They were loading the last of the boats into the truck bed when Killian went still.
"Movement," he said quietly, nodding toward the dock beyond the shattered storefront. "Not infected."
Erik followed his gaze. Through the sheeting rain, a figure crouched near the edge of the marina, half-hidden behind an overturned kayak rack, watching them with the particular stillness of someone trying very hard not to be noticed.
"Kid," Ben said, squinting. "Just a kid."
Penelope's chest tightened before she could stop it. She thought of the boy on the car roof, the man screaming about his daughter, the woman under the bus shelter — all the faces they'd already driven past tonight, all the reasons already stacked up for why this one should be no different.
Except this one was fifteen feet away, alone, soaked to the bone, and looking directly at them.
"We can't just leave him standing there," Ben said, already taking a step toward the dock.
