Day 49: Who's at the Door?
The tension in the museum lingered long after the knocking had ceased. The group remained on high alert, eyes constantly darting to the door, ears straining for any sound that might hint at what—or who—had been outside. The polite knock, followed by that calm voice, was more unsettling than any creature they had faced. It was a reminder that danger could come in many forms, not all of them immediately hostile.
Cass paced near the door, her mind clearly racing as she weighed their options. Luke and Raya had taken up watch positions near the windows, peering through the cracks in the boarded-up glass, searching for any sign of movement outside. Eli stayed close to Cass, his hand resting on the hilt of his knife, ready to act if the situation escalated.
Derek and Sarah sat in a corner, huddled together. Sarah's condition had stabilized somewhat, but she was still weak, her breathing shallow. Derek kept a protective arm around her, his eyes wide with fear. It was clear that the encounter had shaken him deeply, a reminder of the horrors they had narrowly escaped.
"What do you think?" Eli finally asked, his voice muffled by the helmet. He couldn't shake the unease that gnawed at him, the sense that something was terribly wrong.
Cass stopped pacing, her gaze fixed on the door. "I don't know," she admitted, her tone heavy with frustration. "It could have been anyone… or anything. But something about it doesn't sit right with me."
"We've seen enough to know that nothing is ever that simple," Luke added from his position by the window. "People out here don't ask politely for shelter unless they're trying to get close enough to stab you in the back."
Raya nodded in agreement, her grip on her knife tight. "They might have been scouting, testing our defenses. If they're looters, they'll come back—maybe with more people, maybe with a plan to get inside."
Eli felt a knot form in his stomach. "Do you think they're the same group Derek and Sarah were running from?"
Cass glanced at Derek, who was listening intently to their conversation. His face was pale, his expression tense as he considered the possibility. "It could be," he said slowly. "They were organized, methodical. The way they operated… it was calculated. If they're still looking for us, they'll try anything to find out where we're hiding."
Sarah's voice was weak, but filled with fear. "We can't let them in. They'll kill us all. They don't leave survivors."
Cass looked back at the door, her jaw clenched. "We're not letting anyone in," she said firmly. "Not unless we're absolutely sure they're not a threat."
The group fell into a tense silence, each person lost in their own thoughts. The museum, once a refuge, now felt like a prison—a place where they were trapped, waiting for the next threat to arrive. The walls, thick and strong, suddenly seemed like barriers that could turn their sanctuary into a tomb if things went wrong.
Eli shifted his weight, the helmet on his head feeling heavier than ever. He could still hear the voice from outside, calm and polite, echoing in his mind. Something about it had been too controlled, too measured, as if the person had known exactly how to get under their skin.
"We should prepare," Luke said after a long pause, breaking the silence. "If they're coming back, we need to be ready."
Cass nodded in agreement. "Double the watch," she said. "We rotate every few hours. If there's any sign of movement outside, we don't take chances. We fight if we have to."
Raya moved to stand beside Luke, her posture tense but ready. "I'll take the first watch with Luke," she offered. "We'll keep an eye on the windows, make sure no one gets close."
Eli didn't argue, though he felt a growing sense of unease. The encounter had left him shaken, and the helmet's weight felt like a constant reminder of the scars he was hiding—both physical and emotional. He wanted to help, to be useful, but the pain and the fear gnawed at him, making him feel weak and vulnerable.
Cass seemed to sense his turmoil, and she placed a hand on his shoulder, her expression softening. "Get some rest, Eli," she said gently. "You've been through enough. We'll handle the watch for now."
Eli hesitated, then nodded. The truth was, he was exhausted—both physically and mentally. The events of the past few days had taken their toll, and the weight of the helmet on his head only added to his fatigue. But he couldn't shake the feeling that he should be doing more, that he should be stronger.
Cass gave him a reassuring squeeze before turning back to the others, her voice calm but authoritative as she laid out their plan. "We'll reinforce the doors even more," she said. "Block off any points of entry. If they come back, we need to make sure they can't get in."
The group nodded, their resolve hardening as they prepared for the worst. They had fortified the museum well, but now they would have to make it even stronger—a fortress against whatever threats were lurking outside.
Eli found a spot near the wall and sat down, leaning back against the cold stone. His body ached, the burns on his face and arms still raw beneath the bandages, but he tried to push the pain aside. The helmet's narrow visor limited his vision, forcing him to focus on the immediate, on the present. It was a small comfort, but it was all he had.
As the others began to move around, reinforcing the doors and setting up their watch, Eli closed his eyes, letting the sound of their preparations wash over him. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep, not with the threat of the looters hanging over them, but he needed to rest—needed to gather his strength for whatever came next.
The museum was quiet, save for the occasional creak of wood or the soft murmur of voices. The air was thick with tension, every sound amplified in the stillness. Eli's thoughts drifted, the weight of the helmet pressing down on him, a constant reminder of the world outside.
And then, just as he was beginning to relax, a new sound broke through the silence—a sound that made his heart skip a beat.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The knocking was faint, almost imperceptible, but it was there, echoing through the museum's stone halls. The group froze, their movements halting as they turned toward the door, their expressions filled with a mix of fear and determination.
Cass's eyes narrowed, and she motioned for everyone to stay silent, her finger pressed to her lips. The knocking continued, soft but insistent, each tap like a pulse of dread.
Eli's breath caught in his throat as the sound echoed in his ears. The polite knocking, the calm voice… It was back. And this time, there was no mistaking the intent behind it.
Someone—or something—was out there.
And it wasn't going away.