Apocalypse Ground Zero: Refusing To Leave Home-Chapter 67: Time To Earn Your Keep

The shower was running when someone came knocking at my door the morning after the gunshot.

I had been standing under the water for maybe ten minutes, letting the heat work through my shoulders and down my back. The steam had built up enough to fog the mirror and soften the edges of the room. The sound of the water was constant, steady, the kind of white noise that made everything else fade into the background. I wasn’t thinking about much. Just the temperature and the pressure and the fact that I was clean.

Then the sound came.

It was loud. Wood splintering. Something heavy hitting the floor. The crash echoed through the bedroom and into the bathroom, cutting through the sound of the water like it had never been there at all.

I stopped moving. My hand was still raised, water running over my wrist and down my arm. I stood there for a second, processing the sound, placing it.

I couldn’t.

Letting out a long sigh, pissed that my shower had been cut short, I turned off the water.

I stepped out onto the mat, water dripping from my hair and running down my back in thin streams. I grabbed the towel from the hook and wrapped it around myself, pulling it tight and knotting it at my chest. My hand stayed on the knot, gripping the fabric, holding it in place.

I opened the bathroom door and stepped into the bedroom.

The door to my bedroom was on the floor.

Not hanging off its hinges.

Not cracked.

Completely off.

It lay flat across the carpet, the wood split along the frame where the lock had been. The doorway was open and Scar Face stepped over the broken door, his boots landing on the carpet with a soft thud.

He had a gun in his hand, and with two other survivors behind him in the hallway, their shapes blocking the light from the hall.

I looked at the door on the floor. Then at Scar Face. Then back at the door.

"So much for locks," I sneered as I walked forward until I was encircled by the guys.

Scar Face didn’t respond to that. He just looked at me, his eyes moving briefly to the towel and then back to my face. I expected something from him, a comment or a long look, but his expression didn’t change.

That wasn’t a good start.

"What do you want?" I asked when the silence stretched a little too long. I was starting to get cold. And cranky.

"The men are going out," he said at last. His voice was flat, matter-of-fact, like he was stating a schedule change. "They are getting supplies. Food. Whatever they can carry."

I didn’t move. My hand stayed on the knot of the towel, my fingers pressing into the fabric. The water from my hair was dripping onto my shoulders and running down my arms, leaving small dark spots on the towel.

"You remember what happened the last time someone came into my room uninvited?" I asked raising my eyebrow. My tone was mild, conversational, like I was asking about the weather. "The Baby got a knife in the shoulder. Fuck Face got a bullet in his. Both of them bled a lot. I’m just saying—there’s a pattern here."

Scar Face’s jaw tightened slightly and he lifted the gun a fraction of an inch, the barrel shifting just enough to be noticeable.

Awe... he was scared.

"You earn your keep," he sneered, his face becoming darker, "or we feed you to the zombies."

The words landed flat and cold, and I couldn’t help but bark out a laugh. "Ooh. Scary. Do I need to point out that this is our house?"

Behind me, I heard movement. Yuche stepped forward, his injured shoulder held carefully against his side, his good hand clenched into a fist. Lingyun moved next, positioning himself slightly to my left, his body angled toward Scar Face. Chenghai came last, his breathing controlled despite the ribs, his eyes locked on the gun in Scar Face’s hand.

Zhenlan stayed near the window, his posture upright, his expression unreadable.

"She goes with us," Yuche said, completely ignoring my statement.

Wait... was he being serious? He was going to fold?

Wei Lingyun didn’t say anything. He just shifted his weight slightly, his body language reinforcing Yuche’s words. Chenghai’s eyes moved from Scar Face to the survivors in the hallway and back again, calculating angles and distances.

But Scar Face didn’t look at them. He kept his eyes stayed on me.

And my tits.

"She stays," he said.

The room went still, but I could feel the the tension coming from the guys.

"She’s the hostage," Scar Face continued, his face twisted into a sneer as he finally looked me up and down in the towel "How else can l make sure you come back?"

The men went still like time itself had just stopped.

Jian Yuche’s fists uncurled slowly as Lingyun’s shoulders dropped just a fraction of an inch. Chenghai’s eyes moved to my face, then back to Scar Face, then to the gun. Zhenlan’s expression didn’t change, but his hands shifted slightly, his fingers curling against his palms.

Apparently they understood the play that Scar Face was preforming. They could either come back with supplies, or not come back at all. And if they didn’t come back, I was going to be the one who paid for it.

I didn’t say anything. I just stood there, my hand still holding the knot of the towel so that I didn’t end up flashing everyone.

Everyone turned to me, waiting to see just how I was going to react to that.

But I wasn’t afraid. In fact... that idea was... perfect.

As if he could read my mind and knew that something was wrong, Jian Yuche looked at me. I met his eyes and held them for a second. "We are out numbered," I shrugged, and that was the end of it.

"Get ready," Scar Face said, his eyes still on me. "You all leave in five minutes."

The men didn’t argue.

They didn’t push back.

They just moved.

Yuche turned and grabbed his jacket from the chair. Lingyun pulled on his boots, his movements quick and efficient. Chenghai checked his pockets, his hands moving over the fabric like he was confirming what he had. Zhenlan stayed near the window for another second, his eyes on Scar Face for a long moment before he moved toward the door.

No one gave them guns.

No one offered weapons.

Instead, the guys filed out one by one, squeezing between Scar Face and the door like they were dog with their tail between their legs.

I was about 80% sure that it was bullshit, that these four men were more buying time before they acted than actually scared, but I was actually looking at their outing as a good thing. What better way to understand just how fucked the world was now if they didn’t go out in it?

Scar Face stepped back into the hallway, his gun still in his hand and his eyes never leaving mine. He didn’t say anything else. He just turned and followed the men until they completely disappeared.

I stood in the bedroom, water still dripping from my hair, my hand still gripping the knot of the towel. The broken door lay on the floor in front of me, the wood splintered and useless. The doorway was completely open without any chance for privacy.

I looked at the door. Then at the hallway. Then back at the door.

I think it was time to set some boundaries that wouldn’t be trampled so easily...