Free Allison Hewitt Is Trapped by Madeleine Roux

respectable hole straight through the shared wall. We have no phones, no walkie-talkies and we need a reliable way to stay in touch across the apartments.
    There are several things preoccupying my mind, but one in particular: it makes me sincerely nervous that I still haven’t found the source of the wireless. With Ted and a golf club, I scoured every apartment looking for the router. I’ve come to the conclusion that it might be in the maintenance area midway between the store and the apartments, the sort of no-man’s-land at the bottom of the stairwell. We’ve decided to leave exploration of that room for another day; it’s likely to be very dark and cold and we only have a few candles and one flashlight. Luckily, Ms. Weathers kept a healthy supply of batteries around. We hope this will be enough to power the flashlight and the radio indefinitely.
    And there’s something else that worries me: as soon as we arrived and started settling in, Dapper began barking and growling, turning in circles and baring his teeth. Ted and I are trying to keep the nervous, meaningful glances to a minimum, but we couldn’t help a shared moment of anxiety when we noticed Dapper’s strange behavior.
    *   *   *
    And so we’ve moved upstairs. In a way, it was easier than I expected. Matt, Janette and Holly took the journey well and they really didn’t have to see much of anything. We told them to keep their eyes forward but I’m sure they glimpsed the trail of carnage in the back storeroom. Most of the undead were still cleared out from our adventure the other day. They’ve each been given a golf club which, in a matter of hours, ended up coming in handy.
    Moving apartments wasn’t nearly enough excitement for one day.
    Not three hours after we’d handed out the golf clubs, I hear a scream come from the other apartment. There are many kinds of screams—horrified screams, pain screams and surprised screams. This was one of the latter. I peek through the jagged hole in the wall to see Janette covering her mouth, her golf club on the floor and a man I’d never seen before kneeling there with his hand rubbing his forehead.
    Hollianted and I sprint into the other apartment, where Phil and Matt are just coming on the scene too. The man isn’t dead and certainly isn’t undead, but he does have a reddening bump on the right side of his forehead.
    “Who the fuck are you?” I ask, in what I believe to be a remarkably calm voice given the circumstances.
    “Jesus, I was thinking just the same thing!”
    Ted is raising his golf club up over his head, winding up for a big, brain-bashing swing. The stranger flinches, covering his blond, curly head with both arms.
    “Don’t! Fuck, don’t hit me again. I’m not armed.”
    Phil races forward to confirm this, lamely patting the stranger down, mimicking whatever he had seen them do on Law & Order . When he steps back, he nods solemnly, giving a little comical grunt of acquiescence. I ignore this and put myself between Ted and the newcomer.
    “Why the hell were you hiding in a linen closet?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest. He’s still kneeling on the ground, which is good. It makes me think he at least recognizes who has the upper hand here.
    “I live here,” he retorts with a laugh of disbelief. “But I heard all these noises and voices so I got scared.” He swallows a big lump in his throat and glances to his left. Something is wrong. An idea comes to mind and I know I have to get him alone.
    “What’s your name?” I ask, trying to sound gentle.
    “Zack, my name is Zack, but we can’t stay here. There’s a—”
    “We’ve cleared them out, checked everywhere,” I interrupt him, widening my eyes to let him know that whatever it is he wants to say, he’ll have to save it.
    “Apparently not!” he mutters, rubbing the bump on his head.
    “This is really your apartment?” I ask.
    “Not this one, Apartment D. It’s my brother-in-law’s place,” Zack replies. I