Love Is Always Write Volume 4

neighbor from two doors down.
    "Wait, what?" Bob called and broke his stasis to run to the stairs. He peered down just as the exit door clicked shut. His neighbor was gone. Bob did not even know his name. "What the hell?"
    Bob carried the cactus back to his apartment and placed the pot on the kitchen table. He cocked his head. It looked a bit suggestive—one tall, prickly stalk bordered by two smaller, rounded cacti.
    "Mariah, you look like a cock and balls," Bob said and then rolled his eyes. "And I'm talking to a cactus." He shook his head and shambled back to his bed where he crawled between the sheets and tried to reclaim his lost sleep.
    ****
    More loud banging roused Bob sometime later, and he flung the blankets aside and stood up.
    "Hold your fucking horses!" he bellowed. He assumed it was the cactus owner returning, so he didn't bother to hurry. He picked up his jeans from a nearby chair and tugged them on, then slipped his feet into his Nikes as protection from the cold hardwood floor. Bob dragged a clean T-shirt over his head and walked to the door, which had gone ominously quiet. He wondered if the strange neighbor-guy had given up.
    Bob opened the door, only to have it shoved open another foot. A gun was thrust into his face, and someone bellowed, "WHERE IS THE CACTUS?"
    With reflexes born of sheer terror, Bob gripped the edge of the door and slammed it shut, narrowly missing the toe of the black boot the would-be intruder tried to shove through to prevent it from closing.
    The doorknob twisted as Bob flipped the deadbolt to the locked position. He backed away as fists pounded against the door. " Give us the cactus and we'll leave !"
    Bob snatched up his cell phone and dialed 911. They were crazy. The world had gone crazy. He glared at the cactus and held the phone to his ear, trying to ignore the banging on the door. His neighbors would hopefully report the ruckus as well. The pounding stopped, and in the moment of silence, Bob realized he did not hear a ringtone from his phone.
    He stared at his cell as the words UNABLE TO CONNECT popped up on the screen. His jaw sagged. Unable to connect ?
    A solid thud hit the door, and Bob heard the doorframe crack. Were they actually trying to break in? Shaking off his astonishment, Bob cleared his phone and tried again, only to get the same message.
    "I am in the twilight zone," Bob said aloud and then the doorframe made a splintering sound. Not willing to be trapped inside his apartment if the crazy people with a gun made it inside, Bob hurried for the window. He knew he couldn't fight them off. There had been three others in the hallway, possibly more. The apartment was old, and a rickety metal fire escape dotted the outside of the building, with a ladder that led to the ground. Once down he could run for help. The local police station was just up the street.
    When Bob reached the window, he glanced back at the cactus on the table. What was so important about the stupid plant? He hurried back and snatched it up. Maybe the police could figure it out.
    Bob pushed open the window and stepped out onto the metal balcony. The wind was bitterly cold, and he regretted grabbing the damned cactus instead of a jacket. He heard a shout below and looked down to see a man perched on the shoulders of another, striving to reach the rungs of the ladder below.
    "Son of a bitch!" Bob muttered and glanced up. There was roof access from the interior stairwell. He had seen window washers using it back when his apartment had belonged to his friend Alyssa. Carefully holding the plant pot with one arm, Bob started to climb the steps.
    He reached the roof quickly and felt only slightly winded—and much warmer—for the exercise. He jogged across the empty expanse of roofline and grasped the handle of the door that jutted from a small brick building. It was locked. Of course.
    He growled and whirled around, wondering where he was going to go now. He supposed he could go back to the fire escape and drop the cactus onto the heads of his pursuers.
    "Hey!" someone yelled. "This way! Come here!"
    Bob looked toward the voice and saw his neighbor waving at him from the adjacent roof. Bob refused to be surprised. After all that had already happened, the reappearance of the person who had shoved a cactus into his hands seemed almost ordinary. His neighbor held a huge board in his hands, standing it upright. As Bob watched, it fell with a loud bang, slapping across the gap that divided the two