September 26, 1998 10:30 PM
There were so many of them. While martial law had been declared and extensive news coverage of the riots the previous day he had no idea it was this bad. Every street littered with corpses. Walking or otherwise. They were in almost every building and every alley way. Slowly Alex made his way through the labyrinth of alley ways, side streets, and store fronts. Always cautious of anything lurking around a corner or behind a window.
Every now and then he would have to make a run for it. Only that left many a chance for him to find a dead end or barricade. Already he had burned through a couple of his ten round magazines only a few hours ago after making a wrong turn with a group of ghouls on his tail. He wasn't about to make the same mistake twice. The next few might turn out to be fatal. It also taught him a little about what kind of threat he was dealing with. The "zombies" were able to take severe punishment without going down. A shot to the head or spine dropped them quickly. They would still go down if enough damage was inflicted to the body.
As he neared the end of the alley he spotted another across the street. The area in front of him was clear. Slowly he moved up the end of the wall. No sign of anything for at least twenty yards to the left. The trailer from a large transfer truck was tipped over on it's side blocking that end of the street. He turned and peeked around the corner to check out the other end of the street. A few bodies. Now or never, he thought. From what he could see there was no threat to be found.
Slowly he moved out into the street. As he crossed over the mutilation of the bodies became more noticeable. It looked to be the work of an animal than a zombie. What the hell, he thought moving closer to get a better look. A low growl whispered from underneath a nearby car. More were heard. Up the street a dog slowly began to creep into view. Glancing underneath the car he made eye contact with a German Shepard missing most of it's fur and skin. His eyes dropped to the toothy maw before he swung his rifle around and fired off a shot. The sound of trash cans being knocked over caused him to bolt.
There was a blur at the corner of his eye. Claws skittered on the pavement as it missed him. Fuck, he thought as he stopped short in the alley way. A large barricade loomed in front of him. Someone had parked a panel truck in the entrance, flattened the tires, and kicked all sorts of rubbish around the bottom. Another growl was heard. Slowly turning he spotted a door to his right. He tried turning the handle. It didn't move. Shit, shit shit, he thought shaking the door. Something clanged on the other side and it swung inward.
Alex practically dove inside. Hitting the floor he quickly kicked it shut and held it there with his legs. Looking to his left the hallway was clear. A section of angle iron from a railing was lying on the floor. He assumed it was what held the door shut. Snatching it up he felt something slam into the door. "No kibbles and bits for you." he muttered jamming the section of metal between the door and the wall bracing it shut. Slowly he rose to his feet trying to get a feel for what kind of building he was in.
Pulling the flashlight off his belt he switched it on for a second. Making sure the red lens was in place before leaving it on. A piece of cork board nailed to the wall held a collage of paperwork. Sticky notes, memos, and lists of shipping dates. All of it suggested some kind of warehouse. The broken lock suggested someone might have gained entrance before he did. More reason for him to stay on his toes. There were no blood stains on the wall or the floor. Nor was there any trash or debris scattered about. A good sign at least.
Hopefully he would be able to find a radio or some other way to gather information about a safe place within the city. Either that or some place where they evacuated civilians. What few police checkpoints he had run across were abandoned. Leaving him to assume the entire RPD had pulled back to the Cedar District. He was fairly certain main street was a death trap to be avoided at all costs. Even though there were a few places where he could cross, but that was only if the side streets were empty.
With the rifle slung across his back he started moving deeper into the warehouse. Gently he pushed open the door at the end of the hall. Keeping the revolver trained on the dead space. All was quiet in the next room. Boxes on top of shipping pallets were stacked neatly in the middle of the room. A forklift was parked beside the large shipping doors. A set of steps ascended to an office to his left. Good place to start looking, he thought. He paused for a moment to check one of the boxes. Uspirim and the Umbrella logo were printed in bold on the shipping label. "Too bad I don't have a headache." he chuckled.
Same time...
Things are not looking good. That was the thought that stuck in Joseph's mind. He had stumbled onto the warehouse earlier by pure luck. It was empty and easy to secure. Which made it ideal for a brief rest and a few seconds to assess the situation. He had been separated from his platoon after Aiken Street was overrun. Khoury had the map. So he was forced to run blind through the alley ways hoping to catch up with someone or find a rally point. Unfortunately everyone was lost in the urban sprawl. His radio wasn't working on top of that.
The Clock Tower was the main staging area and evacuation point. As far as he knew he was long way from reaching it. Especially with the rate of infection within the city. He had yet to see a single living person. So far all he encountered for ten square miles was the walking dead. Along with other nightmares in the little shop of horrors he had fast roped into. Hideous insect like creatures nearly two feet taller than he stood and spiders the size of rottweilers. Along with skinless reptilian creature he spotted crawling up the side of an apartment building.
So far he was pretty good on ammunition. Almost fifty shotgun shells. Mixed slug and buckshot. Four magazines for his pistol. He'd have to hang onto those as long as he could. 9mm cartridges would be plenty, but magazines for the Jericho would be about as common as a two dollar bill. Walking over to the window he peeked down into the storage area. A small red light moved from the door up to the office. He couldn't make out the person holding it, but he was dead certain they were armed. It was next to impossible for anyone to make it this far in the city unarmed. Hopefully someone who could help him get to the Clock Tower.
