"Sorry, ma'am," says Peter Dixon. "We seem to be out of Benadryl."
"Okay then," replies the woman, scratching her arm.
The only light in the Walgreens pharmacy comes from the overhead fluorescent panels. Darkness has fallen outside. The song "Torn" by Natalie Imbruglia is played over the store's speakers.
The Walgreens clerk checks his watch. His shift is over in a few minutes. The store never closes; Walgreens has a reputation for twenty-four hour service.
Peter checks the aisles. The Benadryl cream is gone; in fact, every itch cream seems to be gone.
Must be some sort of pollen or something. Raccoon Forest starts just blocks from the pharmacy, where all sorts of flora live.
"Everything done, Dixon?" asks a middle-aged balding man.
"Yes, sir," replies Peter. "Just clocking out right now."
Peter clocks out and walks out to the parking lot, greeted by the warm night air. The Walgreens is part of a shopping plaza. A combination Chevron gas station/McDonald's restaurant stands at the street corner. Sometimes, after his shift is over, Peter would walk over to McDonald's to order a Big Mac and a Sprite.
Not tonight. I've got a hot date with Becky.
Peter gets into his car – a late '80's model white Toyota Corolla – and drives off the pharmacy.
Navigating the streets of Raccoon City, he stops at an apartment building. The building is simple – apartments surrounding a central courtyard. Not exactly a luxury condominium.
Thinking about condominiums.
Peter dials some buttons on a numeric keypad.
"Hello?" asks a female voice.
"Becky there?" he asks. "Peter's here."
"I'll get her."
Minutes later, a girl with short red hair walks out the front gate of the apartment building. She smiles as she sees her date.
"Becky," says Peter, giving her a kiss.
"Hey, Pete," replies Becky. "Ready for tonight?"
Peter and Becky get into the Toyota Corolla and head downtown. Parking on the street, Peter puts quarters into a parking meter and heads into one of the finer restaurants in Raccoon City, located just a block from City Hall.
The hostess, a blonde in her early twenties, seats them at a table for two. Peter looks at a menu, looking at the appetizers and entrees.
"So much good stuff here," says Becky.
"Better not order too much," replies Peter. "Don't want to ruin that figure of yours."
Peter had known Becky for over a month now. Becky is a medic with the Raccoon Police Department; she had just gotten off her shift a few hours ago.
And so they speak even as they eat the entrees.
"I'm taking trig," says Peter, referring to his trigonometry class at Raccoon City College. "Pretty tough shit, you know."
"That's awesome," replies Becky, scratching her wrist.
"Maybe I can get a scholarship to go to Yale or Harvard; a couple of recruiters are checking out these junior colleges. I mean, I'm not gonna make a career as a clerk in Walgreens."
"You could be a licensed pharmacist," suggests Becky, sticking a fork into a slice of beef. "They make a lot of money."
"Like cops?" asks Peter. "You know, you could be able to afford to buy a house."
"That is a good idea," says Becky.
After finishing the entrée, they go have dessert. Dessert is not a chocolate fudge cheesecake nor a steaming apple pie with a whip cream topping. Instead, Peter takes Rebecca up to a lookout in the Arklay Mountains. It is a popular spot for dates that want a very special dessert.
They both sit inside the back seat of the Corolla. They sit for a minute, just getting comfortable with each other. High above, Ursa Major looks down upon them. From below is the expanse of Raccoon City, with thousands of lights.
Peter reaches for her, touching her arm at first, and then touching her hair. The tension builds up and up, like a steam boiler.
The pressure builds up to the extreme, and soon the clothes are peeled off like the skin from a ripe banana fresh from the Carribean. He then plunges into her, and the pressure keeps building and building. Finally Peter erupts like Mount Vesuvius.
"Want more?" asks Peter.
"Yes," replies Becky, sweat lubricating her skin.
Peter grabs Becky's red hair and guides her down under. She sucks on him like a Hoover vacuum cleaner. Peter finds himself feeling hard again. He bucks up even as she sucks him. The pressure increases again and again. Sweat flows down Peter's face.
And then Peter releases the pressure, sending wads of cum deep into Becky's throat.
His ecstasy is suddenly replaced by a sharp pain, like a sudden downpour one second after a clear sky. He screams loud, louder than a General Electric CF6-80A turbofan engine at full throttle.
He looks and sees Becky's face. Her mouth is smeared in blood, and there is an empty look in her eyes.
He takes a glimpse down there. What he sees horrifies him so much. Down there is nothing except a bloody mess.
And then Becky bites off a few more pieces of his flesh.
That is her dessert.