The cold concrete beneath her boots echoed faintly as Zara stepped down from the truck. The dim lighting of Leo's space gave the place a surreal quality.
Zara pulled her jacket closer, eyes scanning the warehouse. "Ima. Marcus," she called over her shoulder. "Grab whatever else you think we might need. We're leaving now."
Ima, crouched by a stack of canned goods, gave a curt nod. "On it," she said, brushing dust from her jeans as she stood.
Marcus grunted his acknowledgment, already hoisting a crate of bandages and antibiotics.
Zara turned away from them, her boots clicking softly as she walked into the rows.
The air was still in here, heavy like time didn't move right in Leo's space. She could almost imagine that outside the warehouse, the world hadn't ended.
The shelves creaked as she passed, her eyes flicking across rows of items: food, gear, weapons. Her fingers trailed over plastic bins, until something caught her eye.
