one infected ;; video
Man, what the hell is this? Some sort of iPhone? [Not that Ellis has ever seen an iPhone in person before. The commercials have looked cool as hell, though. He holds the PCD up to his face, wrinkling his nose at the blinking light and mashing a few of the buttons. He is covered in green slime, face spattered with dirt, and as he tilts his head at the screen, a clear shot is given to the ax strapped to his back.]
Huh. Guess it don't work.
[And he slides the PCD into one of the pockets of his coveralls, humming pleasantly under his breath. The video jostles; he's on the move.]
Hell-llooo? Ro, Nick? Coach? This ain't funny, guys. Come on.
[There's playful frustration in his voice. If one listens really closely, he or she might be able to pick out worry, but it's so faint that it might as well not be there at all.]
Come on, guys. There could be a hunter around here or something, and I'm almost out of ammo. Don't make me deal with all this zombie bullshit by myself!
Huh. Guess it don't work.
[And he slides the PCD into one of the pockets of his coveralls, humming pleasantly under his breath. The video jostles; he's on the move.]
Hell-llooo? Ro, Nick? Coach? This ain't funny, guys. Come on.
[There's playful frustration in his voice. If one listens really closely, he or she might be able to pick out worry, but it's so faint that it might as well not be there at all.]
Come on, guys. There could be a hunter around here or something, and I'm almost out of ammo. Don't make me deal with all this zombie bullshit by myself!