@Kuro

"Thanks for sticking your neck out for me," Isaac said, holding the machete aloft and ran his thumb across the blade to see how sharp it was. He'd wielded one before, but had only ever cleared brush with it. The machete felt top heavy, like perhaps it was more of a tourist momento than a broken in bush blade. The edge was decently sharp, though, slicing into his finger nail.

"I think we should try to find him," he motioned toward the roof, "and ask him ourselves. At the very least, it'd provide a good view of the city. Maybe we could see if it's all like this." From that vantage, he'd be able to see the steeple from up there. His church would be engulfed in flames by now, the blaze he'd set himself to stop the escape of zombified congregants. He pushed the memory out of his head, focusing instead on Morgan. On the here and now. Two people had a better chance of surving than one. And if this roof dweller could be a third? Maybe they stood some sort of chance staying safe or getting out.

Father Keller looked around for a stair case, or some sort of indication of which way would lead them up, without going outside.

Thomas pulled back his bleeding stump away. He was mildly amused by it. Hopefully he wouldn't become infected, but then he would be able to see more blood and gore. Once again Thomas decided that the best choice of action would be to try to kill her try to strangle her with the clothes hanger/cut her head off and be glad he was left handed.

"Dang it little girl! First you bite off my finger, and now you break my weapon!" Exclaimed Thomas, hoping the zombie would spontaneously combust or something. He turned to face the stairs. "I guess I have one choice left...Run outside and curse my luck"

Isaac jerked away from the opening, putting the machete between him and the anchored zombie. "There's one up here!" he called down to Morgan. "It's chained to something." His eyes scanned the room and took in the various sundries. This was either the final resting place for a prepper, or a tomb for a loved one. He crossed himself with his free hand.

The zombie's lolling eyes greedily watched Father Keller's movements, stretching out two massive bloody hands to try to take any hold. The iron collar around the zombie's neck pressed deeply into the tissue, collapsing the trachea as the determined mindless monster swiped at the area between them.

Keller pulled himself up into the attic proper and brandished the machete. It felt heavy in his hand, and he hoped it would be enough to end the zombie in one fell hit. Raising the machete with both hands, the preacher bore down on the zombie attempting to hit it straight in the head and crush those ballooning eyes.

Thomas cursed his luck. First he lost a finger, now this. He didn't have a weapon and a horde of zombies was shambling towards him. At this point he didn't even know if he'd make it out of this alive. He figured his best bet was to Try and climb a building

The blood and the spatter from his first blow not only covered the Father in guts and gore, but sent the putrid substance all across the walls and floor. It seemed that he had not been as careful as he aimed to be. Morgan's voice echoed from below, and seeing that the zombie was still anchored to the chain which bound it, Isaac dropped a free hand to wipe the splatter from around his eyes.

"Yes," he sighed in his thick Haitian accent, "just lost my grip," he added, still mopping his eyes. "Alright, you might want to cover your mouth this time, just in case." Father Isaac could scarcely believe that he was butchering what looked to be what was left of a man in his pajamas, the rest of his face notwithstanding from the first blow. Now, the gory hole in the side of his face clicked with each gnashing movement from the zombie's incessant jaws. With that the Father raised the machete in his hands yet again, hoping this time to deliver a clean blow to end the thrashing zombie in front of him before the chain gave way under its efforts.