But unlike what your adrenaline packed body had decided to tell you- death's knock wasn't for you to answer.

One scuffle of legs- one ear splitting scream that came from the underworld itself, and one loud slam of boots on bricks, yet you hadn't died. Instead you fell.

The tongue loosened considerably as you hit the cement- your palms instinctively splaying across the hard ground. The remnants of the rotten flesh fell down like a snake after you, touching the roads with a splat of wet flesh. A large wheeze of smoke and air releasing came from above, only confirming your suspicion that your companion had killed it in cold blood, based on the gory noises above.

Despite still being worried about your companion, you shook it off, focusing on trying to live through the vicious horde of infected civilians.

You had adrenaline on your side as well as the new and re-founded hope that your hunter companion was still somewhat on your side. Pushing yourself off the ground, you glared at the growling mass of bodies and people.

You could handle this...

Snatching the switch blade from your pocket, you had only wished to have your automatic back- fast- powerful- and designed to readily sunder down large groups.

The first infected to reach you opened its maws far wider than any human could, skin ripping in resilience.

You jammed the blade as deep as you could into its head, flinching as it crunched. It took a great effort to pull the knife from its head afterwards, and by then- the rest of the hoard had finally caught up to you.

If only your hands were wrapped around that stupid gun you had to throw on the ground.

Kicks- punches- and occasional swipes from your knife were your main actions- the crowd closing in and smashing you to the wall as you tried desperately to keep yourself stable from their claws and nips.

One made it past your knife, latching onto your non-dominant arm's skin.

You were being swarmed despite your efforts- hazardously trying to crawl away, and feeling so much more claustrophobic then you'd ever imagined you could be. Several more reached their grimy fingers forward- ready to bring down their unbridled wrath. And they did- claws reaching down your body and ripping a long line of thread and blood from your shirt and skin.

You kicked- and moved your arms about the best you could, but the force of the crowd was far too much.

Things couldn't have been worse. Not that being in an apocalypse wasn't already the worst, but it felt like it.

Nipping, clawing, shoving- all of it hurt. Swinging your knife around didn't seem to do much, taking them out one at a time, only for another to replace the circle surrounding you.

Growling in your own frustration, you flinched when another one targeted where your the last one bit your arm.

Screwed. Utterly screwed. That's what you were- but you kept struggling, stabbing, punching, pushing, simply trying to make a dent in the bustle of bodies. They were much like bees in winter, vibrating and moving at all times around you.

With a quick look, and rationalization, you had realized there was a rather conveniently placed hole in the wall. Hand sized if anything.

Giving the crowd one last hefty push, you took your chances and turned your back.

They clawed heavily the moment you turned, some grabbing parts of your shirt and ripping pieces out of it like that was the last thing they'd ever grab. Thankfully, you jumped before too much damage was done to yourself, placing your right hand into that convenient hole. The long claw mark on your back would sting for a while, but it wouldn't incapacitate you.

Heaving yourself up onto the side of the wall, you struggled to keep your feet planted on the flat side of the brick. Your right hand's skin feeling ripped at the pull of gravity.

Their grubby hands clutched to the bottom of your legs, but the stiff material protected your skin from their swipes.

If you could just get up this wall and over to that fire escape, things would be alright, but who were you kidding. You're not a parkour expert. Heck, you weren't even the most athletic person. Struggling to stay just above the hoard could only last so long.

Sweeping the wall with an observant glance you felt sweat pulling down your back. The constant tugging on your legs would eventually pull you down...

You almost cried out in joy when you spotted another hole in the wall.

Wiggling your legs out of their grasps and head kicking the stragglers on the side, you decided now or never, and used the best of your arm strength to pull yourself up to the new opening, which was large enough for both of your hands this time. Your right leg scrunched up and placed itself in the first hole you had jumped to.

Temporarily safe was most true in a time like this, but safe was safe, and with death not right on you, you looked around fretfully.

You didn't know where he could have jumped off to- or if he was still on that window with a dead smoker carcass clenched between his jaws. The more you glanced, the increasingly worried you became.

Surely he hadn't have ran off? He couldn't have- that just wasn't the way this was supposed to be.

Your disbelief lead an unwilling watery feel to come to your eyes, and you shook your head with a fervent "no."

"That couldn't have happened..." You whispered unconsciously to yourself. The hoard's crying and howling preventing you from hearing your own reassurance.

The more you thought, the more you grieved losing that dumb animal of a person. Infected, you had to remind yourself. A normal person can't jump to the second story window with a crouching start.

Pulling your lips in, you soured at the thought. He's not a person- getting so worked up was pointless.

That didn't stop you from regretting so many things you'd never do. Like casually eat that dinner of beef and mayonnaise you'd so recently talked about.

