Malcolm froze.
For a moment he thought he had imagined it.
He kept his head against her chest, listening.
There.
A second beat.
Weak.
But real.
His jaw tightened.
Slowly he lifted his head.
His eyes moved over her face. Her skin was still pale. Her lips still parted slightly. A faint line of dried saliva clung to the corner of her mouth.
She still looked like one of them.
But her chest rose again.
Barely.
Malcolm reached for the rope around her wrists. His hands moved faster now, pulling the knot loose, fingers rough and impatient as the cord finally gave way.
Marybeth stepped closer behind him.
"What are you doing?" she asked, voice shaking.
Malcolm didn't look back.
"She's breathing."
Marybeth froze.
"What?"
Malcolm slid the rope free and caught Iyisha as her body sagged forward. She was cold. Too cold. But not stiff.
Not dead.
He pressed two fingers against the side of her neck.
For a moment there was nothing.
Then he felt it.
