Been a while

And I apologize for my delays, but I hope that everyone can trust that I've started to work on the next book. I'll keep you updated on what exactly.

A piece I'm working on:

A bird flies across my view, struggles against the wind, and whips away as a ball of feathers. Fear too. Though I'm not sure about the last part. The wind whips harder. The storm has been here for three days now. Weather channel didn't predict that. As the wind buffets the windows, I sip on some water. For some reason the water was out. But I'm certain that it will come back up soon. We were in the city, after all, and didn't that mean plenty of people were complaining? Nevertheless, I had the foresight to fill up my bathtub with water. I'm certain that

I lie back down on my sofa, away from the window, and cover myself up with a blanket. Next to me, my girlfriend snores away. I smile and try not to move so as to disturb her. She'd been worried about our location near an evacuation zone, though I'm sure it's fine. Truth is, I haven't heard any news for a day now. No electricity put an end to my continual refreshes to see the extent of the storm. It apparently was one of the biggest storms ever, let alone this far north.

The wind gets to be too much and I wake up expecting the windows to shatter, the building to collapse. But each time I hold my breath, the wind subsides for a few seconds and the building and windows seem to grow stronger with each second. I know this can't be true, yet I choose to believe it because it fills me with hope. I remind myself that the building is a solid brick and cement structure, and that it will be fine in this wind. I fall back asleep.

I wake up to screams. Sitting up, I check my watch and look at the light outside. It's an overcast day, and my messy studio apartment. The soft breathing of my woman stutters, and she jerks up, her eyes wide.

"What is that?" she asks.

I smile. "I don't know," I say, thinking that perhaps it was just another rambunctious neighbor. I reach over to her and stroke her light brown hair. I kiss her, morning breath on her mouth, and a smile that calms me down.

"I think the storm is over," I say and point with my head to the unshaking windows and hushed air.

"I thought I heard something, or was it a dream?" she asks, still not entirely convinced.

We hug, and I kiss her again, her smell, a sweet-sour aroma that I'm used to, makes me shiver and calm. I want to calm her down too. "I'm sure it was a dream."

"You certain?" she says, scanning my face to make sure this isn't one of my weak moments where I'll say anything to calm her down.

"I am," I reply, holding her stare.

The scream sounds off again, this time louder.

She jerks her head, then slowly turns to me. "It's real," she says in an accusing voice.

"I'll see," I say and stand up.

On the balcony I strain to see anyone in the streets. All is quiet, perhaps too quiet. But I remind myself that there's been a storm and people are just rubbing their eyes and preparing themselves for the sight of destruction. I stare and see no one. Hearing screams in this part of town is no uncommon occurrence.

And another scream punctuates the air. I feel my skin shiver. My bones rattle. It was a cry unlike one I've ever heard before. I cock my head and try to see which direction it came from.

Yet another scream. I lean over the shaking balcony railing and strain my eyes to see where it came from. The scream had the taint of someone who has no other choice but to scream with all your might. It demanded attention because something bad was going on.

"Help!" a yell, possibly by the same voice as the scream, goes out.

The sound of a crunching blow hits my ears. It's a sickening sound that I've only heard a few times before. My eyes glide over and I see two men and two women. Except the women are both on the ground. One is sprawled out on the sidewalk, while the other is on her knees, begging. She's big, and shudders with each cry of hers. The sprawled out woman doesn't appear to move.

Something in her stance reaches out and touches my heart. This is wrong. Why is she begging like that? It's broad daylight, and even if there's been a hurricane out, that shouldn't allow this to happen.

The two men are tall and skinny, and one pulls out a gun and points it at the woman. My muscles tense up. Surely this isn't happening? I wonder what to do. I have no weapons in the house, and from this distance I can't throw something at the men, if only to harass them.

"Hey!" I yell out, my voice loud and low. My worries for the women have turned to anger. This is something I can use. "Yeah you, idiot. Leave her alone," I yell again.

The men turn their heads about and look for where the voice is coming from. I wave my hands. Perhaps if they know they're being looked at, they will run off scared.

The man with the gun sees me and raises his gun. It's a small pistol so I'm sure he can't hit me from there, but even then I duck and hear the gun fire. How can someone be so bold as to fire at someone in a large building like this?

"Honey? Is everything all right?" my girlfriend asks.

"Marie? Stay inside," I say. No need for her to see this.

I peek over the edge and see that the men are back to harassing the woman. One kicks the one on the ground. The pistol is back to being pointed at the woman on her knees.

"Hey fuckhead," I yell, my voice course from adrenaline filling up my blood. "You missed. And if you don't leave, I'm going to call the cops. I've got you on video," I say, hoping that the chance of being recorded will scare them off.

This time he turns and I have only a second to duck as he fires in my direction.

A few round impact around the balcony. I peek over to see the man shoot the woman on her knees and walk towards the building entrance. The woman on her knees falls forward and her legs kick out and she's still. Red stretches out to the sidewalk.

