A New Day 7

BOOOOOOOM

The blast ripped through the apartment building, a deafening roar that shattered windows into glittering shards, hurling them outward like a storm of glass daggers. Thick, grayish-dark smoke billowed from the gaping wound where Gino's apartment once stood, curling upward to claw at the morning sky. Car alarms shrieked in discordant chorus, their wails piercing the chaos below.

Inside, the narrow hallways erupted into pandemonium. Residents spilled from their doors, faces pale with terror, their shouts swallowed by the blaring fire alarm—a relentless, ear-splitting drone that turned the air into a wall of sound. The staircase swelled with bodies, a frantic tide of elbows and shoving hands, people climbing over one another in blind desperation.

No one led them, no calm voice cut through the din—just raw, unguided panic, a herd fleeing an unseen predator. Feet pounded the steps, some slipping, others trampled, the air thick with sweat and fear.

Among them moved a figure, seamless as a shadow in the fray—a guy in a hoodie, its hood pulled low over his face, blending into the crowd like a leaf in a torrent. Bodies pressed in from all sides, shielding him from prying eyes, his steps measured, deliberate, syncing perfectly with the chaotic rhythm around him.

One stair at a time, the mass descended, a sluggish beast inching toward safety. The first floor loomed, the exit a sliver of daylight ahead. He took his first step outside, the crush easing on his left, the air suddenly sharp and cold against his skin.

"Gino!"

A feminine hand shot out, snagging his arm with a fierce yank, wrenching him free of the throng. He stumbled, flung sideways into the open arms of a taller woman, her black suit crisp and immaculate despite the madness.

Her grip tightened, crushing him against her chest, her breath hitching as if she might sob. "You're safe, you're safe," she murmured, her voice trembling on the edge of tears, her arms a vise around him.

"Gck!" Gino wheezed, his ribs protesting under her squeeze.

"I'm so relieved," she said, her face softening, a flicker of calm breaking through her intensity. She didn't loosen her hold, her hands trembling faintly against his back.

"Stop acting," he muttered, squirming against her. "People are staring. It's embarrassing."

"Oh! Sorry," she said, pulling back slightly, her tone shifting—sharp, serious, her eyes narrowing. "Stay like this, and I'll overlook the fact that you tried to…"

"I'm relieved to see you too," Gino cut in, wrapping his arms around her in a quick, placating hug. Her stern expression melted, her shoulders relaxing as she returned the embrace, a quiet warmth settling between them.

"I hope they're blasted to bits," she whispered, her voice low, venomous.

"…"

They stood there, a still point beside the exit as the crowd surged past, a couple locked in their own world. Fire engines screeched into the lot, their red bulk encircling the building, hoses unfurling like serpents. Smoke poured from the jagged hole in the structure, a dark plume against the morning sun, but the chaos began to ebb—shouts fading, sirens softening. Yet the two hugged on, oblivious, a strange island of calm.

A black car sliced through the city's morning bustle, its engine purring under the sunlight glinting off its hood. The front passenger window cracked open, a hand darting out—Gino's—tossing small objects into the wind, one after another, their shapes lost to the blur of traffic.

"And that's the last of them," he said, rolling the window up with a soft whirr. He sank back into the seat, the leather creaking beneath him, his hoodie still shadowing his face.

Beside him, the woman drove, her short, red-dyed hair catching the light in a sleek pixie cut. Her black suit hugged her frame, crisp and elegant, a stark contrast to the casual sprawl of Gino beside her. She exuded control—neat, poised, her hands steady on the wheel.

"How many?" she asked, her voice smooth, a faint curiosity threading through it.

"Seven."

"That's a lot, don't you think?"

"Yup. A lot."

"I thought you warned them not to," she said, her brow arching slightly, her eyes flicking to him then back to the road.

"I did," Gino sighed, slumping deeper into the seat. "But every time I show them, they just make these dumb, confused faces."

"Those bitches," she spat, her tone sharpening, her grip tightening on the wheel. "Bugging you like you're their pet. It's time you ditch them for real."

"Trust me, you have no idea," he muttered, rubbing his temple.

"I heard those things radiate harmful rays," she added, her voice dipping into mock concern.

"Yup. Might die from their radiation someday," he deadpanned, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"Ahahaha!" She laughed, loud and bright, then slapped his thigh—hard. "You're funny… and dark comedy doesn't suit you..." Her hand lingered, her serious face snapping back, her fingers digging into his leg. "But don't ever say that."

"Okay, okay," he said, prying her hand loose, wincing as he freed himself.

"Good," she chirped, pinching his cheek with a quick, sharp twist before settling back into her cool demeanor. Her nails left a faint red mark on his skin.

Scary, Gino thought, rubbing his cheek, the sting a quiet warning.

"Here, it's yours," he said, pulling a small, flat electronic device from his pocket—a tracker, its light dead—and handing it to her with a sly grin.

"Oops!" She snatched it, tossing it out her window with a flick of her wrist. "Forget you ever saw it." Her smile returned, bright and disarming.

Silence fell, thick and heavy, the car's hum the only sound. Gino's hand hovered over the radio knob, itching to break the quiet, but her sharp glance stopped him cold. She liked the silence—thrived in it—and he knew better than to cross her on this.