[They hadn't strayed too far from each other while looking for survivors and supplies. Holland had stopped, watching the burned looking truck from the moment it turned erratically onto their street.
Even though it might have been somebody helpful, he had a bad feeling in his core. The bad feeling was hurried along by gunfire. He'll duck behind some rubble.]
[Canada has to agree that it's a good idea to get down, and so immediately Canada drops to a low crouch, sure to be hidden well behind something as she looks at him. For all this military-type planning has been growing on her, she'll still defer to his judgement if he has any grand ideas of what to do here.
And right now, she'd really just like to be told what to do to make this whole thing go away.]
[He'll risk it, staying low and moving the short distance to where she's hiding. The truck hasn't reached their house quite yet, but he can still hear shots close.]
[Again, he's facing a moment where one or both of them might die, and the uncertainty that came with wondering if he'd ever see her again. Uncharacteristically, he pulls her closer and gives her a kiss to the forehead.]
[This time she does swear under her breath, because she likes to think she knows him well enough, and he wouldn't have a moment like that if he thought everything would be fine. She'll hold his gaze, though, until the moment he says to go and then she darts out, running fast around the wall in their way. Her eyes are on their end goal, but her ears are listening specifically for him, above the sound of the shooting.]
[He'll look the other way, half-crouching . . . and that's when he sees the second truck. He wouldn't stand much chance in the direction he'd chosen to go.
It only takes him a half-second to run after Canada, and a half-second more to stand tall and run faster, in the open. He'd make sure somebody got back, one way or another.
Just as he's rounding the wall, the bullet knocks him off his feet, to the ground.]
[The increase in bullets in their direction makes her pick up her speed, but the all-too familiar sound of a body hitting in the ground makes her stop and wheel around on the spot. And no, that's not something she's okay with letting happen. She's halfway between him and their shelter. She can make it work.]
Nederland! [She's coming for him. Unfortunately, so are the things that just shot him.]
[Her calling him is what gets him, mostly, out of the daze of pain and dizziness from falling. The breaths he can hear are wet, agonizing, and he can taste blood. This wasn't something he was going to recover from, not in this human body, not without a hospital.
But he gathers what breath he has to call out to Canada.]
[Her brain and her heart are at distinct odds here. Logically, she needs to go on. People fall, it happens, but she has an objective that involves keeping other important people safe, so she can't dwell on it. She can't risk herself being a heroine.
On the other hand, it's him and every stupidly human part of her wants to do everything in her power and then some to make sure he doesn't die, doesn't suffer a moment longer. He's been through too much of that, and she's promised (not in so many words to him, but to the Holland she knows from home, and to herself) to keep him safe. She'd prefer to do anything to keep him safe.
The others are closing in, though, and in the split seconds of hesitation she's had, they're closer to him than she is. Canada's eyes are already watery as she calls back to him, decision made.]
[But he really doesn't have the breath to call back to her, she might not hear it. He'll sigh, trying to draw another breath. This was the 3rd time Mayfield had killed him in a human body, and the pain still surprised him. Nearby is his broken shovel that he'd been holding while running, and he shakily picks it up, clutching it in both hands.
The first cannibal that rounds the wall is going to lose a kneecap, but after that he just doesn't have the strength. Holland is confused at first - if Canada were to look back she'd just see the strangers standing close around him, not doing anything at all, just watching him . . . until a man with a rifle stands over him, aiming down. Holland can only look back, angry, disgusted.
The shot is painfully obvious as most of the other shooting stops.]
[Even though it's not safe, they seem mostly focused on him, so she watches a few more seconds. She's turning and running when that odd silence just before the end sets it. The timing of that one shot works well with her reaching for the door to the basement to yank it open. She can't make herself look back again.]
Even though it might have been somebody helpful, he had a bad feeling in his core. The bad feeling was hurried along by gunfire. He'll duck behind some rubble.]
Down, get down!
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And right now, she'd really just like to be told what to do to make this whole thing go away.]
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Someone needs to warn the others. Let's go.
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I'll follow you.
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We'll go at the same time. Different directions, around that piece of wall.
[He points]
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Fine. Be careful. [There's a hint of 'or else' in her tone.]
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Let's go. . . [He'll meet her eyes. . .]
. . .now!
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It only takes him a half-second to run after Canada, and a half-second more to stand tall and run faster, in the open. He'd make sure somebody got back, one way or another.
Just as he's rounding the wall, the bullet knocks him off his feet, to the ground.]
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Nederland! [She's coming for him. Unfortunately, so are the things that just shot him.]
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But he gathers what breath he has to call out to Canada.]
Go on!
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On the other hand, it's him and every stupidly human part of her wants to do everything in her power and then some to make sure he doesn't die, doesn't suffer a moment longer. He's been through too much of that, and she's promised (not in so many words to him, but to the Holland she knows from home, and to herself) to keep him safe. She'd prefer to do anything to keep him safe.
The others are closing in, though, and in the split seconds of hesitation she's had, they're closer to him than she is. Canada's eyes are already watery as she calls back to him, decision made.]
I'm sorry.
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Not your fault.
[But he really doesn't have the breath to call back to her, she might not hear it. He'll sigh, trying to draw another breath. This was the 3rd time Mayfield had killed him in a human body, and the pain still surprised him. Nearby is his broken shovel that he'd been holding while running, and he shakily picks it up, clutching it in both hands.
The first cannibal that rounds the wall is going to lose a kneecap, but after that he just doesn't have the strength. Holland is confused at first - if Canada were to look back she'd just see the strangers standing close around him, not doing anything at all, just watching him . . . until a man with a rifle stands over him, aiming down. Holland can only look back, angry, disgusted.
The shot is painfully obvious as most of the other shooting stops.]
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