Vanessa Gable
Thursday, March 31st, 2022 (9 days after the Shutdown)
Unknown ID
A small slit opened up, revealing a lithe man significantly taller than her. His hair was graying and he seemed to be half-asleep.
Blinking in confusion at the late-night call, he took a step back, letting torchlight from inside the building flush away her anonymity.
“What do you want?” he asked, his voice coming out as a strange warble.
Forgetting her rehearsed lines, anxiety started to eat away at her from his simple question and she choked out, “We’re from the West Wind apartments, and we’ve come for the pickup.”
Damn it.
Skeptically looking at her, she saw his hand lower to a bulge on his waist. “Lady, what the hell are you talking about? Do you know what the time is? Come back tomorrow and pick it up.”
Turning to close the door, she wedged her foot in the gap and stopped him. Staring for a moment at her foot, he scowled at her which she returned with a polite smile.
“I didn’t haul my ass all the way out here to be told no. Give me what we’re owed and we’ll be gone before you know it,” she stated, steeling herself if things became physical.
After a moment, she added, “Please?”
Shaking his head in disbelief, he opened the door to admit them. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”
Entering into the hall, she kept her back to the door as he started to close it. Just before it shut completely, she discreetly slipped a piece of cardboard into the door latch, stopping the door from closing completely.
Her part in the plan was done.
Picking up the lantern, the gray-haired man led them down a corridor and to a room at the end where a soft glow spilled out the door frame. A stairwell led to a second floor, but there was nothing to see aside from an impenetrable darkness guarding the top.
Entering the room, she saw three men in wife beaters sitting around a table, playing cards to pass the time. A lantern was hung from a hook on the wall, giving a whitish-blue glow. Food stores and living essentials had been stacked on the side wall, shelves filled up to her head.
Why is there so much food here?
As she entered behind the other two men, the poker players whirled around to gape at them, looking between the gatekeeper – whose name she learned was Silco – and the two new arrivals.
The closest man, a well-built individual with bodybuilder’s deltoids raised an eyebrow quizzically. Dramatically rising from his seat, he walked over to them, putting his tattoo sleeves on full display.
What a peacock…
“Who are they?” he asked, his voice coming out as a low rumble. He stopped in front of her partner, who turned to the gatekeeper to explain the situation.
“Couriers from West Wind, on a late-night trade deal apparently,” Silco said indifferently, picking up an unfinished beer bottle.
“Why are they—”
“Man, just shut up. Let’s just pack this shit up and send them on their way.”
As they began to argue, she glanced over at the two other men who were still dealing cards. One of them seemed to be her relative age and by his disgruntled appearance, the late-night shift was taking a toll on him.
The other was only a child with a shadow of a mustache on his upper lip. Based on his mirth watching the two men argue, the incidents of Armageddon were a game to him — an excuse to escape from school and his other responsibilities.
Shaking her head at what was to come she shot a furtive look at her partner who calmly nodded.
BOOM!
Abandoning their argument, the two men reflexively went for the guns but by the time they drew them, the men she came with were already at the door, their guns leveled at the entire room.
The one in the front shook his head. “Careful now. Take a deep breath. With two fingers and slowly pass your guns over to me. And that includes the rest of you.”
The young teen froze and the lopsided smile was wiped off his face. Grumbling as if he knew to live in this district meant that robberies came as a part of the neighborhood, the older man who was still dealing the cards quickly complied, grabbing both of their guns and tossing them across the floor.
The tattooed man wasn’t as quick.
Whether it was because he thought people would see it as a sign of weakness, or despite what his tattoos suggested this was his first time being held up, he only gaped at them.
Silco, who was kneeling on the floor, looked up at his colleague.
“What are you doing? You’ll get us killed,” he hissed through gritted teeth.
Squinting, the tattooed man waved off his concerns. “They’re bluffing.”
“You idiot.”
“No, it's fine. If he wants to go down this road, so be it,” her team leader said, closing the distance between them in the blink of an eye.
Wrenching the gun out of the tattooed man’s hands before he had time to fire off a shot, he grabbed the muzzle of his own and slammed the hilt down on his temple.
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The wet sound of it hitting flesh filled the small space and the tattooed man wordlessly crumpled to the floor. But her group leader wasn’t finished.
Standing still as a statue, she watched in horror as he brought it down over and over again until the tattooed man was bloodied beyond recognition.
Satisfied, he uneasily got to his feet, breathing heavily.
Turning to his men who stood awaiting orders he waved them forward. “Get to it.”
Immediately running to the shelves, they started filling massive duffel bags with saltine crackers, canned goods, protein bars, and the rest of the comestibles. By the time they finished, only half remained – products that were either too heavy such as sacks of rice or otherwise deemed unnecessary.
The three remaining guards watched aghast as the food they were charged to protect was stolen right in front of their eyes.
“Boss, there’s more upstairs,” a distant voice cried out.
Their leader’s eyes crinkled in amusement at the guards. “You’ve been holding out on us. Bind their hands just in case.”
They thought about this ahead of time. To avoid suspicion, she and her partner would be zip tied along with the rest.
