[b] Sylar - New Orleans - Meghan/People [/b]

Sylar barely knew what happened as soon as they touched the ground in the alley. One loud step and the shot of a pistol, followed by a scream from Meghan. Without even thinking, he turned, ninety degrees and released the bolt from his crossbow, downing the man that had fire the shot. Meghan let out another cry of pain, and Sylar saw blood flowing from her right under shoulder. He threw his crossbow over his shoulder, rushing to her side. His blooded pumped rapidly as he heard her wincing in pain: good she was alive. "Hey, hey, I know it hurts, it's gonna be okay." 

Heart racing, he slid his hands under her back and under her knees, lifting her up. He practically ran down the street, holding her close to him. He felt all to familiar with this situation; he'd carried her before, but why was this time so hard to do it now? Fear is what he decided it was... He feared for her life. Sylar turned his back to the hotel entrance door and nearly threw it off of it's hinges. He found himself in the presence of one startled girl and a college-aged kid. His breath heaved as he took a moments. "Seasons greetings." He said, over-curtly and dashed into the hallway. "Reggie! Luke!" He shouted.

He turned the corner, looking for his friends. "Luke!" He shouted again. When he found the men, stepped into the room, drawing every eye. His breath caught when he saw ben on the bed, lifeless and motionless. "Oh go- Reggie, th-there was one more. He came out of no where! I need your help, I don't know what to do." He turned, not knowing if anyone was following. He threw his foot into the door of the room across from where everyone was, and he carried Meghan to the bed lay, her down. He looked out to the men in the hallway. "Please, don't let her die..."

[b] Abram - The house - Jess [/b]
((Note beforehand: I was told that I was supposed to do this the same day as the war with Haywood, if I read correctly, so apologies beforehand for any confusion))

Abram sat in the kitchen, his rifle lay on the table and he had just finished polishing it. He always made sure that the weapon was in good shape. He picked up the gun and shouldered it. He turned briefly to the window and- Abram froze in his tracks... At the end of the yard, a herd of at least fifteen walkers shuffled toward the house. "Oh sh- Jess!" He yelled up the stairs. 

In seconds, he was bolting up the stairs. "Jess!" He went to the door and busted in to find her on the bed. "Jess, we've got to move [I]now[/i]. There's a herd coming down the drive way; we have to go through the back and get in the car and find Floyd, but we've got to move now!"