Head down the stairs.

She wasn't leaving her appartment to check another. Door was open, who ever was inside was long since gone or dead. No she wasn't stopping now, not till her boots touched concrete.

Heading down the hall, shot gun at the ready, she slipped down the stairs, toward the ground level. As she was passing the door to the next level, she could hear movment beyond.

Surivors? That many? She couldn't tell how many their were, but she knew it was a few at least. Problem was, good moeny said they were the walking dead. Sure she was ready to kick some ass, and fight her way out of this hell hole. But how big a fight was she looking for? And was she looking, or just willing? All she had to do was walk away.