Frank didn't know if splitting was a good idea, then again he didn't know if staying with these people was a good idea. Getting meds was a good plan though, rational thinking; a commodity that had been in short supply for as long as he could remember and in times like these it was going to be gold dust. Food and water was a good start too, they had no idea of the extent of this disaster, or how far the emergency services had penetrated into the city. Frank thought it over for a couple of seconds.
"That's Everton Park right? Sounds like a solid enough plan... Although I don't think it'd be a great idea to stray too far apart"
Frank looked at the blackened sky and scratched at his stubble, found another piece of glass. "I'm going to the drug store, who ever's following, follow"
That feeling was still there, like someone was stubbing out a cigarette on the back of his neck. Not a panicky feeling, more of a syrupy foreboding that you couldn't wipe off. You could explain away the lack of people, but the silence? No, there would be something. A siren, the wails of the injured. Frank had been in war zones and this didn't feel like one, this was a graveyard.
He reached the shattered entry to the drugstore, too-bright light still bouncing off of fallen merchandise. There was a bag on the floor, empty and open as if someone had the same idea and gave up half way through. Frank almost took out his revolver again on instinct but brushed the thought aside, he wasn't quite ready to let anyone know that he had it. Instead he grabbed the bag and vaulted over the counter to where the good stuff was. Painkillers, muscle relaxants and antiseptics, he shoveled them all in without reading the labels.
Frank turned back to whoever had followed him and slid the bag across the counter. "If you want to add anything else now's the ti..GAH!"
Cold fingers coiled around his neck from behind and closed his windpipe, turning the rest of his sentence into a startled gurgle. Frank could feel hot breath invade the back of his head, blood begin to trickle from the broken skin as the grip tightened and finger nails buried themselves in. Frank threw his hands back, clasped the person's forearms and swung him over his shoulder so that Frank was over him and the man was splayed over the counter.
A man, no pupils, his eyes were dark specks of flint that screamed with animalistic rage. He didn't say anything, didn't snarl in fury. He bit, and would have taken the end of Franks nose if Frank hadn't jerked back and lost his grip on the mad bastards arms. Frank stumbled into into a shelf, knocking down half of its contents. The mad bastard wasted no time in vaulting back over the counter, but Frank was ready this time. He ripped his little snub-nosed revolver from under his shirt and aimed to fire, But this guy, this guy was quick. He closed the distance and grabbed Frank's gun arm before he could fire.
Frank smashed his head into his face with a sick, wet thud. His nose broke, but still he made no sound, barely even winced. Frank butted again and the mans grip loosened enough for frank to yank his arm free and shoot him dead in the chest. The sound was deafening in such an enclosed space and his ears began to ring. The attacker fell, spread-eagle on the floor, a pool of blood already beginning to form. As his hearing began to return, and gradually his other senses Fank realized that he was still pointing his gun at the corpse, hands shaking, babbling softly to himself.
"Shit, shit, shit..." His only though was, it'd been a while since he'd killed another man.