The movie continued with a slow, haunting pace, the eerie silence of a ruined cityscape stretching across the screen. Dust floated in shafts of moonlight.
Broken neon signs flickered above gutted buildings.
The husband, now weathered and alert, led a small scouting party out of their temporary mall refuge to secure more resources.
He didn't speak.
None of them did.
Each step was calculated—boots rolling heel to toe to minimize sound, breath held in anticipation.
The camera panned out to show distant infected lurking in alleyways, twitching and bobbing their heads like puppets on invisible strings.
The soft crackle of broken glass underfoot made one of the scouts flinch, his hand tightening around the hilt of his machete.
The classroom was deathly quiet.
Even Selin didn't move.
Even Ruvin didn't breathe.
Tension tightened like a coiled spring.
