Miss Claire walked toward the elevator without looking back.
She didn't need to.
Her shoes clicked against the metal platform in a steady rhythm as she crossed the lab, carrying herself with the same composed grace she had maintained throughout the past four days.
The clothes she wore had lost some of their usual crispness. The fabric showed faint creases from repeated wear, and there were shadows beneath her eyes that hadn't been there before the outbreak.
Even so, she carried herself as though she had just stepped out of a board meeting rather than spent nearly a week hiding underground.
Don fell into step behind her.
Around them, everyone continued uninterrupted.
Samantha remained seated near the large monitor, watching footage of recovery efforts across Santos City.
Amanda lounged nearby with her attention on another monitor, apparently engrossed in a video involving oversized trucks dragging impossible amounts of weight across dirt tracks.
