My eyelids sprang open as if they were shot out of a cannon. I looked at my phone. It was 11:29 at night. I had set it to go off at 11:30. I grabbed my phone and shut the alarm off. I had a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach. My gut was trying to tell me something. That was when I heard something metallic crash to the ground somewhere in the kitchen. I lied motionless on the seat, my ears straining to pick up any more sound. I stared intently on the door to the kitchen, forcing them to come into focus. But they would not obey. Suddenly, a cloud drifted in front of the moon, sending the entire city into stark blackness. My heart began to pound wildly in my chest. I felt that whoever, or whatever was in the kitchen would somehow be able to hear my blood coursing through my veins.

Just take it easy. It won't be able to see you. My eyes darted around the room, trying to pick up any figures. I heard the kitchen door creak open, and a soft moan. It's in here with me! It was only a matter of time before the curiosity of whatever had just crept into the dining area would eventually lead to my booth. I had to get out of there! I had absolutely no idea how well they picked up sound, if they had a heightened sense of smell, or if they had just normal abilities. All I knew was that they were relatively slow. If only I could see! I thought. I could make a break for the kitchen and get out! But, I couldn't risk getting up, running, and slamming into a wall. It would know with absolute certainty where I was and attack me for sure.

Another moan, this time only about ten feet away. I was running out of time! Goddammit! I had no choice. I had to do something. I grabbed my phone, bounded out of my booth and sprinted to the general area I had remembered walking into the dining room from. My arms outstretched, I crashed into a wall. I had certainly peaked the interest of my visitor, as I heard an angry moan behind me. My heart about ripping out of my chest, I ran down the wall with my hand against it, feeling for an opening. There! I ran into the kitchen just as something cold brushed against my hip. Adrenaline pumping now, I made a mad dash towards the exit. The layout of the kitchen was much more simple than the dining area. As soon as I breached the threshold of the backdoor, all five toes of my right foot banged violently against the cinder block I had placed on the ground to hold the door open.

"Fuck!" I screamed in agony, my momentum sending me tumbling to the ground. I knew for a fact I had broken at least a couple toes. My foot in an unspeakable amount of pain, I managed to stand back up and excruciatingly limped down an alley. After a few minutes of gimping my way down the alley, I came to the end, a T intersection. I ducked behind a dumpster and slowly took my shoe off. Lips pursed together now, quietly whimpering to myself, I attempted to remove my sock. The blood that had pooled around my toes had bonded my foot to the inner fabric.

"Goddammit, Paul, you dumb motherfucker," I whispered to myself. Delicately putting my shoe back on, I stuck my head around the corner of the alley. I saw nothing but street, sidewalk, and buildings. I had to find somewhere where I could bandage my foot. What I really needed was another car, but how was I going to get one? I had no idea how to start one without a key. Perhaps maybe I could get lucky and find a key in someones glove box? I had no idea. I just had to take things slowly, one step at a time. I had a choice, go either right or left. I flipped a mental coin and decided to go left.

Walking gingerly down the sidewalk, I kept my eyes peeled for an easier mode of transportation, crazed monsters, and maybe a hospital. My entire foot was throbbing, but the pain was in the toes, particularly the big one. I was in such a rush, I had to slow myself down a few times as my foot angrily protested my fast pace. There was a moment where I had to stop and duck into an alley. I watched as a group of creatures walked lazily by. I had to be weary of all of my surroundings. After they were gone, I continued walking. After about twenty minutes, I stopped at a street sign pointing to a police station. I let out a silent breath of relief. There, I could bandage my screwed up foot, maybe get a bite to eat, and get some sort of weapon. If the place hadn't already been ransacked, that is. I got to the building and tried the front door, but it wouldn't budge. I walked around and tried the back door. It too, was locked. I had to find a way in. I looked over and noticed there was a fire escape on the far edge of the building. The latter hung a good four feet over my head, however. If I hadn't pulled my little stunt earlier, I could simply jump up and grab the bottom rung. I looked for something to stand on, and spotted a shopping cart nearby. I drug it under the latter and climbed to the roof. I stood up and surveyed the top of the two story building. All there was was a handful of vents that were too small for me to squeeze through and four skylights. I checked all of them, thankfully one was unlocked. I pushed the window open, but the glass popped out of the frame and crashed to the ground inside the building.

