@imafirefly
EXACTLY HOW LONG IT HAD been since she had seen an actual human being that wasn’t trying to put a bullet between her eyes, she couldn’t say. Shorter than she had been separated from her group. Longer than since she had encountered an Infected. Even longer than when she had last encountered an unfriendly. It was quite hard to keep track of time when you didn’t have a calendar or working watch.
What she did know was that she was TIRED. TIRED of running. TIRED of hiding. TIRED of being on her own. So when she heard footsteps - footsteps that were definitely not of an Infected, but maybe of an unfriendly - she sighed, checked the number of bullets in her gun, though sliding it back into her thigh-holster, and stepped out in the open, hands in the air. “Please don’t shoot,” she said. “I’m sure we’d all like to survive this with the same amount of holes we arrived with.”
There was one woman - an absolute TANK of a woman, but just one person nonetheless - though she could hear more footsteps on the edge of her hearing. She was definitely outnumbered. “Listen, I’m just looking for a place to sleep with both eyes closed for a change. I’m sure you can sympathize.” Everyone had had moments where they had to sleep in a ditch or in an abandoned building that may or may not be cleared of Infected at least once, right? At least, that was what she hoped. A little empathy in a world where not much of it was handed out.