This Rotten World (Book 1) by The Vocabulariast Page A

while. At one point Iceman pleaded for help and said, "Someone
please call the cops. He's trying to kill me."
    The whole
thing sounded like an elaborate prank, and Rudy wasn't about to take the bait,
but then Iceman fell silent. Not long after, he heard groaning, and wet sounds,
almost as if someone were chewing steak very loudly with their mouth open. The
sound was grossing him out, so Rudy backed out of the lobby when the game was
over.
    Through the
door of his apartment, he heard footsteps pounding down the hallway. By the
time he got to the peephole on his front door, his neighbor had already passed
and slammed her door shut.
    He was
about to go back to the comfort of his recliner when he heard an odd groan in
the hallway. Slowly, the form of the man that had been chasing him shuffled
into sight. Rudy became acutely aware that his breathing was far too loud. Each
inhalation sounded as loud as a vacuum cleaner in his ears, while every
exhalation seemed even louder. He thought about moving backwards slowly, away
from the door, but his bulk had a tendency of rendering any of his attempts at
silence completely futile.
    The man
with the bloody jaw stopped and looked at his door, as if he could almost sense
Rudy's presence. Rudy's heart beat within his chest as if it wanted to burst
through his ribcage and go for a walk on its own. The man turned and faced his
door completely, and Rudy got as good a look at the man as he had ever wanted.
The veins in his face were dark, as if he had liquid licorice running through
his body. His eyes were oddly speckled, and his lips were cracked and dry. The
blood on his jaw dripped down his shiny green jacket, and the man didn't seem
to care about any of it. His eyes searched the door for something.
    After an
eternity locked eye to eye with the man, he finally lost interest and stumbled
his way down the hallway. Rudy took a giant step back from the door, and he
must have hit the sweet spot on the hardwood flooring of his apartment. The
creak wasn't the loudest thing he had ever heard, but at 4 in the morning in a
mostly silent apartment building, it wasn't all that easy to miss.
    It seemed
like it was only one intense heartbeat before the man in the hallway was
banging on his door. Rudy fumbled for his cell phone, and he slid it open to
expose the keyboard. His thick digits struggled to dial 911, and when he
finally got through, there was no answer. A busy signal was all he got. How
could the police have a busy signal?
    The door
rattled in the frame as the man in the hallway continued to bang on the door.
His groaning wasn't making the matter any better. Just when he thought the door
might give way, Rudy heard a voice in the hallway.
    "Oi. 
What the fuck do you think you're doin'? It's four in the fuckin' mornin' and I
gotta get up in two hours." It was his British neighbor across the hall, a
cranky sort, who always seemed to have something negative to say. He could see
the hate in his eyes whenever they passed each other in the hallway, but he was
glad the bastard lived across the hallway just now.
    The lack of
an answer from the bloody man in the hallway wasn't the appropriate response
for his neighbor apparently. He slammed his door closed behind him as he
stepped into the hall and yelled, "Hey, dickhead, I'm talking to you!"
There was another silent pause, and then a groan from the bleeding man.
    "Back
the fuck up, or you'll be bleeding from your nose as well as your chin,"
his neighbor yelled.
    Rudy used
the noise as a distraction to scoot closer to the peephole in the door.
Unfortunately, the peephole's field of view wasn't wide enough to allow him to
see the door to his neighbor's apartment as the doors on either side of the
hallway were staggered.
    He heard
his neighbor strain, and say, "Get the fuck off me!" At that point,
Rudy threw the locks on his door and risked a peek into the hallway. His
neighbor, clad only in a pair of sweatpants, was pummeling the man in the
hallway. They