perforating her brow.
“We’ve got to get out of here,” Thursday said, “Now!”
He was already sett ing off down the passage at a brisk walk, and I followed, cradling Ruby in my arms. As we approached the doorway, the first of the creatures lurched through and Thursday dispatched him without even breaking stride.
I followed close behind, leaving the apartment and turning left. More of the things were climbing the stairs to the second floor. Thursday paid them no heed as we started up the steps towards his third floor apartment. He walked with the gait of a man late for an appointment rather than one in fear of his life, and I was envious of his calm.
As we approached his apartment he produced a single key, and inserted it into the slot with his left hand. At that moment a woman with her lower jaw missing charged out of the shadows to his right. Thursday lifted the gun without even looking up, and fired.
His shot caug ht the woman in the eye and she went down. “Shit”, Thursday said, “left and low.” He pushed the door open and we hustled into his apartment. Or at least we hustled into a steel cage built around the door. With the door closed, he entered a code into an access pad and we were in.
“Welcome to Chez Thursday,” he said.
“Some setup you’ve got t here.” I said.
“In my business, you get kind of paranoid.”
“What business is that?”
“I’m an actor.”
Chez Thursday, as he’d called it was large and tastefully furnished. I don’t know much about decoratin g or anything, but it just felt right. Some of the furniture looked antique and some modern. There were modern art prints on the walls next to what looked like African death ma sks. The walls were painted in d ark reds and greens and there was hidden lighting. It sounds pretty eccentric, but somehow it worked.
The most impressive thing about the apartment though was the security. In addition to the steel cage build around the front door, all of the windows had steel shutters. There was also a bank of TV screens with CC T V images of the outside of the building and all the public areas including the stairwells and the landings.
On it now I could see the creatures rampaging through the building. And on one of the outside views my old friend Chavez, standing in the middle of the road replete in shades and a long leather coat. His arms were folded across his chest as he cradled a revolver that would have made Dirty Harry envious.
Thursday showed me where I could bunk down and suggested putting Ruby in a separate room because, “you never know.”
Then he pointed me in the direction of the bathroom and I spent a n hour soaking and scrubbing the filth and blood off me. My head was throbbing and after washing my hair it started bleeding again.
Joe gave me a pair of Levi’s and a t-shirt to wear. They were too big, but it felt good to be wearing clean clothes again.
“We’re going to need to take a look at that head wound,” Joe said. I protested that it was okay but he insisted and after examining it, pronounced that it was going to need a stitch or two.
“Two ticks”, he said, and was true to his word, stitching me up with the quick efficiency of an ER doctor.
“They teach you that in acting school?” I asked.
“Well, I did do a couple of episodes of General Hospital,” he laughed.
“Thanks,” I said. “Not just for this.”
Joe nodded. “No problem,” he said. “Figured you were due a helping hand. I saw what you did for that woman.”
“Someone lent me a helping hand there too, someone pretty good with a rifle. You didn’t learn that on General Hospital.”
“No,” he said. “I learnt that in Africa.”
I waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t.
“Hey , you hungry? Joe asked, then added, “sure you are.”
Actually, I was starving, and the chili Joe fixed for us were the best I’d ever tasted, despite his protestations that he wasn’t much of a cook.
Later I checked in on Ruby
“We’ve got to get out of here,” Thursday said, “Now!”
He was already sett ing off down the passage at a brisk walk, and I followed, cradling Ruby in my arms. As we approached the doorway, the first of the creatures lurched through and Thursday dispatched him without even breaking stride.
I followed close behind, leaving the apartment and turning left. More of the things were climbing the stairs to the second floor. Thursday paid them no heed as we started up the steps towards his third floor apartment. He walked with the gait of a man late for an appointment rather than one in fear of his life, and I was envious of his calm.
As we approached his apartment he produced a single key, and inserted it into the slot with his left hand. At that moment a woman with her lower jaw missing charged out of the shadows to his right. Thursday lifted the gun without even looking up, and fired.
His shot caug ht the woman in the eye and she went down. “Shit”, Thursday said, “left and low.” He pushed the door open and we hustled into his apartment. Or at least we hustled into a steel cage built around the door. With the door closed, he entered a code into an access pad and we were in.
“Welcome to Chez Thursday,” he said.
“Some setup you’ve got t here.” I said.
“In my business, you get kind of paranoid.”
“What business is that?”
“I’m an actor.”
Chez Thursday, as he’d called it was large and tastefully furnished. I don’t know much about decoratin g or anything, but it just felt right. Some of the furniture looked antique and some modern. There were modern art prints on the walls next to what looked like African death ma sks. The walls were painted in d ark reds and greens and there was hidden lighting. It sounds pretty eccentric, but somehow it worked.
The most impressive thing about the apartment though was the security. In addition to the steel cage build around the front door, all of the windows had steel shutters. There was also a bank of TV screens with CC T V images of the outside of the building and all the public areas including the stairwells and the landings.
On it now I could see the creatures rampaging through the building. And on one of the outside views my old friend Chavez, standing in the middle of the road replete in shades and a long leather coat. His arms were folded across his chest as he cradled a revolver that would have made Dirty Harry envious.
Thursday showed me where I could bunk down and suggested putting Ruby in a separate room because, “you never know.”
Then he pointed me in the direction of the bathroom and I spent a n hour soaking and scrubbing the filth and blood off me. My head was throbbing and after washing my hair it started bleeding again.
Joe gave me a pair of Levi’s and a t-shirt to wear. They were too big, but it felt good to be wearing clean clothes again.
“We’re going to need to take a look at that head wound,” Joe said. I protested that it was okay but he insisted and after examining it, pronounced that it was going to need a stitch or two.
“Two ticks”, he said, and was true to his word, stitching me up with the quick efficiency of an ER doctor.
“They teach you that in acting school?” I asked.
“Well, I did do a couple of episodes of General Hospital,” he laughed.
“Thanks,” I said. “Not just for this.”
Joe nodded. “No problem,” he said. “Figured you were due a helping hand. I saw what you did for that woman.”
“Someone lent me a helping hand there too, someone pretty good with a rifle. You didn’t learn that on General Hospital.”
“No,” he said. “I learnt that in Africa.”
I waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t.
“Hey , you hungry? Joe asked, then added, “sure you are.”
Actually, I was starving, and the chili Joe fixed for us were the best I’d ever tasted, despite his protestations that he wasn’t much of a cook.
Later I checked in on Ruby
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