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Hijikata ran as far down Main Street as he could before making a sharp left turn onto a less populated street, trusting the intuition that told him to "take the road less traveled" and get out of the places with lots of people, because zombies eat people and if there were some hundred mayonnaise-lathered beef-dons parading on one street all together, you'd go with that flow, too.

He remembered only a little about this street from hearsay and maps, but there really were fewer zombies here (even if the number present was still staggering). The flip side to there being fewer people, hence fewer zombies was that the zombies that were here were zeroing in their focus on him. Hijikata thought briefly that he might have miscalculated when he ran headlong into a semicircle of undead corpses halfway down the block.

This is really starting to piss me off, he thought irritably as he came to a stop in front of them, pausing for a moment to glance at what parts they had left to attack him with before turning his head and finding that the Nailpolish Trio had followed him onto this street as well.

Oh, hell.

[ to here. ]

[from here]

As quickly as he could, Kvothe shoved the wrapped knife he'd scavanged in his belt, and started climbing. It was difficult with his right hand still barely usable, but he'd had years worth of practice and plenty of inspiration to get up there before he was noticed by any of the creatures. One did try to grab him, wrenching his ankle painfully and causing him to nearly lose his grip before he managed to pull away and kick it in the face, but he made it up.

There was no one else on top of the building, though he could see figures moving around on other roofs farther down the street, barely visible in the dark. He pulled his knife back out and hunkered down near the middle of the roof, alert for any sound or movement that could be someone or something following him up. He didn't know if the creatures could climb, but he didn't want to be caught by surprise.

It was too quiet.

As Scar shut the door of his room behind him, he couldn't shake the sense of foreboding. Waking in his room in the middle of the night without remembering how (after all, hadn't he been in that silly human town moments ago?) had been strange. But the lack of footsteps or noises that were usually present in the patient halls was even stranger. If he didn't knew any better, he'd almost think he was the only one here.

Something wasn't quite right.

Clutching the steel pipe tightly, he carefully proceeded into the next hallway. It was best to be careful...

[To here]

[from here]

Punching zombies was almost mechanical now, though Wally wasn't sure if that was from having hit so many or from blood loss kicking in. Maybe it was even both? He'd been punching so many, following Bats as he led the way down the street running down the centre of Doyleton, that they'd all started to blur together into a rhythm of 'punch, step, punch, run'. He was pretty sure there was starting to be less of the punching before running now that they were getting out of the main street. Less people, less zombies.

Man, he was feeling tired. He'd have given almost anything for them to get a break now, just a couple of seconds to rest. Catch his breath and stuff. But while there were less zombies now, he was bleeding enough to attract any that were close by, so unless the zombie apocalypse decided to go home early, he probably wasn't going to be getting that break any time soon.

Wally jerked back as another zombie got a little too close before he got a swing in. At this point he wasn't worried about putting them down permanently, just long enough that he could get the hell out of the area, but it was still slow going and he'd had more than the one near miss.

"Where are we going?" he yelled out to Bats, trying to locate where the dark figure had disappeared to this time. Getting lost in a horde of zombies would really bite. Literally.