Door number three was marked “1A”, and the nameplate beneath the gold painted unit marker had never been changed as it still showed the generic “Occupant’s Name:____________” placard behind the plastic cover. The door was open roughly three inches, and I could tell that the security chain was not in place.
This apartment faced the western side of the apartment complex, so it wasn’t getting any direct sunlight at the time of my exploration. This meant that the interior was going to be in shadow and I couldn’t rely on the lights working. The power hadn’t come on for over 24 hours, and I wouldn’t have relied on that intermittent and unreliable source unless absolutely necessary.
I pulled the heavy flashlight from my belt loop and turned the head until it provided a steady beam of light with a tight focus. I held it in my left hand and the baseball bat in my right. I’d have to drop one of them to get a really good swing in, but I felt better having multiple options for an attack if I had to make one.
I used the bat to push the door open slowly and was relieved to hear that it didn’t make much noise as it swung inward over the carpet. The interior was completely dark and quiet, which let me know that either the windows had some serious black-out curtains, or the Twit had covered them during the initial outbreak. I swung my flashlight into the interior and felt the tension rise. I was about to do what every stupid slasher movie jackwad with a death-wish does. I was heading into the spooky dark room.
Could I be any more cliche?
A nervous laugh almost escaped my lips as I began to sweat. What the fuck was I doing? My heart rate was sky-rocketing as I went into high alert. I needed to get my fear under control. I took a few moments to breath deep and just listened through the open apartment door before me. There were no noises and I would proceed carefully. I could handle this. I could keep it together. I used the flashlight to direct my focus, intently scrutinizing whatever it revealed.
The small kitchen directly off the front door was a complete shambles. I leaned in from the hall to see that the cabinets were all opened and had obviously been ransacked. The odor of rot hit me almost immediately, making my heart skip a beat until I noticed all of the sludge on the floor. It appeared to be a mix of fruit, eggs, frozen TV dinner boxes and crushed milk cartons that had been mashed into the floor tiles by the feet of whatever eager looter had been searching for food. The reek of it was eye-watering and I was just happy that there were no bugs crawling around in it yet.
There didn’t seem to be much I could use in the kitchen, but I’d spend a few minutes going through it once I’d secured the entire apartment. I turned back to my search and swung the light down the hallway that lead away from the front door. Four openings passed through the beam of my flashlight, three of which had closed doors. I guessed that the one open entry indicated the presence of the living room with the others being the two bedrooms and a bathroom, all of which I planned to check. The floor of the hallway was covered in the remains of a broken decorative hall mirror, small piles of discarded clothes, a few books, assorted shoes and lots of other personal items left in disarray.
Whoever had been through here seemed to have made a serious mess of the place. It all pointed to someone making a rapid-fire search through the apartment, which left me with some hope that I might find a few useful items that were missed or just simply overlooked in the first searcher’s haste.
I moved into the apartment and closed the door behind me. While there might be danger inside, I didn’t want to worry about someone or something coming in behind me. The other apartments may be locked on the first floor, but I hadn’t checked the second floor yet, and who knows what could come out of any one of those locked doors. Closing it could be a bad decision, but it made me feel safer to have a solid wooden door behind my back instead of empty space. Part of me knew it was only an illusion of safety, but sometimes you just have to say fuck it and deal with what you can.
I took a few minutes to check the hall closet across from the kitchen and found more of the same mess. Jackets, winter gloves and an assortment of expensive shoes were in a heap on the floor. An item on the top shelf, however, immediately grabbed my attention. It was a large black case about six inches thick and four feet long, and it reached from end to end of the shelf. It was cocked at a strange angle, and I realized it was probably wedged into place.
I flashed my light down the hall again and saw no changes, so I leaned my bat against the wall and began to work the case off of the shelf. I gave it a firm tug. No movement. I was right, it was wedged into place. This required me to use both hands, so I put the flashlight on the ground next to the bat, the lamp head pointing up to give me light as I worked.
I grabbed the handle again and pulled hard. The case didn’t budge. Determined, I set my feet and heaved, using my back and shoulders to pull hard. I strained for a few seconds, and then the case released with a screech of wood. The shelf came crashing down with it and and the case slammed into the door frame with a loud bang that filled the dark hallway.
I am such a fucking bull in a china shop.
