They stepped inside the evacuation center. The light dropped off immediately, the interior dim except for thin strips of morning sun cutting through the windows.
Ryan went in first, rifle raised. His boots pressed against the concrete, slow enough to control noise but not slow enough to stall.
"Left."
Ethan broke off, clearing the near side. Cole moved opposite, sweeping along the wall. The rest followed in sequence, spacing tight enough to cover but not bunch.
The main hall opened in front of them.
Folding chairs were scattered across the floor, some still lined in rows, others knocked aside. Blankets, backpacks, plastic containers—left where people had been sitting. A few bottles rolled near the aisle. No signs of struggle. Just abandonment.
Jake shifted to cover center while Noah angled right, checking between the chairs.
A figure moved.
Slow. Dragging.
Ryan tracked it for a second before firing. One shot. The infected dropped between two rows without sound.
