Graham nodded. At least she was (hopefully) honest with him. At least that (hopefully) meant that his idiot colleagues weren't killed by another person or persons, but instead by the monsters that he feared oh-so-much.
"Lurkers? I'm sorry, what's a lurker? The things? You mean the zombies? They're the same thing, right?"
The woman was awfully close. And when she finally lowered the gun away from her, there was a very obvious sense of relief in the way that he let his shoulders and entire body relax a little more. But that didn't last long. Wincing at the screams, Graham clutched tighter at his tool box, still leaning into the wall and railing.
"We.. Should probably start running, you know, now." He paused, "haaa, a gun? No. No, I just have tools. Those were the screams of my bodyguards, thank you very much. So unless we can easily stop a herd of Lurkers with a couple of screwdrivers and a hammer, I'm afraid I'm not going to be of much help!" Not to mention his fucking knee. His stupid, fucking knee.
"Right," he said audibly, his knee. "we need to go now. Now." Because of his knee.
And the only was was up.. "How many lurkers were down there?? Can we make it past them? Because the only other way is up, and trust me, there's nothing up there."