The two woke, their bodies jolted in reaction to the banging of the door and the words echoed throughout the empty apartment: 

[quote][b]“HEY! Hey anyone in there? I’m Petty Officer Ethan Ryder, United States Navy--I need some help. Please! If anyone’s in there, open this goddamn door before one of these fucking shufflers rip my damn head off!!”[/b][/quote]

The twins, though groggy in movement and vision blurry, looked at each other to figure out what to do. They both stood synchronously, moving towards the door. Allie looked at the time and found not five minutes had passed into their sleep, but it had felt like an eternity in their minute slumber. It was dark outside, and the window, curtains undrawn, allowed the moonlight to come in. It was their source of luminescence. 

The sofa blocked the door, but it made little effort to prevent the door from shaking from the fist-slamming of the man outside. With her tall frame, Millie looked through the peephole to see a man in full, decked-out brown camo uniform with a frighteningly long rifle. Apart from that, there was nothing else to tell of him. The peephole was fitted with a fish-eyed lens, to allow a wider field of view from the inside and little to not visibility from the outside. His size was deceivingly small through it. Millie withdrew from the door and Allie went with her turn to look. Millie, drawing the curtains and clinging to her arms, was pacing back and forth, waiting for her sister’s response, Allie being the smart one of the two. The two spoke in hushed, tensed voices. 

A: “Oh shit he’s for real.”

M: “How do we know he’s for real?!”

A: “Real or not, we can’t just leave him there!”

M: “Why not!? How do we know he won’t just kill us with that gigantic fucking gun of his!?”

A: “Don’t be an idiot; it’s a sniper rifle. He’d kill us with his bare fucking hands.”

M: “That’s not helping, Allie!”

A: “And neither is us arguing while a man out there pleading for his life! He’s from the army, damnit!”

M: “And what about those things!? What if they followed him!? God, Allie! Fine, hold on!”

A: “Hold on!?” she groaned, shocked with the attitude Millie was showing, watching her as Millie ran into what seemed like the kitchen of the apartment.

Allie pushed the sofa aside and, with all her might in fear and tension, pulled the door open and gestured the man to come in, she hiding behind the door. She slammed the door shut and pulled the sofa back in place. The door was dark, and she noticed the light switch on the wall but decided against it. The moonlight was enough to keep the room and everything and everyone visible. 

Millie, throughout the ruckus, had looked through the shelves and cabinets for anything aerosol and more importantly flammable. In the small kitchenette with a small cabinet beneath the sink, it was not hard to find a can of bug spray. She noticed how well stocked in food and supplies the owners of the apartment seemed to be. She looked to the upper shelves for a lighter, one that could act as the flame for her make-shift flamethrower Allie had taught her when they were young. They were reckless then, but now it was called for. It barely caught the light of the dark sky and Millie grabbed it. Millie could hear the shuffling of footsteps in the living room and she ran out with determination to already kick the man out.

Millie drew the bug spray can and squeezed the trigger on the lighter, igniting a red-orange flame in front of it, standing close enough for the range to hit the man, Millie unafraid of the apparently short soldier. Allie and Millie were a good three inches taller than him, but they were smart enough to be careful of what the skilled killer could do. 

M: “Drop your gun you motherfucker.” her voice terse, but shaky, her hands unable to stay still, sweat formed on her head and hands. She had to make an effort to stare into the figure and hold what she had in her hands. 

A: “Millie, no.” she held up her hand, eyeing the two daily household supplies Millie was utilizing as a dangerous weapon

M: “Drop your gun before I burn you to a crisp.” 

A: “He’s from the army, damnit! He can help us!”

M: “He’s not much help if he brought those things here! Were you followed, you fucker?!”

A: “Millie, I swear, stop this now!” she was moving closer to Millie.

M: “I said drop the gun, asshole!”

A: “Enough!” she now stood between Millie and the man, arms spread out, her body now in a T-shape. 

A: “Forgive my sister. We don’t want any trouble. Were you followed?” 

The room was dark enough that he probably could not see the twins’ faces, but Allie and Millie were both terrified, and as Allie walked backwards towards Millie, she felt a sense of comfort but her grimace did not subside. She struggled to say her words, her throat as though clogged, Allie unable to swallow her saliva in her fear.