The shelter hums with its usual sounds - the generator's low pulse, wind pressing the outer seal. But behind you, close enough to matter, something draws a slow breath. Then holds. Then breathes again. It hasn't moved. It's just waiting.

Then- it moves. It MOVES. Not a shuffle of a zombie, not a slight miss-step. An actual, intentional step closer. Quite, but still heard in the still air of the camp-sight