The Hummer rolled out of the hospital's driveway, tires humming over patched asphalt. The sound was steady after the chaos they'd just escaped—too steady, as if the city itself was holding its breath. The air smelled faintly of wet concrete and old rain, that sour, metallic scent that had clung to the gutters since the black rain two days ago. Somewhere far off, a siren wailed once and faded into nothing.
Paolo kept twisting around in his seat, one hand braced on the headrest as he scanned the road behind them, eyes moving over quiet intersections, parked cars left at odd angles, and the pale midday sky pressing down on the skyline. On a few rooftops, silhouettes stood watching from above, unmoving, hard to tell if they were curious or cautious.
Eli drove one-handed, the other resting near the knife sheath on his thigh. His eyes swept each side street, reading the shapes and shadows like medical charts—searching for patterns, anomalies, signs that others might miss.
"Anything?" he asked, not looking over.
Paolo shook his head but stayed half-turned, kneeling slightly on the seat for a better view. "Nothing. Just… still."
They passed a dented sedan with its driver's door left wide open, grocery bags scattered on the asphalt, cans rolling lazily in the breeze. Far ahead, a curtain twitched on a balcony, then stilled again—maybe someone watching. A faint creak from a swaying sign reached them as they rolled past.
"It's weird," Paolo murmured. "Thought something would be chasing us."
They rolled past another empty intersection before he spoke again. "By the way… that thing you did back there. Twisting its neck like that? Pretty cool."
Eli's jaw tightened. "Glad it worked," he said, but his voice lacked any pride. He looked straight ahead, hands steady on the wheel. In his head, the motion replayed in fragments—the sharp snap, the way the body went limp. A part of him still wanted to believe it was just reflex, survival. But he'd been a doctor once. He wasn't supposed to be ending lives, even if they were no longer truly living.
The engine's low vibration filled the space until Eli finally asked, "Why were you at the hospital, anyway?"
Paolo leaned back, rubbing at the side of his neck. "Fever. Bad one. Couldn't keep food down, couldn't think straight. I thought I'd just get a prescription and go home, but they put me in a room on the third floor." His voice lowered.
"I woke up to the sound of something wet hitting the floor." His gaze drifted away, distant. "When I looked out into the hall… one of the nurses was standing there. Her face—" He stopped, jaw tightening. "It was like it had collapsed inward, but she was still moving. Still breathing. She didn't even sound human. Just this… dry, rasping noise."
He swallowed. "She turned and ran after someone. I heard them screaming, shoes pounding on the tiles. Then nothing. Just silence."
Paolo flexed his fingers against his thigh. "I ran. Slipped on something slick. My ankle—" He shook his head. "I wrapped it with a shirt I found. Didn't look to see who it belonged to."
The Hummer jolted over a pothole. Paolo glanced over. "You know how it all started? I was barely conscious when it began."
"Not exactly," Eli said after a pause.
The city slid past outside their windows—not empty, but changed. A bus sat at an awkward angle in the middle of the road, hazard lights still blinking. A man sat on a bench outside a pharmacy, staring down at the pavement as if waiting for something that would never arrive. Storefronts still buzzed faintly with light, even as the streets between them stayed hollow. Somewhere above, a single gull cried, the sound sharp in the muted air.
"There's a store near here," Eli said, his voice tightening with intent. "Small place. Used to stop there after night shifts."
"You think it's worth it?" Paolo asked, scanning the skyline.
"We need supplies. We'll check the lot first."
The road curved, bringing the store into view—glass doors shut, a faint glow spilling from inside. Something moved across the parking lot, too far to tell what it was.
Eli eased off the gas, letting the engine settle into a low, steady rumble.
The tires crunched over gravel as they neared the lot. A lone figure swayed near the far edge, back to them. Even from here, Eli could see the wrongness in the way it moved—limbs jerking, head twitching in sudden, insectlike snaps.
Paolo leaned forward, voice low. "That's not right…"
Eli's grip on the wheel tightened. He crept forward, waiting for the right moment, then pressed down. The Hummer surged ahead in a brutal burst. The impact came with a heavy thump, the body folding over the hood before flying off and hitting the asphalt with a dull crack.
He scanned the streets around them. No movement. No sound but the idling engine.
"Eli—" Paolo's voice cut in sharply. "It's getting up."
The thing was twisted, one leg hanging uselessly as it pushed itself upright. Its head sagged, but its ruined face turned toward them with stubborn focus.
Eli set the gear into park and slipped the knife free from his belt. Stepping out, the sour stink of rot hit him immediately. He stayed close to the vehicle's side, scanning the lot.
Paolo shifted in his seat, still watching the streets. "I'll yell if something else shows."
The creature lunged, unevenly. Eli sidestepped, grabbed the back of its head, and drove the blade into its temple with a wet crunch. The body went slack instantly. He kept his hand on it a second longer than necessary, breathing hard, not from exertion, but from the weight of it.
When he yanked the knife free, his gaze lingered on the limp body for a beat too long. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he thought of scalpels and sutures, of nights spent keeping hearts beating—not stopping them.
He wiped the blade on his pants and climbed back in.
His eyes went to the store's entrance—wide glass front, dusty but intact.
"We need to get close enough to load fast," Paolo said, tracking shadows inside. "And keep the car right in front of the doors so we can bolt."
"Doors might be locked," Eli said. "Could waste time."
"Then just ram it. This thing's built for worse."
"Yeah," Eli said slowly, "but there's another problem."
Paolo's brows lifted. "What?"
"What if there's already something in there?"
They let the thought hang.
"Then we don't get out until we know," Eli decided. "I'll push in slow, you watch the aisles from here. If it's clear, we move. If not, we back out."
Paolo's lips tugged into a grin. "I like it better when you twist necks, but sure."
Eli didn't smile back.
He lined the vehicle up with the glass, inching forward. The building sat still under the overcast sky, silence heavy as lead.
"Don't see movement," Paolo murmured, peering inside. "But the light's crap in there. Could be something in the aisles."
"Then we do it clean," Eli said. "Push slow, not loud enough to carry far."
Paolo snorted. "Slow for you is still going to sound like a wrecking ball."
The reinforced nose met the glass with a groan and sharp crack—fractures spiderwebbing before the whole pane surrendered in a muted cascade. Shards skittered over the hood and down to the floor inside.
Headlights swept the aisles, dust drifting in their beams.
"Anything?" Eli asked.
Paolo scanned the rows, eyes lingering on dark corners. "Nothing yet."
Eli kept the engine running. "We wait thirty seconds. If nothing shows, we load. You stay here. Watch the aisles."
"And if something comes from the back?"
"You yell. I'll come running."
They let the seconds pass. The engine's idle filled the air until a faint creak came from somewhere inside.
Both men froze.
Paolo's hand drifted toward the knife wedged beside his seat. "That didn't sound like a rack."
Eli didn't answer. His eyes were on the shadow at the far end of aisle three—something that hadn't been there a moment ago.