Chapter 29: Pay the Rent

Three knocks sounded at the door.

Zarek looked toward the entrance.

He had barely settled down, and someone was bothering him again.

Elsa sat up on the sofa. Ayesha immediately glanced at the rifle resting beside her chair.

Another knock followed.

"Stay here,"he said.

He got up, moved the cabinet aside, and opened the door. Two men stood in the corridor.

The first was broad-shouldered, with a metal pipe hanging loosely from one hand. His unwashed clothes and rough appearance suggested he hadn’t had a proper bath in days.

He looked Zarek over, then glanced past him into the apartment. The second man was slimmer and better composed. He wore a faded jacket, and his hands were empty. Unlike his companion, he offered a polite smile.

"Evening. New to the building?"

"Does it look like I live here?" Zarek asked.

The man chuckled as though he’d heard a joke. "Fair enough. I’m Nolan, and this is Briggs. We help manage things around here."

"Manage what?"

"The building. The people living in it. Making sure everyone gets along."

Briggs tapped his pipe against the doorframe.

"Making sure everyone follows the rules," he added.

Nolan gave him a brief look before turning back to Zarek.

"We’ve got a group of survivors living on the upper floors. Everyone contributes supplies. Food, water, medicine, ammunition—whatever they can spare. It’s how we keep things running."

Zarek listened without interrupting.

Nolan continued, explaining that anyone occupying an apartment was expected to pay rent. It wasn’t a complicated arrangement. People contributed, and in return, they were allowed to stay.

At least, that was how he presented it.

"How much?" Zarek asked.

"Depends on what you’ve got. We’ll take a look at your supplies and work something out."

Briggs stepped closer.

"Don’t make it difficult. Everyone pays."

Zarek glanced at the pipe in his hand, then back at his face.

"And what happens if someone doesn’t?"

Briggs grinned.

"Then we help them understand the rules."

Nolan sighed. "What he means is that we don’t want trouble. There are enough problems outside already. No reason for people to start fighting over supplies."

"Of course."

Zarek almost smiled.

They had barely arrived, and the local authorities were already knocking on his door to collect taxes.

How efficient.

He leaned against the frame, looking between the two men. Nolan was trying to make the demand sound reasonable, while Briggs relied on the threat of violence to make sure nobody questioned it.

A familiar arrangement.

One man offered a deal. The other made refusing it unpleasant.

Zarek had seen the same tactic used in prison.

"So," he said, "you want me to hand over my supplies because you say so?"

"Nobody’s forcing you to do anything," Nolan replied. "But everyone here contributes. That’s how we keep the peace."

Briggs snorted.

"Unless you want to find out what happens when you don’t."

Zarek’s attention drifted past them.

From where he stood, he could see the opposite wall and the closed doors along the corridor. He remembered the voices he’d heard earlier. These men weren’t the only survivors in the building.

Interesting.

He glanced back toward the bedroom where the bodies lay.

They still looked relatively fresh. The blood had dried, but the room hadn’t yet reached the stage of decay he’d seen elsewhere in the city.

Their deaths couldn’t have happened that long ago.

Yet these two were standing at his door, talking about rent as though nothing unusual had happened.

"Tell me something," Zarek said. "You knew someone died in this apartment?"

Nolan’s smile faltered for a moment.

"People die every day now."

"That wasn’t my question."

Briggs shifted his grip on the pipe.

"The place was empty. That’s all you need to know."

Zarek watched him carefully.

That answer could mean several things. Perhaps they knew what had happened. Perhaps they simply didn’t care. Either way, neither man seemed particularly concerned about the bodies.

He found that amusing.

"Right," Zarek said. "And now you’ve come to collect rent."

"Exactly," Briggs replied. "So stop wasting our time."

He took another step forward.

That was when Zarek decided the conversation was over.

A revolver appeared in his right hand.

One moment, his hand had been empty. The next, he was pointing the weapon at Briggs’s chest.

Both men froze.

Briggs’s grin vanished. His eyes dropped to the gun, and the hand holding the pipe stopped halfway through another movement.

Nolan raised his hands.

"Easy. Nobody needs to do anything stupid."

Zarek looked at Briggs.

"Funny. You seemed pretty eager to see what happened when someone refused."

