Vic turned his ankle on the curb and was on the ground and they had him before any of us even knew it. I was down to three rounds at that point. I don't know how many bullets Red had left, or Angie, you'd have to ask them, but I had three. Maybe we could have taken down the zombies that were eating Vic, maybe saving the ammo and gone in with knives and shit, and cleared him long enough to say his goodbyes and put him out of his misery or whatever.
But none of us particularly liked Vic.