There's a small mob of rotting, shuffling once-men making their way down a narrow road of the village.
If this fact is of concern to Lumm, the stick-thin sixteen year-old they're shuffling towards, she's not really showing it.
Hell, you could probably make an argument that she's encouraging it, given the chunky boom box dangling from one hand that's belting out Iron Maiden's 'The Trooper'.
As the monsters advance, Lumm slowly moves back. The expression on her face floats somewhere betwixt irritation and indifference, nary to leave either. As Bruce Dickinson belts out the song from the boom box, Lumm leads the creatures down an alleyway coming off from the road like the most fucked up interpretation of the pied piper you've ever seen.
Dead end, wire fence cutting off escape.
Doesn't really seem like the action of someone bent on self-preservation, but Lumm doesn't seem overly phased by this.
Reaching the back of the alley, she cuts Dickinson off mid-scream and deposits the boom box on the ground. A few more of the undead have joined the trio at the mouth of the alley, and are slowly but incessantly bearing down upon her. Next to where she stands, a scavenged lever device has been hastily embedded into the wall, a complex mess of wire and tubing running out from it and up the brickwork. Lumm waits next to it casually, until the monsters coming for her move over a spot on the alley floor marked with an X in spray paint.
Then, with a casual motion, she tugs the lever down.
Seemingly out of nowhere, a battered old truck held up by an improvised pulley system comes rocketing down from above like a rusty Sword of Damocles, slamming into the mob of zombies and mashing them against the asphalt. All but one of them are crushed instantly, but the final was just for forward enough to only half it's bottom half caught under the truck. With a shrug, Lumm unslings a sawn-off shotgun from her back and wanders forwards casually, placing the barrel of the weapon against the trapped creature's head. Her expression doesn't change as she squeezes the trigger.
In the ringing silence that follows the blast, Lumm withdraws a handheld tape recorder from the pocket of her cargo shorts, holding it up to her mouth.
"Grigori Device Mark 2 a success," she notes, her voice almost as unenthusiastic as her expression. She looks over at the crumpled wreck of the truck that's now blocking the alley. "Not entirely sure how to explain what happened to the car to dad, though."
Lumm shrugs. "Will cross that bridge when I come to it."
