It was disconcerting to hear people talking inside your house when you lived alone. Andrew slipped out of bed and quietly tiptoed over to the door. He pressed his ear against it and listened. Four voices, maybe more footsteps? He couldn’t tell. The voices were coming closer, but something about the way they echoed didn’t sound right. He glanced around the room for something to arm himself with. There was a spoon in an empty yogurt container on his desk next to his phone, some chemistry textbooks on his floor, and the vase full of decorative stones on his shelf. Those were all next to useless unless… He grabbed his pillow from his bed and separated it from it’s cover, then dumped half the contents of the vase into his pillowcase. He tied the opening in a crude knot, then stood in front of the door.

He had been able to remain calm up until then, but as the voices and footsteps grew closer he could hear his heart thumping. He glanced in the mirror and noticed he was wearing his swastika pajama pants and a white tee shirt. He grinned at the irony of the situation. Here he was, probably about to fight a bunch of blacks, wearing his edgiest pants. The doorknob turned and he brought back his sack for a strike. The door opened almost casually, as if the intruder didn’t expect anyone to be home. As soon as his face came into view Andrew swung his sack into it with a satisfying thump. The burglar fell backwards and laid limp on the… red stone floor? Andrew shook his head and got ready for the next one to come. Whatever happened to his carpet could be dealt with later.

Another one rushed into the doorway, holding a knife in one hand and a trash-bag in the other. Andrew quickly backed away from him and grabbed his phone off his in his free hand. The intruder took a few steps after him holding the knife in an underhanded grip. Andrew chucked the phone at his face, nailing him right in the eye. He cried out in pain and raised his hands to his face. Before the intruder could recover Andrew bounded over to him and smashed him across the side of the head with his pillowcase. It blew open and rocks spilled onto his body as he collapsed. Andrew dropped the broken sack and started stomping on the man’s temple with his bare feet. After the first few strikes he went limp and dropped the knife. Andrew landed a few more for caution’s sake, then scooped up the weapon and poked his head out the doorway. It was as if his apartment ended outside his bedroom. As soon as he crossed the threshold the floor gave way to a smooth blood-red stone. He clutched the blade tightly and looked to his left. His hallway was replaced by a tunnel of the same material. He looked to his right and saw two more men running towards him, one with a visible pot belly and holding a tire iron, and one in a track suit without a weapon.

He shot out towards them, taking large strides and raising the knife. He feinted a strike towards the throat of the fat man then planted the blade in his stomach when he tried to grab his wrist. Andrew stared into his face as he heard the tire iron clang against the ground. His victim looked back at him with a terrified expression and started screaming bloody murder. Andrew turned away from him just in time for the other man to punch him in the nose. Andrew staggered back and let go of the knife. The stabbed man dropped to his knees and his companion was winding up for another swing. Andrew’s vision was swimming and another punch was coming in. He clumsily parried the strike, making it only brush against the side of his head. He took a deep breath and forced himself to concentrate. Another punch came at him and he turned to the side to dodge it. As the punch sailed past Andrew grabbed his opponent by the arm and jacket and used his momentum to throw him into the floor. Thugs didn’t know how to fall, and they weren’t on training mats here. He hit the ground with a sickening crack.

Andrew steadied himself against the wall of the tunnel and wiped at the blood trickling from his nose. His opponent was crying out in pain and clutching at his shoulder. He took a few more breaths and waited for his vision to clear up. What to do? There was an enemy beneath him. He looked like the last one for now, but there could be more coming. He walked back over to the screaming man and knelt next to him.

“Hey, I need to borrow that.” He recoiled from him in terror, trying to push himself away. The wounded man shrieked in pain as Andrew tore the knife out of his gut, then quickly went silent as the blood gushed out. The man with the broken shoulder was starting to stand up. Before he could finish, Andrew rushed over to him and stuck the knife in the side of his neck. He looked around, reflecting his handiwork, before he turned away and vomited.

He stumbled away from his room, shaking. He had formed a bloody fist around the knife and his eyes were darting around to find it’s next recipient. The tunnel seemed to be going in a relatively straight line until he noticed an alcove. Unlike the rest of the cave, it was in darkness. Light seemed to just stop. He would be completely hidden from passing intruders in there. He took a few steps forward, then collapsed.