As the sound of foot steps on the stairs grew louder Joseph flattened himself against the wall next to the door. When the door creaked open the first thing he spotted as the barrel of a gun. When the arm holding it appeared he grabbed their wrist and snatched them through the threshold. Tearing the revolver from their grasp he felt a sharp pain in his shin causing him to drop it. With a low yelp he grabbed them by the shoulder and neck before hurling them into the room. His assailant hit the ground side first and slid across the floor. The flashlight slid back behind the desk.
Before they could ready the rifle they pulled off their person Joseph tore across the room making a grab at the weapon. To his surprise they tossed it to the side, grabbed the collar of his vest, and yanked him down to the floor. The stranger was on their feet right as he recovered. Plowing into their mid-section Joseph lifted them off the floor and slammed them down onto the desk. Right as he let go there was a bright flash of light and he stumbled back. He lifted his arms just in time to block a drawer from the desk that was hurled at him. All he could see was red as he heard the hammer of a gun being cocked.
"You want this to continue?" the stranger asked. Glancing to the side of the room Joseph could see the rifle and the revolver. Too far for him to make a move for them. Not without catching some lead. The gun must have come out of the drawer. Slowly he raised his hands. "That's better." Both flashlight and gun were lowered. The stranger turned out to be a civilian going by the blue jeans and beat up leather jacket. Most unusual piece of clothing was the bandoleer and patrol belt. Loaded down with ammunition. Didn't know I picked a fight with a modern day Pancho Villa, Joseph thought.
"You're lucky. I usually shoot at lights." Joseph said with an amused smirk. It was partially true. In an dangerous area with armed men looking for him, he wouldn't hesitate to fire on someone running around with a flashlight. Fortunately for the stranger the outbreak had changed that operating procedure. He wasn't about dust another person. Unless they shot at him first. Slowly he lowered his hands and glanced at the floor. A keyboard broken in half was lying on the floor. With most of the keys scattered around. Of all the things to get hit with, he thought, a fucking keyboard. "Do I get a name or do I get to call you Pancho?" he asked.
"Alexander Paulson. Alex to keep it short and sweet." the stranger answered. It was hard to tell under the red light, but it looked like Alex would have passed for his younger brother. If Joseph had one that is. "I take it that's your scatter gun over there in the corner?" Alex asked nodding the his 870 propped up against the wall. He left it there thinking it would get in the way when he tried to subdue Alex. It was hard enough to fight the guy empty handed. With a weapon getting it would have been a nightmare. "Surprised you didn't go for it after tossing me across the floor like a Great Dane using a Chihuahua for a chew toy."
"I wanted you alive. Got a little bit of a problem here." Joseph smiled. Taking a few steps back he picked up the shotgun and slung it over his shoulder. A little problem still seemed like a little bit of an overstatement. "I got cut off from my platoon. Never set foot in this city until today. I've got no map and my radio is dead. Sadly you're the only living civilian I've run across so far. Luckily for you my job is find survivors, keep them safe, and get them to the evacuation point. Lucky for me you're a resident here. Which means I've got a guide now. So what do you say we stick together and get the hell out of this city? Fair deal is it not?"
"Fair enough. You a cop? Military?" Alex asked? He lowered the hammer on the revolver and slipped it into his pocket. Clipping the flashlight onto his belt he moved across the room to retrieve his weapons. Joseph made no move to stop him. There was no reason to. Even with the little scuffle both knew it would be best to stick together than risk another fight. One where neither of the two would leave the room alive. They needed each other to get out of the city as well. Alex as a guide and Joseph to get him out of the city itself.
"Neither. Private security service. Umbrella Biological Countermeasure Service."Joseph answered. He walked over to the corner and picked up his shotgun. Giving it a quick check before slinging it on his shoulder. "We were sent to help local law enforcement keep a handle on things. As well as to conduct search and rescue operations within Raccoon. You can see how well that is going so far." he explained. "The outbreak was a little bigger than we had expected." Now that's a major understatement on my part, he thought.
"So far I have seen no trace of Raccoon's finest. Other than a few road blocks, barricades, and abandoned check points. You're the first I've seen of military. Yes, you're military I've worked with your type before. I'm guessing jar head by the way your demeanor and the way you talk." Alex grinned. It was a little surprising to Joseph that his branch of service had been uncovered so easily. There was something usual about the civilian he was dealing with. Always possible he could have been prior service. The end of the Cold War and Desert Storm was a bad day for the military. Which was why the military's grasp on the situation at hand wasn't so firm.
"How about yourself? You don't exactly look the type, but you seem like it." Joseph asked. Watching Alex walk around to the desk and start digging through the drawers. He shrugged before pulling out a box of pistol cartridges and slipped them into his pocket. Fishing through the junk again he was rewarded with a Zippo lighter. "Smoking is bad for you. Then again I think it would be the least of my worries in a city filled with the walking dead." he joked.
"Not military. Not even in the boy scouts. While I do love the deal about always being prepared." Alex said. With the scavenging done he started moving toward the door. "Grand dad was in the Army. Long time ago. About as close as I get to any branch of service. I'm just your average ordinary tax paying law abiding citizen. Who's seen a lot of crazy shit, has done a lot of crazy shit, and has a lot of tricks up his sleeve. Don't smoke and you can already tell I fight dirty." he added sweeping some of the loose buttons from the keyboard to the side.
"Well. Now that all this is out the way I suggest we get a move on. Lead, follow, or step aside." he laughed as he chambered a fresh round into the shotgun.
Well.... Slowly but surely I'm finally putting this little story together. Hope you enjoyed it. Until next time...
-Sanchez-
