After the nightmarish experience they had just endured, Scott is loathe to chase after a running figure, just because it is running.  Besides, right now, all he wants to do is puke his guts out.  He can barely walk, let alone sprint after someone.<br/><br/>Holding the knife in a grip so tight his knuckles are white, he leans against a wall to catch his breath and try to slow his racing heartbeat.<br/><br/>"What the fuck was that?!?" he moans.  "What the fuck did we just kill?"<br/><br/>He stares at the radio, as if blaming it for the horror they'd just witnessed.