Late afternoon and the sky was tinged with gray haze so thick, you’d think if you swiped your palm through the air, you’d be able to grab a handful. Victor and Lingyi were still working on my rich-you-boy identity, fine-tuning my records online and securing a bachelor pad. I wanted to enjoy these last days of freedom, even if I never left my dank rented studio without a cap, face mask, and sunglasses on—covered and unrecognizable. I was meeting Arun at his lab on campus before we headed out for dinner. I hadn’t been back to the National Taiwan University since we had found Arun’s mom in her office. Remembering vividly brought back my friend’s rage and grief, something that he still struggled with. He was quiet more often, his easygoing manner and conversations at times falling away midinteraction.

I never knew what to do in those moments, other than rushing on where he had left off, as if his grief could be carried away by my aimless prattle, as if my words could fill those huge, empty spaces.

I entered the massive concrete-and-glass building where the science and technology labs were situated and signed in with the security guard at the desk. Arun had arranged for my building access. I messaged him on my Vox after I gained entry, because I wasn’t as familiar with this building, which was riddled with many corridors and turns. But he didn’t respond. Apprehension gripped me suddenly, a sense of déjà vu like ice down my spine.

My hands grazed the places where I hid my knives, their weight and solidity grounding me, my senses going into hyperfocus. The white lights overhead were too bright, washing the corridors in that disinfected glow that reminded me of hospitals and death. All the thick doors were closed, though I could hear muffled conversations behind some of them as I walked past. Finally, after pacing the circumference of the sixth floor twice, I found Arun’s lab. The door was shut, and I knocked, anxious enough now that I couldn’t stand still.

“Come in,” Arun said, and I let out a breath of relief to hear his voice.

I pushed the heavy door open and found Arun slumped on a stool, his elbows resting on a large black lab bench. He wore a bright yellow lab coat over jeans, and his orange hair wasn’t spiked, but tied back in a ponytail. The chamber was ringed on either side with computers and large pieces of equipment I didn’t recognize. There were three more lab benches cluttered with bottles and tubes. A low hum filled the space, coming from the ventilators and machines, and was devoid of any noticeable scent.

“Am I early?” I asked, pulling a stool up next to Arun.

He gave a dejected shake of his head. “They died.”