"After we get away!" Niel yelled back to the woman. He may have had a good head start, but he'd fallen back into his own, natural running pace pretty quickly; but the deceleration and the tingling were causing him to stumble every now and then, and he knew he wouldn't be able to keep running for very much longer.
A gunshot rang out, and he instinctively ducked and covered his face with his arms--which was good, since he stumbled and tripped then, sliding out across the pavement and scraping his exposed forearms. This was a good position, lying down flat while there was gunfire; living in Detroit had taught him that.
Wait, he was supposed to be running.
He got to his knees and cautiously turned to look behind, to scan for the monster, and fully stood up when he didn't immediately see it. Maybe it had the other guy? No, the other guy was alright, and had apparently been the one to fire the shots. Where had he gotten the rifle from? As he slowly made his way back towards Mr. Rifle, Neil brushed the dirt from his raw arms and pulled down his hoodie's sleeves to give them some sort of protection. "Is it dead?"