The Double Shift

Time: 5:41 PM

The office lights hadn't dimmed, but something about the air had changed.

Jack noticed it slowly — the chairs being pushed in, the drawers closing, people slipping on jackets, shutting laptops, whispering politely before disappearing down the halls. It was like watching the tide pull back.

He looked up at the overhead clock.

5:41 PM.

Still early by normal standards. In other offices he'd worked — or at least tried to — people would hang around until six, even later if they wanted overtime. But here? Everyone seemed to be clearing out like there was an unspoken rule.

Jack watched someone fast-walk past with two bags and an urgent face.

He stood up, stretched, peeked over the divider. The desks were nearly all empty now.

He rubbed the back of his neck, puzzled.

"Did I miss a memo or something?" he murmured to himself.

The silence settled heavier now. The click of a single keyboard echoed in the distance, then stopped. Nothing but the low hum of the ceiling lights.

By the time the clock hit 6:00 PM sharp, Jack was the only one left.

Time: 6:03 PM

He stepped out through the front lobby, the building doors closing quietly behind him.

And froze.

The street was empty.

Not just quiet — empty.

No traffic. No buses. No people. No honking horns, no footsteps, not even the low background murmur of city noise. Like the entire district had powered down.

Even the air felt different — cooler, thinner.

Jack checked his watch again, frowning.

6:03 PM. Still too early for rush hour to be over, let alone for everything to be shut down. Stores had lights off. Offices dark. Restaurant chairs stacked and locked.

Then a sound cut through the stillness — a low hum of an engine.

Headlights swerved around the corner.

A sleek black car pulled up beside him and rolled to a gentle stop. The window descended with a smooth mechanical sigh.

Adam Morgan was behind the wheel.

His sleeves were rolled up, forearm resting on the wheel casually. Sunglasses tucked into his collar, a half-empty coffee thermos in the console beside him.

"Hey," Adam said, tone calm as usual. "Why are you still out here?"

Jack blinked. "I was finishing a task. Lost track of time."

Adam raised an eyebrow. "You didn't notice everyone clearing out around five-thirty?"

Jack shrugged. "Honestly? I thought it was just casual flex time or something."

Adam looked straight ahead for a moment, then back at him — expression unreadable, but voice firmer.

"Public transportation stops before evening."

Jack tilted his head. "What? That makes no sen—"

He looked at his watch again.

6:07 PM.

"Too early," Jack said. "Way too early for the buses and trains to stop."

Adam rested both hands on the wheel, his voice steady.

"Jack. Get in the car."

Jack paused.

There was no panic in Adam's voice — just quiet insistence. Commanding, like a boss who wasn't asking a favor.

He opened the door and got in.

As the door shut beside him, the noise of the outside seemed to cut off. Like stepping into a bubble.

Adam shifted into gear.

"You don't walk around after hours in Valortown."

Jack frowned. "Why not?"

Adam didn't answer immediately. He pulled the car into motion, merging onto the wide, empty street.

The city around them looked normal — buildings standing tall, streetlights just beginning to glow — but there was something off. Something too still. Like the city was holding its breath.

Finally, Adam spoke.

"Let's just say the day is for paperwork…"

"…and the night is for something else."