Primo stepped out of the apartment building's main entrance and was immediately struck by the sheer scale of the silence.
The air was heavy, carrying the scent of stagnant water and something metallic. He gripped his makeshift spear—the mop-handle-turned-weapon—and kept his back close to the brick walls as he moved toward the sidewalk.
Even though he had Great Ear and Great Nose, he moved with extreme caution. He knew his new abilities weren't a perfect shield; there could be predators out there that were silent, or creatures that carried no scent at all.
As he walked, a flood of sensory data rushed into his mind. He could hear the skittering of claws on pavement three blocks away and smell the rot of spoiled food coming from a nearby convenience store. It was a dizzying amount of information, but thanks to his Controlled Assimilation skill, he didn't feel overwhelmed. His brain processed the chaos with a cold, almost mechanical efficiency. It felt like he had been living with these heightened senses for years.
It's strange, he thought as he peered around a corner. Earlier, those dogs were right outside Dan's door. Why didn't they detect our heavy breathing or the frantic thumping of our hearts?
He considered it for a moment. Maybe it's their intelligence. They're predators, but they're still animals. To them, a heartbeat might just be another ambient sound of the city, like a dripping pipe or the wind. They haven't learned to associate the sound of a hiding human's heart with prey yet.
The streets were eerily empty of crowds, but the city wasn't dead.
As he passed a row of low-rise residential buildings, he saw pale faces pressed against windows, eyes wide with terror as they watched him walk by. He wasn't the only one moving, either. In the distance, he spotted a small group of three people, bags strapped to their backs, hurrying in the opposite direction—likely toward the hospital shelter Dan had mentioned.
Then, there were the "others."
A cockroach the size of a dinner plate scurried across the asphalt, its chitinous shell clicking loudly in the silence. A house lizard, now over a foot long with thick, pebbled skin, clung to the side of a mailbox, its slit pupils following him. Rats the size of small cats poked their heads out of the sewers, sniffing the air.
Primo felt a surge of revulsion, but he noticed something interesting: they were avoiding him. Despite their increased size, they still viewed a standing human as a larger predator. They scurried into the shadows or hissed from a distance, keeping their space.
I'm safe for now because I'm bigger, he realized, tightening his grip on the spear. But if they start traveling in swarms... if ten or twenty of those rats decide they're hungry enough... size won't matter.
It was already past noon by the time Primo reached the district where Wyn's dorm was located. The high sun did little to warm the eerie, silent streets. The dorm was just a short walk from their university, a place that usually buzzed with the energy of students but now felt like a tomb.
He approached the building cautiously, his makeshift spear leveled in front of him. To his surprise, the front gate and the main entrance were standing wide open. There was no one in sight, and the lack of a struggle at the entrance made the building feel hollowed out, like an empty shell.
With his grip tight on the mop-handle spear, he stepped inside. He checked every room and dark corner as he made his way toward the stairs. Just like the ground floor, the doors on the second level were mostly left open, some hanging off their hinges as if they had been kicked in.
His Great Nose picked up the sharp, iron scent of blood before his eyes saw it. Trails of dark, dried crimson smeared the hallway floor, leading into several of the open rooms. Inside, he caught glimpses of mutated cockroaches and rats—larger, more aggressive versions of the pests that used to hide in the walls—scurrying over discarded belongings.
He reached Wyn's room and stopped. The door was slightly ajar.
Using his enhanced hearing, Primo focused. He could hear a rhythmic, wet scratching sound coming from inside. He nudged the door open with his free hand, his spear ready to thrust.
A mutated rat, the size of a small dog, was hunched over a garbage bin in the corner, snacking on a pile of rotting scraps. It froze, its black, beady eyes fixing on Primo. It let out a sharp, piercing shriek that echoed off the walls, then scrambled with surprising speed to hide under the double bed.
Primo stepped fully into the room, and the sight of it made his heart sink. It was a disaster. Clothes were scattered across the floor, drawers were ripped open, and trash was strewn everywhere. It looked like someone had been interrupted or had frantically packed whatever they could carry before fleeing.
Where are you, Wyn? Primo wondered.
He knew why Wyn had stayed behind. As a varsity player on a scholarship, the guy was always short on cash, and the holiday plane tickets back to his province were far too expensive. He should have been here.
As Primo scanned the room for a note or a clue, he heard it—the faint, frantic scraping of claws on the floorboards behind him.
The rat under the bed was tired of hiding. It shrieked again as it launched itself from the shadows, aiming for his neck. But Primo didn't even have to turn around to know it was coming. His Great Ear had tracked every shift of its weight.
He spun and dodged in one fluid motion. As the rat sailed through the air, Primo lunged with the spear. The blade bit deep into the creature's side, and he used the momentum to pin it firmly against the wall.
The rat thrashed, its high-pitched screams becoming a frantic, deafening noise that grated on Primo's ears.
Shut up! he thought, his pulse spiking. You'll attract everything in the building!
He looked around desperately for a way to finish it quickly. His eyes landed on a small, five-pound dumbbell resting on the floor near the desk. Keeping his weight pressed against the spear to hold the rat in place, he used his foot to drag the weight closer.
He reached down, snatched up the iron dumbbell, and brought it down with a heavy, sickening thud on the rat's head. He hit it twice more until the thrashing stopped and the room fell silent again.
Primo loosened his grip, his breath coming in heavy, ragged gasps. The adrenaline was a hot fire in his veins. He looked down at the dead creature, then at the messy room.
It was a desperate attack from a desperate animal. These things were hungry, and as the city continued to collapse, they were only going to get bolder.
He wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead and looked at Wyn's empty bed. "You better be at that hospital, man," he whispered to the silence.