He slammed into the door, breaking the lock and door jamb.
Quickly spilling into the small break-room on the second floor of the old repair shop. Fuck me! He thought, slamming the door behind him before he could survey his new surroundings. He grabbed a file cabinet and pushed it over, in front of the, mostly glass, door. He could hear them again, the shambling feet, the guttural, wet, moans. They were harder to lose then he had first thought.
Only time it was easy to get away from these abominations was if he had some bait, some other poor soul that he could convince to run off in the opposite direction. Not many of those left now. It had been a week since Raccoon City went to hell. He had seen a lot of things in his time working as a janitor at the Umbrella Inc. Raccoon Facility. Nothing worse than this. He ejected the clip from his handgun, he had four loose rounds in his pocket, he slid them into the clip and slid it back into the gun.
Suddenly a body slammed against the window on the door, shattering it. Fear coursed through his veins and he jumped backward, losing his footing on a coffee cup, laying on the floor. He felt his balance fail, he fell backward, he head meeting the corner of a table. He watched the zombies begin to crawl through the door. His vision blurred.
He opened his eyes. He sat up, panting, looking around at the room. It was different now, he was in his bed. The room he looked around was his, in his house, on his street. "Must've been a dream." He muttered. He stood up, looking at his work uniform. It said 'Carl' across the name tag. He felt the same annoyed feeling wash over him as he always did when he thought of how many times he told them that his name was spelled 'Karl'. Fuckin' idiots he thought, with a smile on his face as he began to forget the terrible nightmare he was having.
Karl made his way to the stairs, walking down them with a feeling of excitement to see his wife. He reached the bottom of the stairs and walked around the corner, into the kitchen, and froze. There, on the kitchen floor was a puddle of blood. Hand prints of blood riddled the cabinets and counter tops, like polka-dots from a fucked up artist.
"Christy?" He whispered. Something moved behind him, Karl turned to see the door, wide open. People were running silently down the street. Slower people followed soon after them. Karl remembered what he had dreamed. Was it a dream? Was this a dream? "Shit!" Karl ran into the kitchen, the blood was still there, something he had not seen before was that someone had been dragged away from the puddle.
Karl quickly followed the puddle, as he rounded the corner, leading into the dinning room, his eyes took in a terrible vision. His neighbor, Mr. Markowicz was hunched over Christy. Her eyes were open but there was no life left in them. He mouth was agape and he throat was ripped out. Mr. Markowicz was chewing on what remained of her stomach. Something grabbed at Karl's arm from behind, he felt a dull pain in his right forearm.
Karl's eyes snapped open, he was starring at one of the zombies as it chewed on his arm. He put his gun to its head and pulled the trigger. Brain matter and icor splattered the floor and wall on the other side of the room. The zombie hit the ground next to him. Two more were making their way toward him, one crawling, grasping at his feet. Karl took aim again, letting out two of the three rounds he had left.
He let out a sigh as the room was quiet again, he looked at his arm. It hurt like hell but didn't look like too much to deal with right now. He knew that there was an antidote in the lab. Getting to the lab would be another thing. He could hear more of the undead heading in, the shots had attracted them, no doubt. Karl stood up and brushed the blood off of his work shirt and took a step toward the door. Something quickly moved across the ceiling, catching his attention. It looked like a skinned animal. It's all in your head, man. He thought to himself. Ignoring the obviously crazy vision, he walked out the door.
The long tongue was the first thing he saw. Followed closely by the huge exposed brain and large, deadly claws. Karl could not tell if this monster was looking at him or not, it didn't seem to have any eyes. He slowly backed up, lifting his gun and aiming for the brain. Destroy the brain, destroy the ghoul. He repeated in his head. This had to be the same right? He pulled the trigger and-
"Fuck. . ." The gun jammed. The creature reacted immediately. It leapt toward him. Karl felt every second of the brutal attack. The creature ripped him apart, piece by piece.
When the licker was finished with its meal, it made its way to the grated hole on the ceiling. Big enough for it to fit into. It knew there were things through there, It could smell them, could almost already taste them.