Zero Hour: Book 1 in the Thrilling Post-Apocalyptic Survival Series: (Zero Hour - Book 1) by Justin Bell & Mike Kraus

Author:Justin Bell & Mike Kraus [Bell, Justin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Muonic Press Inc
Published: 2018-07-29T22:00:00+00:00

***

Jackson took a few more steps back until his rear end struck the arm of his ratty couch, halting his motion. The three men were shoulder to shoulder in the entryway hall, filling up every inch of empty space, a wall of flesh, bone, and muscle.

“If you want the apartment, that’s fine,” Jackson whispered. “Just let me take my stuff and go. It’s yours.”

“It’s not going to be that easy,” the man in front snarled. “You said no to us. Came across as pretty anti-social.”

A second man peeled away, walking around the first. “We’re going to need to take our pound of flesh.”

“Come on, guys,” Jackson hissed, sounding a little more desperate than he intended. “You don’t need to do this. We’re in a bad situation, all of us, but we don’t need to lower ourselves to this.” He slid to the right and back-pedaled a few more steps, this time his calves struck a knee-high coffee table, a cheap assembly of thin wood and fake glass.

“Oh is that what we’re doing?” the man asked. “Lowering ourselves? So you’re better than us now?”

Jackson rolled his eyes. He tried to even out his breathing, calm his nerves, use those meditation techniques that he’d been learning. None of it was working.

“I’m not better than anyone,” he replied. “I just want to go. Live my life.”

“Guess you should have let us in when we first asked then, huh?”

They pushed forward, and he had officially run out of room to back pedal, the edge of the table pressing tight against his calves. They were close enough that he could smell the sour stench of their breathing, the strong edge of alcohol mixed with an angry heat. The lead man clenched his fists tightly together and Jackson tensed, preparing for the attack.

“All right, boys, let’s knock it off!”

The three men whirled around and Jackson followed the direction of their gaze. Another large man appeared, filling nearly the entire open frame of the door. He wore a faded blue button-up shirt with a windbreaker pulled over his shoulders, unzipped down the front.

“Clark?” Jackson asked. It looked like him, anyway. Clark Bradley worked security in the building, mostly there for show, making regular rounds through the hallways in exchange for a rent-free room and livable salary.

“How’s it going, Jack?” he asked, nodding curtly.

“Get out of here, old man,” snarled one of the three thugs. “Forget you ever saw any of this. No reason for you to get caught up in it, too.”

“This is my building. My jurisdiction. I’m caught up in it whether you like it or not.”

“I said get out of here!”

“Don’t make us whip your rear end, too, gray hair!”

“Everyone take it easy!” Clark shouted, taking another step into the apartment. The three men finished turning toward Clark and moved in his direction, giving him a small window to work with. He lurched right and bolted, running past them.

“Hey!” shouted the man in front, reaching for Jackson, who slipped just past his grip.

“Get outta here, Jack!” shouted Clark.

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