Chapter 3
Lionel slowed his steps as a strange silence wrapped around him.
He came to a stop and looked around, noticing the group of people behind him slowing down and pausing just as he did.
His chest heaved as he considered the layout of the apartment building.
He knew it better than anyone—had memorized it within the first month of living here so he wouldn’t have to constantly be checking the map every time someone called him with something to fix.
He checked the apartment numbers, racking his brain to determine which one had a fire escape.
The building was old enough that every apartment used to have them, but when it was gutted and completely renovated twenty years ago, along with the installation of a proper stairwell and elevator, the majority of them had been removed.
His aunt said that they kept only a few of them, mostly for aesthetic reasons.
Lionel licked his lips and jogged a few doors down to an apartment he’d visited many times before, always to fix something else that had broken in the aging apartment.
He curled his hand into a fist and started slamming on the door, knocking frantically. “Hey!” he yelled, “open up! Please, open up!”
The silence was deafening as everyone held their breath, watching him as if he were their savior. Lionel pressed his ear to the door, eyes shutting as he listened for any noises through it. It felt like an eternity before he heard a quiet, “Who’s there?”
“Naomi,” he said, trying to calm his tone, “it’s Lionel. Please open your door.”
“What’s going on?” the woman asked. He could hear her voice shaking.
“You have a fire escape outside of your apartment, right?” he asked, the last word choking off as he ran out of breath. Everyone around him stiffened at the question, glancing at each other.
“I do… but—”
“Please, let us in,” Lionel interrupted. “Open the door and run to the fire escape—we all need to get out, now.”
“But—”
Lionel didn’t have time to reason with her.
He could hear more screaming, echoing through the stairwell now as well as the floors.
He took a step back and raised his foot, kicking as hard as he could right beside the doorknob.
The wood rattled, and with a second kick, focusing on pressing his heel into the same spot, he swore he heard a crack.
“Okay!” Naomi yelled, “I’m opening it!”
A moment later, the pretty brunette woman opened the door. Her eyes were round, and her bedhead made her look even more frazzled than her expression. Lionel didn’t spare her a second glance, though, as he shoved past her and through her apartment.
He breathed a sigh of relief as he saw the giant bay window.
These apartments were older and showed a few more signs of wear and tear, but the old-style architecture was truly a sight to behold.
And Lionel couldn’t be more grateful to social media city aesthetics than he was as he ran over to the glass and saw the metal structure just outside.
“Oh, thank fuck,” he murmured to himself as he undid the latches of the window.
He dug his fingers into the base of it, setting his feet on the ground as he tugged the window up.
He could feel the apartment quickly filling with people, everyone standing behind him as he struggled against the ancient wood. Lionel frowned, eyebrows pinching together as he adjusted his stance and tried again. Even if the windows were old, this was a little ridiculous.
The wood pinched into his fingers as he strained.
He took a breath and resituated himself, trying to get a better handle on it, before pulling up with as much force as he possibly could.
He could feel all of the muscles in his arms and back flexing with it, yet he didn’t even hear it groan under his attempt.
He stepped back after a moment before looking around. He grabbed a candle, still heavy with wax, from the woman’s coffee table and smashed it against the glass of the window.
Lionel’s frown deepened as the glass didn’t budge at all. He stared at the candle in his hand for a second before trying again. He hissed as he felt a bruise dig into his palm from how hard he hit it, yet the glass didn’t get even a single crack in it.
“Move, kid,” a man muttered as he physically grabbed Lionel and shoved him out of the way.
Lionel didn’t even protest as he stumbled, watching as Tim, dressed for his construction job, which he had most likely been on his way to, raised a leg and kicked the glass with what looked like steel-toed boots.
Sounds of outrage mixed with noises of despair as the window stayed put.
“What’s going on?” a woman wailed.
“Why won’t it open?” a too-young voice asked.
Lionel took a long breath as he leaned against the brick wall of the apartment.
He slowly sank to the ground, knees to his chest, and cupped his forehead in his hands.
