Chapter 3
Standing in the entry way, Ben considered how to handle this.
Originally, he’d considered drawing all the zombies down to the doorway before heading up.
Except that if he tried that, he could end up summoning a horde from outside the building. There was no guarantee that they wouldn’t come running as soon as he rang the dinner-bell as it were.
Which really left him with creeping his way up to the top floor just as the mirror had advised him and carrying out his business. If he took the emergency stairwell, the chances were quite good that he could make it all the way up without even encountering a zombie.
Almost every building he had been in had their emergency doors closed. As if all the fire-alarms had been tripped and the doors shut themselves.
Gritting his teeth, Ben crept out of the entry way and toward the back of the lobby, which wasn’t as poor as he expected, but it wasn’t exactly luxurious either.
It actually had an elevator, a security desk, and the expectation that wandering riff-raff or the homeless wouldn’t be attempting to get in.
Which was better than a number of places Ben had seen when visiting other apartments of friends or family.
Passing by all of that, he tiptoed to the stairwell.
When he got there, he saw his assumption had been right.
The door was shut.
Pulling it open as gently as he could manage, with only the bare minimum of scraping and hinges squealing, Ben gained entry.
Rather then entering, he cautiously peeked into the corners of stairwell area. Making sure there wasn’t anything laying down or lurking about.
No sooner than he confirmed that nothing was out of place, he eased his way quietly into the stairwell and then looked under the stairs.
There wasn’t anything there either.
He felt no shame for checking as zombies ended up everywhere.
With nothing else to check, Ben started climbing.
And climbing.
And even more climbing.
To the point that he suddenly understood something with a sincerity he never had before.
Stairs sucked and he personally hated them.
He was huffing and puffing when he barely made it floor eight as far as floors went.
“When I get to twenty… I should throw up, Peter would approve,” panted Ben, staring up the small gap between the stairs above him. “Fucking stairs.”
With a groan he got himself moving again but never made it to floor twenty.
The building itself only made it up to floor sixteen.
Finding himself at the top of the full stairwell, with it’s gloomy and near dark interior, Ben wasn’t quite sure if he should open the door. It was either the roof access, or the top floor.
He couldn’t remember if the placard at the entry had listed roof access or not.
Trying the door, he turned it and pulled it back fractionally.
Light began to pour in and Ben could see it was indeed the roof. Letting the door close, he padded back down a flight of stairs and went to the door. Easing it open he couldn’t see much.
It was fairly dark but not completely so.
At the end of the hall was a single window with light pouring in. Stepping out of the stairwell he went forward and found himself actually at a T-juncture.
What’d… what’d he say? Apartment twenty one and one, right? I wonder why those in particular.
Lifting the crowbar, Ben began shuffling along the hallway toward the far side of the T-intersection. The numbers were decreasing down this way, the other way was increasing, and the third juncture had been the elevator bay.
Breathing shakily, he made his way all the way to the end. Another window was on this side, but someone had hung what looked like a curtain in front of it. Blocking out the light and leaving Ben slowly walking into an ever darker hallway.
Reaching the end, and the door marked with number one, he paused. Reaching out he tried the door handle.
It was unlocked.
Carefully, he turned the handle, opened the door fractionally, and peered inside. There was light in here and it slowly filled the hallway he was in with it as well.
Looking about, he didn’t see anything that stood out.
It was quiet, undisturbed, and empty. As if the owner had left in a hurry, never come back, and wrote it off completely.
The looting teams that’d come into this building had never gone much higher than the first or second floor. Going higher was often a great way to get yourself killed.
It wasn’t as if there were many ways down with the elevators no longer working.
Entering fully, Ben closed the door behind himself. Moving into the apartment he quickly went to the back of the apartment. Into the kitchen itself in fact.
He’d had a few thoughts about how to handle this placement and his thoughts were simple. Put the damn magic doo-hicky onto the back of the inside of a cabinet.
Because if he ended up inviting people in, the last thing he wanted was people noticing said magical doo-hicky.
Or whatever it was called.
Creeping into the kitchen, keeping quiet just in case, Ben got down on one knee.
He opened the cabinet door, peered in, saw it was empty, and then reached for his bag. He pulled out stencil one-b as the mirror Leery had advised him, put it to the wall, then rolled the crystal back and forth across it.
It left an ugly red imprint that started a bright color and quickly faded to a dark red instead after only a few seconds.
It didn’t leave any color on his hand or fingers.
Packing up the stencil and the crystal, Ben froze.
There was a quiet ‘plinking’ noise that caused him to free.
He wasn’t alone here and Ben really wanted to be somewhere else.
Not waiting he quietly exited the apartment. Closing it behind himself and moving into the hallway beyond without even breathing.
No sooner than he was back in the hall then he moved at a fast walk. Leaving the apartment behind himself. At some point he’d have to come back and deal with it, but today, this moment, was not that point in time.
Even as he thought about it, and losing himself to those thoughts, Ben ended up standing in front of apartment twenty-one without realizing it.
Reaching out he gently grasped the doorknob and found it was unmoving.
Locked.
