With everything that had happened, Paulo ended up forgetting something important. First, it was leaving the neighbor’s apartment with food but forgetting to grab a change of clothes. "Well done, Paulo. The end of the world comes, and you’re gonna die smelling like shit," he thought with an ironic smile. He definitely planned to stop by a store—if he found one that had already been looted—to pick up better clothes. Summer was coming, and with all that dust and black haze covering the horizon, he had a feeling things were about to heat up fast.

His main focus, though, was getting to the gym to look for water. Paulo knew they always kept a stock of those “gourmet” water bottles with weird names and absurd prices. He never even considered buying one before, but now, at the end of the world, who cared? “If this fancy water is that special, maybe it’ll give me superpowers. Or at the very least, a happier digestive system,” he thought, snickering sarcastically.

Just one block away from reaching the street where the gym was, Paulo heard a sound that made him stop abruptly. He almost fell into an uncovered manhole, which would’ve been the perfect end to his day. “Great. Either I run into sewer monsters, or I find out Splinter and the Ninja Turtles actually exist,” he thought, trying not to laugh out loud. After everything he'd seen over the past two days, no possibility was off the table.

Fortunately, he dodged the not-so-glamorous fate of falling into the manhole and slid along the wall, trying to see what or who had slammed a door a few meters ahead. He peeked out, just enough to catch sight of any movement beyond the barrier of the unfinished building. Suddenly, his vision became weird, scattered with red dots, like he was seeing bloodstains. He rubbed his eyes quickly with his dirty hands and went back to his vigil position. He couldn’t waste any more time. He’d already taken too long at the police station.

His goal now was to grab some water bottles as fast as possible and head to where he knew there might be people. Or at least one living person. Paulo was never exactly a loner. He liked his privacy, especially when it came to reading a good book or studying for exams—which, honestly, were never easy. But other than that, he loved going to bars with friends, having a beer, and snacking on something. Or gathering people for a barbecue and a good chat.

The past few days had only sharpened that need. He didn’t want to be alone, especially in a world where monsters prowled in the dark. He needed someone—someone who could help him survive and maybe figure out where these creatures came from and what they were. "I already know what they eat, and I’m not keen on becoming the main course," he muttered to himself.

After a few minutes of scanning the area, he decided the noise he heard was probably caused by the wind, which was now blowing strongly. “Yeah, apocalypse and I’m here worried about the wind,” he thought, resuming his walk toward the gym. When he finally reached the door, he saw a shadow moving inside. Instinctively, he almost dove into the bushes surrounding the gym, but decided that making noise might be an even worse idea. If there was something inside, it would surely hear the ruckus.

Frozen with his hand on the doorknob, he peeked through the fogged-up windows. Once again, he saw a figure move, this time opening a door leading to the gym's administrative area. He remembered that place—he had only been there once, when he signed up. The fact that the door had been opened didn’t reassure him. “Are these monsters smart enough to open doors?” he wondered. So far, they hadn’t broken down every door in his apartment building, which already seemed like a bad sign.

His hesitation kept him still long enough to see that the silhouette wasn’t a monster, but a person. Feeling relieved, Paulo decided to take a risk and turned the knob, slowly entering to avoid making noise. As soon as he shut the door behind him, a quick hand pressed a knife to his neck, and a voice whispered:

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“Not one more step. And keep your voice down, for fuck’s sake. What the hell are you doing here? You might not be one of those monsters, but you don’t exactly look harmless. I saw the machete in your bag.”

Paulo felt cold sweat run down his forehead. “Fuck me, seriously? I survive monsters, and now I’m gonna get stabbed by a human?” he thought, scrambling for a non-stupid answer.

“I... I just came to grab some water bottles. I forgot to take any when I left home,” he stammered, trying to sound calm. “I’m not looking for trouble. Just passing through.”

“Paulo?” The voice sounded surprised. The knife slowly lowered. “It’s me, Patrícia! You remember me? I sit behind you in Professor Camila’s class.”

Paulo almost collapsed with relief. Not just because the knife was off his throat, but because he’d found someone familiar. He dropped into a nearby chair.

“Jesus, Patrícia! You almost gave me a heart attack! No need for the knife. Of course I remember you. But why did you do that?”

“I haven’t had any trouble on the way here, but I’ve seen enough to know that people can be just as dangerous as those things outside. Not every human’s worth something. And the end of the world isn’t going to change that,” she said, with a shiver in her voice.

Paulo nodded, remembering the message he had found at the police station. Then he realized that in the dark, she might not have seen his gesture, so he murmured, “Yeah, some things never change.”

He sighed, relaxing a little more, but not completely lowering his guard.

“And you, Patrícia? What are you doing here?”

“I’m heading to the church,” Patrícia said, still catching her breath, trying to calm down after the scare. “I heard the bells this morning and thought there might be someone there.”

Paulo noticed the nervous tone in her voice. It wasn’t just the presence of monsters that unsettled her, but the silent terror of being alone in such a situation.

“Last night, I nearly lost it,” Patrícia continued, her voice dropping as if she were reliving each moment. “I managed to hide in the backup water tank of a building near my apartment. One of those old, rusty tanks, you know? If I told you how cold it was… My God, it felt like I was inside a freezer.”

She gave a weak, uncomfortable laugh, clearly still shaken. “I was curled up in there, my body shaking so much I thought my teeth were going to crack. Every sound, every noise, I thought it was the end. One of those things was going to find me, grab me by the feet, and… well, you already know how it goes.”

Patrícia fell silent for a moment, staring at the ground, as if the dark details of the night were etched into her mind. Paulo felt the tension in the air but waited. He knew now wasn’t the time to interrupt.

“The worst part wasn’t even the cold,” she said, raising her eyes. “It was the fear. Every minute felt like it was going to end. Like any moment, one of those creatures would open the lid and drag me out. I heard the screams, Paulo. Each person dying seemed closer. And all I could do was pray they wouldn’t find me. What else could I do? I just played dead. And, man, I’ve never prayed so hard in my life.”

“It was from there that I heard the bells, every hour,” she paused, sighing, still trembling. “Even during the attacks, the bells didn’t stop. They kept me sane, I guess. Like, it was a reminder that time was still passing, you know? That I was still alive. But I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad anymore.”

Patrícia ran her hands over her face, trying to shake off the memory. “I kept wondering if anyone else could hear them. If there were other survivors, but in the middle of all the panic, that was the only thing I could focus on.”

She finally looked up at Paulo, now calmer.

“So, I followed the bells. If it weren’t for them, I would’ve stayed in that water tank until I froze for good. And let’s be honest, dying from hypothermia in Brazil, in the middle of summer, would’ve been the cherry on top.”

Paulo hadn’t even noticed the bells the night before. He had been so tense about the possibility of the creatures breaking into his hiding spot that he hadn’t paid attention. But now, thinking back, the church near his home hadn’t rung any bells, so the one Patrícia referred to must have been another.

He was about to ask which church it was, but was interrupted by a loud crash from the construction site. “Storm or monster, at this point, it doesn’t matter,” he thought. Staying there, in a place full of glass windows, was definitely not a smart option.