I walk back inside and stare at Marie. I have just watched someone get shot. Yet even though watching that woman get executed lingers in my brain, another thought takes over. Are the men going to come after me? Surely there's no way they can get by the security guard and locked door?

I hear a distant gunshot.

"What is it honey?" Marie asks. She steps forward and takes my arm in hers.

"They just shot her," I say.

"Who?" she asks, her voice getting higher.

"Some woman," I say, my throat turning dry.

She stares at me as she tries to figure out if I'm joking. "By whom?"

"Some men," I say and pull out my cell phone. I dial a number. The phone disconnects. I try again. Then again. I text my mother to see if even that will work, and the text gets bounced. "Your phone working?" I ask.

"I think so," she says and reaches over to the table to grab her smart phone encased in black rubber. She dials. Nothing. She presses buttons on the screen and after several attempts looks up at me with widened eyes. "Nothing. I can't get through to anyone. I can't even text."

"It's okay," I say. I inhale and stare at the table. Something feels wrong. The air, the silence in the city, even the building seems wrong. What am I to do? As the feeling in my chest, one of energy being sucked from each cell, spreads to my head I feel foolish for yelling at the men. What could words have possibly done to men with guns? Were they coming up to get back at me?

Marie sits, thinking, and starts to shake her head. "What's happened?"

I look at my alarm clock and realize that it's out. I flip on a switch. Nothing.

"Lights are out," I say.

She nods her head.

I'm thinking now of the men coming up here. Could they figure out which apartment I was in? I need to see what's going on downstairs.

In the kitchen I grab a small knife and hold it in my hand. No weapons outside of the culinary tools we have. "Stay here, I'll be back," I say.

"Where are you going?" she asks.

"Downstairs."

She looks at me like I'm a wild man. "Why?"

"To see if there's a security guard down there."

That possibility seems to shock her. I need to be more careful about what I say; I don't want to scare her too much. "It's okay, I'm just checking," I say. When the look on her face doesn't seem to calm down I walk over and kiss her. I stroke her hair as I smell her skin. Sweet. My blood expands and I relax while at the same time feeling invincible. Even without a shower for the past three days, she still smells in a way that fills me up with power.

"I'll be back. Don't unlock the door for anyone else but me, okay?" I say.

"Okay."

I break away from her. At the door I lean my head to the edge and listen for any sounds. As I open the door she runs over and hugs me.

"I'm scared. I think something is wrong. Why would the cell phones be out?"

"I know, it's weird," I say and strain my neck to make sure that the hallway is all clear. Last thing I need is for those men to sneak up on me like this. We wouldn't be spared.

"Be careful," she says. Then looks at me with a determined look. "I'm coming with you."

"No," I say, my voice low, angry. She can't come with me because she'll be a liability. "Stay here." I try to think of something that won't hit on her pride, because otherwise she'll definitely follow me down there. "You have to make sure that no one comes here. Check the balcony and see what else is happening on the streets, all right?"

Her face hardens, before softening up. "Okay. But you be careful, okay?"

"I will," I say and step out into the hallway.

"Jeff?" she says.

I don't turn, the hallway has two lights on, with another two flickering. There's the sound of a long moan that takes me a second to recognize as that of wind tunneling through gaps in the doorways. "Yes love?"

"Don't use the elevator," she says.

I turn and look at her. "Why?" I ask, wondering what she's imagining.

"Please?" she asks.

"All right." We embrace and kiss.

I shut the door behind me and hear the click of the lock. I'm alone. I open the door to the stairwell. There's no sound except the wind. I look at the numbers on the elevators. None seem to be moving, and all are either on the top floor or the lobby. Slowly I make my way down the stairwell. I make sure that there's no echo from each step I take. And around every corner I pause and try to hear for people coming up. It's enclosed with a wall between the stairs, so every floor is a blind corner.

On the third floor I hear something coming from the hallway. I crouch down and hold my breath. A door slams I push the door to the floor open and see nothing. All the lights are working on this floor. Just as I'm about to close the door I see a streak of red leading into an apartment. It's blood. I'm certain. I close the door as quickly and quietly as I can. My heart is jumping into my throat and my thoughts start to move tumble towards the fear of being trapped here, without any police.

Everything in my body wants to go back upstairs and stay with my woman. At least I'll have a door between me and the bad guys. But I don't know what's going on. It could very well be that there's a security guard down there and my mind's playing tricks with me.

I make my way down. Step by step. All I can hear are: my heart pounding, the wind whining, and my shoes pressing on the cement stairs. When I get to the lobby door I crouch. The door has a small half window from waist height all the way to the top. Some men start talking. Laughing. It sounds jovial. Perhaps there are men there who've survived the storm like the rest of us and are happy to have made it.

Peering from the bottom of the small opening I try to make out the scene. I see a few men laughing, though now it doesn't seem to be all that jovial. I push against the door so that I can see the security desk. There's no one there. But that doesn't mean anything. It's a boring job so they usually get up and walk around.

