David Zimmerman (nohope) wrote in immune_ic, @ 2013-02-02 13:40:00 |
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To be honest, David wasn't even sure how he'd done it. The pair of people who usually guarded his door hadn't really been around the past couple of days, and a couple of the others, the two bulky men who usually took charge of trying to 'make David talk' hadn't shown their faces either. There was a vague hope that, maybe, they'd died, but that was only vague, considering David could hear them talking on the other side of the house. Their lack of attention had provided him with the time to both think of a plan of escape and execute it. The closet they kept him in was small, and for the most part, they'd picked it clean, but David, by sheer force of will, had managed to rip up a floorboard and use one of the nails as leverage to pry the doorknob off of the door. At the time, he wasn't sure if it was luck or timing that kept the hallway clear, but he hurried toward the nearest window and climbed out, running as soon as he hit the ground. He couldn't distance himself from that place fast enough. It was freezing out, and as he ran down the street to the barricade, he felt like he was seconds away from being caught. A few times, he'd had to duck into back alleys, because he was so sure he'd heard a noise from the direction of the house. But when no one came for him, no one wrangled him back into that little closet, no one killed him on the spot... he started his sojourn again. Over the barricade he went, and back into the infected riddled streets of Ossining. Memory was either betraying him, or there were more infected there than usual. His steps betrayed him a little, and he stumbled a few times, but when he was just about to give up, he spotted the compound in the distance. And his steps recharged. As much as they possibly could. The gates were close, but they felt like they were forever away. Home. He was bloodied, bruised and broken, but he was almost home. |