Things escalated quickly. One moment, Jacob had his knife to the belligerent walker's throat. The next, he found himself staggering a step backward with a fresh lump on the side of his head. The walker was as strong as he looked, but Jacob twisted and sprawled, keeping his feet and punching his opponent's head and neck with his left hand. The second elbow split his lip, and Jacob answered with a fierce kick at the side of the knee as his foe broke away.<br/><br/>The two faced each other, circling and gauging for weakness; Jacob knew that he only needed to stall a few more moments until help arrived. Tactically, it would have been the sound decision. On the other hand, after all he had endured in the past month, he really,<span style="font-style: italic">really</span>wanted to hurt something. He was about to strike when he heard the familiar sound of a cocking rifle. He spared a quick glance sideways, and when he saw a woman leveling a gun at them, his face showed not alarm, but rather bemused annoyance.<br/><br/>"This is just getting out of hand," he groaned. "More of you. What is it with you walkers? You live for yourself out in the wilderness and suddenly you think that gives you all the right to point guns at whoever you want." He slowly lowered his knife, while simultaneously starting to subtly reach for his hidden revolver. Before he could grab it, a younger girl ran screaming through the doorway. Jacob wanted to sigh; these people were crawling out of the woodwork.<br/><br/>Outside, the bell continued to ring.