It is a dark and stormy night.
Or at least, it will be soon; the air is heavy and warm and increasingly humid, and the smell of sulfur is getting stronger by the minute. Sam grimaces and speeds up -- in retrospect, going for an impromptu hike was a mistake, staying out as long as he did was an even bigger mistake, and he's about to pay for it by getting caught in one hell of a radiation storm.
"Aaaah, come on, come on," he mutters as the first lightning strike lights up the sky. He's not sure how much radiation he's taken already -- he's still not entirely used to the idea of taking a Geiger counter along for a casual little camping trip around the bombed-out ruins of Boston -- but he needs to find shelter, and fast. He winces at another flash of lightning -- not only is he going to need to see a doctor, those lightning strikes are way too close for comfort.
He almost misses the shelter -- it's small, and tucked far enough into the corner that he almost mistakes it for part of the boarded up building next to it. He swings around immediately and tries the doorknob.
Locked, unsurprisingly; normally he'd try knocking on the door or waiting for the owner, but under these exact circumstances, he's going to save his skin first and apologize later. He gives the door a few solid shoves with his shoulder; it gives after the third blow and he half-stumbles into the interior.
...Which, is clearly inhabited. "Ah... sorry about that," he says, as he pushes the door closed behind him.