With a grunt, Sylvia pulled her screwdriver out of the downed shambler's skull.
Still kneeling, she fished her revolver from her bag as she assessed the situation. She wasn't surprised by this-- day in and day out, situations in the past few weeks had proven that they have this awful habit of escalating rather quickly. James screamed in his death throes to further drive this point home.
Cómo altas apuestas...
Hell, her entire life had been this way! Really, the difference now being that a month and a half ago, the high octane situation would have been spilling coffee on her blouse in a cab or something, and needing to somehow get changed for some meeting or hearing that began in 20 minutes. Whereas now she was watching people she'd only known a few days get torn aprt while scared teenagers fired guns. The use of adrenal glands and fast thinking were similar!
It was just now the stakes were life and death, for herself and others, as opposed to merely losing a job. The anarchist within her made a quip about capitalist scum, and how operating in that system, losing a job is comparable to death.
The hoard continued advancing.
"Maldito Cristo..." She muttered, standing over the now re-killed corpse. She had hoped they could avoid crowds by coming in here-- She didn't blame Ali for what she did, from where she was standing it looked like she had fired with the intent of protecting Sophia, still though-- crowds always made things more complicated.
"HEY! UP HERE! THIS WAY!" A voice screamed from above, in a sense, answering the prayers that forced their way into Sylvia's thoughts. They may have been exposing themselves to another hostile party. But immediate survival meant following any out that presented itself from the increasingly bleak situation.
And this was an out.
"Alright gang, I think we have two options right now. Either we stay here and become munchies for the bloody shamblers, or we follow that man and his gun and hopefully get to someplace safer. And judging from how colossally focked we are if we stay here, I suggest we get to him and get to safety!" It seemed that Angie agreed with that line of thinking!
Sylvia's eyes shifted fro the industrious Irish grease monkey to the children, Sophia... and to a lesser degree, Ali. It appeared that Doris had managed to recover James' gun-- they were making their way to the stairwell, through the crowd. Other members of the group followed, help provided from Angie due to her distraction. Drawing the shamblers toward her in an incredibly risky gamble.
Sylvia ran toward the stairca--
No.
She turned slightly, James's body still being eaten by a few straglers. She couldn't put him out of his misery... but she could prevent him from coming back.
Didn't she owe him that? She'd left her life i his hands several times in the past week.
She raised her revolver, aiming at his head. She could make the shot easily.
...
A tired sigh escaped Sylvia's lips.
No...
She was hesitating. That could mean death... and further, those few still feasting on his body would come after her, and the group. Undoing Angie's gambit... Putting everyone, herself most of all, in danger... all because of some invented moral responsibility.
A few of the shamblers might even go back to eating Jame's deceased body.
She lowered her gun, promptly turned, and sprinted towards he staircase and the voice. She'd lingered behind the group a bit, but her speed more than caught her up to them, coming face to face with their savior, a handsome, younger man, at the top of the stairs.
"I don't suppose you have some way to barricade any of these doors really fast, do you?" Sylvia said to the man, a dry laugh following.
kapuchu