|
The Hunter attempted to chase after her...and in his bloodlust, forgot about his injury. He smacked his injured leg against the ground, and whimpered. He held it up in the air for a moment, and attempted to hobble after her on three legs...but, he was very off-balance, and he toppled to the ground in a pathetic-looking heap.
It seemed like he might bawl and cry--the look on his face was just so awfully sad. His eyes almost looked like they teared up. He was reaching a point, due to his injuries, where he was giving up on life. He couldn't hunt...he couldn't properly get food...he couldn't even walk without stumbling over. He didn't even attempt to right himself. Instead, he laid on his side on the ground, injured leg resting against the ground, and stared at his now-lost prey, eyes half-lidded, surrending to his inevitable fate if he was left here on his own. He didn't even growl or grunt at her...just complete silence. |
Taylor was at the door before she realized that the animal like infected behind her was no longer pursuing her. When she looked back towards it what she saw wasn't a beastly zombie anymore but rather a having mess of a decaying person. This monster used to be a man, but now it was only a mass of flesh, resigned to its own death. The look of it gave her pause. If she was back in her lab, she would fix it. She would knock the thing out and fix it, like she would to any other animal. That thought made her realize that if she charged out into the crowd of infected right now, she would pause before shooting - perhaps not shoot at all. And therefore, she would die.
There was no where for her to go. Unwittingly mirroring the deteriorating state of the infected, she slumped to the ground with the gun held loosely in her hand. She was at a lose for what to do. She never should have left the bunker. |
The Hunter did not understand what her problem was. She was at the door, and she had her weapon that caused stinging-pains all over the enemy when used...and yet she still wouldn't venture outside? An odd prey, indeed...most had no problem wielding such a weapon, and mowing through the waves of his less intelligent brethren.
And yet this one couldn't do it? Peculiar...he had seen nothing like it for as long as he could remember. A few minutes passed...perhaps ten to twenty. Then, the shuffling and grunting outside of the door began to die away. The Infected were growing tired of chasing after her, and had resigned themselves to finding some easier prey. He often saw them raiding the food-boxes inside the nests of prey, and they even ate cardboard boxes and wood. In that sense, they were less picky than the Hunter. He felt the urge to try and get up, to try and make it outside, back to the makeshift nest he had made himself so he could pass in peace. |
After what felt like hours, during which Taylor was essentially trapped within her own mind - trying to work out her options, after this, she heard something that sparked hope in her; she heard the zombies begin to shuffle away. This was her chance, she waited a few minuted more and opened the door a crack. The zombies were scattered again, no longer near the door. It seemed that they were retreating and would soon be away from her. She waited another few moments until they had dispersed further and decided that she was going to make a break for it, the bunker wasn't even 500 yards away.
As she pushed the door open she made a vow to herself. Only shoot if they attack. With that thought she hauled out her gun and busted through the doorway, breaking off in the direction of the bunker. |
The Hunter did not pursue her. His grumbling stomach willed him to move, but the pain in his leg was blocking any sort of desire to. He was hungry, and very thirsty. But he wasn't going anywhere anytime soon, unless something else willed him to start moving.
He watched her leave with that same hopeless expression he had worn previously. He was giving up hope. He had thought he could make it with his injury, but once that pipe had smashed against his leg...the pain, it was just too much. He couldn't hobble on three limbs...he needed all four... |
Taylor rad run half the distance to the bunker before she heard the trample of uncoordinated infected feet behind her. Another quarter of the way and the crowd of undead had grown to the size of a horde, following behind her, almost at her heels. She was in no condition to keep running like this, especially after the events of the day. Just as her legs began to burn, and her thoughts shifted to ideas of capitulation, she saw the bunker. The bunker was concealed beneath what looked like a normal sewer drain. Marked as different only because the acronym C.E.D.A. was emblazoned on the sewer cap rather than the traditional city name.
Using her last gasp of breath and digging deep within her remaining reserve of will Taylor sped toward the concealed bunker. |
The Hunter still could not bring himself to his feet for quite a while. Stomach rumbling, and body shaking with raw hunger, the next few minutes were spent gathering strength together. He panted, heavily, as he raised his body up. His leg was in the air...no pressure on the mangled limb whatsoever. It didn't take him long to pick up the trail of his lost prey. This was probably the only fresh food for miles...and his stomach was doing all the talking right now.
It did, however, take him quite a while, about a half hour, to find the bunker. He took one look at the sewer cap, and then grumbled, lowering himself down onto the ground. The moment his body hit the ground, the Hunter lost consciousness. |
[inactive roleplay]
|
| All times are GMT. The time now is 09:07 AM. |