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You descend the stairs with Jaime by your side, his heavy footsteps resonating. "Thanks again for coming to help. I know you've had a tough few days. I should have been to your place sooner. You saved my life, and I'll never forget it."

He adjusts the bloody bandage covering his hand which has stopped oozing. "This thing hurts, but the bleeding stopped," he says with a wince. "My shoulder just has a scratch where a bullet grazed me."

You grab his wrist and hold out his hand. Unraveling the soaked cloth, you inspect the wound, a deep laceration. "It may need a stitch or two, and you should take antibiotics to treat any infection," you say. "Once we reach Woody and the others—"

"Woody? Wait, Moses is with you?" Jaime puts his good hand on your shoulder.

"Yeah, he got to my house earlier today and came to help find you. We were on the third floor together when some red-headed woman shot at us."

"Rosie shot at you? Damn. Glad you're okay. She hasn't been in her right mind since this whole outbreak started. So what happened?

You describe to Jaime how she shot at you, riled up a pack of zombies, and chased you into the auditorium.

"What happened then? Is she alive?" Jaime reaches for the stairwell door and pauses to wait for your answer.