The Undead Roommate

Chapter 2: Unwanted Attention

"Antang, hide! Now!" Kewin hissed, shoving the creature toward the pantry.

Antang blinked, his chest light pulsing a rhythmic, frantic red. "Red means… guests are bad?"

"Red means you're going to get us both killed. Get in the closet. Don't make a sound."

Kewin slammed the pantry door just as the deadbolt groaned. Mr. Hantar, a man whose face was a roadmap of broken capillaries and entitlement, shoved the door open. He didn’t wait for an invite.

"Kewin. You keeping a beast in here?" Hantar barked, sniffing the air. "Smells like a butcher shop’s dumpster."

Kewin blocked the line of sight to the kitchen, leaning casually against the doorframe, though his heart was racing. "Just a leak in the plumbing, Hantar. Old pipes. You know how this building is."

"Plumbing doesn't moan, kid. I heard a voice. Sounded like a dying radiator." Hantar pushed past him, squinting into the dim living room. "What are you hiding? I know you brought in a bag of supplies. Heard the rattle of cans."

"It’s empty. I’m living on scraps," Kewin lied, keeping his tone light and bored. "If you want to search, get a warrant or a badge. You have neither."

Hantar smirked, his eyes darting toward the kitchen. "I don’t need a badge to know when someone’s hoarding. You got a girl in here? Or something worse?"

"It's just me. And I’m exhausted. Can this wait?"

"Move," Hantar growled, stepping toward the kitchen. "You’ve been acting twitchy for weeks. If you’re hiding food—or anything else that brings the scavengers to our door—you’re out."

Kewin felt the air leave the room. He stepped into Hantar's path, his hand itching for the knife hidden in his waistband. "You step into my kitchen, Hantar, and we’re going to have a much bigger problem than noise."

Hantar stopped, his eyes narrowing. "Is that a threat?"

"It’s a warning. My cousin is in there. She’s sick. Very sick."

Hantar paused, his posture softening just a fraction. "Sick? With what?"

"Contagion," Kewin improvised, leaning into the lie. "The kind that makes people... well, makes them moan. She’s stable, but she’s sensitive to sound. If she gets stressed, she gets violent. You really want to roll the dice on that?"

The silence that followed was thick enough to choke on. Hantar took an involuntary step back, his face paling. "Contagion? You’re keeping a sick one in a public housing unit?"

"It’s not contagious to you, as long as you don't go near her. She’s contained. I’m taking care of her. Now, are we done here?"

"You're insane, Kewin. This whole building could get wiped out."

"I’m doing my part to keep it contained. If you report this, the scavengers will come to clear the whole floor. That includes your precious stash of canned peaches."

Hantar’s jaw tightened. He looked at the pantry door, then back at Kewin. "If I hear one more sound—one more moan—I’m reporting you to the sector chief."

"Understood. Now get out."

Hantar backed into the hallway. "I’m watching you, Kewin. Don't think I’m not."

The door clicked shut. Kewin let out a breath he felt like he’d been holding for a century. He waited ten seconds before rushing to the pantry.

He ripped the door open. Antang was slumped against the shelving, the red light in his chest spiraling into a jagged, strobe-like flicker. He was twitching violently, his jaw snapping open and shut in rhythmic, rhythmic pulses.

"Antang? Hey, look at me. The neighbor's gone."

Antang didn't register him. His head lolled back, hitting the wall with a hollow thunk. A high-pitched, electronic whine emanated from the crystal in his chest.

"Antang!" Kewin grabbed his shoulder. The flesh was cold, like deep-frozen meat. "Dammit, don't die on me now. I don't have enough batteries to jump-start a zombie!"

Antang’s eyes rolled back, revealing milky, sightless voids. His fingers clawed at his chest, scratching at the hole, his movements jerky and disjointed. "System... error. Overload... signal."

"What signal?" Kewin shook him. "You’re breaking down! Tell me what you need!"

Antang’s body arched, his spine popping in a series of wet, sickening cracks. He seized, his entire frame vibrating with such intensity that the shelf behind him shuddered.

"The... frequency," Antang wheezed, his voice distorting into a digital, metallic grating. "Deep... down. Too many... walls."

"What are you talking about?" Kewin demanded, panic rising in his throat. "Are you malfunctioning?"

Antang stopped moving abruptly. The red light in his chest dimmed, replaced by a sudden, blinding flash of white. He grabbed Kewin’s wrist with a grip like a vice. His eyes cleared—for a split second—pierced by a terrifying, lucid intelligence.

"Laboratory," Antang whispered.

Then, his eyes clouded over, the light vanished, and he slumped forward, lifeless.