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

doorway.
    “We’re on the fifth floor,” he said, almost apologetically.
    “The higher you are, the less likely you’ll have to deal with those monsters, at least that’s what I’ve found,” Ryan said.
    The stairwell was mercifully trash-free. The last thing Ryan needed was to trip and fall down the stairs. The notion of doctors died when the world turned out its lights on humanity. He figured his ankle would be okay in a day or so, but hoped he wouldn’t have to run anytime soon.
    Be careful what you hope for; you’ll tempt that cruel bitch, Fate.
    “So one of ‘em got away?” Carmine asked.
    “Yeah,” Ryan sighed as they made it to the second floor.
    “Think he’ll come back? Think he’ll bring others?”
    “I dunno,” Ryan said, “But I think if there were others, they would have probably brought them this time. Unfortunately, he saw where you went. So if he does come back, you and your grandpa are sitting targets.”
    “So, what should we do?”
    “Well, the way I see it, you’ve got two choices. You either move, or prepare to defend yourselves. That means learning how to use the gun I gave you.”
    “Gramps doesn’t much like guns.”
    “Well, Gramps needs to recognize that the world has changed. If you’re not armed, you’re at the mercy of man and monster, alike.”
    Carmine laughed, “Gramps still thinks he’s tough. A few months ago, we were at the park, and some crackhead came up with a gun and told Gramps to hand over his wallet. Gramps told the guy he had exactly 10 seconds to leave, or he’d whoop his ass so bad, his mama wouldn’t even recognize his ugly face.”
    Ryan laughed, “What happened?”
    "The crackhead just stared at him for a long time, and I was sure he was gonna just shoot us right there on the spot. But then he just backed off. Said something like, ‘It ain’t even worth it’ or something. Gramps used to be a semi-pro boxer and taught for years when he got back from the war. He never got too well known, but he’d taught a lot of the great boxers in the day. So, he’s kinda close to being a local celebrity. Maybe the dude recognized him or something. But, like you said, things have changed. People now, they don’t care who you are or what your rep is.”
    “No, they don’t,” Ryan said, as he considered a third possible solution to their predicament. He could track Red Jacket down and finish the job. He’d have to wait until his ankle was better, and hope Red Jacket didn’t come back before then. But if he could find the bastard, he could make sure Carmine and his grandpa would be safe, from one asshole, anyway.
    “Fifth floor,” Carmine said, as he pushed through the squeaky doorway and into the hall, lit by large grimy windows at either end. Ryan followed the boy to the fourth door on the left, noting that the hallway was in far better condition than the first floor. Gramps probably didn’t put up with trashy neighbors, Ryan guessed, liking the old brawler before they even met.
    Carmine knocked on the door twice, waited, then twice again, and said, “It’s me, Gramps,” before sliding his keys into the deadbolt. He turned to Ryan, “Wait here, a sec, and leave the gun in the hall, okay?”
    “OK,” Ryan said, leaning his rifle against the wall.
    “I’ve got company,” Carmine said as he entered the apartment, and placed the flashlight on a small end-table beside the front door. “He saved me from some punks who tried to jack your meds. Is it alright if he comes in?”
    From his spot in the doorway, Ryan could see into the small apartment, well-lit by open windows in the living room. Though the apartment was small, and looked as if it had been decorated in the 70’s, it was immaculate, orderly, and well-preserved.  
    Gramps wheeled into view, emerging from a bedroom in the back of the apartment. The man was stocky, bald, and looked like he was in his early 60’s. He was wearing powder blue dress pants that hung loosely over where the bottom of the man’s left leg had once been, and a dark blue polo shirt. He looked like he was about to head to the park for a Sunday stroll, but his face was stone-cold serious.
    Gramps eyed Ryan up and down, “Why’d you bring a stranger here?” he asked Carmine, though his eyes never left Ryan. Though the man had no weapon, his stare was intimidating, as if he might leap right out of the chair and kick your ass, even if you had a weapon.
    Ryan rolled his shoulders forward slightly, trying to