This is nearly every one of her nightmares rolled into one terrible moment. She can't get a bead on the creature. Sure, she has decent aim, but she's no Annie Oakley. Her heart is in her throat, knowing that if she can't shoot the zombie she may very well wind up having to shoot Nate if it bites him, and she's not sure she could do that. There has to be something she can do, she just can't stand aside and watch this just happen—she's not Princess Buttercup in The Princess Bride, after all. Why in the world she never just picked up a stick to beat that rat off Wesley she could never—
A stick. There's an idea. She grabs the first blunt object she can find—a piece of what used to be a chair, probably originating from a nearby restaurant. It must have gotten broken in the chaos. A pity for the owner, as wood is a luxury around here, and this piece is thick and heavy. It must have been pricey. Anyway, it makes for a great club and she doesn't need to kill the zombie, just distract it long enough for Nate to pry free and get running. The pain in her arm doesn't even register as she swings it, hard, into the creature's face.
"GET THE HELL OFF OF HIM," she screams, punctuating every other word with a bludgeoning.
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A stick. There's an idea. She grabs the first blunt object she can find—a piece of what used to be a chair, probably originating from a nearby restaurant. It must have gotten broken in the chaos. A pity for the owner, as wood is a luxury around here, and this piece is thick and heavy. It must have been pricey. Anyway, it makes for a great club and she doesn't need to kill the zombie, just distract it long enough for Nate to pry free and get running. The pain in her arm doesn't even register as she swings it, hard, into the creature's face.
"GET THE HELL OFF OF HIM," she screams, punctuating every other word with a bludgeoning.