Then she saw it.
An old parking lot ahead, the skeletal remains of its structure barely holding together. The concrete pillars beneath it were cracked and split, chunks of rebar poking out at odd angles like exposed veins. It wouldn't take much to knock it down, and if she could, it would block off the entire street behind her. They'd have to find another route or risk climbing over a heap of unstable debris. Either way, it'd buy her time.
She slung her rifle across her back—this job wasn't going to need shooting. Her fists would do just fine.