I move my face away from the glass and decide I need a better vantage point of the lobby. The door is locked, so I'm safe behind it. Another round of laughter goes up and this time it's definitely not jovial.

Peering from higher up I see the men all around in a circle. On the floor, between them is the security guard. I've seen him before. He's a big man with a kind heart, and right now he's on the ground squirming. One of the men has what seems to be a spear pointed at the security guard's crouch. The security shuffles to get away and another man kicks him in the end. I see blood on the security man's face.

I want to look away, this scene is making me sick, but I stare. What do these men want? I duck when one of the men looks my way. Holding my breath I wonder if I've been seen. And if so, do they have the key to this door? If the security guard is at their mercy, surely they do. I wait what seems to be an eternity. My body doesn't want to move. Instead, it shrinks. Have these men taken over the building?

Another thought arises. If they have, then surely they can go up in the elevator and catch me from the second floor. I look up the stairs. Nothing. I hear the ting bell of the elevator and I peek again. The door opens and I see a woman and a man step off. Both short, timid people. They're not expecting this. They've come out for a stroll. And I see the woman's eyes grow wide as she sees the security guard on the floor. She stops and it takes another second for her man to look at her, then follow her eyes to the security guard and the men around him.

He grabs her and turns to the elevator.

One of the men, a quick man, moves and is already at the elevator door. The man and his woman freeze. But it's the freeze of fear and not knowing. If he knew he would push that man down, or use all his energy to do so.

I feel a sickness bubbling from my stomach, pushing my heart into convulsing. "Get away," I whisper. I should distract the men somehow, but what would that do? I should burst in with my knife. But this isn't a movie. There's no way that I can take on at least eight men with one knife. And I know one of them has a gun.

The men are moving in. One touches the woman on her ass. The man, obviously her boyfriend, pushes the offender's hand away. But there are several men behind him, and her turns to see them too late. He's on the ground and now the offender has his hands all over the woman. A scream goes out and for a second I make eye contact with the woman. I duck.

I stay put. The feeling that I could be next forces me to glance at the stairs. There's nothing more I want to do than to run back up. I peek one more time. The man in squirming on the ground and the woman's clothes are being torn off.

One of the men turns his head up. Has he seen me? I duck, move to the stairs and run. As fast as I can I run. Two stairs at a time and three. I slip once, bang my knee on the cement. That doesn't stop me, I get right back up and run as fast as I can. My legs start to cramp up, slow down, my lungs taste like blood, and I don't stop. Don't look back, they're going to come for you next, I tell myself. By the time I get to my floor I'm sweating, my skin burning, my lungs are blood and I don't look in the hallway.

Opening the door to my hallway I slam against the wall and look up to see a man staring at me. I freeze, my guts twisting and dropping through the floor. Did they catch me? I pause for a second. My door is halfway between me and him. I can make it. I finger my key in my pocket. He seems to be hesitating. I look behind me. There's no one. Is he alone? There's no way that I'll ever end up like that couple.

My legs are weak, but I flex them and I run to my door. The man seems to flinch, and I half expect him to pull out a weapon, but when I get to my door I see that he hasn't moved. That in fact he's looking at me like I'm crazy, makes me wonder if he has anything to do with the men downstairs. Is he a neighbor? Such is life that I don't know any of them.

I slip my key in and open the door.

I'm looking at him. He's raising a hand.

"Are you from this building?" I ask.

He nods. "Are you all right?"

"Do you know anyone else from this building?" I ask.

"Honey?" Marie asks in a frightened voice.

"Hold on baby," I say. The man takes a step towards me. "There are a few men in the lobby. Stay away from there."

"Why?" he asks. He seems thoroughly confused.

"They just killed two people who came through," I say. I don't want to think about what happened to that couple. What happened to that woman could happen to Marie. I shudder at the thought.

"What?" the man asks.

Now I'm certain he's a good guy. But how can I be hundred percent. "Listen, they're probably coming up soon. It's better that you stay inside. Do you have cell phone reception?"

"No, I was going to go downstairs for that."

"Don't," I say.

"I have a car, third floor. I can get out. Us out," he says, adding the last part like he's trying hard to make friends with me.

"Don't go down there. Or use the stairs. But be warned. If they're in the lobby waiting for you, I'm guessing they have the parking lot staked out."

He seems to be getting genuinely scared. "What do we do?"

"Honey?" Marie asks again. She's near the door now.

"Hold on," I say, and pause. I open it wider. "Come out here," I say.

She steps into view with a chef's knife in hand, poised to strike. I smile.

"What?" she says, with a determination that makes me want to kiss her.

"Do you know him?" I ask and point at the man. She steps into the hallway and looks at the man.

"Brad?" she asks.

"Hi Marie," the man says, a wave of relief comes over his face.

I hear a distant ding of the elevator. People are still using it. That makes me angry, because it means that those men in the lobby are still ambushing victims. Another ding sounds off.

Brad walks up to us and we shake hands. Another ding sounds off, this time louder. I think for a second, it means something, the dings getting louder. But what?