For a long, terrible moment, the thing that had been Sarah lay perfectly still on the basement floor. The only sounds were Lily's heartbroken sobs and Quinn's own ragged breathing, loud in the suffocating darkness. He stared at his sister's empty eyes, a part of his mind refusing to accept what he was seeing. This couldn't be happening. Not to her.
Then, her head turned.
It was a slow, deliberate movement, a creak of bone and sinew. Her gaze, utterly devoid of recognition, swept across the dark room and locked onto the source of the crying. It locked onto Lily.
With a speed that defied the laws of biology, she lunged.
Quinn reacted on pure instinct. He shoved himself in front of Lily, pushing his niece behind his back with one arm while bringing the baseball bat up with the other. "Stay behind me!" he commanded, his voice a harsh growl.
Sarah—or the monster wearing her face—crashed into him. The impact was stunningly powerful. It wasn't the strength of his sister, a woman of average build. It was something else, something primal and fueled by the infection. He stumbled back, the bat held horizontally between them as she snapped and snarled, her teeth clicking just inches from his face.
He could smell her. The coppery scent of blood mixed with the sour, chemical odor of the sickness. He stared into her eyes and saw nothing. No memory. No soul. Just a rabid, mindless hunger.
"Sarah, stop!" he grunted, shoving her back with all his might.
But he was fighting in a confined space. There was nowhere to retreat. The back of his legs hit the workbench he had dragged in front of the window. He was cornered.
She pushed forward again, her hands clawing at his arms, her fingernails digging into his skin. He could feel her strength, a relentless, untiring force. He was stronger, but she didn't feel pain, didn't feel fatigue. She was a machine of pure aggression.
As they struggled, his mind, in a cruel act of self-betrayal, flashed with memories. He saw Sarah as a little girl with scraped knees, smiling at him with a gap-toothed grin. He saw her on her wedding day, radiant and happy, dancing with Mark. He saw her just a few days ago, standing in her kitchen, laughing as she flipped pancakes.
This monster, this snarling, clawing thing trying to kill him, was wearing her face. It was using her body.
"Quinn!" Lily screamed from behind him, her voice raw with terror. She was watching this happen. She was watching her mother try to tear her uncle apart.
The sound of his name, screamed by the child he had just promised to protect, broke through his shock. He couldn't just defend. He had to end this.
He shoved Sarah back hard, creating a precious inch of space. He changed his grip on the bat, swinging it in a short, desperate arc. He didn't aim for her head. He couldn't. Not yet. He hit her in the shoulder, hoping to disable her.
The impact was solid, followed by a sickening crack of bone. She was thrown sideways but didn't fall. She didn't even seem to notice the injury. Her arm now hung at a useless, broken angle, but she came at him again, leading with her teeth.
He understood then. There was no disabling this thing. There was no reasoning with it. It would not stop until it was stopped permanently. He was struggling with a body, but his sister was already gone. This thing was just an echo, a desecration of her memory. To let it continue was not mercy. It was a profanity.
The promise he made to her echoed in his mind. Don't let her see me…
He finally understood what she had truly been asking. She wasn't just asking him to protect Lily from the infected. She was asking him to protect Lily from her.
His choice was agonizing, but it was clear. The soldier in him took over because the brother could not bear it. There were only two people in this room that mattered now: him and Lily. And the thing that stood between them and survival.
He looked past the monster's shoulder for a fleeting second and saw Lily cowering by the wall, her hands over her face, peeking through her fingers. Her small, terrified eyes were locked on him. She was watching.
He had to do it. And he had to do it now.
He stopped resisting. He let Sarah's forward momentum push him back against the workbench. As she lunged for his throat, he let the bat drop slightly, then drove the heavy end upward, hard, under her chin.
Her head snapped back with a violent crack. For a second, her body went rigid. The snarling stopped. The mindless aggression in her eyes flickered and died.
She collapsed at his feet.
The silence that followed was absolute and profound. It was a crushing weight, heavier than any sound. It filled every corner of the dark basement.
Quinn stood there, his chest heaving, his knuckles white on the grip of the bat. He stared down at the still form on the floor. It was his sister again. Her face, in the stillness of this second death, looked peaceful. The monster was gone. All that was left was the body of Sarah, the woman who had hugged him at the front door just two days ago.
The act was over. It had been swift, brutal, and deeply personal. He hadn't killed a monster. He had killed his sister to save his niece. He had kept his promise. And the cost of it felt like it had hollowed out his soul.
A small, choked sob from the corner of the room broke the silence.
Lily.
Quinn let the baseball bat fall from his numb fingers. It clattered loudly on the concrete floor. He turned slowly, his body feeling impossibly heavy. Lily was huddled against the wall, her small body shaking uncontrollably. She had seen it all.
He took a step toward her, and she flinched, pulling herself into an even tighter ball.
He stopped. He couldn't get any closer. He sank to the floor, his back sliding down the rough surface of the workbench. He put his head in his hands, and a single, ragged sob escaped his chest. It was a sound torn from the deepest part of him.
The weight of the world, of his promises, of his losses, crashed down on him. Mark was gone. Tom was gone. And he had just killed Sarah with his own hands.
He was all that was left. He and the terrified little girl crying in the corner.
The basement was a tomb, silent now except for the heartbreaking sound of Lily's quiet sobs and Quinn's own ragged, painful breathing. He was devastated, broken, but he knew one thing with absolute certainty. He had to keep moving. For her. His mission had just begun.