Nobody moved.
The neighborhood seemed to hold its breath alongside them.
Hale kept his rifle leveled toward the narrow alley between two abandoned homes. Naomi shifted two careful steps to the left, giving herself a better angle on the truck without crossing anyone else's line of fire. Terri stood rigid, jaw tight enough that the muscle beneath her cheek twitched. Isabella remained behind the rusted pickup, only one eye visible over the hood.
The wind dragged loose snow across the cracked pavement.
Then…
Footsteps.
Not infected.
Too measured.
Crunch.
Crunch.
Crunch.
A figure emerged first.
Broad shoulders.
Heavy winter coat.
Gray beginning to creep into the beard he'd never seemed interested in trimming.
One hand rested casually near the pistol on his hip—not gripping it, just reminding everyone it was there.
Bill.
He didn't look surprised.
If anything…
He looked mildly disappointed.
Like he'd expected to find someone stronger.
