Ash grabbed a pistol in her claws. It was more for threatening the living at this stage, and maybe a few potshots at the other intelligent dead. The army seemed a bit more proactive in her sector today. If they broke down the door, she'd return fire.

A grenade explosion rocked the building slightly, and Ash frowned. They were messing up her building. With a tired sigh, she plucked off the boards on her door with her bare claws. (Claws can work like a hammer in a pinch.) She plucked off a kevlar vest from the bed (courtesy of a few of the undead soldiers) and moved out. She used the vest as a shield against her head, holding her pistol in the direction of the little gunshots of a pistol. It must have been an individual soldier, or a survivor, or the rest were sticking to melee weapons. Sticking behind the reanimated corpse of a young woman wearing a female business suit, she slowly edged her way to the source of the gunshot noises.

A young woman, looking like a soldier with the mishmash of body armour she wore, sat in a corner. Her right hand grasped tightly onto what looked like a wound on her other arm, while her left hand held a pistol. A few zombies fell as she fired at them.

Ash counted the shots. When the second-to-last bullet fired, there was just the zombie left that she took cover behind. Well, Ash was a zombie, but a nice one.

"Save your bullet." Grabbing the zombie woman, Ash tripped her to the floor and smashed her head in.

Holding the kevlar vest to her head, Ash peeked behind it to see the soldier she had temporarily rescued. A black-haired, caucasian woman. Too young to die, but here she was, infected. Ash was infected once, but she got lucky.

"Don't shoot," stated Ash.