Hints of dawn have already crept in from between the panels when Noah, heart pounding and shirt drenched, opened his eyes. The ceiling of the bookstore was off-white, covered in a fine layer of dust and in bad need of repair, but thankfully lacking eyes.

Around him were the pages of the book he was reading, shredded into bits. He sat up slowly, taking his head in his hands. “Not again,” he muttered to himself.

A few minutes passed before he finally stood up. He started collecting his things and packing them in his small backpack. Ransacking the cabinets, he left nothing for the scavengers that would no doubt close in on this newly unencrypted store before the end of the week.

By then, hopefully, he would be long gone from this city.
Or what’s left of it, really.