[ The idea of the man refusing help hadn't even occurred to Alice until she watches him run through the arc of light and into the growing shadows on the other side of the street. Somewhere in the back of her mind, it makes sense — she's a stranger, and most people in this horrifying world probably wouldn't trust her or ability to navigate the bike through whatever is coming for them. The T-virus might protect her from the cordyceps infection (though she can't even be entirely sure it will), but a single bite is a death sentence to anyone else. So while a wave of frustration surges through the fear and panic within her, she pushes it all right back down where it belongs and focuses on the problem at hand.
She can't leave him. He's alive and that's all she needs to make the likely terrible decision to follow him. The bike falls onto its side as she throws herself off, one hand grabbing the bag hooked to it before she sprints after the person whose life she's tying her own too. Will this be the choice that finally gets her killed? Possibly, but when has that ever stopped her?
Her boots thudding on the pavement is drowned out by the cries of the creatures drawing closer, their pursuit as single-minded as the undead's but so much faster. Swinging the backpack's strap over one shoulder, her other hand unholsters one of her handguns and clicks off the safety, hoping her instincts and skill will give her leverage over the darkness spilling into the world while she races down the alley. Surely, the man has to have some sort of plan that isn't outrunning these things; she just has to hope it's a good one that doesn't immediately get them both killed.
What she wouldn't give for a hoard of the undead. Hell, she'd even take a nest of Lickers over these things. Anything infected by the T-virus is familiar ground — it's the nightmare she knows how to fight her way out of. With these things, the best she's come up with is shoot for the head, which at least seems to work no matter what she's come up against. But they sure as hell don't make it easy. ]
no subject
She can't leave him. He's alive and that's all she needs to make the likely terrible decision to follow him. The bike falls onto its side as she throws herself off, one hand grabbing the bag hooked to it before she sprints after the person whose life she's tying her own too. Will this be the choice that finally gets her killed? Possibly, but when has that ever stopped her?
Her boots thudding on the pavement is drowned out by the cries of the creatures drawing closer, their pursuit as single-minded as the undead's but so much faster. Swinging the backpack's strap over one shoulder, her other hand unholsters one of her handguns and clicks off the safety, hoping her instincts and skill will give her leverage over the darkness spilling into the world while she races down the alley. Surely, the man has to have some sort of plan that isn't outrunning these things; she just has to hope it's a good one that doesn't immediately get them both killed.
What she wouldn't give for a hoard of the undead. Hell, she'd even take a nest of Lickers over these things. Anything infected by the T-virus is familiar ground — it's the nightmare she knows how to fight her way out of. With these things, the best she's come up with is shoot for the head, which at least seems to work no matter what she's come up against. But they sure as hell don't make it easy. ]