being locked up in his apartment on the 23rd floor. He shook his head. No, he knew better than to head down that road again.
Zaun spent his younger years filling his body with poison, becoming a prisoner to its call. He was a different person now. He’d gone through the recovery process, had received help, but as with all addicts, that dark part of him, that ominous shadow that followed him everywhere, was always with him to some degree. There were times after his recovery when the darkness would whisper to him. Tell him the tough times were easier to get through with the help of an old friend. Some days were harder than others, but he’d been able to keep the darkness at bay, even shove it deep down where it almost seemed to disappear.
He felt the shadow, the darkness, coming alive at seeing its salvation. At seeing months, maybe years, worth of magnificent nose candy. He and it could live here forever.
Zaun opened his eyes. His body felt weak, as if he hadn’t eaten for days. He knew it was his mind battling against itself. Digging his fingernails into his palms, he shook his head and told himself he could beat this. He didn’t need any of his old friends. His breathing grew faster, nostrils flaring with each intake of air. “No,” he said, feeling the warmth of anger build in his chest. His toes and fingers tingled. “No.” He was strong now-had been trained in dealing with his addiction. Grabbing the locker door, he slammed it shut, the air seeming to shake around him. The darkness within lashed out at him, screaming at him to open the door. Zaun grinned, knowing the dark part of him was in pain. He enjoyed knowing it was suffering.
The darkness’ rage departed. Zaun felt a moment of relief before the voice whispered softly to him. It begged him to reconsider, merely to have a taste, something to ease the pain and get him through these horrendous times. Once he made it out of the city, he could relax, get his mind back to full strength and forget all about his little “slip up.”
Zaun’s grin became full blown, knowing how desperate the voice was. How pathetic. He wished he could kill it, make sure it never came back, but that could never be. He was an addict and always would be, having accepted the fact long ago.
During and after rehab, Zaun left his old associates behind. They weren’t his friends. He needed to start fresh; make new ones. He also wanted to keep the number low. He and Jack had hit it off after Jack moved into the building. The two had just clicked, enjoying the same sports teams, eateries, and movies. He had never told Jack about his past and not because he was ashamed, but because he wanted his new life to be just that, new. Part of accepting responsibility was acknowledging his problem and he always did, going to meetings when he needed to, but he kept his friends ignorant of his past. Much of it was shrouded in a haze and what he did remember was awful, but it was something he had to remember, never wanting to go there again. Blackouts, binges, waking up in places he had no idea where he was or how he arrived at them. He’d been in jail a number of times too. He hit rock bottom when he woke up naked in a dumpster in Hell’s Kitchen. He had finally decided he needed help and began the long arduous road to recovery.
Those were his life experiences and choices. They didn’t need to be shared with others, especially others who had never gone down his path. He didn’t think Jack would look at him differently, but he could never be sure. His past had told him anything was possible.
Now, he was on his own with no one to talk with, well, no one to talk with that would understand his situation. The people in his support group were most likely all dead or walking around the city looking for a bite of human flesh. For now, he’d have to rely on everything he’d learned, including his martial arts training which helped play a huge part in his recovery.
Martial arts were always something he had been interested in, having grown up watching Bruce Lee movies as well as the great Shaw Brother’s films on Saturday afternoons. His sponsor, a practicing martial artist, brought him to an Aikido class and from there it was full steam ahead. After receiving his black belt in Aikido, Zaun moved on to Closed Crane Kung Fu, Kali-Silat, and combat Tai Chi. Martial arts supplied him with focus and an inner strength that he had never known.
Zaun was a tough, strong-minded individual in a normal world where things could be controlled or managed, at least to some degree. The undead epidemic had shattered that. Things were turned upside down and inside out. Now he was in a place where he didn’t know if he’d make it to the next day.
With determination, he turned away from the coke-packed locker and left the room. He marched through the apartment, making it to the front door and stopped.
Maybe just a little taste before you go? The darkness whispered. Take some with you, just in case you need it.
Zaun turned around and went back to the locker. Without thinking, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the keys, not remembering taking them with him. He removed all the locks on the lockers, then opened the door to one. He felt the shadow burst with excitement again, screaming at him to take a sniff, just a sniff and all would be better.
“Ten years sober,” he said aloud, his words hitting the shadow like a sledgehammer. He felt it cry out. It was angry. Maybe he’d kept it at bay for too long and now it was its turn?
Didn’t people slip up? At least once? He hadn’t, at least not yet.
“You can beat this,” he told himself. “You did it before. You can do it again. Others are counting on you. You’re part of a team.”
Then just take some for later, the shadow suggested. Just in case. Better to have than to not have. It’ll keep you alert, focused.
“No. Fuck you, you fuck.” Zaun slammed the locker onto his hand, the pain mind-clearing. Sobering.
In a controlled rage, he began pulling the kilos from the locker, creating a pile on the floor. From there he carried the drugs into the living room. When he was finished, he went back and did the same for the next locker until all the lockers were empty and all the cocaine was in the living room. He raised one of the gates, then opened the window and began tossing the kilos out into the street.
Chapter 25
Jack awoke, his bladder feeling ready to burst. Maria was fast asleep next to him. He walked to the bathroom and relieved himself. Shaking the last few drops, he went to flush, stopping himself as his fingers touched the handle, the motion so ingrained he’d almost forgot not to do it. A small error like that and they could be overrun with undead.
Heading back into the living room, he wondered where Zaun was. Not imagining the guy in either bedroom, he checked them anyway.
Where the hell was Zaun?
Son of a bitch, Jack thought and marched to the front door. Zaun’s M4 was resting against the wall. He looked through the peephole, making sure the hallway was safe, then pulled on the door knob, seeing if the lock was engaged.
It wasn’t.
He opened the door about a foot and stuck his head out. There was no way his friend went downstairs, and he doubted Zaun went to the roof.
Jack slowly shook his head. That left only one place: 3F. Zaun couldn’t resist, could he? He simply had to see the place. Check it out for himself. This was bad. Really bad. Jack and Maria had trusted him. What the hell was he thinking, risking their lives for curiosity’s sake?
Jack had to go get him before something terrible happened. Closing the door, he went back into the apartment and retrieved his gun belt and harness, wanting both sidearms with him.
Heading back to the door, he paused, needing a moment to get himself under control. He was livid and needed to do this with a clear head. As long as Zaun was in 3F, the man was safe, but that didn’t mean Jack could take his time. He had to find Zaun and get back to the apartment before any undead came upstairs, or they’d have to fight their way back to 3R, the noise bringing a house full of undead to the floor.
Jack turned the knob slowly and opened the door just enough to allow himself to slip into the hallway. The floor whined under his feet, causing his pulse to pound harder. The noise wasn’t too loud, but with the third floor so hushed, he had no idea what it would take to attract the zombies’ attention. He supposed the combination of their
