East Berlin – Residential District 8
Day 81 of the Outbreak
Elias Wirth hadn't left his apartment in six days the streets outside were silent empty of delivery vans, barking dogs, and shouting children. Only the wind moved now, pushing dry leaves and discarded masks down the concrete lanes.
He watched from his fourth-story window, one hand curled around a chipped mug of stale coffee. Below, a plastic grocery bag twisted like a ghost on the cracked sidewalk.
His dog, Rosa, lay by the radiator, breathing shallowly.
The Last Companion
Rosa had been sick for three days. It started with trembling. Then the black bile. Elias had wrapped her in a blanket, cleaned her mouth, and whispered, "You don't get to go, not you."
He didn't trust hospitals. Didn't trust the city's "parasite clinics," either. Last he heard, they were euthanizing animals without testing them.
He'd seen the posts online. Photos. Videos. Pet cages stacked in parking garages. People crying through chain-link fences.
No one was going to take Rosa from him.
The Broadcast and the Silence
A cracked radio on the shelf repeated news loops from earlier in the week.
"…confirmed parasitic behavior in small animals. Owners are advised to report all abnormal aggression or lethargy…"
"…symptoms include muscle spasms, black saliva, violent tremors, and in some rare cases, temporary dissociation…"
Elias turned it off.
Rosa hadn't been aggressive. She hadn't even whimpered. Just quiet. Watching. Breathing.
Last night, he'd woken up to find her standing in the hallway, completely still, facing the wall he called her name. She didn't move for nearly a minute something's Changing.
That morning, he touched her chest and felt her heart thudding not fast, but rhythmic, too exact. Like a clock.
He leaned down and looked into her eyes they weren't sick. They were clear. Too clear.
She didn't look in pain anymore. Just... focused rosa didn't bark. She didn't eat. She just lay beside him, her breath syncing with his. When he coughed, she blinked. When he stood, she stood.
When he sat, she sat again.
Like a reflection.
Something Beneath the Skin
He pressed gently on her belly that evening while checking for swelling. Beneath the fur, something felt wrong a slight bulge, firm but soft. Not a tumor. Not fluid.
He pressed again. It pulsed. Once. Then again it didn't match her heartbeat.
Elias sat back, staring at his shaking hands.
For the first time in days, Rosa's tail moved. Not wagging tapping, like a slow beat like she was responding.
Nightfall
That night, Elias left the window open rosa stood at the sill, unmoving. Outside, the city remained quiet but down below, in the alley behind the building, something scurried then stopped.
Elias could just make out the shape of a rat, frozen mid-step in the moonlight. It turned its head toward the apartment window toward Rosa.
They stared at each other.
Neither moved.
Elias blinked once and the rat scurried away but Rosa's eyes remained fixed on that spot, long after it was gone.