Clenching your hands harder around the stiff and crumby bricks, you huffed. It shouldn't be such a surprise. He always was an animal.

Shaking your head, you decided to re-focus back on your own safety, scouring the bricks momentarily until you spotted another conveniently placed hole, this one much larger then the ones you're currently using. It was farther away too...

Taking the chance, you swung yourself a bit, tipping one hand out and just barely brushing the hole.

You re-situated yourself on your old spot, frowning as you tried to think of how to reach it.

Testing your luck again, you swung out toward the hole, fingers momentarily touching and grabbing the edge, before getting jerked back by the gravity of your swing.

Full on scowling now, you breathed deeply through your nose before trying one last swing. This time, you successfully reached the hole, letting your old spot go and instead clutching to the new perforation.

You could do this. You had to.

Taking in a deep breath, the smell of blood permeated through your nose, and the sun with its fiery stare was blocked by a passing cloud. Once again, your feet were hanging. Not nearly close enough for them to reach you, there was a good feet or two between you and the hoard's outstretched hands.

It took a small breeze for you to only just now realized one of them had taken off your shoe during that scramble to get up here in the first place. Unfortunate, but livable.

Looking towards the fire escape, you tried your best to get a firm settling with your feet, one boot pressed to the wall and one sock placed alongside it.

One last leap and you could do this. You'd get to the fire escape, and go somewhere from there.

Shimmying your way as close to the fire escape as you could, you took a deep breath before jumping over.

Your ribs were the first thing to make contact, the wind being knocked out of you rather quickly. Somehow you still held on to the metal bars.

It took you a moment of sitting there to finally pull yourself over the fence, your back colliding heavily with the floor and making the fire escape shake. Thanks goodness the ladder was pulled up- else the hoard could reach you.

Weakly putting your hand in front of your face you stared at it. Kinda blurry looking, but you could work over that. Huffing a breath, you sat up, glancing over the edge to see the squabbling hands and bustling bodies.

You cursed when you felt the holster on your leg. The pistol had fallen out, and in your panic to fight off the hoard, you had taken out your knife instead.

At least you had back up.

Placing your backpack on your lap, you began to search through it. Now that you had a moment to properly look through your belongings, you could take out your spare gun. Just a small pistol, identical to the one you lost, and you hoped by the gods that this one too didn't some how fall out.

You sighed in relief when you found a rather large bundle of cloth. As a safety precaution you wrapped it up. Any of the random junk in here could pull the trigger, so you took the appropriate action.

Zipping your backpack up, you re-positioned it on your back before unwrapping the pistol. Not the most powerful, but it was something. You used the wrapping from the gun to quickly fix up the bite in your arm, which stung with an agony on could only compare to the the sensation of fire.

Once you finished your arm, you grabbed the pistol again and looked around the area. You had to check at least on more time for your companion.

Still, he was missing.

That fact saddened you, and you took another gulp of air to quell your beating heart.

Finally standing up, you took your pistol in hand and glanced at the hoard. The real question is do you want to go back for that nice gun of yours, or do you just want to skip it and go up the roof.

On the flip side, waiting it out on the roof means you can go get your gun too.

Let's rephrase this question of action.

Look for your companion... or wait things out on the roof and possibly never see him again.

Your scowled at the thought.

Raising your pistol, you took aim.

Safety lock pulled out,

Back of the gun pulled tight against your palm,

and finger brushing the trigger with a feathery light tenderness,

you jerked the trigger backwards.

__________

That gun shot was loud.

All gun shots were.

Your ears rang with the force put behind the bullet that fell an unfortunate infected. Something you never understood was why hoards weren't summoned from the sound of a gunshot. They were louder then car alarms, much louder, and the only thing you could come up with to give meaning to that was that gun shots weren't consistent. Some here, some there, a few twenty there.

That was just trivial thought in your mind.

With that annoying ringing in your ear you barely heard a different noise, that in theory had much more of a weight then the mechanics of the hoards.

It was a lighter sound, more airy. Like sense of dread, only it flew upwards rather then downwards.

Hope, most likely, and it wasn't until your ears refocused that you finally assessed what that noise was.

Jingling. Clanging. Small chinks that scraped across the cement. It sounded like the gentle dangling of dog tags, or in short, what the chain around that hunter's chest sounded like. Your hunter's chest.

It came from above, not below.

Grabbing the pistol tighter to your hands, you tried to lean over the edge and peer upwards. You honest to goodness couldn't see anything up there, but you sure as hell heard something. That much you were sure of.

Adjusting your grip to the pistol, you cautiously but hurriedly started up the fire escape.

