It’s a risk, but you head just a little deeper into the city. You can’t have her walking around half-naked. You need clothes.

You walk ahead, keeping ahead of her. She follows hastily, a frown on her face.

“I- I thought you wanted to get _out _of the city,” she started.

You glance over your shoulder at her. “You want to walk around in rags?”

She lowers her head and hugs herself.

You sigh and look ahead once more. “There should be a clothing store around here somewhere. If we’re lucky, it hasn’t been picked clean.”

She nods and follows behind you, shivering with each breeze that passes over her bare shoulders and through the rips in her top. You glance back at her and notice goosebumps rising up on her stomach, quickly turning your head forward again before she looks your way.

No distractions, you remind yourself. Distractions equal ****.

“You… you don’t want to take one of the cars?” Carmen asks, looking back at the bandits’ vehicles.

You shake your head. “Too many issues. Those things are too loud; let off too much smoke. Cavies and dinos could follow either to find us eventually. Plus, we don’t know if their friends have any way to track the vehicles.”

“Friends?” Carmen asks, bewildered.

You glance back at her gaze, shrouded by long hair. “There’s no way those three have those kind of supplies; with that little fuel, without having a bigger group to come back to.”

“...You think they might look for them?”

You nod. “Which is why we should move quickly.”

So you do; continuing and keeping your eyes peeled for any enemies - devolved or otherwise. Luckily, there isn’t a whole lot to look out for and soon an old sign catches your eye - a logo of a woman standing with what would have been some very trendy jeans a few years ago.

“There,” you say, nodding to the shop. Carmen follows you hurriedly as you step up to the door. The shop is right next to a tall apartment complex; at least ten stories high - the perfect hiding spot for disjointed cavies. You’re careful to not make too much noise as you fiddle with the door.

In a stroke of uncommon luck, the door swings open with ease. You frown, looking at the shop. The front was once a large window, long since boarded up. The inside is large but not lit; blocked off from view of the outside.

You step inside cautiously, new rifle at the ready. Quickly, you tap your foot on the ground, hard, loud enough for anything inside to hear it. This place was too small for any really dangerous carnivores to be hiding, and didn’t smell bad enough to be housing any cavies. But you had been careless before, and it had earned you a few scars on your back. Not again.

You wait in the doorway, a drop of sweat trickling down against your brow. Finally satisfied, you glance backwards to check if Carmen is still there or not to see that she is, eyes trained on you carefully, lips pursed tightly together to avoid making a sound. Huh. Good.

You lower your gun and step inside. “Come on,” you say.

She steps in and you close the door behind her. You brush past her arm and feel her tense up in the sudden dark before you take out one of your last glowsticks and crack it, chucking it onto the ground. Dim green light washes over you both and you nod at her.

“Find something to wear,” you say. Her eyes go to the store, still worried.

You hesitate, and wonder. It had been a while since you had been around another person. Maybe a joke would lighten the mood?