Evan woke up not to his alarm, but to a thunderous pounding. Someone was hammering on his front door as if trying to knock it off its hinges. The clock read 5:03 AM. Heart racing, he stumbled through the dark to the peephole.
Standing there was Mr. Calder. The quiet, polite old man from the apartment across the hall who usually offered nothing more than a nod. But tonight, he looked unhinged. His gray hair was wild, his pajama shirt buttoned wrong, and his eyes held a look of primal terror.
Evan cracked the door open with the chain still on. “Mr. Calder? What’s ha—” “Don’t go to work,” the old man hissed, jamming a trembling hand through the gap as if to physically hold Evan back. “I’m begging you. Today—do not take a single step outside. Just trust me this once.”