One of the things that has kept Max alive this long is that his instincts react faster than his rational brain does; He's still processing the details of the figure that's lurched out of the building while his hands are grabbing for the sawed-off shotgun, checking the barrel with a familiar click, and taking aim at the seething mass of trouble still in the open doorway.
What exactly they are, he's not sure. Some twisted remnants of once-men altered by radiation and subterranean living, or maybe something else weirder and more supernatural. What he is sure of, is that he doesn't really want to know what they are.
The man kneeling with a gun is dismissed as an immediate threat, because whatever those things are shrieking at the light and clawing at each other are clearly far worse. All the hairs on the back of his neck are standing up, and he suppresses a shiver, despite the heat of the day. He's not going to waste ammo, if they're not coming out, but if there's any sign one might emerge further he is ready to blast its head off without remorse.
no subject
What exactly they are, he's not sure. Some twisted remnants of once-men altered by radiation and subterranean living, or maybe something else weirder and more supernatural. What he is sure of, is that he doesn't really want to know what they are.
The man kneeling with a gun is dismissed as an immediate threat, because whatever those things are shrieking at the light and clawing at each other are clearly far worse. All the hairs on the back of his neck are standing up, and he suppresses a shiver, despite the heat of the day. He's not going to waste ammo, if they're not coming out, but if there's any sign one might emerge further he is ready to blast its head off without remorse.