Ninety Days Before The Apocalypse

Blood In The Corridor

"Get the drills working on the left hinge!" Director Zhao barked, his face wet with sweat despite the freezing air. He shoved a heavy guard toward the door frame. "If we do not breach this frame in three minutes, the charges will not seat properly! Hurry up!"

"Director, the drill bit is glowing red!" the lead guard yelled back, leaning his entire body weight against the heavy power tool. Sparks showered across his dirty coat. "This frame is not standard iron! It is reinforced high-density alloy! It is chewing through our bits!"

"Then use the secondary charges!" Zhao screamed, pointing a fat, gloved finger at the yellow plastic crate sitting on the floor. "Tape the primer cords directly to the mechanical deadbolt casing! Do not stand there like an idiot!"

Outside, in the dark corridor, Su Yan pulled her brother further back into the shadows of the stairwell landing. "Mother, we need to leave. They are going to blow up the entire landing."

"Shut up and watch, Yan!" Mother Su rasped, her eyes wide with a frantic, hungry light as she clutched her torn coat. "When that door falls, those guards will rush inside. In the chaos, we grab the food. We grab the hot soup!"

Inside the apartment, Lin Feng stood silently behind the heavy steel plate of his vault door. On his wrist, his watch ticked rhythmically.

He did not call out. He did not issue another warning. Showing hesitation to men like Director Zhao was nothing more than an invitation to be slaughtered.

With a soft, metallic click, Lin Feng reached up and slid back the six-inch steel observation flap built into the center of the door. The narrow opening revealed the bright, frantic scene in the hallway.

The lead guard was leaning over the yellow crate, his fingers trembling as he tried to strip the protective casing off a red detonation cord.

"Is the fuse ready, Lao Zhang?" Director Zhao shouted over his shoulder, stepping two paces back toward the stairwell.

"Give me ten seconds!" the lead guard yelled. "The wire is frozen stiff!"

Lin Feng raised the heavy, matte-black compound crossbow to his eye level, aligning the glowing tritium sight with the narrow steel gap.

*THWACK.*

A heavy carbon-steel bolt shot through the narrow port with a sharp, pneumatic hiss.

The lead guard did not even scream. The steel tip punched cleanly through his throat, pinning him backward against the concrete wall with a sickening, heavy thud. His hands let go of the yellow crate, flailing uselessly in the air before his knees buckled and he slid down the wall, leaving a dark smear across the white frost.

"Lao Zhang?" the guard standing beside him stammered, stepping forward. "Lao Zhang, what happened to your neck?"

*THWACK.*

The second bolt struck before the man could finish his sentence, entering his chest with enough force to crack his tactical vest. He collapsed sideways over the yellow plastic crate, knocking the blasting charges across the icy floorboards.

"Sniper!" the third guard shrieked, dropping his modified nail gun onto the floor and scrambling backward on his hands and knees. "He has a silent gun inside the door!"

*THWACK.*

The third bolt caught him in the upper thigh, shattering the bone. The guard let out a high-pitched, wet scream, thrashing wildly on the frost-covered concrete as dark blood pooled out beneath his legs, freezing almost instantly into red ice.

"Ahhh! Help me!" the wounded guard howled, clawing at the floor. "Director, pull me back! Pull me back!"

Director Zhao froze, his jaw hanging open, his fat cheeks turning pale as paper. He looked at his three men lying motionless on the ground, then looked up at the tiny, black square hole in the middle of the steel door.

"You... you monster!" Zhao shrieked, his voice cracking into a panicked squeak. "You killed them! You executed them!"

He did not try to help the screaming guard. Instead, Zhao turned on his heel, threw his heavy mink coat open, and sprinted wildly toward the dark stairwell, his heavy boots slipping on the bloody ice.

"Wait for me!" Su Yan screamed from the landing, pulling Mother Su back as Zhao shoved past them like a madman.

Behind them, the heavy mechanical deadbolts inside the vault door disengaged with three loud, echoing clacks.

*CLANG.*

The massive forged steel door swung outward, revealing Lin Feng standing in the threshold. He wore a heavy, matte-black thermal tactical suit, a clear glass visor covering his face. In his gloved hands, he held a heavy twelve-gauge pump-action shotgun, its wide iron barrel leveled straight down the corridor.

"Zhao," Lin Feng said softly through his suit's speaker grille.

The sound of his voice, low and devoid of anger, made Director Zhao's knees turn to water. Zhao tripped over his own boots on the top step of the stairwell, slamming hard onto his chest with a loud grunt.

He scrambled around on his back, kicking his feet helplessly against the cold concrete as he stared up at the black barrel pointing directly at his chest.

"Do not shoot! Do not shoot!" Zhao screamed, raising both gloves in front of his face, his body trembling violently. "I was wrong! I was misled! It was these people!" Zhao pointed a frantic, shaking finger toward Su Yan and Mother Su, who stood frozen near the wall. "They came to my floor! They told me you had tons of food and were letting people freeze! They egged me on!"

Su Yan's eyes widened in total disbelief. "Director Zhao! What are you talking about? You are the one who brought the explosives!"

"Shut your mouth, bitch!" Zhao yelled, tears of terror leaking down his greasy cheeks and freezing on his skin. "Lin Feng... Mr. Lin! Look at me! I am the chairman of the district development board! I have access to offshore accounts! I have four villas in the south! If you spare my life, I will give you everything! Millions! Tens of millions!"

Lin Feng walked slowly down the corridor, his heavy boots crunching against the shattered glass and frozen blood on the floorboards. He stopped two feet from Zhao, looking down at the groaning, pathetic man through his visor.

"Paper money cannot melt ice, Director Zhao," Lin Feng said flatly. "And villas in the south are currently five feet under snow."

"I have contacts in the military!" Zhao babbled, his hands shaking so hard he could barely hold them up. "My cousin is a supply colonel in the regional guard! When the relief convoy arrives, I can get you onto the priority list! I swear it on my mother's grave!"

"There is no relief convoy coming," Lin Feng said softly. "The provincial capital fell four days ago."

Zhao's breath hitched in his throat. "How... how do you know that?"

Lin Feng did not answer. He slowly racked the slide of the pump-action shotgun with a loud, metallic clack that echoed through the stairwell like a thunderclap.

"No, please!" Zhao sobbed, pressing his back flat against the concrete riser of the stairs. "Please, I will be your dog! I will sweep your floor! I will guard your door! Just give me a chance!"

Lin Feng lowered the shotgun two inches, pointing the heavy barrel directly at Zhao's left knee.

"On your knees, Director," Lin Feng said.

Zhao scrambled onto his knees instantly, pressing his forehead against the icy concrete floor, weeping and panting like a terrified animal. "Thank you! Thank you, Mr. Lin! Thank you!"

"Strip," Lin Feng commanded flatly.

Zhao froze, raising his tear-streaked face in utter confusion. "What?"

"Take off your coat, your boots, and your gloves," Lin Feng said, racking the shotgun slide once more. "You have thirty seconds before I take them off your corpse."