“The hell you ain’t; now get to stepping before I come at you with this twelve gauge!”
“Lady, you ever seen one of those things in an argument?” Stephens said; his voice lower.
After a pause the woman answered, “Well, no, I guess I haven’t.”
“Ma’am, now I’m coming up; if you shoot me… well, you’re gonna have some explaining to do to my momma,” Stephens said.
Still staying in the cover of the stairwell, Murphy stepped ahead and followed close behind Stephens while Jacob held back on the rail. He watched as the light came back on and a shadow cut across it. Stephens stepped up the stairwell, the soft light outlining his form as he cautiously took the steps one at a time. Jacob observed as Stephens let go of his rifle and, letting it hang slack from the sling, stepped to the landing at the top of the stairs. He put his hands up and extended them into the hallway.
“Okay, see my hands? I don’t intend no harm on y’all. I’m coming in, okay?” Stephens said, speaking calmly.
“Yeah, I see ‘um,” the woman answered.
“Nana, just put the gun down,” a younger man’s voice called.
Stephens continued to extend his arms as he walked into the hallway. He stepped clearly into the light and held his hands up, the soft light illuminating his face and uniform. Garbled words were exchanged in soft voices. Then Stephens peered back into the stairwell, looking at Murphy and Jacob, and said, “You can come up.” Murphy lowered his weapon and waved Jacob forward.
Chapter Fifteen
An elderly grey-haired woman stood looking at them suspiciously, a shotgun tightly gripped in her hands. A young man walked past her and greeted Stephens enthusiastically. “Good to see you, brother. Where’s everyone else? When are we leaving?”
Moving Jacob ahead, Murphy stepped out of the stairwell to stand beside Stephens and looked back into the dark hallway. He tried to close the door behind him but found it was stuck open.
“Mr. Carson broke the door when the elevators went out. Door was locked from the inside, and it was the only way to get back up here,” the young man said, watching Murphy’s attempts to secure the entrance. “He was supposed to come back for us… but never did.”
“What’s your name, kid?” Stephens asked.
“Tyree,” he answered.
“Tyree, why didn’t you all leave with the others?”
The young man placed his hand on the older woman’s arm. “Nana, you can go back inside,” Tyree whispered.
She looked at the strangers and shook her head at them before turning and walking back down the dark hallway. Near the end of the passage, she stopped and threw them one last scowl before disappearing into an apartment.
The young man looked back at Stephens. “My papa has been ill for a while and he can’t walk; he’s in a chair and needs oxygen. When the folks came to get us on the bus, they didn’t have an ambulance or a wheelchair for him. The police said they’d send someone, but they dint.”
“This place was locked up tight. Boarded and chained,” Murphy pointed out.
Tyree nodded his head. “That was Mr. Carson, the landlord. He stayed back with my grandparents to help them out after they got everyone else out. Nana and Papa were the only tenants left in the building. He watched over them ‘til me and my cousin got here. Carson locked us in, sealed up the building, and went for help.”
“When was this?” Murphy asked.
“Bout three days ago, maybe. After the electricity shut off,” Tyree said. “You all thirsty? We got water… food.”
“Thank you, I could use a bite. We’ve been on the move since yesterday,” Murphy answered.
An explosion in the distance roared outside and shook the building, causing the windows at the ends of the hallway to rattle. Jacob stepped back and put his hands to the wall.
“It’s okay. That shit’s happening a lot, but this ol’ building is tough; it ain’t falling down anytime soon,” Tyree said as he turned to walk toward the apartment at the end of the hall.
Stephens glanced over at Murphy. When all Murphy did was shrug his shoulders, Stephens sarcastically smiled before stepping off to follow Tyree. Murphy started to follow as well when Jacob reached out a hand and grabbed his forearm. “What are we doing? We need to keep moving.”
“Relax, we’re just stopping long enough to get eyes on the area, and we’ll be on our way,” Murphy said, pulling away and following Stephens.
Jacob stood looking down the dark hallway; every apartment door was partially opened, and the windows at each end of the long hallway had been covered with paper. He turned and glimpsed back at the broken door as explosions outside made an ominous rumbling sound that crept up the stairwell. Listening to the growling echo up the stairs and the trembling as the building protested the concussion of every bomb drop, Jacob suddenly realized he was alone in the dimly lit space. Shaking himself, he quickly moved out after his friends.
Jacob reached the apartment the others had entered and, slipping quietly through the open door, paused in a small hallway. The apartment was neatly made up and well kept. Family pictures covered the walls and Jacob recognized Tyree in several of them—as a young boy sitting on a sailboat and holding a fishing pole, group photos of happier times, but most notably, his high school graduation photo, enlarged and holding a prominent spot above a large maple bench.
Jacob followed the voices he could hear to the end of the small hallway. He walked into a living room where an elderly man, wearing an oxygen mask, lifted a hand to wave. Jacob forced a smile and returned the gesture as younger man, possibly late teens, moved from the kitchen and looked Jacob up and down. “You a cop?” he asked accusingly.
Jacob sighed and shook his head. “You know, I’m going to have to get a new tailor.”
“What’s that supposed to
