(*yes, it would of been good to know what rolls you got that came to make these conditions.*)
Amanda panicked, but only for a moment. She knew she was safe but only for a moment, she had to get out of the room to let them calm them selves from her presence. Leaving the kitchen as softly, and as silently as she could possibly could, Amanda rejoined me in the living room where I still sat there, getting leeway on the little piece of metal in the barrel. I look up to her and saw her fright in her eyes and heard the noise come from the kitchen. Jokingly, I asked her, "What did you brake this time, 'Manda?" She pouted, holding the duffel bag in hand full of food as she replied, "It wasn't me, it was one of though's flesh heads again. They really want in this time and we should get out of her as soon as possible." I snickered under my breath and told her, "They won't get through, not today. We got at least a few more days before my handy work gets the best of me."
I stand, holding the gun just for a moment just to put it on the table next to the tire iron. I enter the kitchen my self to see what the noise was and saw what she was talking about. I don't know if it was the arm reaching out to me from between the wood I nailed there in the window or the fact that it was as if it was with little effort that it forced it's way into my home with it's rotted arm, I felt as if my home was no longer safe, and wanted to leave. I turned around and leaned against the doorway, sighing greatly. I look towards Amanda who was counting he food rations she took inventory just a few minutes earlier, we were loosing precious time, and quickly. We have to get out of this place before I risk the life of my daughter.
"Come, we'll head out back and sneak around the neighbors house to get to the truck. It should be safe enough for us to get in if we make our way there quickly." All while I told her that, Amanda looked up at me with surprisal and respect, getting up and running up to hug me as if I had done something to impress her. But later, I realize that it was because she knew the dangers outside from the moist patch growing on my shoulder from the tears she shed. I held her for a moment and combed the back of her head with my hand, saying nothing as we both remained silent.
On the other side of the house, I held my Sniper rifle, deactivated but I wasn't holding it like a gun, more or less like a club from the stock of the barrel. She stood behind me with the duffel bag strapped around her body and tire iron on hand as I held the door nob of the back door, ready to leave the home and silently navigate our way through the back yard of my home, and of my neighbors, just to get to my truck which was on the other side of the road. It was our only plan and it was the only thing we could do on short notice. I look to her and she nods to me, symbolizing that she is ready. I nod to her then took a deep breath, opening the door and left my home of 25 years of developing it from the ground up. I'll sure miss my home, hopefully I'll be able to come back to it when all of this is over, but because of my age, it's highly unlikely...