Chapter 2- Preparations, and a final goodbye

"Ughhhh," Richie's foot is caught by his father's slippery strong grip. "Dad please!" Richie shouts as he thrashes about, freeing his leg in the knick of time, before his mother barely misses biting away at his thigh.

Springing back to his feet, Richie makes a dash toward his room, fighting the urge to look back. As he locks the door, he begins to resume his preparations.

Not long before he finishes packing, he hears loud thuds and scrapes against the door as his parents desperately want to come inside and share an intimate moment with their delicious son.

Richie tries to ignore the growling hunger as he continues to find the batteries for his head mounted flashlight. Aside from the snack, city map, and first aid kit, Richie realizes he needs a weapon, in case there are more of his parents out there in the city.

Recalling from all the zombie movies he sneaked to watch when he was a kid, he remembers that the survivors always have two types of weapons, one that they can always use and a back up just in case.

Lucky for Richie, his baseball bat is pretty durable and can help him in the worst emergency. That leaves the guns and Richie's dad kept a gun cabinet for when they would go to the shooting range.

Richie wasn't much of a shooter, but now isn't the time to be complaining.

"THUD…. CRACK…"

The door won't be able to handle much more of the damage being inflicted. Richie makes a final mental checklist of what he needs from his room before he sets out.

Looking at himself in the mirror, he sees a terrified kid, with bushy brown curly hair, dark brown eyes with two large caterpillar looking eyebrows. One look and you would want to pet him more than anything else.

"CRACK!"

The door is about to give out, as Richie's parents continue to break down the barricade, annoyed that they have to work so hard for such a small takes on final deep breath.

"After this, there's no turning back. It's all or nothing, and you can do it. You got this."

Richie repeats the last final words, trying to boost his confidence and somehow it helped only a little. Throwing on his backpack and arming himself with his bat, he positions him self across from the door, using his bed as a divider.

Waiting impatiently, the door holds up longer than he expected.

"CRACK!"

The door finally bursts open, and the two walking dead tumble onto the floor. "Ughhh" Gargles one of them, as they begin to work their way up, slowly shuffling their feet toward Richie.

Please go around, please go around.

Richie prays that he doesn't have to do any harm to them, no mater how gruesome, they were still his parents. To his surprise, they obeyed his mental command and slowly made their way around his bed, giving Richie the chance to run for the door.

Leaping onto the bed he makes his way, and his parents try to make pursuit but trip on their own uncoordinated feet, falling to the floor. Richie runs down the stairs, through the kitchen, and into the garage, where the weapons are held.

Finding the gun cabinet he tries to pry it open but to his horror, is locked. Using his bat he attempts to break the door down, but like a fortress, it doesn't give way to his attacks.

Trying to remember where the keys to the cabinet are, he recalls that his dad always kept them in his pocket wherever he went, safety was a priority in this house, yet now it has become a hazard.

Shit, the keys are in his pocket!

Richie lashes out again at the cabinet in frustration that he has to face his parents once again. If he wants to survive the trip to the police station, he has to have a better weapon than a baseball bat.

Formulating a plan, Richie makes his way back toward the kitchen and waits. He hears his parents' footsteps upstairs as they slowly make their way down. Putting his backpack on the table, he slowly makes his way by the stairs and sees that his parents are almost down.

Maybe I can knock them out.

Out of pure innocence, Richie still believes that he can save his parents somehow, yet deep down, he knows that this way of thinking won't keep him alive for very long.

Couple more steps and his dad will be in hitting range, aim for the head.

Richie readies himself in batting position, struggling to keep a steady breath…

"WHACK!"

Richie strikes his dad on the right temple, sending him flying past his mother. Richie's mom instinctively goes toward the assailant, oblivious that her mate is down and out for the count.

Raising one arm to protect her head, she uses the other to try and grab Richie, who is already back in the kitchen.

Adrenaline is pumping strong as he begins to think more clearly, hearing his mom get closer, Richie waits on the other side of the small round table, where they had their last supper together. As she drew closer, Richie kicked the chair at her, causing her to tumble back and fall.

With slight hesitation, Richie closes his eyes,

"AAAAHHHHHH!"

With all his strength, he strikes his mother on the temple, spraying blood to the furniture and hearing her gargle her last dying breath. Ready for another strike, Richie waits, yet he hears nothing. Making his way back to his dad, he sees him face down in a puddle of crimson blood as it continues to grow larger.

Having his bat ready, he slowly crouches near his dad's right pocket, where he keeps his keys and looking one last time at his father, making sure that he has finally passed. He slowly digs into the pocket, finding the key-chain of keys and slowly pulls it out.

Making his way back to the kitchen, a sudden thought hits him.

I can't leave them like this.

And without another thought, he begins the ceremony for his parents. One by one he drags them to the living room and covers them with bed sheets.

