A triplet of walkers shuffled into her path before she could reach the door. “Fuck!” She brought up her baton to meet with the closest's face. The rest of the undead in the store spilled out towards the survivors from all angles, banging against glass, knocking over useless stock, and all that groaning – the street outside would be filled with walkers and sprinters in minutes. Chris struck out with desperate force, but the triplet caged her in. A quick glance around between swings informed her the other two survivors were trapped, too. 

No one could get to Tony. 

Abandoning all caution, Chris cried out to her friend. “Tony!” She kicked a walker away from her and swung the baton at its companion. The metal sliced into the rotted flesh of its cheek. “Run, Tony!” There were too many for the rifle, now, and repeated strikes to one walker would only increase her vulnerability to the other two. 

She wondered if she was going to be responsible for the deaths of the young girl and her older friend. Premature guilt slithered in her gut.

The ever growing noise of the herding undead had Tony pressing his face up against the front windows of the store. He leapt back at the sight of shuffling corpses. He could see one, maybe two groups swarming around something – or someone . . . But though he could hear Christina's shout, he couldn't see her. Tony was neither strong, nor fast, and he barely knew how to use the revolver in his hands; his best chance would be to run. He just couldn't bring himself to move. Christina was family.

He was spared from making a potentially stupid decision by the sound of a dog barking. He jumped farther back from the store and lifted his crowbar as if to strike, only to see the hound sniff at the front door. Its skin still clung to its body, healthy, and it smelled positively not dead. 

Yet Tony still refused to move, terrified. Who owned the dog? What would they do when they found him? Christina couldn't protect him. He didn't even know if she would survive escaping the store.

Inside, Chris spun on her heel and knocked another walker to the ground with a sure strike from her baton. With speed and strength fuelled by desperation, she seized the third creature's head and twisted. It tumbled to the floor with a broken neck. Finally she'd cleared a path. She looked around to recover her bearings, and saw a stumbling corpse lurching for the archer woman.

Her hands found the rifle and fired at the creature. The bullet missed its head, but sailed through its neck; the second bullet soared into its head. She spotted the man behind the glass door, a path cleared for him, too, and slung the rifle onto her shoulder again, then retrieved her baton. With more undead making their way to the survivors, she grabbed the archer woman by the arm and made again for the exit as she scanned the store for the girl. The man would have to follow them out. Finding the girl, Chris pulled the pair with her out onto the street.