I angled the case a bit to get it past the closet door frame and set it on the floor beside me. I picked up the flashlight and checked the hall again, fully expecting to see the doors opened and walking nightmares headed my way. They were still closed, though, and I’d made more than a small amount of noise with the case as I removed it. I listened for a few seocnds, holding my breath, but I heard nothing other than the dull thudding of my own heart beat. I hoped that meant the apartment, while ransacked, was actually empty. No sound after the loud racket I’d just made was a very good sign. I took a deep breath and waited a few moments for the adrenaline rush to subside and my heart beat to slow.
Finally calmed to an acceptable level, I picked up the case and leaned it against the wall. I undid the three metal clasps along one edge and the top easily swung open to reveal a compound bow stored in protective black foam. It was painted in a woodland camouflage pattern and was one of the most beautiful things I’d seen in days. I had some makeshift weapons and a few blades, but nothing that gave me distance from my intended target. I knew nothing about archery, but I still almost shed a tear as I stood in that dark hallway admiring the green and brown leaf patterns on the bow.
There was a small gift card taped inside the cover. I pulled it out and read it.
Thanks for always being such a straight shooter.
Congratulations on the big sale.
-Steven
I don’t know who Steven was, but thank god he gave the Twit this gift. Chances are he’d never even taken it out of the case, as he didn’t seem like an archery nut to me. I almost laughed as I imagined him getting mud on his expensive shoes. Regardless, I was glad to have found it. Who knew that the squirrelly little shit would have these kinds of toys?
I closed the case back up and left it leaning against the front door. I’d pick it back up on my way out. As much as I wanted to take the bow out, I knew that without any practical knowledge of how to assemble and use it, I’d be less than deadly with it in my hands. A part of me realized as well that a bow would be less than useless in the small confines of an apartment. That knowledge didn’t stop the wishful thinking, but it made it easier to leave it leaning against the door.
I couldn’t close the closet door as the shelf and the mess of clothes at the bottom had spilled out into the hallway. I kicked as much of the pile back into the closet as I could, but left the door askew. I picked up my baseball bat and moved carefully through the littered hallway and into the living room.
It was a mess like the rest of the apartment, though it wasn’t quite as bad at first glance. A bookshelf had been torn down and the books were strewn about beneath it. Somehow the gigantic flat-screen TV had been torn from its steel wall mount, the LCD cracked beyond repair. The one large couch was overturned, but otherwise the room wasn’t in bad shape. I took notice that someone had tacked up some dark blankets over the large window, effectively blocking out all light, confirming my initial assessment of the darkened apartment.
I decided to try and remove them to let in a bit of ambient light so that I could see the room better. I began to edge my way around the room. Halfway to the windows my foot squished into something on the floor and I nearly jumped out of my skin. I turned the light to my boots only to find that I was tracking a dark viscous fluid along behind me. My heart began to pick up speed again, but I really didn’t want to think about what it was, so I just kept going.
I moved to the window, grabbed the blanket and tugged. It fell to the floor and let some glorious sun light into the room. Not needing the flashlight felt wonderful as I turned around. Then I noticed the carpet.
To say that it was covered in blood would be an understatement. It looked like buckets of blood had been tossed around. There were so many boot and hand prints that they had combined into one big amorphous blob that centered itself on the overturned couch. I stepped forward cautiously and the carpet squished under my booted feet as I wondered just how long it would take this much blood to dry out and turn the carpet into a giant crunchy blood clot. Obviously it hadn’t been long enough as it bubbled up and pooled in each of my foot prints.
I approached the overturned couch in the center of the blood stain and noticed an arm sticking out from underneath that I hadn’t been able to see from the other side of the room. I would have been scared shit-less, except that it was, quite literally, just an arm. I could see the bloody stump and ripped cloth of the shirt where the arm had been torn off at the elbow. It was clear from where I stood that it was a woman’s arm, and also just as clear that the rest of her wasn’t under there as I could see the cushions and the hollow “v” formed by the back and arms of the couch.
I don’t know who the arm belonged to. I’d never seen the Twit with a girlfriend, but it’s more than likely that he had one. A guy doesn’t pluck his eyebrows if he’s not getting some action on the regular. Who knows though….maybe I was wrong. It could have been a sister, a cousin, a mother, a nun or a fucking prostitute for all I knew. The possibilities were endless and thinking about it was making me feel anxious. I scanned the room again and decided it was time to finish up this search and get the hell out of this creepy blood splattered apartment.
I moved with purpose back toward the hallway, turning the flashlight quickly back and forth before me. Of course, it was in that moment that it chose to attack.
