2. Levi
There was someone in Levi’s apartment. He didn’t know how he knew—he just did. There was no sound to alert him, but the atmosphere was definitely disturbed.
He rolled to the edge of the bed. The clock on his bedside table told him it was ten o’clock in the morning. His windows were covered with black-out blinds, so the room was dark. He should be at work. He normally would have been at work, except this damned flu had taken hold, and he couldn’t shake it.
When Levi said flu, he meant flu. Not man-flu. Not a cold. And not some other viral infection. Doctor Levi Beckingsale knew the difference. He hated how the general public just used “the flu” as a catch-all for whenever they were feeling under the weather. It diluted the true meaning of what it was to have influenza. And he had influenza.
There. A sound. The soft scuff of a shoe on his hardwood floors. He hoped whoever the bastard was didn’t scratch them. They’d cost a small fortune.
Stumbling across the room, his head dizzy with vertigo, he grabbed the only thing he could use as a weapon. His slipper. He grabbed the other one for good measure. They wouldn’t save his life, but they might just be enough to scare off the intruder.
Hobbling along the carpet, he peeked around the door. He couldn’t see anything except the hallway wall. As he crossed onto the hardwood flooring—jeez that was cold—he crept along the wall until he could peer around the corner into the living area. Since his apartment was open plan, he could see the entire space… and there was his intruder.
Her back was to him, and she bopped her hips side-to-side to whatever she was listening to in her over-the-ear headphones. She was watering his plants.
He lowered the slipper and tried to get his flu-addled brain to comprehend what he was seeing. It was Tuesday. His cleaning lady came on Tuesdays, but that was most certainly not his cleaning lady. How did this woman get into his apartment? Why was she in his apartment? She would have needed a keycard just to get in the front door of the building, let alone the elevator. A keycard would also give her access to his apartment—or a key. Neither of which he had given her.
‘Who are you, and what are you doing in my apartment?’ he boomed. He was using his best reprimanding voice, or at least the best he could do while his nasal passages were blocked and his throat burned like a thousand fiery suns.
She didn’t acknowledge his existence. How loud was that music? Didn’t she know loud music could damage a person’s eardrums? Not to mention how dangerous it was to be completely unaware of one’s surroundings.
He stood straight and then had to lean against the wall while a wave of vertigo roiled through him. Taking a breath, he stalked across the space toward her. He liked to think he stalked, but with how atrocious he felt, it was probably more a stagger.
Still, she didn’t turn.
Levi was close enough to touch her, but she was blissfully unaware of his presence. How was she this oblivious and still alive? He could have incapacitated her in a second. He wouldn’t, but he could have, and she wouldn’t even know what hit her.
He tapped her on the shoulder, and she screamed, spinning around so fast, the water in the watering can sprayed in a wide arc, drenching him and his precious hardwood floors. His head pounded with the piercing sound of her screech, and now he was wet, on top of being cold and sick and just wishing he could die in peace.
‘Who the hell are you?’ she yelled at him.
‘That’s my line,’ he growled—although even to his own blocked ears it sounded like a whine.
‘I know self-defence,’ she said, taking a stance as she eyed him warily.
He could hear the music from her headphones now. They were still firmly planted over her ears, but he could make out the sound of a Korean song. He didn’t know that much about Korean music, but his niece, Chloe, did.
‘Why are you in my house?’ he asked.
‘What?’ she yelled, tilting her head.
Levi pointed to his ears and then to hers. She sheepishly reached up to remove the headphones, turning them off in the process.
‘Who are you, and why are you in my house?’ he asked again.
‘I’m watering the plants,’ she replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
‘My housekeeper does that,’ he said before closing his eyes against a wave of dizziness.
‘Margie? Yeah, I’m filling in for her. She said she told you.’
Was Margie his housekeeper’s name? He knew it started with M, but he usually referred to her as Mrs Taylor. Had she told him she’d be away? He couldn’t remember.
‘Her son is graduating. She asked me to fill in for her. You’re Levi, right? Levi Beckingsale?’
He nodded, but it was a bad move. His head felt like it was going to fall right off his body—even though he knew it was physically impossible. Okay, it was possible. Decapitation was a thing. But if he’d been decapitated, then he wouldn’t be having this conversation in his head that was still very much attached to his body.
‘Whoa, there. Are you okay? You don’t look so good.’
‘Ill,’ he mumbled, reaching out to steady himself as he swayed.
‘Yeah, you look ill,’ she said, reaching for him.
‘No, I mean, ‘You look ill’ not ‘you don’t look so good’.’
‘Really? You’re correcting my grammar now? When you’re about to pass out?’
It was the last thing he heard before his vision tunnelled—and he fell into the abyss.