The dogs came at dawn.
Gray heard them before he saw them - a padding of feet on concrete, a low growl that vibrated in his chest, the click of claws on stone. He was on his feet in an instant, his hand closing around the piece of rebar he'd been carrying since the pharmacy. Mina stirred beside him, her eyes snapping open, her body tensing before her mind had fully caught up to the danger.
"Get behind me," he said, and his voice came out steadier than he felt.
They emerged from the shadows like nightmares given flesh. Five of them, maybe six - dogs, or things that had once been dogs. Their bodies were too long, their limbs stretched in ways that defied the anatomy Gray remembered from the before. Their eyes glowed with a light that was wrong, a sickly yellow-green that pulsed in time with something he could feel but not name. Through his strange sight, he could see the threads that ran through them - tangled, knotted, fraying at the edges. Whatever had changed them, it hadn't been kind.
The lead dog - if it could still be called a dog - bared teeth that were too many and too sharp. Its jaw opened wider than it should have been able to, and the sound that came out was something between a bark and a scream.
Gray raised his rebar and prepared to die fighting.
Then the man stepped out of the shadows.
He moved like a dancer - precise, economical, each gesture flowing into the next without wasted motion. In his hands was a length of rebar longer than Gray's, its surface wrapped in cloth that might once have been a shirt. He didn't charge the dogs. He didn't scream or threaten. He simply moved into their space, his body turning and flowing around their attacks, his weapon driving them back with strikes that seemed designed to hurt without killing.
Gray watched, frozen, as the man danced with the twisted creatures. The dogs lunged and snapped, but he was never where they expected him to be. He sidestepped, pivoted, redirected their momentum with subtle movements that sent them tumbling into walls and over debris. When one of them got too close, he drove the butt of his rebar into its ribs hard enough to crack something, and the creature yelped and retreated.
It was over in less than a minute. The pack fled, their too-long bodies scrambling over each other in their haste to escape, their wrong-colored eyes flickering with something that might have been fear. The man watched them go, his posture relaxed, his breathing barely elevated.
Then he turned to look at Gray and Mina, and something in Gray's chest recognized him before his mind could catch up.
The man was tall, lean, with dark hair that fell across his forehead and eyes the color of storm clouds. He wore clothes that had been practical once - cargo pants, a jacket with too many pockets, boots that had seen better days - but everything was worn now, faded by travel and time. There were lines around his eyes that suggested he'd seen things, and a set to his jaw that suggested he'd survived them.
But it wasn't his appearance that made Gray's heart stutter in his chest. It was something else - a resonance, a recognition, a feeling like coming home to a place he'd never been. Through his strange sight, he could see the threads that ran through the man, and they were different from anything he'd seen before. Brighter. Clearer. More organized, as if someone had taken the chaos of the world and woven it into something deliberate.
"You're hurt," the man said, and his voice was calm, measured. He nodded at Gray's arm, at the burn that still throbbed beneath his sleeve. "That needs attention."
Gray didn't move. Couldn't move. The recognition was still pulsing through him, a feeling he couldn't name or explain.
The man turned his attention to Mina, and his expression softened slightly. "And you're exhausted," he said. "Running on fumes. I can see it in the way you're standing."
Mina straightened, her chin lifting. "I'm fine."
"You're not. But you will be." The man lowered his rebar, letting it rest against his shoulder like a walking stick. "I have supplies. Food, water, clean bandages. A place to rest that's actually safe." He paused, his storm-colored eyes moving between them. "I'm not asking for anything in return. Just... come with me. Both of you."
Gray should have been suspicious. In this new world, strangers were dangerous, and offers of help were usually traps. But the recognition in his chest wouldn't let him refuse. It was like a pull, a gravity, something that had been missing from his life since the sky fell and was suddenly present again.
"Who are you?" he asked, and his voice came out rough.
The man smiled, and it transformed his face, making him look younger, more human. "My name is Elias," he said. "Elias Ward. And I've been looking for people like you."
People like you. The words hung in the air, heavy with implications Gray wasn't ready to examine. He glanced at Mina, and saw his own confusion reflected in her eyes. She felt it too, he realized. The pull. The recognition. Whatever Elias Ward was, he was something more than just a survivor.
"Why?" Mina asked, and her voice was steady despite her exhaustion. "Why have you been looking?"
Elias's smile faded, replaced by something more serious. "Because the world changed," he said quietly. "And the people who can see how it changed - the people who can work with the threads, the patterns - they're the only ones who might be able to put it back together." He paused, his eyes meeting Gray's. "You've seen them, haven't you? The silver threads. The light that moves beneath the surface of things."
Gray's breath caught. He hadn't told Elias about the threads. He hadn't told anyone except Mina, and she'd figured it out herself. But this man knew. This man had been looking for people who could see what he could see.
"How do you know about that?" he asked, his hand tightening on his rebar.
"Because I see them too," Elias said simply. "And I've learned things about them that might help you understand what's happening to you. If you want to know."
The offer hung between them, fragile as the hope Gray had felt in the bookstore. He could refuse. He could take Mina and run, disappear into the ruins, keep surviving the way he'd been surviving. But something in him - the same something that had recognized Elias the moment he appeared - knew that running wasn't the right choice.
He looked at Mina again. She nodded, almost imperceptibly. Trust me, the gesture said. I feel it too.
"Okay," Gray said, and the word felt like stepping off a cliff. "Show us."
Elias nodded, and something in his expression shifted - relief, maybe, or hope, or something deeper that Gray couldn't read. He turned and began walking toward the far end of the street, his rebar still resting on his shoulder, his movements easy and confident.
"Come on," he said over his shoulder. "We have a lot to talk about, and the day's wasting."
Gray followed, Mina beside him, his heart still pounding with the recognition he couldn't explain. The man who looked like tomorrow was leading them somewhere, and for the first time since the world ended, Gray thought that somewhere might be worth going.