Clyde sat with his back to the dusty wall of the abandoned store and methodically chewed on a strip of dried ration.
Across from him, Mina was also eating in quick sharp bites. Her gaze fixed on nothing in particular but her eyes still burning with that same deep unsettled hatred.
She didn't notice the faint rustle of movement outside, the almost inaudible scrape of boots against concrete.
However, Clyde did notice that. His perception caught the subtle shifts in shadow and sound. He notices seven figures creeping through the rubble moving low and slow.
They were not approaching like traders or fellow survivors looking to barter or cooperate. Their bodies stayed close to the ground, weaving between cover with deliberate silence.
This wasn't the gait of men seeking cooperation. This was like the crawl of predators closing in on their prey.
He glanced at Mina. Her jaw was already so tight, her focus still locked inward on the storm of her grief.