Briggs swallowed. He tried to maintain his expression, but the weapon in front of him had taken the confidence out of his posture.

"Where the hell did you get that?"

"Does it matter?"

Zarek kept the barrel trained on him.

"You’re going to leave now. You can tell your friends that I don’t pay rent to strangers, and I don’t appreciate people threatening me in my own home."

Nolan glanced at Briggs, silently urging him not to make things worse.

"We’re not trying to rob you," Nolan said. "We’re just asking everyone to contribute. That’s how people survive here."

"Then ask."

Zarek’s voice remained casual.

"Don’t send your friend to threaten me."

Briggs’s jaw tightened. He clearly wanted to say something, but his eyes kept returning to the revolver.

Finally, he lowered the pipe.

"This isn’t over."

Zarek tilted his head.

"Was that supposed to scare me?"

Briggs glared at him.

"There are a lot of people in this building. You think that gun makes you untouchable? You refuse to cooperate, and you’ll have the whole place against you."

There it was.

The threat had changed from one man with a pipe to an entire group of survivors.

Zarek wasn’t surprised. People who collected resources rarely worked alone for long. Numbers gave them leverage, and leverage made it easier to take things from people who couldn’t defend themselves.

He had no idea how many people they could call on or how well armed the group was. Starting a gunfight in the corridor would be a stupid way to find out.

Instead, he smiled.

"Then you should probably tell them to knock politely next time."

Nolan placed a hand on Briggs’s shoulder.

"Come on. Let’s go."

Briggs resisted for a moment, then allowed himself to be led away. He continued glaring at Zarek as they backed down the corridor.

"This will come back to bite you," he called.

"Get in line."

Zarek watched them turn the corner before lowering the revolver. He closed the door and pushed the cabinet back into place.

For a few seconds, the apartment was quiet.

Then Elsa spoke.

"Are they going to come back?"

"Probably."

She stared at him. "And you’re just going to leave it at that?"

"What would you like me to do? Chase after them?"

"No, but—"

"Then we’re done talking about it."

Ayesha picked up her rifle and rested it across her lap.

"They said there were a lot of people here. If they’re organized, they might actually be dangerous."

Elsa glanced toward the door.

"What if they come back tonight?"

"Then we’ll deal with it."

"How?"

"Depends on how many come back."

His answer did nothing to reassure her.

Zarek couldn’t blame her for that. He wasn’t trying to reassure either of them.

He was simply unwilling to spend the rest of the evening worrying about a problem that hadn’t happened yet.

They had food, water, weapons, and a place to sleep. The building’s residents might become a nuisance, but he could deal with them when necessary.

For now, he wanted rest.

"Listen carefully," he said. "We’re staying here tonight. If someone knocks, find out what they want. If it’s those two, don’t start a fight. If they threaten you, wake me up."

Elsa frowned. "What if they try to break in?"

"Then make enough noise to wake me up."

"That’s your plan?"

"It’s a better plan."

Ayesha gave him an incredulous look.

Zarek ignored it and walked toward the bedroom.

He had no intention of sleeping in the living room with the two women. He didn’t trust them enough to let his guard down around them, especially while unconscious.

Their circumstances forced them to cooperate, but that didn’t mean he considered them loyal.

Good enough.

He checked the window, tested the handle, and pulled the curtains aside to look at the neighbouring buildings. Nothing moved outside.

After closing the curtains, he removed his shoes and sat on the edge of the bed.

The mattress sank beneath his weight.

For the first time in hours, he didn’t have to stand in a filthy corridor, climb another flight of stairs, or watch for something crawling out of the darkness.

He lay back and stretched his legs.

Damn, that felt good.

Outside, the city remained a mess of ruined buildings, mutated creatures, and desperate survivors. Somewhere in the tower, Nolan and Briggs were probably telling their friends about the armed stranger who had refused to pay rent.

Let them talk.

If the group came looking for trouble, he’d decide what to do then. Perhaps they had useful supplies. Perhaps their leader was someone worth meeting.

Or perhaps they were nothing more than a collection of bullies who had discovered that frightened people were easy to exploit.

He’d find out eventually.

For now, they could wait.

Zarek rolled onto his side and closed his eyes.

Tomorrow, he could deal with the neighbours.

Tonight, they could all go to hell.