( The sounds from inside the house are alien to Alice, completely foreign in comparison to the moans and hisses of the infected she's fought for the last three years. There's something alive about it, and that's almost worse than what the T-virus does to the dead. She prepares herself to fight, reasoning that everything she's ever come across can be killed by taking out the brain, so she climbs off the bike and unsheaths her largest knife.
But what comes barrelling out of that house isn't what she'd expected. It hardly looks like a person anymore, changed in ways completely different from the reanimated dead. The mutation, the movement — she can't help her instinctive reaction to stumble backward, fight or flight trying to push her firmly toward the latter. That's why she misses the man appearing in a nearby window, and why the gunshot ringing out makes her flinch, eyes wide in shock as she looks away from the thing moving toward her.
Another shot and she lifts her blade, wishing she hadn't used the last of her ammo the day before but ready to take this creature down with her bare hands if that's what it comes to, and then its brains are sprayed out on the ground as the sound of a third shot nearly echoes in the ensuing quiet.
Her hands are still raised defensively when that voice reaches her, and it takes her a moment to tear her eyes away from the thing laying only a few feet away from her. It had been so fast... )
Yeah, I'm good.
( She projects her voice only as loud as it needs to be to reach him, not wanting to draw even more attention if she can help it. Who knows what might have heard those gunshots? Letting her hands fall but still not relaxing her muscles, she studies the man for just a moment, taking in the rifle and making a snap judgment that he wouldn't have saved her life from the thing just to take it himself. )
Unless you're planning to shoot me next.
( There's a hint of humor in her tone, a joke threaded through the statement because her gut tells her that's not what he's planning. Hell, he probably doesn't even have a plan, but then that'll make two of them. )
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But what comes barrelling out of that house isn't what she'd expected. It hardly looks like a person anymore, changed in ways completely different from the reanimated dead. The mutation, the movement — she can't help her instinctive reaction to stumble backward, fight or flight trying to push her firmly toward the latter. That's why she misses the man appearing in a nearby window, and why the gunshot ringing out makes her flinch, eyes wide in shock as she looks away from the thing moving toward her.
Another shot and she lifts her blade, wishing she hadn't used the last of her ammo the day before but ready to take this creature down with her bare hands if that's what it comes to, and then its brains are sprayed out on the ground as the sound of a third shot nearly echoes in the ensuing quiet.
Her hands are still raised defensively when that voice reaches her, and it takes her a moment to tear her eyes away from the thing laying only a few feet away from her. It had been so fast... )
Yeah, I'm good.
( She projects her voice only as loud as it needs to be to reach him, not wanting to draw even more attention if she can help it. Who knows what might have heard those gunshots? Letting her hands fall but still not relaxing her muscles, she studies the man for just a moment, taking in the rifle and making a snap judgment that he wouldn't have saved her life from the thing just to take it himself. )
Unless you're planning to shoot me next.
( There's a hint of humor in her tone, a joke threaded through the statement because her gut tells her that's not what he's planning. Hell, he probably doesn't even have a plan, but then that'll make two of them. )