Yesterdays Gone: SEASON TWO (THE POST-APOCALYPTIC SERIAL THRILLER) (Yesterday's Gone)

not, this man had balls of steel, willing to sacrifice himself to save his grandson.
    Ryan hoped it wouldn’t come to that. “I’ve got a plan,” he said, lying like a motherfucker. If he had a plan, his brain had better inform his body what the hell it was. “Go in there. Lock the door. Move the bed to block it, if you can do it quickly. And then stay quiet. You still have the gun I gave you, Carmine?”
    Joe’s eyes widened, but he didn’t protest.
    “Yeah, I put it in my room,” Carmine said.
    “Good. Give it to Joe.”  
    “Remember,” Ryan said, “Not a peep.”
    “Be careful,” Joe said. He and Carmine retreated to his room.
    Ryan confirmed his rifle was loaded, then slid a box of bullets into his pocket and approached the front door at a creep, hoping like hell Red Jacket wasn’t on the other side, waiting to take him out. Ryan figured his odds were good; Red Jacket probably wouldn't hang around too long after rolling out the sonic red carpet for the monsters. Odds are, he either holed up in another apartment on one of the higher levels, or he’d gone to the roof. If he were really quick, and had a car, he might have already made it back downstairs and took off to who knows where before the place was overrun.
    Pussy. Couldn’t fight his own fight, had to get the monsters to do it for him.
    Ryan held his breath, forced himself to step into the hall, then let out his breath at the silence of no shots fired. The sound of music, loud rock he didn’t recognize, came from either direction: two different sources, two different songs blasting.
    Though his ankle was still mostly fire, he limped as quickly as he could to the apartment nearest the stairway. He tried the doorknob. Surprisingly, it wasn’t locked. If Ryan were baiting this trap, he would’ve locked the door to delay entry. Give the monsters more time to find them.
    Inside the room, Ryan found a large boombox sitting on top of the dining room table, with a front panel lit up in bright blue. He searched desperately for the off button in the darkness, but with the bright light of the display screen, it was hard to see details of the buttons on top of the device.
    “Fuck!” he yelled, turning the radio around with one hand, while the other stayed on the rifle, “Where the hell is it?”  
    He found the button, small and lit green, on the top, where he should’ve seen it before, and pressed down hard. The light, and music died, but music from the other end of the hall continued to scream.
    He limped into the hall, praying none of the monsters had made it up the stairs yet. They didn’t seem terribly bright or fast in his limited experience with them, so he hoped he had another few minutes to throw them off his trail. The hall clear, Ryan pushed himself as fast as he could to the second apartment, then turned the knob. Also unlocked. He slipped into the dark, scanning the darkness for the radio. Judging from the sound, it was in one of the bedrooms. He navigated past furniture toward the back of the apartment, and stumbled into the creeping feeling that he wasn’t alone.
    He turned and saw a shadow among shadows, flickering in the kitchen. Though he couldn’t make out the man’s features, he knew who it was. Red Jacket. Waiting.
    Ryan raised his rifle — too late.
    Red Jacket fired his pistol, the gunshot thundering over the sound of the music.
    Ryan stumbled back, then fell against the wall feeling as if someone had hit him in the gut with a baseball bat.
    So this is what it feels like to be shot.
    The man stepped from the kitchen, into the scant light seeping through the windows,   and aimed his gun at Ryan. “Should’a left well enough alone, Soldier Boy.”
    Ryan tried to raise his rifle, but realized too late that his hands were empty. He’d dropped his weapon when the bullet hit. The pain in his gut spread like fire, and he felt dizzy and nauseous, making movement difficult, if not impossible. He wasn’t sure if this is what it was like when your body went into shock, but he prayed he would stay conscious. If he closed his eyes, he’d never open them again.
    Move, damn it! You can’t die like this!
    But he couldn’t.
    Red Jacket leaned down, grabbed the rifle, then went into the back of the apartment and silenced the stereo. Ryan waited in the silence, listening, unable to turn around, waiting for Red Jacket to reappear and finish him off.
    Time slowed to a crawl, and Ryan thought of Mary and Paola. He flashed back