<div style="text-align: center"><b>《 Dan 》</b><br/>
<i>Location: Near the campfire<br/>
Addressing: Armando</i> <a class="username" data-user-id="36" data-username="Sayd" data-xf-init="member-tooltip" href="https://blackdahliaroleplaying.com/members/36/">Sayd</a>​</div><br/><div class="bbImageWrapper bbImageAligned--left js-lbImage" data-lb-caption-extra-html="" data-lb-sidebar-href="" data-single-image="1" data-src="https://blackdahliaroleplaying.com/attachments/318c388fb7d0d0e4c05980d329531b0b-jpg.125934/" title="318c388fb7d0d0e4c05980d329531b0b.jpg">
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</div>"No, no – that's not what I meant," Dan insisted, putting a hand on Armando's shoulder to turn him towards those who were approaching them. "I mean the people we came here with, the ones Ray shot – they're coming. They've risen!"<br/><br/>He dropped his hand and adjusted his grip on the handle of his Buck knife, moving forward despite the sick feeling of bile rising in his throat. These were people he knew. They had just been murdered by that sick fuck son of Hale's, and now he had to put them down before anyone died at their soulless hands.<br/><br/>The first one he encountered was Mrs. Scott. Evelyn, the one who wanted to pray and who almost died at the church. Dan wondered if she had her eyes closed while beseeching her God, and whether she realized she had been shot or if she simply passed from this world onto the next.<br/><br/>He couldn't focus on that now; he moved in, grabbed her left forearm with his left hand and spun her away as he drove the blade of his knife into the thinner side of her skull. It made him sick inside. She looked close enough to 'alive' that he felt like he was killing her and not simply dispatching a rotter. Deep down he knew he would never look at the walking dead the same way again.