Della looked up at the man. Using the shelf, she hauled herself up from her position on the floor, careful to step over the PMC's dead body and avoid the blood pooling around his head.<br/><br/>"I, uh... I-I'm fine." She looked at him warily, still gripping her knife tightly in her hand. "Thanks." He had saved her life, but Della had found it difficult enough to trust people<i>before</i>all this mess.<br/><br/>She moved into the next aisle, trying to hide a slight limp on her left side, and made her way to the store's small first-aid section. She found that quite a bit had been looted, so she took what was left; some compression bandages, gauze, and a bottle of isopropyl alcohol, putting them in her bag and adjusting the strap over her shoulder.