The Longest Night: A Savage North Prequel: An Ending World Novella by Lindsey Pogue

Author:Lindsey Pogue [Pogue, Lindsey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: An Ending World Novella
Published: 2019-08-08T22:00:00+00:00

8

Sophie

December 8

As the elevator opened on the eighth floor again, I breathed a little easier knowing the pregnancy test had been taken out with the trash, but I wondered if Alex would be okay. I didn’t know Jimmy very well, just that he always smelled like stale beer and aftershave and he wasn’t very good at his job—or so my mom always said. It was hard enough to think of him as an adult, let alone a parental figure, but I hoped he wasn’t violent. I had a feeling Alex didn’t just fall; he didn’t strike me as a clumsy guy.

I eyed Jimmy’s apartment door as I walked past, expecting to hear the snarl of a rabid dog inside—but I heard a crash instead, then another one, like he was upturning furniture—and I hurried more quickly down the hall. At least I knew Alex wasn’t inside.

Forcing myself to focus, I blew out a fortifying breath and made my way toward Jesse’s apartment three doors down. Sweat beaded my brow the entire way. I wasn’t sure why I was so apprehensive to see Jesse, so much so that I’d lingered on the fourth floor, staring longingly at Bailey’s place for nearly an hour, like magically she’d walk out and say hello. I still hadn’t heard back from her either.

When I arrived at apartment 808, I stood in front of the door for a few heartbeats, wondering how sick Jesse actually was. He still hadn’t texted me back, but his mom had answered when I’d called their main line this morning. While Mrs. Phillips didn’t seem particularly happy I was bothering her, at least I knew Jesse was alive—sick and in bed, but alive. Even if I couldn’t see him, at least he’d know I came by.

I knocked on the door and listened for footsteps on the other side. I could hear the low chatter of what sounded like the television, but there were no rustling sounds or creaking floors inside. I was about to knock again when I heard a cough. A spring squeaked, and finally, the door cracked open. Air wafted through the opening, so acerbic I swallowed involuntarily. Then Mrs. Phillips’s bloodshot eyes and green-tinted skin came into view.

She opened the door further, and I took a step back. Her blonde and gray-streaked hair was oily and matted to her round cheeks, and her blue eyes looked almost like they were fogged over—fogged over and narrowed on me, holding no kindness.

“What is it, Sophie?” Her voice rattled with phlegm like it was suspended in her throat.

I swallowed thickly, unable to resist, and forced myself to breathe. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Phillips. I thought I would see if Jesse—”

“I told you, Jesse is sick.”

“But—I mean, can I bring you guys anything?”

“Go away, Sophie.” She slammed the door in my face, and with it came a wave of blood-burning fear. She looked near death, smelled like it too, and if she was as bad as that, Jesse probably was too. Maybe he was even worse.

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