Franka, back on her feet and blinking dust out of her streaming eyes, her ears quite useless for precise orientation or detecting far away sounds after the incredible noise of that detonation, had started padding herself down to make sure all was still in place and she was ready to go, when Utem had stepped into her blurred vision, and before she could comprehend his intention or stop him, he had lightly slapped her face with both hands.<br/><br/>Her eyes widened in pure horror as he touched her cheeks, wet and covered in blood as they were. She pulled away instantly, staring, her eyes fixed on his, studying the white in them, in which no veins suddenly stood out, the irises, which did not turn red. She then got out a bottle and poured something that smelled sharply of disinfectant over his hands. "Never touch blood, not theirs, not mine, do you hear me? Never! If you've got one scratch, if the tiniest drop gets splattered or wiped into your eyes or mouth, you are infected, and you will turn. Do you get that? Now, clean your hands, and remember next time."<br/><br/>What he had done had shaken her more badly than the detonation, she remembered similar scenes that had ended less lucky, with people turning into Infected after an attack, through nothing but incautious behaviour, wiping the nose with the back of a bloodstained hand, drinking from a contaminated bottle, kissing someone in relief, or pulling a crying child's face into their blood-soaked sweater - for silence, protection, comfort or love - and then? Well... That was a horror worse than a horde of unknown stinkers coming from somewhere outside a group. Shaking off these memories, fighting to see and hear better again, her sensitive ears still quite affected by the blast, she fell back into step with the others, running again, at her light, regular pace, on the path, towards the riverbed.