Re: log, Harlem: Selina K/Steve R
[A bowl of milk would've been appreciated. He was right that she'd shown symptoms quickly, and she was deteriorating just as quickly. An evening spent running from demons had left her shaken and tired, and getting to the top of the community center was a feat. Next time? She'd stick to the ground, she decided, as she managed to drag herself over the lip of the roof, and today? Today roofs didn't look so great. She'd lost track now. Three days, was it? And the thought of four more seemed impossible. Maybe Crane had gotten it wrong, or maybe her immune system was compromised more than she'd realized. Eddie'd suggested those people would die first, hadn't he? And she figured this was payback for not listening to her doctor's orders. Or, at the very least, not talking to Robert about the Gamma thing when Tony'd indicated it wouldn't just go away on its own.
Or she could just blame zombies. Zombies seemed like a good plan. And, at the very least, she could blame the last six months of her life. She wanted nothing more than a good night'd sleep, a walk in the park, a meal that didn't involve meat. A bed, a bath. Barring all that? She'd gladly take not hearing that growl over shoulder, and not seeing Ra's on every single corner.
But it wasn't Ra's she saw when she crawled to her feet on the roof.
No, it wasn't Ra's at all. It was a man, grey-faced with death. He was slack-jawed, jowls dragged down with senescence. Dots of black ate up his sclera, and his knuckles were a gangrenous ink. Death, and it was impossible not to recognize it once you'd seen it. It stayed, and the smell never entirely left the nostrils, and she remembered waking to it. Oh, not the rotted death of the zombie door. No, slow death, illness, the freshness of recent passing and blood not even pooled against the spine yet.
But all of that did nothing to make him unrecognizable. But he wasn't here. He wasn't even on this planet, and she took an unsteady step forward, hand one one of six guns she had in a makeshift utility belt at her hips. Red goggles down, a comm in her ear, and clothing dirty and covered in other people's gore.]
Stevie?
[Maybe. Hopefully, like a cat that would spook at a too-quick movement.]