The night settled, leaving only a last glimmer on the horizon, revealing the devastated city to my weary eyes. Iron constructions and torn walls stood as remnants, exposed rooms slowly succumbing to nature's reclaim. Once-white surfaces now draped in gray, consumed by encroaching plants. In front of my dad's office, a building displayed remnants of street art—a caricature of dwarfs washing a car. I, fatigued from reading through endless papers, found amusement in the surviving fragments of the painting.
A chuckle escaped me as a vivid vision played in my mind.
"What am I gonna do?" I sighed, my shoulders slumping as I sat in a Buddha-like position on the floor, surrounded by scattered papers.
Surveying the scene, my eyes caught an old backpack. After a few minutes of stuffing papers into it, I was prepared to leave. The 10th floor supposedly housed a restroom, and I hoped it might still have at least one comfortable bed. As I ventured away from the office, my eyes adapted to the remaining light source—the horizon. Although not as clear as during the day, I could recognize nearby objects and navigate without the fear of stumbling in the dark. Yet, when I attempted to gaze into the distance, an eerie cold sensation hinted at unknown entities lurking in the shadows. The staircase, situated in the building's middle, offered no windows to illuminate my path. One last glance at the office confirmed its existence.
The solitude, initially soothing, now seemed disconcerting. Alone, surrounded by nothing but night—wasn't that even worse? Ascending the old, dusty stairs, each step was solid pavement adorned with decorative tiles, though worn and broken in places. Mid-floors were marked with paint on the walls, arrows pointing up and down, along with corresponding numbers.
My enhanced sight felt like a blessing as I reached the 9th floor, with only one more to go before I could rest. As I stood there, dust tickled my nose, triggering a sneeze. The sound echoed through the staircase and died in the building's darkness. Adjusting to seeing a few meters ahead, my sneeze became inconspicuous, except for the unexpected response that followed.
An inhuman growl reverberated, sending goosebumps down my spine. It began like the squeak of a rabbit being skinned, morphing into a deep, menacing growl—an animalistic sound unlike any I'd heard before. I struggled to make my body run, but I couldn't. "Am I here alone, right?" I questioned, only to be answered by another growl, closer this time. My heart raced, adrenaline surged. "Move, move!" I screamed internally, and the moment I shouted, my body responded. I turned on my heels, rushing down the stairs.
I felt it, that beast right behind me, its limbs echoing on the same stairs. Floor after floor. "How close is it?" My mind urged me to look over my shoulder, but the fear of what I might see kept me running. It could be lurking, waiting for me to calm down. Or worse, what if I see it up close? I had to run, one way or another.