Bennett followed behind the group after taking that shot, taking up the rear for two reasons. The first was to deal with any zombies who were fast enough to be a problem, and the second being the refusal of his joints to cooperate. The aching and sharp pains in his knee and lower back hindered him, but failed to stop him as the older gentleman made his way forward.

Once he’d reached the window leading to the fire escape, he leered at it for a moment, before stepping through the window with a pained grunt. Climbing through another window wasn’t something he took pleasure in, but it wasn’t the end of the world. His joints still ached all the same, but the context in which he was doing all this climbing prompted him to not gripe about it.

Once the group stopped in the apartment, the Michael pushed the open window shut behind himself, before doubling over and panting. [color=6b8e23]“Well… been a… a few years since… I’ve needed to move like that.”[/color] He looked up, taking in the people who were left, and eventually just looking at the door. He silently holstered his pistol as he regained his breath for a few moments, then a familiar sensation washed over him, one he’d had to contend with far too many times. Guilt.

[color=6b8e23][i]Why in the hell am I still alive, while good folk die around me?[/i][/color]

He looked around, and the old man didn’t see the faces of the people who had left the bar. Instead, for a brief moment, he saw the faces of people from years past. Desperate. Pained. Terrified.  His breathing hitched for a moment, as he lowered his head so as not to meet those stares, and after a few moments, his heart stopped pounding in his chest, and he stood back up, albeit with a little protest from his lower back. [color=6b8e23]”... Well, there’s no point in jes’ waitin’ fer them to come and beat the door down. That garage downstairs still seems like our best bet to me.”[/color] He managed, trying his best to keep his mind focused on the current situation, as it was better than the alternative.