Saying his final goodbye, he tearfully makes his way toward the garage, with backpack in tow. Unlocking the cabinet door, he is welcomed by an array of weapons.

Looking for his favorite, the Beretta nine caliber pistol, with its wood handle finish. Greeted by his weapon of choice, Richie loads the beautiful pistol, thankful that he won't be alone during this night.

His father gave him this gun as a gift hoping that they can share those father son days together at the range. This was the only thing he liked to shoot, as the shotgun always left bruises on his shoulder. Shoving all the pistol ammunition into his bag, he looks up and sees the 12 gauge shot gun, starting back at him with an evil grin on its face.

Deciding whether or not to bring it, he realizes that it's better to be safe than sorry.

No telling what's out there.

Thankful that the harness is attached, he throws it around his shoulder as the heavy gun hangs off his back, and loads his backpack with shotgun ammunition. Filling the rest of his bag with water bottles, he is ready for the night.

Hopefully I won't have to use any of this stuff.

Before he opens the garage, something shiny catches his eye and he sees his fathers bayonet, hanging on the cabinet door and remembers his fathers advice.

"No matter what adventure you go on, be it hiking, hunting or whatever, always take this knife with you. My father told me the same thing and his father did before him."

Reaching out, he grabs the large knife and unsheathes it, admiring the old blade as it looks brand new. His father was very proud of that knife as it was passed on through generations, and when Richie was ready, he too would have it.

Feeling its weight on his hands, he can feel his families' history, knowing that he must fight to live on, for their sake.

Fighting back the tears that are swelling up, he puts it back in the sheath and attaches it to his belt. Now he is ready.

Opening the garage door, he slowly makes his way to the front and looks around, the air is so quiet, that a drop of a pin could be heard.

Looking up at the dark sky, Richie is greeted by the full moon, bright and lively as ever. Looking back at his house one last time, he says his final fare well and continues on.

Not before long, he is confronted by a low hiss and growl. With his baseball bat at the ready, Richie looks around for the noise. The growl grows louder as a dark shadow bolts out of the bushes, and in front of him is the neighborhood cat, Pumpkin.

Pumpkin looks mad…

As Richie looks closer, the feline's fur is falling apart as there are many patches missing and a chunk of its ear torn off. Fresh blood displays around its mouth as it seems that Richie disturbed its eating.

Pumpkin continues to hiss at Richie and looks ready to pounce at any moment. Looking around desperately, Richie tries to find its owners, who are no where to be seen. He always despised this cat because this cat was infamously known to make messes where ever it goes, and if you leave something outside he will take it.

Richie has been scratched by this bastard many times when he tried to make peace with it and finally came to terms that this cat is the devil.

Slowly edging closer to Pumpkin, Richie readies his bat, recalling that when close enough the cat always lunges at its aggressor and to his joy, Pumpkin did just that. With a swing of his bat, he send the ferocious feline across the street.

"MEEOOWAGHHH!"

Screeches the demonic creature, landing not so gracefully.

"Hehe, home run you bastard."

Richie trots toward the cat chuckling to himself as he finally gave that cat a taste of its own medicine. Pumpkin lays on the ground, twitching and choking on his own blood.

Having pity for the poor creature, Richie takes out his pistol and aims it at the creatures head.

"So long Pumpkin."

Pulling the trigger, a loud bang echoes through the street, sending the feline to its permanent slumber. Richie tucks the gun away, feeling the hot metal touch his skin.

Looking around to see if anyone will come rushing out from the loud gun shot, he is met only with silence.

Crouching to get a better look at the cat, he remembers something, something that happened earlier today. Richie's mom was scratched by Pumpkin, which is very strange because she is the only one in the neighborhood that Pumpkin likes.

Was it Pumpkin that caused her to change like that?

Thinking hard, Richie focuses back later in the day when he was eating dinner with his parents and the curious scratch that changed everything…


Earlier that day…

"Hey mom, I'm home!"

I announced as I walk through the front door, greeted with the aroma of chicken and potatoes,

mmmm my favorite.

"Hi honey, how was school today?"

Mom yells from the kitchen. Making my way, I see her tossing salad into the air,

man I wish I could do that and not make a mess.

"School was, eh, ok." Sneaking past her to the pantry, trying not to arouse suspicion, I eat two sugar cookies.

"Don't spoil your dinner! I made your favorite." She says, playfully throwing a hand towel at me.

"Haha I know, the smell slapped me in the face when I walked in. What's the occasion?" She looks at me after placing the salad onto the dinner table, with a big smirk on her face.

"We know how much you wanted to go to Spain this year for that study abroad program, and well, since we had to tighten our belts around here, we finally found a way to send you there!"

This day went from bad to great!

"Really? Oh man, I don't know what to say! Thank you!" I run and give her a tight hug, surprised by the wonderful news.

Our family has had it rough, ever since my dad was let go from Umbrella. He was on security detail, and apparently when you work for Umbrella, asking questions will get you fired.

