[ The man in front of her doesn't turn to see if she's the one gaining on him or the infected, which gives her an appreciation for his survival skills. In a dead run like this, turning costs time, and the wrong step in a moment of distraction can lead to a stumble or fall. One bite is all it takes... Alice doesn't look back either, her mind automatically cataloging the echos in the alley and calculating how close they are behind her. She'd worked security for years before the world ended — those skills have served her well in the apocalypse.
Seeing the man climb up onto the dumpster beneath the fire escape loosens something in her chest. He might make it. It's probably stupid to find a speck of joy in the possibility of a total stranger surviving to see another day in this hellish landscape when her own death is quickly closing in, but she's seen so many die that every life left on this planet feels precious. For a moment, she considers giving up to give him a better chance at making it out. She could stop, turn and face the hoard, empty her guns into them, and try to give him a few more seconds. But then he offers her a hand as she reaches the dumpster and renewed determination grips her chest.
Taking that hand, she jumps to help with lifting her own weight, letting go of the gun in her other hand to leverage herself up. It skitters to a stop halfway across the lid. Swinging the backpack off her shoulder, she shoves it at the man before crouching, folding her hands in an unknowing mimic of what Tommy had done for him just minutes ago. ]
Grenade and ammo in the bag. I can make it up on my own. [ Her breathing isn't anywhere near as ragged as his, likely thanks to the T-virus bonded to her cells. Being grateful to the thing that's killed half the planet is more than a little complicated, but she is grateful as she readies to use all her strength to lift him once he's stepped up and grabbed hold of the ladder. If she's not overrun or pulled down by the infected, she'll follow him up, grab the gun, and vault off the wall to gain the height needed to reach the bottom rung. If she's lucky, she'll make it. If not... Well, at least he might. ]
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Seeing the man climb up onto the dumpster beneath the fire escape loosens something in her chest. He might make it. It's probably stupid to find a speck of joy in the possibility of a total stranger surviving to see another day in this hellish landscape when her own death is quickly closing in, but she's seen so many die that every life left on this planet feels precious. For a moment, she considers giving up to give him a better chance at making it out. She could stop, turn and face the hoard, empty her guns into them, and try to give him a few more seconds. But then he offers her a hand as she reaches the dumpster and renewed determination grips her chest.
Taking that hand, she jumps to help with lifting her own weight, letting go of the gun in her other hand to leverage herself up. It skitters to a stop halfway across the lid. Swinging the backpack off her shoulder, she shoves it at the man before crouching, folding her hands in an unknowing mimic of what Tommy had done for him just minutes ago. ]
Grenade and ammo in the bag. I can make it up on my own. [ Her breathing isn't anywhere near as ragged as his, likely thanks to the T-virus bonded to her cells. Being grateful to the thing that's killed half the planet is more than a little complicated, but she is grateful as she readies to use all her strength to lift him once he's stepped up and grabbed hold of the ladder. If she's not overrun or pulled down by the infected, she'll follow him up, grab the gun, and vault off the wall to gain the height needed to reach the bottom rung. If she's lucky, she'll make it. If not... Well, at least he might. ]