Another person was definitely not part of her plan. The screams of the woman who she had seen torn apart - a shocking and disturbing image, had she enough time to process and understand it - were still echoing in her ears, such that she almost missed the new voice, even though it was deep, male, different. It was instead something else, a sense of how the zombies were not focusing on her anymore, and she looked aside and saw the man who had come out on the street.

Damn it. Damn it!

That was when Joan remembered. She supposed she could not be faulted for forgetting, because she was not often in a life or death situation - but that had been the whole point of it, had it not? Beyond taking down guilty people attempting to escape? Joan turned on her heel. Maybe she was insane, but she only had instinct to rely on now, and years of regular exercise, most specifically running.

It helped that they weren't looking at her anymore; they were focused on the man. Joan lunged forward and tugged the baton out of her coat, the force of her swing causing it to extend. She hit harder than she ever had in her life and the sound was an ugly, sickening crunch. Fragments of skull and brain matter flew past, a speck hitting her on the cheek. She propelled herself forward across the pavement and through the group, letting the baton swing wherever she could. There were only a handful of them, or else she might not have tried the approach she did. In any case, it was too late now; her previous route was now blocked.

"Back that way!" she shouted, darting past the man and back towards the building.