No, he didn't have a flashlight-- unfortunately. He hadn't been able to track one down, yet. But he also hadn't been out and about much, yet, either. If only he still had his bag that he'd had with him the day he was shot by the rookie cop and mauled by zombies. He had all he needed in there. Flashlights, m&ms, ammo, photos. But alas. He had no idea where it was, if the rookie cop had come back to steal it, or if he dropped it or discarded it somewhere along the way as he escaped the infected, and managed to make it to the library.
And yes, he had also heard her. And even more so-- he heard and saw the shelf that she leaned up against get knocked around. Nice. Whatever was on the other side of the rocking shelf was terribly clumsy.
Well, this would be a piece of cake-- human, zombie, or whatever. Unless, of course, it was shining a terribly blinding light in your eyes. "Ah! Fuck!" He stumbled backward a bit, bumping into a shelf as well, and knocking a few bottles of lotion and whatnot all around.
"What the hell? Turn it off," he practically growled. Zombies couldn't use-- well, didn't know how to use flashlights, right? It couldn't possibly be a zombie, right? Well, if it was, kudos for the thing having gained enough intelligence to blind him with a flashlight before attacking, and it deserved a nice lunch for it's accomplishments.