Apartment 905, Ned Sahin [books to read for 13 year olds .TXT] 📗

I am aware of their safe location. He can’t let me go. He also won’t kill me for having this secret. He has to have a conversation with me.

“Hi… I am on my way to California to find my family. I just need a few things to survive on the road. I can offer a huge stockpile of food and protective gear in return... After today, you will never see me again,” I say.

“That’s what you said at the gas station too,” he says. I can’t stop myself smiling.

“This is really why I am here, sir. Trust me… I have no intention of sticking around.” This is the truth. I hope he can read it on my face. I keep my hands slightly in the air.

“Why should I trust you?” he asks. I feel like I am in an interview with a recruiter. Talking about my previous experience and giving practical examples always helped me in those interviews.

I pause for a second to gather a few talking points before I speak.

“I was working at Smartsoft as an engineer before the world turned upside down. I can show you my laptop with my badge photo and email ID on it... I had to leave my apartment in Charlotte to run away from Saviors. I am… just a guy who is trying to survive… and get to my family. I don’t want to bother anybody, and I certainly don’t want to be like Saviors or… whatever the creature I came across in the woods,” I say.

He pauses for a second and looks at me with a disturbed face. “You saw them too?”

“I saw only one. There are more?” I say. Having more of that human-looking monster in the world was what I was afraid of.

“There are. Come in,” he says.

Chapter 8

“Do you want more salad?” Yolanda asks. Her steel grey eyes peer out through a wild tangle of hair. She is Miguel Hernandez’s wife.

I am sitting at one edge of the table. Miguel is on the other edge. Yolanda is on my left side. Their daughter Valeria and their son Mateo are on my right side.

“I’m good, thank you, ma’am,” I take another bite of the beef stew and smile. The rich sauce is mixed with fresh tomatoes, wine, olives, and capers. I haven't had dinner this delicious since last year's company dinner.

After Miguel allowed me in the house, they made me sit in the entryway and asked me questions about my family, pre-apocalypse job, apartment, and my escape from the city. I answered their questions with complete honesty. I have nothing to hide.

I think my uncensored responses helped me to gain their trust. Being invited to stay for dinner proves that I passed the initial test.

“How is downtown Charlotte doing?” Miguel asks.

“It’s a mob-town now,” I say. I relay how the mob surfaced after the destruction of social order, and how they outnumbered the local police with the growing number of new recruits who were desperate for food and masks. I never saw the military, at least in my side of the city. They were probably focused on saving Raleigh, the state’s capital.

“Kathleen… Do you think she is one of them now?” Valeria asks. I was hesitant about telling them my attempt to invite my neighbor to join me in escaping the town, but I decided to give the full picture of the events. Valeria must be feeling empathetic for her. She is probably only a few years younger than Kathleen.

“I believe that she is not. I hope…” I say. Saviors are probably giving her daily tasks like preparing food and running errands if they are not holding her locked up somewhere. I hope she is around people like her, and she is away from the violence.

“Can you develop an antivirus to kill the virus?” Diego asks with a curious expression on his face. I like how innocent he is. It’s also a good question for a 10-year old.

“I wish. The kind of antivirus I can develop could kill computer viruses only, but I can develop a simple video game to catch bad guys,” I say, smiling and shrinking my eyes like detectives in movies do when they are on a lead. I see how interested Diego has been in everything I’ve been saying.

“That’s really cool!” he says, impatiently moving on his chair side to side. I chuckle.

“Are you planning to stay here until life goes back to normal?” I ask and turn my head to Miguel.

“Sí. I hope it won’t take too long for presidente to rebuild the country,” Miguel says.

Soon after the second wave hit the country, the president stopped appearing at the press briefings. When the vice president was questioned about his whereabouts, he responded, “The president is in a safe place,” whatever that means.

“I would like to mention a few things to improve this place against intruders, if I may,” I say nervously. I hope I am not being rude.

Miguel nods. “Sure.”

I recommend them not driving their car anymore and hiding it with branches and bushes, using the candles even though they have electricity coming from the generator with the propane tank, moving their little garden to the back of the house, not using fire unless it’s an emergency, setting up booby traps around the house, digging a foxhole to improve the defense, taking turns to watch the area, building a small shelter on a nearby hill to retreat if this place is attacked, and finding ways to connect to other survivors and gather information.

They listen to my recommendations attentively. After I finish, Miguel nods in agreement with my suggestions. He seems to be musing over my ideas.

They all seem impressed by my survival preparedness. I think I get sympathy points for my lone wolf approach as well.

“I saw Saviors in Old Fort. It looks like they are starting to invade rural areas,” I add.

Miguel put his fork on the table, then rests his elbows on both sides of his plate. He