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Drop me a line if you have a minute, and, once again, feel free to point out any mistakes.

Enjoy!

Bella didn't wait any longer. She turned, tried to run but tripped over her own backpack, barely catching herself before she fell on her face. She darted behind a shelf full of field guides, crouching out of sight just before the door banged open. From where she hid she couldn't see whoever had entered, but she heard the muffled footsteps as the intruder walked across the Visitors Center.

Twenty-two is way too young to die.

She shifted, trying to remain out of sight as the footsteps came her way, and her hair fell into her face, tickling her neck and obscuring her vision. Every muscle in her body was strained, sending shivers up and down her spine and she could feel every pound of her pulse from her temples to her toes. Running was no longer an option. Whoever it was had come too close. She was going to have to fight, and hope that these dead things could die...
Again.

The footsteps were now far too close for comfort, so she turned, bending backwards until she could reach one of a number of hand carved walking sticks that were on display behind her. She felt just a little bit better when her fingers closed around the heavy wooden shaft. At least she wasn't outnumbered. One on one, surely she could vanquish a single walking corpse?

Some of the last reports that she'd heard before she'd fled civilization had mentioned that damaging the brain was the only way to fend off the creatures.
Bella swallowed, trying to banish the images that popped into her mind when she pictured a walking corpse with a damaged brain.

Gross, gross, gross.

But anything was better than being devoured alive.

Moving as quietly as she could, Bella pulled the walking stick toward her, flinching when it banged against one of the other sticks and made a dull knocking sound. As the footsteps echoed ever closer, she grasped the stick with both hands, her fingers clenching around the wood until her knuckles shone bone-white through her skin.
The unwelcome visitor was less than three strides away from her now, and Bella resisted the urge to turn and peek at whatever it was. She would just scare herself. The last thing she needed was to be paralyzed with fear at the very moment when she needed to act. Swing first, look later, Bella instructed herself.

Finally, the footsteps stopped just behind the shelf where she stood. Part of Bella wanted to lay still hope that it would keep walking, but if she waited until it noticed her, then it would be too late for her to fend it off. No, summoning what little strength remained in her battered body, Bella jumped to her feet, uttered a shrill "Hya!" and swung the stick with all her might towards the figure that loomed over her.

The intruder was taller than she had been expecting, and her eyes closed reflexively as she swung, so she ended up hitting it lower than she had planned.
By the time her eyes reopened, the creature had groaned and doubled over, and it was at that point that her fight instinct abandoned her and her flight reflex kicked in. Leaving her backpack, she flung the stick away from her, whirled and ran for the stairs.

She heard a sound behind her, but couldn't quite identify it over the blood that rushed through her ears. The stairs were directly ahead of her and she lunged for them, one hand curling around the railing as she pulled herself up the steps, nearly falling again when she banged her knee against the wall. She was halfway up the stairs when one noise penetrated the haze of terror and adrenaline.

"Hey!"

Bella missed the next step, and only her hand on the railing stopped her from tumbling all of the way down the stairs.

"Hey! I'm alive, you idiot!"

Bella whirled, the motion making her so dizzy that she swayed on her feet.

Dear God. He was alive.

She stared at him, allowing her eyes to take in his tall, well sculpted frame, the shining bronze hair that fell into his eyes, his wide, bare chest, and the shotgun that he wore strapped over one shoulder. He was alive.

Not particularly well kempt- he had a bit of a Tarzan look going on, what with the ripped jeans and the six inch knife on his belt, but definitely, gloriously, alive.

And oddly familiar…