He asked one too many and they finally let him go, cutting off his benefits and everything, the bastards.

So since then, he has been doing odd jobs here and there, trying to make an income for his family. Mom went back as a librarian, bringing the little income that she makes over there.

Yet, she always has a smile on her face, always trying to look at the positives for everything.

Still in her embrace, she reminds me that its time for dinner and that I should wash up. Before I leave, I see a bandage around her forearm, from all the excitement I must have missed it.

"Hey mom what happened to your arm?" I wash up at the kitchen sink instead.

"Oh, Pumpkin scratched me."

Son of a…

"I was feeding him this morning after you left and for some reason when I tried to pet him, he hissed at me, and when I tried again, he scratched me. There is something wrong with that cat, I've never seen him like this. I think he's sick or something."

She rubs the bandage as she recalls the events of that strange morning.

"You should get it checked out, he might have rabies or something like that. You don't want to catch whatever he's got, the bastard."

I mutter the last part under my breath, yet somehow she heard me because she throws me a dirty look.

"Go get your father."

Heading towards the stairs, I stroll along the hallway, dumping my backpack in my room before making my way to my parents' room. "Hey dad, dinners ready."

Peeking through I see him watching the news.

"The gruesome killings continued today as two more hikers were found in the Arklay mountains today, their bodies mutilated. Forensics show that these attacks are done by wild dogs or small bears, they are still uncertain. Eye witnesses say they are beginning to see strange things happening within the city, yet there is no confirmation of that. Umbrella spokesman…"

Turning of the television, my dad curses under his breath at the mention of Umbrella and gets up off the bed, stretching his arms over his head.

"Man, there are weird things happening around here, and it's sad to see the S.T.A.R.S unit being broken apart like that."

Ever since he was let go, he has a part time job at the Raccoon City Police Department as a night guard and has come to meet a few of the officers. Chris Redfield is someone he talks very highly of, and I was able to meet him once.

You can tell that something terribly happened those months ago.

"Alright kiddo lets go eat."

Slapping my back, nearly knocking me over, we make our way to the kitchen, laughing at how fun it would be to set a trap for Pumpkin. Yea, we both hate that damn cat.

Sitting at our usual spots, we begin to serve our plates, I serve mom first since she worked so hard to make it.

As we begin to eat, I notice she is eating very quickly, also forgetting her table manner.

She must be really hungry?

"Slow down honey, or you'll choke." Jokes my dad, who has a worried look on his face,

"I'm sorry, just never realized how hungry I was."

Watching my mom devour the chicken breast, makes me a little queasy, and I just pick at my food, losing my appetite.

"Give me your chicken if you're not going to eat it, don't want to waste any food."

She swipes the chicken off my plate without giving me a chance to hand it to her, "honey are you ok?"

My dad has put his fork down and the concern is etched larger onto his face, something is up but what?

Without responding, mother finishes her plate and begins to lick it.

Eewww mom, what are you doing?

"Oh my, that was so delicious!"

Clearing the table, my dad and I are shocked that she finished so fast and is actually clearing our plates as well.

"I wasn't finished yet, what's the matter with you?"

Protests my dad who is beginning to look aggravated.

"I'M FINE!"

Explodes mom, throwing the dishes into the garbage can, shattering a few plates along the way.

Stunned, we stare at her, unable to figure out what the problem is, and before we could say anything, she runs up stairs crying, we hear the door slam to their room.

"What… the hell… just happened?"

Unable to comprehend the question, I sit there frozen.

I never saw mom act this way before…

"I… I think its rabies… Pumpkin was acting strange too and he did scratch her pretty bad."

Cursing under his breath, dad gets up, heading towards the stairs.

"I'll go see if she's ok, if you see that stupid cat, kill it."

Leaving me to my thoughts, I hear my parents upstairs, and they begin to shout.

"DON'T TOUCH ME! I'LL KILL YOU IF YOU LAY A FINGER ON ME!"

What the hell? What's going on up there?

"CRASH! THUD…"

Oh shit!

Trying to hear more, I'm left with silence…

Oh shit oh shit.

I slowly make my way to the stairs, trying really hard to hear the faintest sound… nothing.

Climbing the flight of stairs I see the door slightly open, and with each step I dare myself to get any closer.

I hope they're ok…

As I get closer, I hear a loud chewing sound, lips smacking.

Are they chewing gum?

The sound of something ripping, like when you rip off the skin from a chicken leg, yet this sounds a lot nastier…

Building up the courage I peek over the corner, all the air getting knocked out of me, as I see my mother, eating dads face…It all feels like a bad dream.

This has to be a bad dream, wake up Richie… WAKE UP!

"MOM NOO!"


~Hi everyone! Here is a new chapter. I dont usually post writings for everyone to see but here it is!

It starts off pretty sad but it will evolve into something else, hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoy writing it!

Best Regards,

A.H