About half an hour passed in which Irene simply stood still, two spears at the ready, waiting to drive glass through softly rotting ribcages. Although she could hear groans nearby, however, it never happened. Maybe the wall of cacti confused them. Maybe--hey! Was that what she thought it was? She put one spear aside and prepared to thrust the other into the infected's spine. She drew her back and...dropped the spear. That wasn't an infected, it was a normal human being! How did this asshole get into her property? 

Irene knelt beside the man and put a couple fingers against the carotid artery. Pulse was slow, as was to be expected for an unconscious person, but strong enough that she didn't see any reason for concern. But then...maybe she could just throw him out. Pick his pockets for things she could use and leave him as bait to draw the infected away from her house. She didn't exactly have a wealth of resources to even keep herself alive. 

Then she remembered, for some stupid reason, her childhood. How her parents had left her to fend for herself while they shot up drugs, how lonely she felt even in their presence. She had hoped fiercely that no one else would have to endure that. That no one would ever have to deal with the pain of being abandoned and left to die because of someone else's selfishness. Irene sighed. 

[i]It won't be permanent.[/i] 

She dragged the man inside her small house and onto the couch, grunting. He was muscly, and muscle was heavy. If not for her experience lifting bins of compost and whatnot, she probably wouldn't have been able to move him. After a cursory check for injuries, she realized the stranger's ankle was swollen. With a reluctant huff, she moved to grab her medical supplies, grabbed some bandage and a cream that was supposed to reduce swelling, and tended to the injury.