Snippet #1985263

"I'm still alive, but I'm barely breathin'," Tayte quietly sang the tune to herself as she re-arranged items in her backpack, "just prayed to a god that I don't believe in..." She chuckled at her own irony. This is the song I have stuck in my head tonight? She'd spent the day rummaging through the large abandoned apartment, and now it was time to get a move on. She'd napped mid-day, knowing that the infected were less likely to attack then, preying on victims at night because it was easier. Not that she'd allow herself to be an easy target. Sighing, she looked at her over-stuffed bag. "Damn." She'd never been good at packing, and this just proved it. Some first aid supplies, a thin blanket, cans of food, and a few bottles of water? Shouldn't that all fit in her backpack?

"Hmmm... what would Jackie do?" She asked herself under her breath, staring at the bulging bag, then chuckled again, "She wouldn't have been in this mess to begin with, Tay, duh." Rolling her eyes, she caught sight of herself in the mirror. "Annnnd you're talking to yourself again," she chided her reflection as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. After assessing her face for a moment, a few scratches, but nothing too horrendous, she returned her sight to the bag. Cocking her head to one side, she considered her options: Leave some stuff behind, or make it work. She chose the latter. Crouching she wrapped her knees on either side of the bag and squeezed, tugging on the zipper desperately until slowly, and with a little pain in thumb and forefinger, the zipper moved an inch. "Progress!" She smiled to herself and continued this way for a couple minutes until only a hand-length or so was open at the top of the bag. "That'll-do-pig," she told her back pack in a horrendous Irish accent, patting it as though it were beloved pet. Standing, she launched the backpack over her shoulder and grunted as the weight of it hit her. Woops... heavier than I anticipated. She considered re-opening the bag and dropping some things after all, but thought better of it when she looked at the angry, red zipper marks left on her fingers. I've done weight training before, just think of soccer practice. She told herself.

Grabbing her once white but now specked with dried brown blood softball bat, she set it by the only door of the apartment. She'd rigged a warning bell to it that morning when she'd got in, after searching the place for any sign of life, hostile or otherwise. She hadn't found any and so had deemed the apartment safe enough to sleep in. As she got closer to the door she could feel the cold night air entering. Pulling her leather coat slightly more closed she huffed, "Man... I hate the cold!" Then she began to undo the bell, holding the clapper to the sound rim so it wouldn't make any noise. Congratulating herself again on such an intelligent design, she pushed the bell and it's attaching string into a small side pocket on her back pack. Picking up her bat in her right hand, her swinging lead hand, she set her ear against the door. She slowed her breathing and waited, quietly, for some time. She listened as intently as possible, hyper aware that apartments weren't the best place to get stuck in due to the possibility of multitudes of infected, second only to hospitals, but she'd been desperate and tired, both unsafe emotions for the world she now lived in.

Minutes passed, when, suddenly, she heard a terrified shriek. Now! she urged herself to throw the door open and run, even though every bone in her body didn't want to move. Her human instinct was 'scream=unsafe' but she'd learned over the last two weeks that now it meant 'someone else is causing a distraction for you, utilize their death, don't waste it.' Thus, she threw the door open, took a moment to orient herself where the scream was coming from and took off in the other direction. She sprinted down the hall, slowed a little by her rather heavy backpack, but adrenaline keeping her moving. She got to the stair well and jumped down the flights two at a time. Calm down! she commanded herself as she almost missed a step in her rush, getting hurt will mean your end! Better to be slow and safe than fast and dead!

She slowed to a walk, having successfully reminded herself of the danger of herself, and made her way down the stairs silently. Listening with each step. The screaming had stopped which meant that the woman had either been killed or was undergoing the infectious change. The last thing Tayte wanted to do was find out. Finally she reached the utility door that led outside, into an alley way. She winced as it squeaked when she pushed it open slightly. Freezing, she waited to see if the noise had attracted any attention. Letting her breath go, she was relieved when it seemed no one was headed her direction. Pushing the door open more cautiously, she squeezed herself through it, then stood with her back to the wall next to it. She shut it as silently as she could, then placed both of her hands on her bat. Now the fun begins, she thought with a sardonic smile as she started down the alleyway, making sure to keep her eyes and ears open, 'cause I got time while she got freeeeedom...