The sight of the infected German Shepherd charging toward us like something spawned from hell itself triggered every survival instinct I possessed. My body moved before my mind could catch up, taking an involuntary step backward as the creature's twisted form barreled closer with unnatural speed.
I wasn't alone in my reaction. Elena had already retreated several steps, her crowbar held defensively in front of her like a shield. What struck me most wasn't just her tactical withdrawal—it was the genuine terror written across her face. Her usually composed features were pale as parchment, her blue eyes wide with a fear that seemed to go deeper than the immediate threat.
She was absolutely terrified of dogs.
