Cliffhanger Theater!

Bob and Phil looked at each other. It was that look of dread, and of not really knowing what to do next. Bob looked around nervously at the bathroom. There was no window, and no way out. Phil quietly stepped into the bathtub and gently gestured Bob to follow him. Slowly, Bob followed him in and Phil eased the black shower curtain closed. Bob was desperately trying to get a grip. Phil’s face had turned almost translucent with fear.

“So” Bob whispered, “now what?”

“We stay here and hope whoever that is leaves” Phil whispered back.

“This is a crazy plan. What are we going to tell the police?”

“Relax, all you’ve taken are a pair of sunglasses. We have nothing on us that suggests we were here to rob the place.”

“You’re forgetting something.”

“I know, the kicked in door. I’m working on that. Heck, why don’t you think of something? You’ve spun a few good yarns in your day.”

“Nothing really involving being in a dead person’s apartment after somebody already robbed the place.”

There was a sound from the living room. It was the telltale slam of a kitchen cabinet door. Then another, and another and another until they guessed every cabinet must have been opened. Then they heard the drawers open, one by one, each with the sound of somebody digging through them.

Bob took his cell phone out of his pocket. Phil whispered to him, a bit more loudly now, “What are you doing?”

“I’m calling the cops. Somebody is rooting through Jer’s stuff.”

“Bob, Jer is dead! Plus, we’re in his apartment, hiding in his bathroom. I don’t think the 911 operator is going to be sympathetic.”

“We just can’t stay here.”

“What if that person is armed? I dropped basic self defense, and your career as a bouncer lasted less than a week. And don’t tell me all those hours of Mortal Kombat are going to come in handy.”

“Okay, okay, you’re right, but as long as I’ve got my phone out, I’m turning off the ringer.”

Phil rolled his eyes. “Shit, that’s a damn good idea.”

The two of them fiddled with their cell phones, while the drawers slammed, one after another. The sound of someone walking around the living room was almost unbearable. Then, the footsteps came closer, and then came the sound of the drawers of the computer desk being open, rummaged through and closed. They could hear clothes being picked up and dropped, and even the mattress being lifted up and then the sound of it crashing down onto the box spring. The footsteps then made their way closer still, and then they made a click-clacking sound on the bathroom floor. Phil clenched his teeth. Bob balled up his fists, and tried to muster up all the courage he had in him. The medicine cabinet opened and closed, then nothing.

Bob lifted up his hands.

Phil gritted his teeth even harder.

A single step towards the bathtub was the next sound they heard. A black gloved hand reached for the upper left corner of the shower curtain rod.