You become worried you have not heard from a good friend for more than a week. You go to the apartment building where the friend lives. It’s not in a great part of town, but it’s not the projects, either. Weird smells and odd things left in the hallways, or worse, the staircases is not uncommon.
You knock on the door. Call out to their friend. The door is locked. You bang on other doors. You yell throughout the hallway. No one answers. So, you leave.
You come back with a crowbar. You pry and bash at the door. No one objects. Eventually, the door cracks open, but a security bar blocks the door from opening. More banging. More prying. Still, no objections. Enough of the door finally gives up the ghost and you crawl under the security bar to get into the apartment.
Your friend is dead. The body is green and bloated. Foamy blood leaks from orifices.
You back away from the body. You call the police. They are sending someone. You collapse.
You wake up to an ambulance technician looking down at you. Their eyes are dead. Slowly, you sit up with their help. You were lying on your friend’s floor. You snap your head around, looking for your friend.
They are not in the apartment. The police are here. So is another ambulance technician. This one’s cute. Neighbors you recognize are trying to peek through the doorway.
Everything of personal value to your friend is gone. Only furniture and spoiled food remain, according to the police. They ask you why you broke into the apartment and don’t believe you when you tell them.
As the dead eyed ambulance technician is checking your vitals, the property manager and head of maintenance arrive. They give you a weird look and walk through the apartment. They talk to the police in the kitchen. They leave, ignoring you on the way out.
The cute ambulance technician helps you stand. You feel a little light headed, but are stable on your feet.
The police tell you that you are free to go. The property manager will not be pressing charges for breaking down the door. Apparently, there is an extra door in the basement and they were planning to remodel this particular apartment next week. You don’t see the security bar anywhere.
You leave.
You come back the next day. The door is replaced with another door that looks exactly the same. There are no noises in the building. You yell. No one answers. You bang on doors. None of them open.
It is a good thing you brought your crowbar with you.
Text copyright Derek A. Stoelting 2022
