Leaving Grand Central to help at Carnegie shouldn't have been as hard of a decision as it was. Helping was the right thing to do, and all able bodies were being asked (read: ordered) to go to defend the falling safehouse and try to evacuate as many people as possible. Evan had resisted at first, the situation bringing to his attention the lack of defense that his brother and sister would be left with at this point. They were leaving some guards there; some Immune who were properly combat trained and blah, blah, blah but it still didn't make Evan feel any better. He was leaving Danny and George at the hands of people who saw them less as people and more as a number and he hated it. Hated it.
But he did. He got on the bus with his fellow defenders and headed to Carnegie. Whatever he'd been expecting did not prepare him for what was transpiring. How did the people in charge not notice such a large congregation of infected at the doors? Did they even care? That was the more important question.
Immediately, he took his kukri out and stood on the outskirts of the crowd of people (who were already flocking to the buses), trying to push any infected that flocked toward the group of survivors back and away.
They just kept coming. It was like the scent of blood was a siren call for them or something. Evan fought for as long as he could, hacking and slashing and beheading as many as came his way. Until he heard it. About fifteen feet away from him, in the crowd of people, he heard an excruciating scream and he turned to see what was going on… just in time to have a crawling infected catch his foot, pulling him down. He fell forward and not only did he hit his face on the pavement, but his kukri, still firm in his grasp, sliced along his right side.
He hissed in pain and kicked at the infected that still had a grip on his foot before pulling himself back to his feet and gripping his side. "Fucking shit," he seethed, moving his arm from his side to see that he was bleeding pretty heavily.
After glancing up to see that the screaming woman was only screaming because she was afraid, not because she'd been bitten or any other life-threatening reason, he narrowed his eyes and turned to look back at the bus. Standing here and bleeding, he was nothing but a dinner call for more infected, so he turned back toward the Grand Central bus, wanting to get on while the getting was good.
He climbed through the back door – after a painstakingly long explanation to the guard that he was Immune and he was bleeding because he'd fallen and sliced himself – and flopped unceremoniously into the back seat of the bus. He'd patch himself up when he got back to Grand Central, since he knew that no one else would.
As if to prove him wrong, however, he heard a nearby voice asking him to have a look. He laughed sarcastically and lifted his arm from his side. "That'd be nice," was his simple response. "You'd think I was better trained than to fall on my own damned knife."