A grimace and Ben looked to his crowbar. It was one of the reasons he’d brought it, but in the same breath, he really didn’t want to deal with this. This was literally asking to get bit and chewed up.
Shaking his head, Ben slotted the crowbar’s tip to the point the latch fit into the door, blew out a breath, then slowly pulled on the tool. Using it for one of the exact uses it was made for.
Prying things open.
Even with his teeth clenched together, Ben felt like his molars were chattering against one another. That or his body was trembling.
Ben could be quite brave and he could push himself in situations he wouldn’t have thought possible. Despite that, he couldn’t shake the fear he often felt, regardless.
A slow groaning noise started up as he put more and more weight into the crowbar. Strength and force being exerted into the wood at the exact point that it was held shut.
With an explosive crack the wooden door shattered and shot inward. It was so fast that Ben couldn’t even hold onto the crowbar and it sprang out of his hands.
Hitting the ground with a horrific clatter.
Shit!
Rushing inside, Ben quickly moved to the interior wall, ripped the stencil out, slapped the crystal to it, and rolled it back and forth quickly.
It wasn’t the position he wanted, nor was it how he wanted to do it, but his presence was now known.
Time and stealth were no longer on his side.
No sooner than the stencil was filled in, the sigil turned a bright red and faded to a dark color, then Ben was gone. Running toward the stairs at full speed.
Leaving the stencil and crowbar behind.
Reaching the stairs he flew down them, only to see zombies coming up from below.
Fucking hell, shit.
Turning around, Ben went to the roof instead. Opening the door quietly, he shut it behind himself, then turned around to look at the rest of the rooftop.
Whatever was up here, was better than the zombies in the stairs.
Even if it was more zombies.
Which, thankfully, it wasn’t.
There was one corpse up here but that was it. It also had the look of someone who had been an actual survivor, not a zombie.
Ben only had to think about it for a few seconds before he had an idea of why there was a dead survivor up here.
He tried the door handle.
It was locked.
The lever didn’t turn.
“Ah fuck,” whispered Ben as his mind raced ahead.
Glancing at the dead and decaying survivor, Ben ran over to them. Looking through their bags quickly he didn’t find anything of use immediately. Nothing that’d help him get out of this situation.
All he found was a bungee cord, a hockey stick, and spoiled food that went bad a long time ago. None of which was very helpful to him.
Nodding his head, he came up with a very impromptu and likely stupid idea.
He had to use the zombies to get the door open.
Taking the entirety of the survivors bag, the rotten food, the bungee cord, and the hockey stick, Ben moved back to the door he’d come from.
The small squat square that the door led out from wasn’t much more than a shell for the stairwell exit. Giving it a once over, he saw that it was certainly something he could climb on though, and would support his weight.
He quickly wrapped the bungee cord around the door handle, pulled it tight, then tied it to the hockey stick. Shoving it up and over onto the roof he then jumped up, and followed it over onto the top.
Settling down on the roof, and trying not to put all his weight in one spot, Ben took the hockey stick, untied the bungee cord from it, and tied it around his wrist. Then he pulled on it gently.
The handle clattered lightly but went no where.
It’d work.
Nodding to himself he pulled the hockey stick back and then slammed on the door several times. It wouldn’t take more than that to bring the zombies up and with any luck, open the door for him.
His only saving grace, was the damn lever lock handle.
Sitting there, feeling the evening sun warming him, Ben didn’t have much to do other than wait.
Watching the door.
It only took a minute or two, but there was a thump and a clatter at the door. One of the zombies that’d rushed up to the top floor had heard the door and was now trying their hand at it.
Not waiting, Ben slammed the hockey stick into the door several more times.
This would summon up more of the zombies on that top floor for him and give him a chance to really make this work.
At least he hoped so.
It could all go wrong and—
The door exploded outward as one of the zombies got the lever to turn rather suddenly. At which point the bungee cord attached to the handle held the door open.
Ben threw the hockey stick and bag of rotten food at the survivor corpse some distance away.
With a clatter the wood bounced and flopped against the roof before coming to a rest next to the dead body.
The bag sailed right over the damn edge, unfortunately.
As one, the zombies rushed toward the dead person however. The hockey stick having done the work he had hoped it would.
It only took a single zombie to create a horde, and it also only took a single zombie to create a rush. They were heading for that corpse as if it were a living human just waiting to get turned into a meal.
They fell on the corpse and began tearing it apart instantly. Hands grasping, pulling, biting at it.
Responding to it as if it were alive and tasty.
Ben waited a few seconds, then dropped down to the roof, untied the bungie cord, then jerked the door shut behind him, and ran down the stairs.
Literally.
He flew down them multiple steps at a time. Slamming into the walls of more than a few landings as he went. His boots slapping and pounding against the steps.
Clattering and booming as he went.
Above him, he could hear zombies shuffling around, coming out of apartments, and generally heading his way. Unfortunately, he swore he could hear them from below as well.
Fuck, okay, fuck. It’s alright though.
Its… it’s alright.
Even if I’m bit, or scratched, the stupid super magic stuff will fix me. I just can’t get ate.
Can’t die.
