Chapter 6
Lionel sat, rubbing a hand over his face and trying to will away the flush that had remained on his cheeks ever since Mads had whispered those words in his ear.
It’s cute that you want to try to protect me.
He groaned and pressed hard on his eyes, trying to push the sound of it out of his skull.
When he opened them, he glared between his fingers at Mads, who was sitting with the two women, smiling and chatting with them as easily as he did Lionel.
He was far too attractive to be so casual and say those types of things, or chat so calmly; even the women were looking at him with awed expressions.
Lionel scowled at how long it took for his gaze to run up those insanely long legs of his, and he finally stood up when Mads’ eyes turned upwards as he smiled at something one of the women said.
Lionel walked over to Derek, sinking down next to him and pointedly giving him his full attention. “What’s our plan here?”
“Plan?” Derek echoed, blinking at Lionel. He was fiddling with his phone, but it looked as useless as Lionel’s was. “What do you mean by ‘plan’? There is no plan. We’re going to sit tight here until the government shows up with tanks or something.”
Lionel brought a finger up to his lips, inserting the nail between his teeth to gnaw on as he thought back to the window they tried to force open what felt like ages ago.
He didn’t know whether or not to tell Derek about how, when he had looked out the windows to the streets, everyone else was completely unaware and unbothered by what was happening.
Eventually, he said, “Maybe they won’t come. ”
“Why wouldn’t they?” Derek asked, eyebrows pinching together. “These things must be terrorizing people all over the city, if not the world. The government has to come help soon.”
“What if they’re only in this building?” Lionel asked slowly.
“What?” Derek stared at him. “Why would they only be here?”
“I don’t know.” Lionel sighed and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “I just… when I looked outside a couple of times, nothing seemed to be happening out there.”
“What do you mean?”
“Everyone was just going about their normal day.” Lionel shrugged. “It was like they couldn’t hear or see anything that was going on in here.”
Derek was quiet for a long few heartbeats, seeming to weigh Lionel’s words.“Then we get the hell out of here and start screaming on the street for help,” Derek said finally.
“Have you not tried to open any windows here yet?” Lionel asked, turning to him.
Derek pursed his lips, “We have… they were jammed though.”
“Yeah, they all are, I think,” Lionel said. “We tried breaking one open—we did everything to it, but it wouldn’t budge. And before all of this started, a woman told me that the doors into the building were locked.”
“What the fuck?” Derek whispered, almost to himself. He leaned back against the wall, and Lionel heard the soft ‘thump’ of his head against the soundproofing panels. “What the fuck is going on?”
Lionel wished he could answer him. He hung his head, running his hands through his hair as he tried to think about what he could possibly say. Before he could think of anything, he heard a sharp beeping sound.
Everyone in the room tensed at the sudden sound.
Lionel’s gaze caught Mads’, their eyes immediately finding each other, before looking at the teenage boy who still hadn’t said a word to any of them since their arrival.
The kid was sitting in a chair, staring off into space, when the phone, balanced in his hands, suddenly chimed angrily, its screen lighting up.
The light was bright enough to illuminate the boy’s face and show just how pale he was. For a heartbeat, Lionel’s mind went blank at the sight of the expression he was wearing, at how he could see the sweat rolling down his forehead, at how he could see the boy’s entire body trembling.
He was on his feet a moment later, but Mads reached the boy quicker. He knelt beside him and put his hand to the boy’s forehead. “What’s wrong?” Mads asked him, his voice quiet and comforting. The boy was shaking his head, almost frantically.
Lionel came up beside the boy, watching as Mads pressed his fingertips into his wrist and whispered questions to him. Lionel frowned when the boy’s phone lit up again and took it from between his fingers. “What’s your password?” He asked the boy who gazed up at him.
“2319,” he murmured rather than answering the quiet questions from Mads.
“Fuck,” Lionel murmured once the phone was unlocked. He knelt beside Mads, looking up at the boy, who he was realizing couldn’t have been more than thirteen or fourteen. “You have diabetes, don’t you?”
Mads turned sharply to him, a flicker of alarm crossing his face until Lionel held up the app showing the boy’s blood levels. Now that he knew what he was looking for, Lionel spotted the small white patch on the boy’s bicep.
