Chapter 1: Donnigan
An echoing heartbeat, then, another. The complete desire to breathe out, but faced with the fact that it could be a fatal mistake. He closed his eyes, wiping away the blood that covered his knife in the process, listening for the screams and hisses of demons. Rising with much grace, given the circumstances, he paused at the door, hearing nothing, he moved onward.
It had been a week since all hell had broken loose in France. Seven days since the mobs had spread throughout France. One hundred and sixty-eight hours since Jack Donnigan was lost in the maelstrom that Paris had become. He didn't remember much after those...Things, started chasing them, except running until he found a working car, and driving it for some time before reaching a poorly constructed military blockade. It too, was overrun swiftly. In his haste, he managed to grab a combat knife from a shot-dead soldier, as well as a personal firearm
Going into the upper levels of buildings had become increasingly alarming for Donnigan. He had to be prepared should one of them be at the top, or waiting to jump, while watching his rear to make sure he wasn't screwed from behind, in the more literal sense. Though it was rare that he actually encountered a hostile, once was far too often, so he always had his pistol at the ready. Step by step, quietly as possible, he limited his breathing and tightened his grip on the gun, open hand itching to grab for the knife, minutes that may as well have been hours passed, until he reached the next level. When he peered down the hallway filled with doors, a sentence floated to the top of his head. Apartments, fuck me.
Blood, long since coagulated, had spread across the floor and was splattered along the walls, as bodies lined the ground, some mauled, some with bullet holes through their eyes and riddled across their chests. Seized by an ever so slight pang of empathy, he only just noticed the movement from down the hall, though it wouldn't of mattered if he hadn't noticed, as the figure stopped, raised a evil-looking object to his shoulder, and fired a silenced burst from the assault rifle straight at Jack.
Or rather, at the now-disposed hellthing lying pitifully on the ground. It was all he good do to remain standing while he watched the figure clothed in black move swiftly down the hall, until he was upon him, though what surprised the survivor so much was that he was actually a she, and that she was an American; "Next time you dick around, don't expect me to save your ass." Jack sputtered, words in his mind connecting lazily to other words, only to swiftly become meaningless, and then fall into a heap, to which his legs followed. Quieting for a moment, the female took quick glances down the hall, as well as the stares, before she slung the rifle on her back and helped him up, grabbing his hand, she rushed him up the steps, two at a time, until they reached the final flight, and a ladder which led up onto the roof, she rummaged through one of the pockets on her uniform and removed a key from it, unlocking the heavy deadbolts which secured the entry, and pushing it open.
After pulling him onto the roof, she shut it and locked it, then, additionally, though needless thought Jack, placed what appeared to be ironclad bars as an impromptu insurance method to guarantee their safety, after which, she removed her helmet and facial mask, and spoke "I'm Catherine Marlow, though Kate will suffice. Who are you and what were you doing inside the building?" Jack gave himself a few moments to let his jumbled thoughts form some kind of order, then spoke, "I'm Jack Donnigan, American, as you no doubt can tell. After the attack or whatever the hell it was I split from my vacation group and found myself at a military blockade, only to have it swarmed as well. Death seems to be eluding me at this point. As far as my being here, I was searching for supplies, as seldom do I come across a store that still has anything safe to consume." Kate nodded "Through a bit of chance I was able to grab a shopping cart's worth of food, and there's a water source to my right," and her hand directed Jack at a very large thick metal canister. "Though the water has been treated for disease, as a general precaution I clean it before I drink with it, which makes it damn lucky for there to have been a water purifier in one of the pockets of this uniform. You'd be wise to do the same."
A disconnect popped into Jack's head, "You speak as if the uniform's not yours." Catherine nodded, "You're a quick thinker, that may be why it's in fact you who has been eluding death, save for my rescue of you. You are right, though, I came here like you, on vacation, once what I suspect to be an outbreak of the same virus that took England all those months ago hit here, a group of French legion soldiers who were supposed to help us failed in their task, in the worst way possible. The soldier who owned this got some of the infected's blood or saliva in his mouth, and had a bullet placed between his eyes before he could change. I, in turn, took his clothing and firearms, which include the assault rifle, a pistol and assorted ammunition, as well as three fragmentation grenades."
Donnigan spoke, "So, this is the same thing that sent Britain to hell in a hand basket? I thought they said it was gone!" Catherine shook her head, "I'm afraid not, a second outbreak occurred there, so far as I understand. United States operations left, and bombed London 'till there was nothing left," she paused, then, "another reason why meeting you was a good thing. Should wide scale European infection occur, joint operations would have no other option but to eliminate any chance of a further threat. What happened in London won't hold a candle to what they'll do here, which means we need to get our asses on a plane ASAP, and we'll be able to get much more done together." Jack's thoughts raced around his head for some time before he opened his mouth, "Sure, that may be the most logical alternative to the situation, but wouldn't it be smarter for us to try and locate United States or United Nations or hell even French armed forces before we risk our lives searching for a plane?" Catherine traced her lip with her fingers, "What I presume to be a military-issued radio was on the dead soldier's person, if I still have it it's in the assorted items by my sleeping bag," to which she nodded at, "They'll have a decent range, at the least, so should military forces be patrolling, or at the borders of the city, or even possibly at the borders, we should be able to communicate with them." this was much uplifting to Jack, given what he had been put through so far. "Excellent, it will be much safer, anyway, to travel with a group of soldiers, as opposed to just us." Catherine laughed a bit, smiled, and gave him a look that clearly said No shit.