Everything else? It’s alright and—
Ben’s thoughts cut off as two zombies shuffled into the stairwell below him.
Not waiting, Ben slammed into one and used them as a cushion for his extreme speed. The second he just barreled through as he turned and flung his arms out.
He got a bite in return, of course. It was the first thing zombies would try to do for some reason, and it got him right on the left forearm.
Nearly atop the first one.
It was enough to break the skin, but the brutal shove Ben had put into the monster, had sent it flying even as it tried to rip a hunk out of his arm.
There was some blood trailing away but it didn’t look horrible.
This wasn’t a concern because Ben could get fixed.
He ran on, sprinting down flight after flight.
Then he was suddenly at the bottom. Screaming at the top of his lungs, he ran for Mr. Leery’s apartment door, pushed it open, and more or less fell down the stairs.
Landing at the bottom on his ass with a thump, but otherwise, unharmed.
Standing up he wrenched open the closet.
Grabbing a cane that’d been stashed inside he then wielded it with both hands. The hook of the cane outward.
Ben went back to the stop of the stairs and stood there.
Zombies were rushing toward him, to which, Ben only goaded them with a smile and a hand wave.
“Oh heyo! I’m a ham-sandwhich. Or maybe a man-which,” Ben shouted into the lobby even as what looked a lot like twenty zombies streamed toward him. Tumbling down the stairs and over one another to get to him. “That’s right. Come get your man-which. Right here. Mmmmm, tasty. Om nom nom, om nom.”
As the zombies closed in Ben took three steps back to the point he had watched the zombie get turned into nothing.
And waited.
Sure enough, the zombies in their mad rush to get to him didn’t hesitate.
They went right past the boundary.
Past the barrier.
Then exploded into clouds of black dust, only for that dust to be turned into nothing at all. As if it were transformed to vapor and then reverted to atoms.
Seven or eight had tumbled through the doorway before the others even realized that there was an issue. Another two simply falling in by virtue of momentum.
Ben went up the steps as they halted, used the cane, and pulled a zombie through the doorway as it tried to push away from the door-frame.
No sooner than it was across and disintegrating then Ben flicked the cane out and caught another. Yanking that one across the boundary and to it’s doom.
Ten or so zombies were now milling right there at the door, looking at him, then the door-frame, then around.
“Oh don’t go away, look, I’m right here!” Ben hissed, stepped out of the doorway, grabbed a zombie by the arm, and jerked it through the doorway.
As soon as it came through then it turned into a swirling cloud of dust that almost immediately vanished. The remaining zombies pushed close to the doorway again and reached for him.
Immediately they began to fall apart as they tried.
They couldn’t even lay a hand on him.
Realizing he had the advantage, Ben just started grabbing zombies when they were close enough and pulled them through the doorway. Turning them into nothing without any issue at all.
Thankfully, they were just too stupid to pull away. To move back from the door.
With Ben standing right there, within arms reach, they just couldn’t resist the temptation. They’d reach for him.
Only for Ben to grab them and yank them in.
One by one, they all came through the doorway and vanished into nothing at all. The dust evaporating into something Ben couldn’t even see or detect.
Standing there, he wondered what to do next. He really didn’t want to leave zombies in the building, but this was now a case of search and clear.
That wasn’t as much of an issue with the barrier of the apartment.
He’d have to arm and armor up then clear the building, but that could wait.
Right now, he needed to get to Mr. Leery’s mirror image and figure out what to do next. Because if Ben could get this inheritance they’d spoken about, he’d be able to make sure the building was safe from external threats.
Then he could begin moving upward and clearing it floor by floor. Cleaning and clearing everything he didn’t want to deal with.
Though, uh, I guess there could be people up there.
People kinda suck.
Do I throw them out if there are any? Do I just tell them it’s save and let the door close behind them on the way out?
Or did Mr. Leery already do that.
Shaking his head, Ben closed the door, made sure it was locked, then headed down the steps. He went past Mr. Leery’s corpse, mentally promising to bury the man at some point, and kept heading deeper.
When he entered the room that the workbench and Mr. Leery’s mirror image had been, he found the mirror was empty. The tablet, still in the basket, was dark and just waiting for him to pick it up.
Upon reaching it, Ben lifted it out of the basket, held it in front of himself then tapped at it once.
Immediately, the screen turned on, but it wasn’t the same view he had seen before.
This time, it was a strange white screen that looked almost like a sheet of paper.
Within seconds of looking at it, Ben knew it was a contract.
Flicking his finger across the screen Ben found it went down, and down, and down, and down… and down… and down.
It continued on and on and on.
Endless stipulations, clauses, and expectations.
“Well,” Ben mumbled, sat himself down on the workbench, and then went back to the top.
He slowly began to read it over, line by line, clause by clause, and every single definition.
Because if this was what was required to get the ‘inheritance’, then Ben was going to do his due diligence. Because in the end, Mr. Leery still sounded like a warlock to Ben, and the promises and assurances of a mirror man wasn’t going to change his thoughts.
“— accepting all binding clauses once taken up by Mr. Leery and becoming the bearer, so stated as ‘bearer’ after this point,” Ben read aloud, already disliking this very much.