He ran his fingers through his dark hair, fisting the strands and tugging as hard as he could, trying to wake himself up from this nightmare.
But the pain was far too real, stinging across his scalp.
He could feel a sob building up in his chest and forced it down, shaking his head to stave off the frustrated tears gathering behind his eyes. He dragged his hands down his face, cupping them over his mouth as he glanced up at the people who had begun arguing about what they should do.
Every man, and even a few of the women, took turns trying to break the windows open, even going as far as taking the knives from Naomi’s kitchen to try to cut through the walls. But, nothing was about to pierce through to the outside world.
Lionel debated just staying where he was and accepting his fate as the screams began to echo through the sixth-floor hallway.
He glanced up, looking out the still-open front door, and saw several people run by.
Everyone around him froze as they watched a creature run after whoever it was, skittering on too many legs, chasing the people who were screaming their vocal cords raw.
Lionel rubbed a hand over his face as those screams came to an abrupt stop and pulled himself to his feet as everyone in the room began to panic.
He almost wanted to yell at everyone to just shut the fuck up, because it wasn’t like their screaming was doing anything.
But, instead, he leaned over the kitchen counter, grabbed the biggest knife that was still available, and turned to the group. “Close the door and barricade it!”
The dozen or so people stared at him in confusion.
They were finally spurred into action as he ran over, slammed the door shut, and began dragging the couch over toward it.
The furniture instantly got lighter as a few men helped him, and a pile of every furniture piece in the apartment grew rapidly in front of the door.
It was only when there was nothing left to grab that Lionel took a step back from the door with everyone else. They were silent; he could barely even hear anyone breathing in the tense air between them, but it stayed shockingly quiet on the other side.
Minutes must have passed before Lionel turned to look at the rest of them—he knew nearly everyone in this apartment complex, considering his job.
Of the dozen, the majority of them were men, along with three women and one child held tightly in his mother’s arms. Lionel had to admit that he was shocked the kid wasn’t sobbing; instead, quiet tears were running down his face, as though he knew, even at his young age, that his survival was reliant on his silence.
“Okay,” Lionel breathed, breaking the quiet. Everyone was already staring at him, and he felt like he had to say something. “It’s fine—we’re good for now.”
“No, we aren’t,” the woman holding the child hissed at him, shaking her head furiously. “Did you not see those things? They were able to go through walls! They could easily break in here even if it’s not through the door!”
She had a point, but Lionel still continued talking, “We have at least a little bit to figure out what the fuck is going on.” The woman glared at him and covered the boy’s ears. “Let’s take stock of what supplies we have.” He looked at Naomi and asked, “Do you have anything that could be a weapon?”
“A weapon?” she balked at him. “I don’t have a gun, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“What about a baseball bat?” Henry spoke up. “Or more knives?”
The woman’s chest was heaving as she looked back at all the pairs of eyes looking at her so expectantly. “I… I can look, but I don’t think I’d have much.”
A few men accompanied her to search through closets and storage spaces for anything that could be used.
Lionel took the moment of organized chaos to walk over to the windows again.
He raised a hand to the glass, pressing on it with his palm, and frowned.
It just felt like normal glass, like it should be able to break beneath his touch.
Lionel checked the street below again, closer now than the ninth floor, but still too high up to get anyone’s attention—too high up to risk yelling loud enough to make it worth it.
He could see people down on the street: a girl walking by with a scarf around her face and huge headphones around her neck, a man in a business suit with a phone held to his ear, and several cars driving far too fast on such a small road.
He frowned—the idea of people still going about their normal day made a strange itch sit beneath his skin.
Were people not aware yet of these creatures?
Why wasn’t the world in a panic? Was their apartment building really case zero?
Lionel craned his neck, trying to see up and down the road, but there was nothing out of the ordinary.
Lionel tilted his head and looked over at the holes people had sliced into the walls with knives. He pressed a hand against one, pulling back the crumbling drywall.