Big bonus. Trent smells like money. I'll ask seven digits, high six minimum.
In her attempts to let her thoughts go, to let animal awareness take over, she found that she couldn't keep out the persistent image that crept into her mind. A memory of young Stacy Kelso, anxiously pushing her hair behind her ears as she talked about her baby brother… After what felt like a very long time, Ada shook the troublesome vision and continued down the hall, promising herself that there would be no more lapses of concentration and wondering why she couldn't make herself believe it.
SEVEN
Leon's boots scuffed shards of broken glass across the floor of the Kendo gun shop as he snapped open drawers, ash-stained sweat trickling down his face. If he couldn't find.50s pretty quick, he was screwed; the few weapons still remaining in the ravaged shop were inaccessible, strung with steel cable, and the front picture window was completely smashed. It wouldn't take long for the creatures to find him, he was down to his last round, and he still had a couple of blocks to go.
Come on, fifty cal action express, somebody in Raccoon must've ordered 'em…
"Yes!"
Fourth drawer, under the deer-rifle case; a half-dozen empty clips and as many boxes of ammo. Leon grabbed a box and turned, slapping it on the counter as he glanced hurriedly at the front of the small shop. Still clear, if you didn't include the dead guy on the floor. He wasn't moving, but from the freshness of the wounds that oozed from his considerable gut, staining his strappy white T, Leon wouldn't have long to linger; he didn't know how long it took for the freshly dead to stand up – and didn't really want to find out. Gotta do it fast anyway, it's like I'm a beacon for those things and this place is easy access… Gaze darting between the crashed front wall and his skittering hands, Leon started to load up. He'd lucked across the gun dealer's, having forgot– ten entirely about it in the dizzying, nightmarish run from the wreck. When the fastest route to the station had turned out to be blocked by a pile-up, the best detour was through Kendo's. It was a coincidence that had undoubtedly saved his life. Even killing two of the ex-living on his way, he'd nearly been over– whelmed by the sheer number of them.
"Uuunh…"
A ghastly, skeletal form staggered out of the street's shadows, drunkenly aimed at the front of the shop. "Hell," Leon muttered, his fingers somehow man– aging to go faster. One clip down, one more and he could take the rest. If he bolted now, he'd be dead before he could make it to the station. Another leprous figure was suddenly standing at the mostly empty frame of the shop's glass entrance, the decay so bad on its legs that Leon could see maggots squirming through the fibrous muscle.
… four… five… done!
He snatched up the Magnum and ejected the clip, reloading even as the mostly-empty hit the floor. The maggoty creature was shouldering its way through the jagged corners of glass still attached to the frame, something liquid in its throat gurgling softly. Bag, he needed a bag. Leon's fevered gaze swept the space behind the counter, stopping on a grease-stained gym bag propped against a stool in the back corner. Two running steps and he had it, dumping the contents as he ran back to the pile of clips and loose bullets on the counter. Cleaning equipment rattled across the linoleum as Leon swept the clips into the bag, ignoring the scattered rounds in favor of the ammo drawer. The decayed monster was shuffling toward him, stumbling on the body of the pot-bellied dead man, and Leon could smell how rotten it was. He jerked the Magnum up and leveled it at the creature's face.