When, after all her explanations of how noises would attract infected over long distances and that she killed them silently because of that, this Jake decided to shoot his gun twice at two stinkers who were no threat and could have been finished off comfortably and quite without a sound from up the plain, she knew she would rather not be around him while he still had ammunition and food enough not to care. It had been a long time since his sort had been around in Europe, people who thought they knew better than to heed advice by those who knew from experience how best to deal best with situations had died out by now for obvious reasons.<br/><br/>Jake had a gun, fine, but he was a liability, as he would use it without caution. She shook her head when he proposed they should get inside the plane. She had already put her leather protections back on when he had started shooting, and now picked up her rucksack and stated in her usually whisper. "Thanks, but I'm more comfortable on the move, in the woods, not stuck in the open. Inside your plane, I won't see what's going on around. And I'd rather not be around when stinkers show up and you shoot that gun some more. I told you all you need to know to get by, food you've got, water you know where to find now, and what's safest to do you already know, too. So, bye, and good luck!"<br/><br/>She slipped off the plane and out of sight instantly. What was that saying, 'you made your bed, now lie in it'? She had no qualms about leaving him alone, they had exchanged information, he had gotten a lot more than she had out of the bargain, and had made little use of it: Explain 'don't let them see you, don't attract their attention' and he stood up on the plane, as exposed as could be, and moved about for them to see, tell him 'make no noise' and he fired a gun, twice. He'd have to learn alone, the hard way, or he'd always be a danger to everyone near him, not the kind of man she'd take back to her people or be stuck with.<br/><br/>It wasn't as if she was leaving a helpless kid behind, he was a soldier, fit, uninjured, combat trained, well fed, armed. Besides, he was only here because his plane crashed, otherwise, he'd be guarding the borders and not hesitate for a second to kill survivors who tried to make it out of this hell. Too bad for him he had ended up stuck in the middle of it himself. She didn't hold it against him, who he was, but it sure didn't induce her to go out of her way and run risks to keep him company or help him adjust. On her hands and knees once more, she scanned the tree lines, then crawled back the way she had come, covered in cold sweat despite the heat for as long as she was in the open.<br/><br/><div align="center">~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</div><br/>Night fell, and with it, darkness came. The faint bow of a moon hardly gave any light, the stars looked immense and near, more numerous than anyone would have dreamed who had lived in one of the perpetually illuminated countries. The glow of light that could be seen by satellites in all populated areas and near it, here it was gone, had been switched off, a whole continent lay in complete darkness, darker than even in medieval times, for now, light was no help, no protection, it was the very thing to draw danger, and so whoever had one, was hiding with it where it could not penetrate the darkness outside the confined space of a single room.<br/><br/>Near one it was, when Europe's silence was shattered by the approach of another plane, coming closer towards Bonn, growing louder, dropping humans and provisions alike on parachutes. Into the inky dark they rushed, then slowed, gliding down, towards the trees, the open ground, the plane nearby they had not seen from above, unless Jake had left a light on. For a while, several whole minutes, all went well on the ground for the team, they scrambled back onto their feet, changed clothes, packed things, searched for the rest of the team. But then, there was one who needed a light, a beacon to find the others, an LED flashlight. And flash it did, and blink.<br/><br/><div align="center">~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</div><br/>Franka had woken up when she had first heard the plane, while it still was miles off. She had gotten out of her hammock, packed it, Shaken out and stretched her limbs, massaged her muscles into smoothness and readiness to respond by the time she first saw the plane's light's up there. This was no accident, there was no sign of damage or distress, of it being off course, it was not a forced landing in the making, either. More than anything, this horrified Franka. At first, she expected it to drop bombs, more gas, and she knew, she had no chance, not here, not this time. Drop something the plane did, but it wasn't bombs. It was people.<br/><br/>What should she do? Get away double quick. Right? But she couldn't get it in her head. What did they want here, why, except for poisonous gas, after six whole years, this was the first time anything had intentionally been dropped over Europe? Nothing had they ever sent to help its people, not the tiniest package of food or medicine, or even a bloody leaflet with information or news, naught, nada, niente. She dropped off the tree and made her way towards where they'd land, she had to know, had to see, had to listen. She didn't want to be seen or heard herself, wasn't sure whether she'd want to help them, but she must know, simply must, who had sent them here, and why, why now.<br/><br/>She had almost reached the tree line, baffled they should drop here, could it be coincidence, that they came down that close to Jake's plane? She came to a halt, in a safe distance to the plane, stared into the dark, listening. Her face was smeared with coal, as every night, and she wore thin, black gloves. She had her machete out, which was blackened, too, not to reflect light. She was breathing slowly, inaudible, as around her, through the rustling of leaves and the whisper of wind in the grass, the sounds of intrusion could be heard. Someone was changing or packing. Someone else stumbled through nearby trees. All of them muttered or talked. Sounded American. A man, two women. What on earth were three people supposed to achieve here?<br/><br/>Were they only the first, maybe scouts? Or was this some secret mission thing? Then, as if their voices weren't bad enough, she saw the LED lamp blink and blink again, and froze in horror. Three options. Warn them, watch them die, get away and let them deal with it alone. No, wait, there still was Jake. They could all scramble up on his plane and shoot at infected for a few more months until they'd ran out of ammo, meanwhile fighting over food - or the two women. The choice what she should do next was taken from Franka, for there came a stinker, running straight for the light, her way. She heard its breath, could tell it was opening its mouth for a first scream or howl - and swung her machete in a wide arch, putting all her skill and weight into that one strike, aiming for its throat.<br/><br/>She felt and heard the blade slice through flesh, sinews, cartilage. She made two quick steps, to avoid being hit by a fountain of blood that could shoot a metre or so out its artery before the blood pressure was so low it merely flowed, then stilled. She heard the spluttering gurgle of air escaping the windpipe, heard the body crush dry branches as it hit the ground. Away from there, just away, as fast as she could, making no noise. She didn't think of the new arrivals now, in the dark, they'd never find the stinker before she had gotten away from it, but killing the stinker must have been heard, if there were more around, they'd be heading towards the sound, or the light, and she didn't want to be near either. No fun fighting stinkers in the dark.<br/><br/>Little did she suspect that she could not only have been heard, but might actually be seen, by those of the team who had some night-vision and happened to look out for the source of the noise, the wild, running steps, the grunt, the gurgling noise, its crashing body. There she was, a slim, female shape, ducked, weaving carefully between the trees, bent to away as best she could in the dark, clutching her machete, playing it by ear, relying on the one, the sharpened sense upon everything now depended in that pitch dark, although her eyes were wide, trying to see what little she could in the thin, thin hint of moonlight that here and there outlined a few shapes.