Leading his men upstairs, it was just the 6 of them left in the room: her and her partner, the three guards, and they didn’t even bother with the last man who’d been reduced to a fractured state with one eye shut and blood gushing from abrasions across his face.
“You guys still owe us food,” she said aloud, trying to remain inconspicuous.
“... Bugger off, bitch,” Silco spat, his hands tied behind his back.
Almost done. A few more minutes and she’d be back at home, resting in bed.
That was until the man she’d thought had been beaten within an inch of his life, mumbled, “Screw this.”
Pushing himself onto his feet, he stumbled past the door frame, making a break for the front door. If he calls others, this whole thing will be ruined.
Outside in the hall, she saw one of her teammates descending the stairs cry out, “Oi! Where do you think you’re going.”
A shot went off and her teammate on the stairs collapsed, falling head over heels.
“What the hell was that?” yelled her team leader from the second floor.
Rushing past his fallen subordinate, he shouted back at his men, “We’ve got a runner! We’re moving up the plan!”
Men flooded down the stairs, throwing the supplies they’d stolen to the side. Grabbing a drawstring bag they’d hidden in their duffle bags, three of them followed the leader out while the remaining men entered the storeroom where she and the bound guards were spread on the floor.
“What about them?” one of them asked.
Thinking about it for a few seconds, the other replied, “No will bat an eye at more corpses. No witnesses.”
“WAIT—”
Gunshots ripped through any resistance, silencing the middle-aged guard and Silco before they could protest the inevitable. Their fates had been sealed when the tattooed guard decided to flee.
Twisting her head to get a better view, she flinched at the corpse of the young teen who was staring right at her. Turning away to get rid of the ghastly image, it had already burned itself into her memory.
Pale gray eyes like chips of granite staring directionless while his blood seeped into the cracks of the hardwood floor.
Biting her lip, she squeezed her eyes shut. I’m… sorry. I’m so sorry.
One of them walked over and cut her free from the zip ties and moved to do the same to their man who’d come with her.
“Your part in this is over. Run home before anyone notices you’re missing,” he said, checking to see if she’d been injured.
Blankly sitting there, all she could say was, “It wasn’t supposed to go this way. You weren’t supposed to kill him, he was just a kid.”
Looking over at the bodies they’d dropped he grunted, “So it seems. If it wasn’t us, something else would’ve probably killed him. He was hanging around a bad crowd. It would’ve happened any day now.”
She felt her body start to break down as her energy left her. That’s no excuse.
“When you think of the events of tonight, just remember that it happened so that your family can eat, alright?”
Trembling, she accepted a hand from him and walked out of the storage room. In the stairway, the member who’d been shot was being tended to, bandages wrapped around the area where the bullet had grazed him.
The night embraced her as she stepped outside, shadows wrapping around her body, squeezing the air out of her. What have I done? A snapshot of the murdered boy materialized in her head and she nearly fell as she dashed to the side of the building, hurling up the contents of her stomach.
Wiping the bile with the back of her hand, she started running. She had no destination in mind but her body pushed her forwards, unable to stand being in close proximity to the murder.
Turning the street corner, she saw light flooding out into the street from one of the apartment buildings. Racing towards it, she abruptly stumbled to a stop when she recognized the men kneeling outside the front steps.
Cautiously hiding behind a stalled car, she watched as they ran to seek cover.
I thought we were done with all of this, what are they doing now?
Her answer came seconds later as an eruption blew up the front stairs, launching brick and mortar into the sky.
Squealing in shock, she instinctively pressed herself against the car. A subsequent explosion shook the entire street, making window panes rattle and destabilizing street lamps. She watched as an electric pole near the apartment toppled over, crushing the car the men were hiding behind.
And then came the choir of screams.
The shrill voice of panic and alarm punctured the silence. People from buildings all along the street were opening their curtains and shining lights out, trying to locate the source of the explosion.
In the ensuing chaos, her eyes were locked on to the men, as they slipped out from behind the car and entered the apartment building.
Through all of the screams and pleas for help, she heard the faint sound of a gunshot, tying up one last loose end.
Vanessa
The whole apartment and the neighboring two buildings had been evacuated while the damage from the attack was being assessed.
The front steps had been destroyed and the force of the explosion had uprooted poles along the street.
The ceiling of the foyer collapsed and many had started to speculate that the West Wind apartments were inhabitable.
Sitting on the curbside at three in the morning with Aaliyah who’d fallen asleep on her lap, Vanessa felt horrible.
Her head was throbbing from where she’d hit it, and her nose was clogged with blood. But most of all, she felt vulnerable.
The people who did this might still be out there, and for all she knew, they might be looking at them right now. Almost 200 people were just loitering in the street and there was no light to distinguish friend from foe.
In the dark, the voices around her were thick with uncertainty and fear, making it feel like the walls were closing in around her. With her nerves still on edge from the explosion, every bump or scrape against the pavement made her flinch.
It was only when the first rays of sunlight lit up the horizon, did she finally sighed a breath of relief.
They would get over this.