Becky clutched the cross on the chain around her neck, tasting panic around her tongue. These things, the abomination that was Pastor David, seemed to be moving around lazily, muzzle-deep in whatever victim they managed to pin down. The smell of blood filled the warm Floridian air, as well as a sweet sickly smell of rotted flesh in heat pervaded her nostrils. She swallowed down the urge to wretch, and moved as quietly as she could to the rear of the church.
Fear coursed through her veins like blood, pounding its way through her heart and to her brain, blurring her vision. Becky just had to stop for just a moment, take a rest, gather her thoughts and make a plan. However, with the constant shuffling and moaning, she knew stopping would be taking an extremely large risk. If she wanted to find some people who were still sane, who still lived even, she needed to get moving. Muscles screaming in protest, Becky crouched behind a tree near the park.
She couldn't go home, to the apartment building she lived in, especially if a lot of people are like... this. Becky wasn't even sure what 'this' was. Taking one of her precious moments, she tried to think of what exactly these creatures were. Sure, she had seen horror movies with monsters like these; vampires, werewolves, witches, zombies. These things were most like zombies. She tries to conjure up what information she knew or remembered about them. Some moved slow, some moved fast, whoever they were before they definitely weren't anymore (Pastor David proves that theory), there was no reasoning with them... She palmed the shotgun nervously and stared around the tree.
The cars were everywhere, doors flung open and windows smashed, their skeletons abandoned for easier transportation. Transportation... yes. That's what Becky needed. Her bike. She didn't live far from the Church at all, and being a student with meager funds, she didn't own a car. She could see the bike in her head; it was just a standard silver bike, with a pink nylon basket on the front. She could risk going to her complex apartment home, down by the waterfront, if it were to mean her picking up a method of getting herself around. Since there isn't many mobile cars, she could use any road... The idea became more appealing by the moment. Becky could even go inside if the place didn't look too bad.
Gripping the gun as if her life depended on it (and it probably did), she began to move around the perimeter of the park as quietly as possible, the soft soles of her tennis shoes not making much noise on the pavement. Praying feverently in her head, Becky did her best to ignore the ripping noises that came from the park bench, as two kids ripped into the chest of their mother, who's mouth was gaped and eyes were glassed over.