you don’t believe me, look down from the south side windows to see the bleeding Saviors on the street.”

We wait for about five minutes. Nobody shows up. I look at the SUV parked right in front of the main entrance with its engine running and ready to go.

“Is the radio working?” I ask the soldier waiting near Steven.

“No, sir.” He shakes his head. We must be out of the range from the captain and his team.

I hear someone walking down on the stairs. An elderly couple comes out of the stair doors while leaning toward each other. They look afraid first, but a smile shows up on their faces after they see Steven squirming in pain on the floor.

“Thanks for coming down. We will leave in a few minutes,” I say.

“Thanks for doing this…” the man says holding his wife’s hand. He gets support from his wife while slowly walking to the chairs in the waiting area.

A tall guy with a huge backpack appears after the couple.

“No way!” he says as soon as he sees me. I don’t know his name, but I know him. We chatted in the gym several times before things went south.

I walk around the concierge counter to give him an elbow bump. “Good to see you, bro!”

“Good seeing you too, man! I am glad you are alive!” he says with a wide smile. He looks around and sees the soldiers. “Who are they?”

“I will tell you on the way. You can trust them…” I say with a nod. I go back to the microphone one more time. “Leaving in two minutes, folks! We can’t wait anymore. Saviors may bring reinforcements soon.”

Nine more people show up right before we head to the SUV. One of them brings her car from the parking garage and picks up four people. Others get into the Saviors’ patrol car and our SUV.

Our three-car convoy hits the highway toward the executive airport.

“Try radio again, please,” I say to the soldier sitting on the passenger seat.

“This is High-Three. Does anyone copy?” he says.

There is silence. He repeats it. Nobody picks up. He turns to me and shakes his head.

I hope we don’t disappoint these people who trusted me for their safety. If the plane took off, we are stuck in a Saviors state filled with the anger for losing their vice region leader.

I start thinking about doing another cross-country trip if we can’t fly away. As much as I don’t want to think about this possibility, the apocalypse taught me to always be prepared for worst-case scenarios.

Another takeaway I got in the last few months is the importance of finding things to be grateful for even in the most challenging situations. If we have to do another cross-country trip, we can stop by Purple Haze. It would be a chance to see Sunshine again. A new trip would not be too bad after all.

As we pass through towns and bridges, I give one more look at the state I spent a good part of my life in. I am hoping that the dark memories I had here will be the last ones for the rest of my life.

“I don’t see the C-17 on the runway, sir,” the soldier in front says. He is using his rifle’s scope to see the airport better. “Oh, no!” he says. “They are preparing to lift off!” He tries to radio again, but he can’t reach them. The plane must be jamming the signal.

I can now see the plane at the beginning of the runway. They are probably about to fire up the jet engines.

“Speed up!” I yell to the driver. I look behind to see the two cars tailing our SUV. They follow us closely. There is another vehicle behind them. It’s a Saviors patrol car. Two more Saviors vehicles show up right next to it.

Somebody is leaning out of the window and pointing his shotgun to the resident car behind us. He fires his gun several times in a row.

“Slow down to let residents pass! Fire back!” I yell to the soldiers. As we slow down, the car my gym buddy is driving gets next to us. I roll down my window.

“Take the exit to the Executive Airport!” I yell. He can’t hear. He looks confused. The woman on the back seat opens his window and leans over it.

“Executive Airport! Take the exit!” I yell again.

She nods. She tells the driver.

The soldier on the passenger seat opens the sunroof and gets on his feet to position his rifle over the car. He empties the entire magazine on the Saviors cars following us. One of the car’s front windows cracks over the bloody holes before the vehicle hits the barriers and rolls over several times.

He reloads a new magazine and starts shooting again. The other two Saviors cars slow down to avoid bullets.

We take the exit while following the resident cars about a quarter-mile ahead of us. I can’t see the airport runway anymore, but I don’t see the plane in the sky either. We still have a chance of catching them before they take off.

“Keep the car still!” the soldier on the roof yells to the driver. Seconds pass by in silence. Then I hear one loud shot. When I turn my head, I see the blood splashed on the driver side of one of the two Saviors cars. It keeps going straight at the end of the