Jack is breathing heavily, and sweat trickles down his brow.  What the hell just happened?  What did he do?  What did this crazy bastard do?  He looks down at his hands, still clinging to the reporter's wrist.  If he really was a reporter.  Really, crazy person was more likely.  Jack shoves the crazy-reporter-man away and reaches down to grab the knife off the floor.  He holds it forward with two shaky hands.

"G-Get out..." he barely manages to choke out through his chaotic breathe.  "Get out!"

One of his hands comes off the knife and he reaches towards his pocket for his cellphone.  He had to call the police.  He had to get help.  What if this man has another knife?  Or a gun?  Would he have used a gun the first time?  Was this for fun?  Jesus, how had he just disarmed that man anyway?  How is he now the one holding the knife?!

He was through dialing nine and one before he remembered that the police don't respond to calls in the Blight.

"Shit shit shit...!"