By the time they started readying the clinic for the night, Eli's watch read 5:30. The sky outside had thickened into bruised gray, clouds swollen with the promise of rain. The light that bled through the windows was the last of the afternoon, brittle and faint.
Eli moved stiffly. His ribs ached where the creature had slammed him earlier; his arms were still stained with its blood. Though he tried not to stare, Paolo kept glancing at him as if the crusted stains might begin crawling again.
They worked without many words. Paolo stacked the boxes they'd hauled from the Hummer, grunting softly with each lift. Eli checked the doors, the windows, and every lock. His hands lingered too long on each latch, as if doubt itself might pry them open.
When Paolo passed the hallway, his gaze caught on a room where bodies lay crumpled, half-hidden in shadow. His breath snagged. He stepped forward, slowly shutting the door until the latch clicked. He bowed his head, lips shaping a quiet prayer. His hand stayed pressed against the wood long after the words had gone.
He didn't notice Eli watching from the corner. Eli said nothing.
By six, thunder had begun rolling overhead. The sound rattled the glass, each growl crawling through the halls like something alive. Eli dragged the cooler deeper into one of the second-floor offices where they'd chosen to settle. The room was small but defensible.
He busied himself with tasks that didn't need doing—rearranging the food boxes, counting bottles of water. His movements were quick, almost feverish.
Paolo finally sat down, watching him. "You're moving like you've had three cups of coffee."
Eli didn't look up. "We can't waste time."
"We're locked in, Eli." Paolo leaned back in the chair, trying for lightness. "Unless you plan on boarding up the sky, we're as safe as we can be."
Lightning flickered across the glass. Thunder shook the walls. Paolo flinched. Eli didn't. His jaw only tightened.
"You're tense," Paolo said softly.
"It's the rain," Eli muttered.
Paolo frowned. "Rain makes you this jumpy? It's just water."
"No." Eli's voice was low, bitter. "It's what comes with it."
The silence thickened, heavy as the clouds outside. Paolo leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees. His voice was tentative. "You never told me straight. What really happened that day? Could you tell me… how it started? I wasn't fully awake when it all broke out."
Eli hesitated. The storm outside seemed to wait with Paolo. At last, words scraped free, rough and halting.
"It started after the meteor shower. Black rain fell in the city. It came down heavy, thick—like oil. And it stank… metal, burnt rubber. People kept arriving at the ER, drenched in it, shivering. We thought it was just the weather, at first. But then—the seizures started. Convulsions. A nurse got bitten—bled out faster than I thought possible. And their eyes…" Eli's voice thinned. "Pitch black. Like the rain had seeped inside them. The ER turned into chaos in minutes. People screaming. Running. Carts overturned."
His words faltered. He stared at his hands.
Paolo let the pause breathe, then asked quieter, "And how did you get out?"
Eli's throat tightened. He forced the words out. "I ran. Made it to the rooftop. I… locked the door behind me."
The storm answered for him—thunder clawing across the heavens.
Eli felt his breath snag. He hadn't meant to think of it, but the memory crawled back. A hand on the other side of the door, pounding. Desperate. He hadn't known, not until the next day, when the knocking stopped. When silence spread. He had closed the door, and in doing so, closed it on someone. A stranger, maybe. Or… not a stranger at all. He would never know. The weight of it clung, the lock still turning in his hand.
His jaw set hard.
Paolo studied him, frowning faintly. He had noticed—the way Eli's voice cracked at the edges, how his shoulders hunched as though under an invisible weight. But he didn't press. He let the silence hold.
After a long beat, he asked one last thing. "So… how did you find me?"
Eli swallowed, forcing himself back to the present. "After that, I tried to find a way down. Got chased by those things. The first two I fought nearly tore me apart." His hands flexed unconsciously, remembering. "But I made it. Got down to the second floor, but I couldn't risk the streets on foot. My car keys were still on the third floor. That's where I found you."
Paolo sat back, letting that settle. He didn't push further. Not tonight. He could see the weight of it—the way Eli's eyes avoided his, the way he braced himself as if carrying more than his body could bear.
The rain finally broke. Thick drops smacked against the windows, streaking oily black trails down the glass. The smell of iron seeped into the air, sharp and acrid. Eli moved to the window, pressing close enough to see the greasy film ripple across the pane.
Paolo joined him slowly. "Is that—"
"It's the same," Eli whispered.
They stood in silence as the storm drowned the world in noise.
Eli's phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, thumb brushing the screen awake. To his surprise, the signal bars glowed strong. A single notification blinked.
His chest seized. A new message.
He opened it. The words froze him. His breath stilled. His hand trembled as he shut the screen too harshly and shoved the phone away.
"You okay?" Paolo asked, watching.
"Yes." The word was quick, hard, too sharp.
Paolo didn't push. He leaned back, listening to the storm as if it might cover the silence. Then, with a lopsided grin, he tried again: "Guess it's just us tonight. Unless you want to risk a Coke run in that mess."
Eli's lips twitched. Against his will, a soft laugh slipped out, brief and fragile. But it was something.
For a moment, inside the office, it almost felt human again—like two men waiting out the rain instead of two survivors bracing against the end of the world.
Then the siren came.
It pierced the storm, shrill and unearthly, rising above thunder and rain. The sound bled through the walls, through the windows, through bone itself. Both men went still.
Eli turned. Paolo's eyes were wide, mirroring his own.
The wail stretched on, endless, drowning even the storm.