The female infected lay half-obscured by the broken structure, her body suspended within what remained of the wall she had been forced into.
Fragments of concrete and steel framed her unevenly, sections still falling away as her hair remained embedded across the stairwell and beyond.
Some strands trembled.
Pulling.
Trying to retract.
Those lodged in weaker points came loose first, sliding back with sharp, dragging sounds—
SKRRR—~
Others—
Didn't move.
Not yet.
Her expression didn't change.
Still blank.
Still empty.
But the movement was there.
Persistent.
Don's jaw tightened.
His fingers loosened.
And then—
He let go.
The child dropped.
No hesitation.
No second glance.
The small body fell from his arms, slipping downward through the dust-filled air—
He didn't watch it.
Didn't track it.
Didn't correct it.
Because in that moment—
It didn't matter.
The weight was gone.
More than one kind.
His hands lifted.
Not toward her—
Toward the structure.
Close.
