Seventy-Two Hours

The riverfront walls needed labor, ration law, punishment law, burial law, and rules for bitten people who had not turned. Every decision angered someone. Every mercy could become a loophole. Every execution made Crow's ghost smile. So Eli built councils, records, witnesses, and limits. He was becoming powerful enough to ignore consent, which meant consent had to be nailed into the city before power talked him out of it. Still, the infected escalated. After the collapse of police, hospitals, and every emergency promise, they adapted again. Nests grew false doors. Hive mothers imitated dead relatives. Night stalkers learned children's breathing patterns. Titans carried spore gardens on their backs.