The gun

You're quickly realizing that above everything else in this new world, you need protection. You snake your hand out and lift the gun off the pack, tucking it into the waistband of your jeans. The groups are still talking to each other, weapons raised. It reminds you of an old Western, the cheesy black-and-white movies you used to watch with your little brother when you came home for the holidays.
The thought makes your chest ache.
You don't know if he's even still alive.
Pushing the feelings aside you start slowly edging your way over to the side alley, the one with the ladder hanging down from it. You don't know if they'll actually shoot you if you try to escape, or if they'll be too concerned with keeping their weapons on each other. It's a risk you'll have to take, because there is a large open space between you and the alley where no one will be in front of you to block the men's view.
It hurts to breathe your heart is beating so quickly in your chest.
"We heard someone rustling around our sector. Whoever it was shot one of our guys. He's dead. Care to explain Leana?" One of the men is saying, and you know this is your queue. Pretty soon they'll realize that none of their own were over in the mall, and eyes will turn in your direction.
You can't wait around for that.
Taking a deep breathe, you launch yourself away from the wall and sprint into the side alley, the slap of your shoes against the pavement like thunder in your ears.
"Hey!" Someone behind you shouts, and you don't look back. Don't look back, don't stop, run, run.
You fling yourself forward, jumping up to grab the ladder and pulling yourself up.
You've never been big into upper body workouts, but there is adrenaline zinging through your blood, and you don't even think about it. You just pull up, grabbing the next run, thinking only of getting high enough that someone cannot grab your feet.
There is a loud ping off the ladder beside you, metal hitting metal and it's not like the movies, not at all. You flinch and cry out and keep climbing, not daring to look over your shoulder.
More bullets are fired, hitting the ladder above and below you, but it's just you're luck that they are terrible shots.
It's only as you're clearing the first ladder, pulling yourself up onto the platform that you feel it.
You've never been shot, but you always imagined it as a slender pain, something sharp and concentrated, right where the bullet enters.
It's not like that. Not at all.
The pain explodes up your leg, hot and sudden and so so much. You scream, and your movements become panicked, animal. A fox trapped in a trap. You claw at the metal grating and pull yourself up, so afraid that the pain is secondary to your instinct to keep moving.
It's not that it doesn't hurt, because it does. It hurts more than anything you've ever felt. But the fear is an all-encompassing, half-human thing driving you forward, moving you along.
It's at that moment, as you're limping towards the fire escape stairs that the window to your left opens, and a man leans out and start firing down at the street, the automatic in his hands rattling off bullets at your pursuers.
"Come on! Get in!" He shouts at you over the sound of gunfire.
You could listen to him and dive through the window into the apartment complex. But that comes with the risk of this man being no better than the ones in the mall, and then you'll be right back in trouble.
On the other hand, you could keep running up the fire escape, and hope he doesn't try to chase you once he's dealt with the people on the street. That comes with it's own pros and cons, as you are now injured, with a bullet lodged in your calf and no knowledge on how to get it out.