"Shit," I whispered. The last thing I wanted to do was attract attention. I got on my knees, grabbed the edge of the opening, and lowered myself down. I hung from the ceiling of what looked to be an office, braced my foot for the impact, and let go. When I landed, a jolt of pain struck my foot, making me wince. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and turned on the flashlight app I had installed. My phone had a very impressive little flash on it. The first thing I looked for was an arms case. I walked to the desk and pulled open the drawer. Inside sat a Beretta M9 with two magazines beside it. I pocketed the magazines, grabbed the pistol, made sure it was loaded, and left the room. I opened the door to a long hallway with a staircase at the end of it. First thing I wanted to do was find a place to wrap my foot. Gun and phone in front of me, I walked to the end of the hallway and down the stairs to the main floor. Navigating the police precinct was a little tricky with only a phone to guide you. Twice I walked in a giant circle. Finally, I came to another staircase heading downstairs. I walked down and came to another long hallway. I looked at each door and read the labels. Eventually, I came to the medical room. I grabbed the knob when I heard a creak back towards the stairs. I whipped around at the noise, gun at the ready. Nothing. Maybe it was just me. Maybe it wasn't. I couldn't afford to take any chances. I started going back from where I came to investigate. Once at the foot of the stairs, I stopped. I thought I had heard another creak. I put my phone to my chest to extinguish my light. I had an odd sensation I wasn't alone. I stood there, frozen. At that moment, I moved to the wall next to the stairs and listened. Another creak. This time it seemed like it came from the top of the staircase. Palms sweaty, I took my phone back out, spun around the wall, gun pointed to the top of the stairs ready to fire, my finger pulling the trigger back.

"Don't shoot!" said the English accent.

"Who's there?" I exclaimed, gun still raised.

"I'm normal!" The man said, hands outstretched, "Don't shoot!" he repeated. I lowered my gun, but kept my phone trained on him.

"Jesus, you almost gave me a heart attack," I said.

"I'm the one having a bloody gun pointed at me," said the man, forcing a nervous laugh as he began coming down the stairs. I blew a giant sigh. Through everything I had been through the past day, all the chaos I had seen, all the madness, seeing a fellow man made me feel a million times better about my situation. For the first time in 48 hours, I let myself smile.

The man and I, who told me his name was Fredrick, broke into the medical room, where he helped me wrap up my foot. From there, we found the armory, where we stocked up on guns and ammunition. I grabbed another pistol, a shotgun, and and M4 carbine. After that, we made our way to the break room, where there were cans of soup and bags of chips and trail mix in the cabinets. We sat on the ground, ate, and talked.

"So Fredrick," I said in between gulps of Campbell's New England Clam Chowder, "What's your story? How'd you end up here? Where are you trying to go?"

"I came to Raccoon City... four days ago? Yeah that's right, it's been four days," Fredrick explained, scooping handfuls of Doritos into his mouth, "My company sent me here for an international conference. We've been trying to grow, reach out to other nations, you know that sort of thing. My family's back in London. I was able to talk with them right after everything happened. After that, all communication went down. Me and some of the other members got together and tried to get out of the city. We were attacked by a group of those... well I don't know what you called them... monsters yesterday. I was the only one that made it. Ever sense then, I've been just trying to survive. Trying to escape." Fredrick finished his bag, crumpled it up, tossed it aside, and reached for another one. "What about you, mate?"

"Well," I began, discarding my empty soup can and ripping open a bag of trail mix, "I've been doing the same thing as you. Just trying to survive." My thoughts began spiraling out of control. This whole time, I've focused solely on surviving. I hadn't recounted the unimaginable horror I had witnessed only a couple days ago. I prayed Fredrick wouldn't press me for anything else.

"What about family? Trying to find anyone, get to anywhere at all?" My bottom lip began trembling. I looked up and out the window to the black sky.

"Well," I stammered, my voice beginning to crack, "my wife's dead." Silence. Why did I say that? I was barely thinking it. Tears welled up in my eyes.

"Christ. Paul. Mate. I'm... Christ. I'm so sorry," Fredrick said, having a hard time finding words. I didn't blame him. It was impossible to have the right reaction when someone you just met unloads news like that to you. For some reason, I felt compelled to tell him about that morning.

"We were married for about three months. We woke up together. Fucking... she was so beautiful. We woke up together. Lying there," I was able to say, "She got up to put on coffee. She opened the door. One of those things was there. It grabbed her. I got up, she was screaming. I got to it and tried to pull it off. It bit her. Fucking Christ!" Since that moment, I hadn't even relived it in my head. I had barely thought of my wife since then. I blocked it all away. It wasn't fair! Why hadn't I pulled it off? Why couldn't I? What the fuck was wrong with me? I was sobbing now, drool falling in strings down my chin. All these emotions were running into me like someone had just opened a window in my brain. I was angry, I was distraught, I was depressed. Hopeless. Just like that. She was ripped out of my life. Ripped out of my fucking life! I felt a hand on my shoulder. Fredrick was standing over me.

"She wants you to live, mate," he said quietly, "She wants you to live." My crying began to subside.

"Fuck me, goddammit," I said. I felt bad for putting Fredrick in such an awkward spot. He's known me for maybe an hour and I'm falling apart in front of him. He walked back to his spot on the floor and sat down. My tears had shut off completely now.

"That was the first time since it happened I had let myself go like that. I hadn't even thought about it. Just focused on staying alive, you know?" I said.

"No worries, Paul" said Fredrick , "I'm glad I ran into you." A sudden wave of tiredness had swept in. I had the feeling Fredrick had the same mindset, as he went to lie down. I did the same on the other side of the room. I closed my eyes, and slept.