The locker room door groaned open under Eli's hand, hinges stiff from disuse.
He stepped inside first, his baton raised, eyes sweeping the dim space. The air was stale—sweat, faint detergent, and the ghost of industrial soap mingled with metal and dust. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, some flickering faintly, others dimmed to a tired hum. Long rows of gray lockers stretched down the room, many still secured with padlocks. A few were open, doors ajar, revealing shoes, coats, or bags half-forgotten in yesterday's rush.
Eli motioned Paulo inside. The younger man limped in, leaning heavily against the wall. Together, they eased the door shut and turned the knob lock with a quiet click. A silent breath passed between them. One less opening for anything out there.a
The air inside was cooler, stale with sweat and disinfectant and something metallic lingering beneath. Fluorescent lights overhead buzzed, some dimmed to a faint hum. Rows of gray lockers stood like silent sentinels, a few doors ajar, others still secured with locks.
"Sit," Eli said gently.
Paulo lowered himself onto the nearest bench, gritting his teeth. Blood had soaked through the side of his shoe, darkening the fabric in uneven blotches.
Eli dropped his pack and knelt, already pulling supplies from the salvaged first aid kit. He set aside gauze, tape, and antiseptic, then reached into his bag for a makeshift splint—the clipboard he'd snagged earlier from the break room.
He gently peeled off Paulo's bloodied sock. The foot underneath was swollen, skin purpling at the edges, particularly over the lateral side. He palpated slowly, checking for crepitus or bone displacement.
"No obvious deformity," Eli muttered. "Might be a bad sprain or a non-displaced fracture."
"What were you?" Paulo asked, watching him. "A nurse?"
"Yeah," Eli replied, knotting the tape. "Started as one."
Paulo raised an eyebrow.
Eli added, quieter now, "Then I went back, got my MD then worked in the ER. So… both."
Paulo blinked at him. "Damn. Didn't know you could be both."
Eli finished anchoring the splint, tying the ends with steady hands. "You can, if you're too stubborn to choose one or the other."
A brief silence passed between them. Then Paulo gave a faint, pained chuckle. "Remind me not to complain about my student loans again."
"Only if we both make it out."
Eli stood, his joints aching. He moved to the lockers, trailing a hand along the cold metal until he reached his own—number 32, marked with peeling white tape. The padlock was still there, untouched. His fingers were slick with sweat, but the combination was buried in muscle memory. A few clicks. A final twist.
The lock popped open.
He pulled the door wide.
Inside: a black duffel bag, its tag faded with time and bleach. He rifled through it quickly, first pulling free the car keys and letting the cool metal bite into his palm. His phone was tucked into the side pouch—dead, as expected. He pocketed both. Then came a folded hoodie, a flashlight, his multi-tool, and a crushed protein bar.
At the bottom, tucked into the side mesh, was a hefty black power bank the size of a brick, its smooth plastic casing cool and solid in his hand. Coiled beside it like a sleeping snake, a charging cord—at least three meters long.[1]
He stuffed them both into his bag with practiced ease, zipping it shut.
Behind him, Paulo let out a low whistle. "That thing looks like it could jump-start a car."
Eli didn't look up. "That's the idea. Couple full charges in it. Maybe more if I ration."
"And the cord?" Paulo asked, smirking faintly. "Planning to charge your phone from across the room?"
Eli gave a small smile. "You ever fought with an outlet behind a hospital bed? You start hoarding reach like it's gold."
Paulo chuckled, the sound dry and tired. "Guess it's your lucky day. Apocalypse hits, and you're the only guy prepped for an electrical famine."
"Power's the first thing to go," Eli said as he turned to the adjacent lockers. "Comfort's the second. Sanity… somewhere after that."
He scanned for familiar locks, testing each one with practiced hands. Some opened with the same combination scheme. One locker held a sealed water bottle. Another had a trauma pouch—gauze, antiseptic gel, gloves. He found a half-eaten snack bar in the corner of a rust-smelling locker. Everything usable went into his duffel, packed with the same quiet efficiency he'd once used for emergency crash carts.
Paulo stayed near the door, peeking through the narrow glass panel, shoulders tense.
"Anything?" Eli asked.
"Clear so far," Paulo muttered. "But something's moving out there. Not close. Just shadows."
Eli's hand tightened around the locker door.
"We need to move soon," he said.
He joined Paulo by the door, keeping low.
"My car's in the parking structure north side," he said quietly. "If it's still there, we exit through the service hall behind the loading dock. It'll put us near the stairwell."
"And if it's not?"
"We find another ride. Or go on foot."
Paulo hesitated, jaw clenched. "Where to?"
"There's a community clinic five blocks west. Small. Low profile. If it's intact, we hunker down, recharge, and wait out nightfall."
Paulo let his head fall back against the locker. "Five blocks in this foot."
"I'll get you there."
"You sure?"
Eli met his gaze, steady and certain. "Yeah. I am."
Paulo gave a faint nod. "Alright. Lead the way, Doc."
They both turned toward the door, ears straining for sound.
Eli gripped the baton tightly.
Paulo adjusted the makeshift splint.
Outside, the hallway waited—still, heavy, and full of unseen things.
[1] These were based on my IRL power bank and power cord