“Fuck,” Lionel groaned, standing back up when he saw tears start rolling down the kid’s face.
“What? What is it?” Derek asked, coming up beside him.
“The kid has diabetes,” Lionel said. “He’s gotta take insulin pretty often—or he’ll die before the creatures even get us.”
“He’s young and pretty healthy,” Mads said, “he should be okay for a while. Usually about 12 to 24 hours from his last shot.” He turned back to the boy and took his hand, trying to stop him from trembling. “When did you last take insulin?”
“This morning,” the boy whispered, almost choking on the words. “After breakfast…”
Lionel checked the time—if it was still accurate, it had only been about six hours since Lionel had first found the creature in the wall. “So he’s got 6 to 18 hours,” Lionel murmured.
“What is your name?” Mads asked. He had told Lionel he wasn’t a doctor, but he must work with kids—or just people in general—with how well he was able to smile so comfortingly in moments like this. He squeezed the boy’s hand again when he didn’t answer after several seconds.
“Amir,” he murmured.
“Amir, what apartment do you live in?” Mads asked, voice gentle.
“907,” the boy said.
“And do you have insulin there?” Mads prompted.
“Yeah, my mom keeps it in the kitchen so I can take it after my meals,” Amir said.
Mads stood, looking at Derek and Lionel, who were looking lost. “Well, I suppose we need to take a trip up to the ninth floor.”
“The ninth floor?” Derek gaped at him. “That’s five floors up! Are you insane?”
“Well, we could just leave the boy to die, then,” Mads said.
“Wait,” Lionel said, putting a hand on Derek’s shoulder as he tensed beside him. “The kid lives in 907—I live in 938. If we go up to the ninth floor, we can also get my tools.”
“Tools?” Derek questioned.
“Weapons,” Lionel nodded. “I have saws, mallets, wrenches—things that could be used to fight those things whenever we need to leave this room for food and water.”
“We don’t need all of those things—we’re not going to be in here for that long!” Derek argued. “No, we need to just wait—we won’t be here for another 18 hours, that would be ridic—”
“Do you really think someone is coming for us?” Mads asked.
He must have realized the same thing Lionel had.
“Because, considering we haven’t heard gunshots or anything else that would suggest police or military personnel being here, I wouldn’t get your hopes up too high.
It’s been several hours since all of this started—wouldn’t they be here by now? ”
Derek fell quiet at being told for the second time that his hope was nothing more than a pipe dream.
“Lionel is right,” Mads continued. “We need weapons. We need food and water, and now this boy needs medicine. So, as I said, we should take a trip up to the ninth floor.”
“We’re just going to die if we go out there,” Derek argued.
“We’re going to die here if we don’t have supplies,” Lionel snapped.
“The creatures can’t get in here. If we just stay put—”
Lionel didn’t want to hear his arguments anymore. He turned to Mads and raised an eyebrow in a silent question. Mads’ smile grew, and he nodded once in silent agreement. Lionel turned to Derek and asked, “Do you have anything that could be used as a weapon?”
The most they had was a metal rod from the closet that Derek had grabbed before barricading himself in the room at first. Lionel weighed it in his hand, nodding to himself. “We’ll grab a few knives from the kitchen, too.”
“I don’t have any fancy knives,” Derek muttered. “Just some steak knives.”
“We’ll make do,” Lionel said.
Derek watched them for a few minutes before saying, “Fine, fine, I’ll come with you.”
After explaining the situation to the two women, who looked even more terrified, and the other man, who remained silent, they shoved the cabinet out of the way of the door and peeked outside.
Lionel waved a hand when he was sure the coast was clear, and they slipped out into the rest of the apartment.
Derek ran to his kitchen, threw open a drawer, and grabbed a handful of steak knives.
Lionel took two and put them in his pocket, and Mads took just one, shrugging when Lionel asked if he needed any other weapon.
“I should be fine,” he assured them. “You’re going to protect me, aren’t you, Lionel?
” He teased, bumping their shoulders together.
Derek was definitely looking at them questioningly at that comment when Mads reached down to link their hands together again. “He’s blind,” Lionel said in explanation.
“He’s blind?” Derek asked, baffled.
“Legally,” Mads hummed.
“Let’s go,” Lionel said, giving Mads’ hand a firm tug and pulling him into the hallway.