voluntary exile

Voluntary Exile

Carol pressed her hand to her thigh, trying to stop the bleeding. She’d managed to tear through her cargo pants and into her skin on something sharp, but she hadn’t stayed long enough to note what it had been. She’d barely made it out of the car as it was. The wound was minor, but if she didn’t get inside somewhere and cleaned up soon, she’d be dead. It was already risky being alone without leaving breadcrumbs to follow. The blood trail was too fresh, practically an invitation to ever walker out there, or worse.

The first building on the street was too open, wide glass windows that would offer little in the way of protection or privacy. The one next to it however was much more promising, brick with shaded windows. She tore up the steps, glancing around before opening the door as quietly as possible, both her knife and gun drawn. Nothing lunged forth and she stepped inside and closed the door behind her, the click echoing though the front room of the house.