Writings: The Apartment

“She’s where?” I screamed into the bluetooth. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me earlier!”

I flew across the office, slamming myself into the chair and reached for the mouse. Click…Surveillance…Location…Security Cameras…There! I clicked the ‘Live Feed’ link and watched the video start. There she was. Her and Uncle and those friends of hers, just coming out of the elevator, turning towards the apartment door. Dammit!

The explanation was rushed, breathless, apologetic in my ear. “We lost her in the parking garage. They slipped out the back. We found her SUV in front of the apartment building. They were already going inside.”

“Well, go after them! Make sure she does not enter that apartment! End call!” The phone made a friendly chirp in my ear. Frak! Frak! Frak! Why did that girl have to be so bull-headed? Why couldn’t she listen to reason?

“Phone – call Erica.” The voice dialer picked it up, and I waited. On the security feed I could see her swap her firearm into her left hand. With her right, she pulled out her phone, looked at it and cursed. She held it to her ear.

“Yes,” she snapped as she answered. “I’m kinda busy here.”

“Yeah, I know. You’re doing it again, little sister. Going somewhere you aren’t ready to go. Stop, now, and turn back. I have this handled.”

They stopped at the door to the apartment. I watched her look back at her friends. Uncle gave her a questioning look, then reached across the rifle he held and pulled back the bolt, chambering a round. Did any of them understand just how useless those popguns would be when they went through that door?

She turned back to the phone, her voice clipped, low, cold. “We’re here, and we’re doing this, brother. I’m not a child anymore, and you aren't head of the family, yet.”

My mind raced. I had to make her stop, pause long enough for the team to catch up to them. “You don’t know what you’re walking into, Erica. If you must do this, please wait ten minutes. I can have a contubernium of armed men there to help. If you have to do it, I’ll help. Please. This is bigger than you, bigger than your friends, bigger than Uncle. You need those men. You need *me* to…”

I watched on the feed her face contort into a snarl as she cut me off.  “I don’t *need* anyone, and that includes you!” she hissed into the phone, her rage masking the fact that she knew, now, that she was lying. I’d never offered to help her like this, never said ‘please’ to her. She knew I was serious, but she couldn't stop. To do so would shatter her independence. She couldn't accept my help.

And so, she was going to walk through that door.

“We’re doing this, and you won’t stop us.” She stabbed the phone with her thumb, dropped it into her pocked, and switched her pistol into her right hand again. It looked so big in her hands. So formidable. So useless.

I ran out of the office door, brutally shouldering aside my aide. I barely noticed her fall to the floor, her armful of papers exploding across the polished marble floor. I only had one thought in my mind. If I ran fast enough, if I was lucky enough, I could get there in time.

Before the thing I had locked inside that apartment killed them all.