The wind howled through the skeletal remains of the old highway, kicking up clouds of dust and ash that clung to every surface. The air was thick, oppressive, making it hard to breathe. Jonah coughed into his sleeve, squinting against the hazy darkness rolling toward them from the west.

"That's not a storm," Reyna said, her voice barely above a whisper. She adjusted the strap on her rifle, tension tightening her shoulders.

Caleb lowered the battered pair of binoculars he'd been using, his expression grim. "No," he agreed. "That's something worse."

The horizon had turned black. Not just the deep grays of a brewing storm or the usual wasteland dust clouds—this was something else. It moved unnaturally fast, swallowing everything in its path. Buildings disappeared into the void, the landscape consumed in choking darkness.

Sari clutched her notebook, the edges of the paper flapping wildly in the wind. "What is it? A fire?"

"No fire moves like that," Jonah muttered. His usual calm was absent, replaced by unease.

A distant sound rumbled through the air, a deep, unnatural groan that sent a shiver down Caleb's spine. He'd heard many terrible things in the wasteland—screams, gunfire, the last breaths of dying men—but nothing quite like this.

"We need to move," Caleb said. "Now."

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The group sprinted down the cracked pavement, their boots pounding against the asphalt as the black sky consumed the land behind them. The dust and ash swirled, reducing visibility to mere feet, and soon the air felt thick enough to choke on. Caleb pulled a rag over his nose and mouth, motioning for the others to do the same.

"We can't outrun this!" Reyna shouted over the roar of the wind.

"We find cover!" Caleb shouted back. "There!"

A gas station stood a few hundred yards ahead, its rusted sign creaking violently in the wind. Most of the building was in ruins, but the convenience store still had intact walls. It would have to do.

The group burst through the door, slamming it shut behind them. Jonah immediately pushed a shelf against it for reinforcement. Dust seeped through every crack, coating the dimly lit interior in a fine layer of gray.

Sari sat against the counter, coughing into her sleeve. "I can't breathe..."

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Caleb dropped his pack and rummaged through it, pulling out a damp cloth. "Here, use this. Keep your mouth covered."

Jonah peered through a shattered window. "That thing—whatever it is—it's tearing everything apart."

Outside, the darkness thickened. The howling wind carried debris, sending it slamming against the gas station’s walls. Something heavy crashed into the roof, and a deep groan reverberated through the building’s frame.

"This place isn't going to hold forever," Reyna muttered. Her hands were tight around her rifle, her knuckles white. "We need a plan."

Caleb exhaled slowly. "We wait. We see if this passes. If it doesn't... we find another way out."

A sound cut through the storm—a metallic scraping, like something heavy dragging across the pavement. Jonah’s expression darkened. "Tell me that was the wind."

No one answered.

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Hours passed. The black sky didn’t fade.

The group sat in silence, listening to the howling outside. The dust had settled inside the store, covering everything in a fine layer of soot. It clung to their skin, their clothes, their lungs.

Reyna stood near the entrance, her fingers tapping anxiously against the wooden stock of her rifle. "It's not natural."

"Nothing is anymore," Caleb said, adjusting his position on the floor. His limbs ached, but exhaustion was a luxury he couldn’t afford.

Sari scribbled something in her notebook, though her fingers trembled. "We don’t even know what this is. If it doesn’t stop—"

A noise outside made them all freeze. Footsteps. Slow, deliberate, crunching through the dust-coated ground.

Jonah gripped his knife, his muscles tensing. "Someone's out there."

Reyna moved toward the window, careful to stay low. She wiped the dust from the glass, peering into the darkness beyond.

A figure stood in the haze. A silhouette, motionless, just barely visible in the swirling blackness. Too still. Too patient.

"That ain't a scavenger," Reyna whispered. "Something’s wrong."

The figure took another step forward. Then another. The way it moved was unnatural—too fluid, too silent against the storm. Jonah shifted closer to the door, his grip tightening around his blade.

Caleb held up a hand. "Don't move."

The figure stopped. It tilted its head, as if listening.

Then, in an instant, it was gone. Swallowed by the dark.

The wind screamed against the gas station walls, rattling the windows, shaking the structure to its bones. Caleb exhaled, his breath slow and measured. "We’re leaving at first light."

"If there is a first light," Jonah muttered.

No one disagreed.

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The storm did not break until morning.

The sun rose weakly, barely visible through the lingering dust. The group stepped cautiously out of the gas station, their movements careful and quiet. The town was unrecognizable—every building coated in black soot, the road buried beneath layers of fine dust. The world looked dead, like the color had been stripped away overnight.

Reyna scanned the horizon. "No sign of our visitor."

"Good," Caleb said. "Let’s keep it that way."

Sari looked down at her notebook, then back at the sky. "We need to remember this. Whatever that was—it wasn’t just another storm."

Jonah adjusted his pack. "Yeah. But I don’t think we’re going to like the answer."

They left the gas station behind, their footprints the only sign they’d ever been there.

The black sky was gone.

But something had changed. And they all knew it.