Perhaps We'll Meet Another Day

Sick of This City

Shachi slipped in through the open window of the apartment complex's hallway. He paused, low to the ground, just listening for zombies or others that might have found this place during their absence. Nothing, so he began creeping closer to the end of the hall.

It had only been a few days since they last stayed here, what felt like a lifetime ago, but in that time anything could have happened. He didn't want to take chances and be caught unprepared. A knife in the back was never a preferable outcome.

Reaching the last apartment on the left, he held his knife at the ready, reaching for the door slowly. He twisted the knob silently, pulling a little to open it just a crack. The hinges were rusty after so much time without care, and the loud squeak was unavoidable as he pulled it further open. He winced, easing it as gently as he could to lessen the noise.

The living room's window let in enough light to see by, and Shachi let his gaze flit around quickly, again listening for any out-of-place creak or bump inside. Nothing so far. Just the same dusty couch and long-useless tv set up. A few of their blankets still rested on the cushions.

Shachi checked the back bedrooms one at a time, knife gripped loosely in his hand, but there was no intruder to be found. Just dust and silence. After several minutes of tense searching, he came to the conclusion that he was indeed alone inside.

He relaxed a bit, looking around the apartment that they'd used for the past few weeks. It was just large enough to comfortably fit everyone with room to spare, sporting two bedrooms and an average size living room and kitchen. They'd managed to clean up the trash while they had occupied it, and it was looking as it would have before the dead rose. Lived in and tidy.

Everything as it was. Except...

The redhead frowned, staring at the coatrack where he had left his extra jacket before they'd left for their scavenge location. The peg was now empty, missing all of their jackets, now that he really looked at it.

A sinking feeling rising in his gut, he looked around the place with a new set of criteria, cataloguing everything that should have been there but wasn't. The hydration pack that Penguin had found on a previous outing. Law's survival knife that he'd tucked in the couch cushion to hide while they were away. His own compass and Swiss army knife. And Lexi's Rubix cube among other things. All missing. Taken.

He supposed they were all things they could eventually replace, but in his panic, he thought to hurry to the kitchen to check their most important supplies. Law had found a small padlock from a department store and used it to secure their food and water in a cupboard, both to discourage them from frequent snacking and to keep them safe if anyone came snooping while they were away.

The lock was gone. The corner of the cupboard he'd secured it to was bashed open, bits of the splintered wood on the counter and linoleum floor. Shachi swallowed, and looked inside to find it completely empty.

All their food. All their water. Gone. He balled his hand into a fist and bashed it against the counter.

"Fuck!"

_________________________

The creak of the house's door made Penguin look up, holding his pistol at the ready in case any of the raiders had survived the horde and made their way here. It was just Shachi, returning from his trip to their shelter, and he lowered the weapon back down to his side. "Any trouble?" He asked quietly, mindful to keep his voice down.

Shachi picked up on his volume and stilled. "No. Are they still asleep?"

"Yeah." He gestured to the living room and they both popped their heads around the corner, spotting Lexi and Law both still sleeping on the couch.