It has to take a special kind of crazy person to know that there are undead creatures prowling around the hallways of a certain police station and to decide that the thing they want to do right now is to go back inside. He has to be mad, completely bonkers because there’s a chance for escape and here he is going down into the lower cells because he can’t leave if there’s even the smallest chance that there are survivors down there. Survivors like Ben who were kept safe from the hungry hoard by steel bars that wouldn’t give. 

He takes a deep breath and adjusts his grip on the handle of his gun before he pushes the door open as quietly as he can and he slips in. As much as he’s hoping for survivors he can’t help the silent prayer that there’s nothing down here. Nothing waiting to be found…nothing waiting to find him.

a bundle of pals !

x |  always accepting.

‘ – you saved me. ‘ it was uttered in vacant shock, mind still busy reeling from what it had yet to process. a wet rumble of the undead, a gunshot, the sensation of trapped air finally given a chance to be exhaled. focusing on his savior, who evidently had excellent timing in saving him in his own distraction, as shock settled, his gaze drew tight in cautious scrutiny.

‘ who are you? ‘

      >> 🔥 <<        ❝         mind   FILLING ME IN   on this whole   . .   zombie    business   --  i’ve only just got here 'n i’m tryin’ t’ wrap my head ‘round this shit.         ❞  he utters,  giving glance behind him to the one he just   SHOT   moments ago.  they had a short time til  something else  showed up to give them   HASSLE.