Climbing, climbing, and tediously climbing upwards. It wasn't until you reached the second to the first level that you really started to rush. The dragging sound was there, as well as a low rumble.

A growl. One that unmistakably belonged to a hunter.

Rushing to the last level, you took one last glance at the street below you before jumping up over and onto the roof. From some heavenly force, there he was. Fifteen or Twenty dead bodies surrounding him. A piece of flesh was hooked between his teeth, and blood covered both the front of his shirt and his notched hands.

He didn't turn toward you. Instead he kept growling and ripping off parts of the dead bodies.

It was a sick sight to see- and you supposed eating beef and mayonnaise was off for today- but just seeing that familiar lug made you want to rush up and give him a hug. Not a smart thing to do when a kill command was the last thing you instructed him to do, so rather then running up, you silently walked around him, and toward the chain that was sprawled haphazardly along the roof.

His body twitched the moment you took a step in the chains direction, and flinched at that and stayed still.

The shadows around his face as he turned toward you made you want to reconsidered taking a step anywhere close to him, but you ignored that in the hope for a better outcome.

Taking another step toward the chain, you watched him intently as he got into a more crouched position. The bodies he had been at work with were left to sag lifelessly.

Shuffling even more towards the chain, you narrowed your eyes as he splayed one hand out in front of him, mouth closed as the growling in the back of his throat became more silenced. You hated that you couldn't read his expression. There was never an expression.

Frowning, the chain was just a few inches away from you. He moved one of his back legs, inching closer towards you. In response to his movement, you slowly lowered into a crouch yourself, one hand outstretching toward the chain.

His second hand lined up with his first hand, and by now, he was fully facing you. Focused solely on what your moving hand was reaching for, or maybe he was focusing on your stare- you couldn't tell.

The split second your finger brushed the chain, his body lowered near to the ground as he shot up and towards you. His scream was ear piercing, and honestly hurt your already hurt ears.

Rolling out of the way, you grabbed the chain, sliding as you turned to look back at his body, which skidded through the area you had just been sitting in.

His focus was still on you as he crouched again, legs buckling as he shot up and towards you again.

Adrenaline spiked through your body as you dodge rolled his jump another time, this time staying closer by.

If you could just reach the chain on the back of this chest- force him to look a different way and have time to settle down- then you could keep moving.

Breathing heavily as he rotated towards you, you jumped over the hand swiping at you, taking a huge risk and plunging towards his back.

He shot out of the way before you could reach him, hands slapping into the roof and the chain firmly wrapped in your grasp tugging you forward and grinding your hands. He momentarily paused at the tug, standing still and almost seeming confused that he was getting tugged backwards when he wanted to go forwards.

You took the moment, rushing up in his moment of freeze and gripping the chain like harness along his back.

He tried jolting again, but you kept your feet grounded into the roof, struggling to keep standing at the force of his jump.

He's a beast, that's for sure.

But rather then letting that deter you, it just made you clutch even tighter to the hard metal.

Your foot was scraped through the sock when he tried jumping again, and this time you did stumble forward, falling into his back and effectively forcing him to the ground.

He yelped like a dog, digging his nails into the roof, yet he didn't try to jump.

Motionless, and still. He breathed heavily, but slowly.

You matched his breath, slowly reeling in, before pushing out with just enough force to move the bit of hair that hung in your face from the fall. Your knuckles turned white with how hard you clasped the two parts of the chain.

Another deep breath in.

Another forceful push out.

He released his tensed claws from the roof, instead choosing to let them sit splayed across the ground. You didn't stop tensing your fingers though, absentmindedly wrapping the leash part farther around your hand. Your muscles stung sorely at how much you were using them. The bleeding bite in your arm, the hundreds of small marks from the infected's claws over your body, and the sheer exhaustion from not having your lunch but technically breakfast were overwhelming you.

It took a moment for your companion, but he seemed to realize that he wasn't in any way pinned to the ground. He retracted his arms and pushed his upper body off the ground, in return pushing you up off the ground as well. Both of your legs were stretched out alongside each other.

Of course he'd realize that you couldn't keep him to the ground. His strength takes him several yards into air, your body was nothing but a moderate annoyance if anything.

Deciding it was now or never to get off him and see if he had stopped trying to murder everything he sees, you stood up, watching from above as he pulled his legs back under his body and positioned himself back into his crouched position.

He turned and looked at you, but thankfully, moseyed along, taking a few steps around the roof before looking at you expectantly.

You couldn't help but smile in relief. Everything was back to normal. You eyed the blood all over his face and clothes. Moderately. You'd have to wash his face later.

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Okay- I know I have two already- but I MUSH PUT OUT EVEN MORE STORIES I CAN'T HELP MYSHELF