The moment the explosions rock the air, a resonating boom that rattles through walls and rumbles under his feet, all that rushes blind through Joel's head is the military. The military are bombing the place. It's what the military did to try and control the Infected outside the zones; and for a moment, in a shock of flashbacks, everything in his head and in his muscle memory is back in the zone, with the military staging terror and raids and dragging people out on the street to put a bullet through their heads execution style--
Except… except these bombs seem to be hitting far too close. These bombs, he realises, snapping back to the present as another explosion slams into the air somewhere outside, are hitting the city itself.
And then-- Ellie. Tess. Sarah. Christ, Christ, oh Christ. Without any further moment of idling, he's rushing over to his backpack. Hoists it onto his shoulders, grabs up his pistol, gives a cursory check of how much ammo is left in the magazine - not much; he's going to have to make every god damn shot count - shoves it into his waistband, grabs up his rifle, stores it into a strap of his backpack. His heart is pounding. His palms are already sweaty. But he's focused. He's focused on Ellie, on Sarah, on Tess. He needs to find them. That's all he fucking cares about, screw everyone else.
He unlocks the door, pulls it open and steps out into the deceptively sunny morning. The calamity of screaming and terror all around him is enough to almost shock him back into another flashback but he forces himself to stay grounded, for Sarah's sake, for Ellie's sake, for Tess'.
He can smell smoke. Can see smoke rising up from buildings ahead, not to far from where he is. He's not taking any fucking chances: they could be bombing the place with any kind of gas; or if they are bombing Infected, there could be fucking spores everywhere. He reaches behind him, fumbles the gas mask off from where it's clipped to his backpack, yanks it down over his already sweaty face. His breath suddenly sounds hollow and sharp in the claustrophobic mask, and his vision is narrowed down to two circles and grimy eye-protective glass. Better safe than sorry.
He slams the door behind him and begins running as fast as his feet will take him.
Joel | OPEN
Except… except these bombs seem to be hitting far too close. These bombs, he realises, snapping back to the present as another explosion slams into the air somewhere outside, are hitting the city itself.
And then-- Ellie. Tess. Sarah. Christ, Christ, oh Christ. Without any further moment of idling, he's rushing over to his backpack. Hoists it onto his shoulders, grabs up his pistol, gives a cursory check of how much ammo is left in the magazine - not much; he's going to have to make every god damn shot count - shoves it into his waistband, grabs up his rifle, stores it into a strap of his backpack. His heart is pounding. His palms are already sweaty. But he's focused. He's focused on Ellie, on Sarah, on Tess. He needs to find them. That's all he fucking cares about, screw everyone else.
He unlocks the door, pulls it open and steps out into the deceptively sunny morning. The calamity of screaming and terror all around him is enough to almost shock him back into another flashback but he forces himself to stay grounded, for Sarah's sake, for Ellie's sake, for Tess'.
He can smell smoke. Can see smoke rising up from buildings ahead, not to far from where he is. He's not taking any fucking chances: they could be bombing the place with any kind of gas; or if they are bombing Infected, there could be fucking spores everywhere. He reaches behind him, fumbles the gas mask off from where it's clipped to his backpack, yanks it down over his already sweaty face. His breath suddenly sounds hollow and sharp in the claustrophobic mask, and his vision is narrowed down to two circles and grimy eye-protective glass. Better safe than sorry.
He slams the door behind him and begins running as fast as his feet will take him.