Emily was running. She hadn't stopped. Even when a bullet grazed her right bicep, she kept running. Her legs burned and ached like crazy, her feet kicked up little puffs of dust as they pounded down the gravel road, the dark trees zipping by as she threw back her head and continued into the night.

She had a plan.

Though she knew it wasn't very good, it was all she had, and she put every ounce of her being into accomplishing her goal.

Eventually, the soldiers in pursuit had given up as they realized there was no chance of catching her on foot. However, they could have potentially gone back to the hangar for more weapons and a vehicle. Either way, Emily was determined and pushed through the excruciating pain wracking her body.

After running for five straight minutes, she arrived at the highway. She'd been conscious, though rattled, when the soldiers had apprehended her after the crash and made sure to remember the route they had taken to get to the airfield.

Finally, as the peaceful and gentle sounds of night enveloped her, thankfully not accompanied by the crunch of tires on the gravel road, she paused, bending over and placing her hands on her knees, panting heavily. She coughed and spat blood, her throat feeling like she'd just swallowed a handful of rocks. Her legs trembled like they might give out at any second... but that wasn't an option. She shook out her hands, feeling the flayed skin at her wrists flap and sting in the cool air as it slapped against her thin forearms. She'd lost a lot of blood through the ordeal but gathered up all her anger to fight off the swimming feeling of lightheadedness.

After ripping off her short sleeves to wrap around her wrists, making her shirt into what could easily pass for a completely soiled bralette, she was running again. Her boots clonking on the pavement. A few more minutes straining and savoring the last bits of adrenaline pumping through her veins and she found what she was looking for.

The Jeep.

Swathed in cool moonlight burrowed into the undulating shadows creeping around tree trunks, dented and damaged beyond repair, still burping out little puffs of steam and caustic smoke. She darted over to the mangled hulk and dove into the back. In the soldier's haste to take them prisoner, they had neglected to grab the giant bag of guns from the back.

Fucking amateurs.

There was no way Emily could lift the thing, but she could shoulder what she needed.

After getting an AR-15 and two 9mm's secured in a fully stocked gun belt, she clipped three grenades to the hem of her shorts. On a weighty exhalation she mentally prepared herself for the long walk back to the hangar. She took a few steps and stopped, going back to grab one of Jane's blood bags, which was when she heard a noise, faint and guttural, cutting through the darkness.

"Nnnghh."

She stepped around the front of the smashed Jeep to a little clump of dense bushes. She moved aside some branches and found Roy, leaking and lacerated beyond recognition. He was craning his neck, trying futilely to rock himself forward out of the bush—to what end, Emily wasn't sure.

She contemplated shoving one of her grenades into his stomach and walking away but she knew the noise would draw too much attention. Instead, she grabbed a wad of his torn shirt and pulled him down into the long grass with a meaty thud. The muscles tensed in Roy's neck at the sudden movement, unsure if he had made it happen. His head swiveled back and forth though he couldn't see anything. Emily turned her back to him, pulled down her shorts, squatted and expelled a hot stream of urine into his face. Roy shook and floundered, groaning as the piss seeped down his open throat and into his gaping eye sockets. When Emily finished, she pulled up her pants, stood and turned, considering the chunk of writhing filth.

"That should do it," she said definitively. "Now the ants can have you."

Roy's agitation picked up a notch at the sound of Emily's voice. He thrashed as much as he could, fighting against the reality of the situation, choking on his own severed penis and gurgling piss.

Emily checked her weapons again and walked away, not bothering to look back. She wanted to do more but she felt it fitting to just leave him there completely helpless—completely fucked.