She was accustomed to gunfire and especially ones from snipers when swerving off of ragtag wars when she'd hike. She heard the son behind her drop heavily on the ground from the head shot but she continued to sprint towards the house, noticing as she glanced up, that the sniper scope was not shimmering in the sunlight like it had before; the shooter was gone but not gone too fast to leave the house.

The porch had a roof of shade over it and Alice leaped onto the wooden fence to climb on top of it, she carefully tread on the small roof searching for a close window above. There was a medium-sized window slightly big enough to squirm her body into so she took that route, taking her time to comfortably adjust on the sill until she slid in her body, meeting the rugged mat one light foot at a time.

Leaning against the open bathroom door, quietly attempting to recover her breath, she crouched to the stair railing as she peeped below the first floor catching a quick glimpse of a combat shoe. She reached down to her pocket and pulled out a butter knife, throwing it in the opposite direction upstairs to see if he'd shoot at it, crossing her fingers after doing so.