Kristie wasn't sure where she was heading. She didn't know what direction she was going in, and she didn't know what laid ahead. For all she knew, a thousand of those..things... were watching her stumble upon the dirt road towards whatever she didn't know was beyond. Walking on a sprained ankle, she didn't have much strenght left in her, nor did she have much hope. It was the heat, and the pain from her body. She'd been taught to ignore pain when her life, and her comrades lives were on the line, but she had no comrades to watch out for, they were all dead...sorta. She wanted to stop and help, find help, do something but walk, but stopping was no option. She hadn't stopped moving for 6 1/2 days straight, she figured she was among those people who 'pushed past the impossible' that everyone talks about, but she chuckled at the thought of being the last one. She wished she would have died with her friends with the convoy, but then again none of them were really dead, not in the logical sense.<br/><br/>But that explosion, had caught her attention. She wasn't moving slow, good progress over the last 5 days, but before that her heart still wept when she saw a child, old man or woman, shambling down the street, or running after another survivor, only to hear the blood curling scream moments later. She tried to help, really, but it was fruitless. She'd learned too shoot for the head not long after, when she escaped death by one of those things knocking her out of a window, instead of ripping her throat out. After, she just walked, and walked and walked. Her arms hurt from holding her shotgun at the ready, her back hurt for hauling around her extra rations, water, ammunition and...<em>a fucking EOD pack?</em>Why did she even carry this crap anymore, who the fuck is going to set bombs now? Or more importantly, want to defuse a bomb now? But her mind snapped to its training, "<em>EOD packs work both ways ladies!</em>" Her CO always said...now he was dead too.<br/><br/>As she finally sighed in hope, as the foliage began to clear, her vision was met by a sudden sense of potential relief. The smoke from that explosion, she guessed, was just ahead of her. Luck or something, had allowed her to get here, and there must be someone left. Or so she hoped. She crouched near the road, and professionally slid her shotgun on its sling, fittingly next to the pack of her back, swiftly switching it for her M16A4. She wouldn't be doing street to street, building to building, she'd just get in town, find shelter and sleep, maybe survivors, and patch up. Go from there. Best plan she could form together for now. Kristie was not a combat Marine, far from it. But she'd seen it up close before, and lived through it, so she knew how to do her job at least. With one hand she kept her M16 pressed against her shoulder, her eyes and ears working in harmony to detect trouble as she vault-stepped over a half broken wall, the remains of a car dented against the concrete wall, blood smearing the windshield. She kept her distance from the windows, and quickly her rifle was sweeping the area in front of her.<br/><br/>Suddenly a dim noise began to flow its way into her mind. She hadn't heard any kind of undead that sounded even close to that, in a dash she made her way behind a small bark and peeked out. She could make out a road sign which said "Lawrence Street, which poked off as an intersection from Highway 8, which she also read. She looked around from the barn she was hidden behind carefully, scanning for any movement as the noise became louder. She'd heard it before a...helicopter? Her eyes took the sky as she squinted slightly to look around. A small helicopter began to form in her eyes, as it crossed above her. She squinted to watch it fly past the tower smoke and, suddenly dropped down. She wondered if they'd seen her, doubtful since her woodland camo blended well with the grass, and from that height and angle, she'd look no different than a tall patch of grass.<br/><br/>Without thought she darted from the barn towards a house, quietly, pressing against the side and peeking out, her M16A4 scanning the area ahead of her. With a swift look behind her, to her left and right, she quietly slithered around the corner of the house, and stopped as the wall ended. She peeked out from the corner, gazing upon the wreckage of the night before. A single spent casing laying idly in the middle of the street, burn corpses and vehicles alike littering the way. She grimaced for a moment at the thought some were survivors, but she had her severe doubts many lives were lost in the night past. At least from that explosion. The helicopters noises had gone away, but in her movements and blockage of sight, she failed to see its landing area. If it was a civilian, she needed to find them, but she didn't know who was flying. Caution was her only concern, at this point. Dying wasn't even an option. She walked slowly, in a tactical form across the highway, and onto the sidewalk down Lawrence Street, heading due north, or so she assumed at this point. Her compass was in her pack, and now wasn't the time to be getting her bearings. She needed to find a hospital, but she had no line of sight. She stopped for a moment at the intersection and looked around. The sound of slight movement behind her sent her jumping back, surprisingly quietly, into the prone position, her rifle at the center front of the action.<br/><br/>(((OOC: Basically, I'm right at the intersection between 8 and Lawrence, southern Potosi. I'm actually, exactly at the intersection, looking East-South East at the wreckage, I'm assuming its there. Google Map= COOL!)))