September 24th 1998- 2230:

By the time Doug finally got back to the police station it was late into the evening, and the police station was the most packed he had ever seen. Officers were running around, not knowing whether they were coming or going, shouting at each other things like "where are the rifles?" and "Anybody got a spare gun I can borrow?" The locations where the firearms and ammunition should be were empty, as a result of the guns and ammunition being scattered around the station. Marvin jumped up onto the desk in the middle of the station's main hall and whistled loudly.

"Attention everyone!" He yelled, his voice echoing throughout the main hall. "Grab what gear you can- We're going to rescue the civilians!" There was a large rush, and in no time at all, the main hall was empty, save for the Select Police Force members who stayed behind to secure the weapons caches, with Doug being one of those members.

September 26th- 0745:

Doug had sheltered himself along with two civilians in the clock tower of the police station, an area that the undead populace of the city would find hard to access due to the ladder that had to be climbed to get up there. Inside the clock tower was a cache of weapons and ammunition, amongst which was a shotgun that Doug was clutching in his left hand, his index finger on the trigger. The two civilians, a male in his late thirties and a woman in her early twenties, had been given handguns in order to defend themselves. They had heard a lot of commotion from downstairs, the zombies had broken through the defences and attacked the remaining officers in the police station. Doug had been up in the clock tower for two days, not moving from the spot he was in. They were running out of food and they had to move. When the noise had died down, Scott ordered the two civilians to follow him. Quietly, they made their way down into the library via the stair case where all was quiet. From the library, they entered the main hall. From the balcony overlooking the main hall, they saw that the room that was full of police officers two days before was completely void of life. Ordering the two survivors to follow him, Doug headed round to the other side of the room and into the same secretary's office as he had been when she told him about the Chief going mental at her for moving one of this statues. They headed through to the other side and took a right, where they found themselves in a dark corridor that was used to access the rooftop helipad where the S.T.A.R.S team had landed when they returned from the mansion. They used an emergency stairwell to head down into the east offices, where they discovered the offices tidy and appeared to be unaffected by the attack that had been ravaging for the last hour and a half. Doug then led the survivors down into the garage and towards the cells, where sure enough, Eric and Keith were still in their cell. Doug grabbed a key off the wall and unlocked the cell.

"You two: Out. Now." Without any hesitation, Eric and Keith were on their feet and out of the cell. Doug then moved towards the one at the end, where Ben was sleeping.

"Ben! Get up now!" Doug shouted, rattling the cell bars. Ben rolled over and lifted his head up to see Doug and the others staring at him. "Ben, we're getting you out of here. Come on!" Ben put his head back down on the bed.

"Not a chance" he laughed. "I'm not going anywhere, and you can't make me." Doug wasn't really in the mood for games, so he pushed the key through the bars, letting them hit the concrete floor with a metallic rattle. In addition to this, he also put the key to his patrol car in.

"Fine then. If you change your mind, the keys to car fifty one are in there too." He then turned to Keith and handed him a key.

"The keys to your Lincoln" He told them. "Get out of here as soon as you can." Keith took his key and the survivors made a break for it. Doug did not go with them though, as a police officer he felt it was still his duty to protect the citizens of Raccoon City even though things were looking grim. He knew that Marvin and many others were still in the station. Mere moments after Keith and the others had left, a swarm of Select Police Force members entered the garage in full body armour, as well as the majority of the remaining officers. One of the S.P.F officers was carrying an extra helmet and MP5 sub machine gun, and he gave them to Doug.

"We're going for one last stand against them" the officer told him from behind his balaclava. "Grab some gear, because this is going to get messy."

Doug knew where some heavy weaponry would be kept, so he ran back to the library as a short cut to the S.T.A.R.S office, knowing some ammunition would be in there, since nobody except the S.T.A.R.S members ever went in there. Noticing that the emergency ladder in the main hall was in the down position, he scrambled up it and quickly ran through the door to the library. Inside was another officer: Ed, from homicide. He was about ten years older than Doug, into his thirties, but he was still young at heart. He was dressed in his plain clothes, standard for detectives. Normally Ed was a cool, calm and collected individual, but on this occasion, he had a look of panic upon his face.

"Doug, get out of here now! The..." There was a gun shot that went through Ed's back and exited through his heart. Ed fell to his knees and fell over to one side, facing up at the ceiling. Behind Ed at the other door into the library, Chief Irons stood holding a handgun.

"Not a single one of you will live past nightfall" He said coldly, pointing the gun at Doug, who dropped his and stood with his hands in the air. "Those idiots from Umbrella have destroyed my city, and for that, no one will escape alive. If you're thinking of going out through the lower levels, don't bother. I've made sure every escape route from the city is unreachable." The Chief lowered his gun and gave Doug a sly smile. "Tell you what, I'm going to count to ten real slow, and give you a head start on getting away. I've heard a lot about you, so you'll be the most fun to track down." Doug held his breath and waited for the Chief to change his mind, knowing that what was going on only happened in movies, but instead Irons turned to leave. As Irons ran to the door, Doug grabbed his handgun and fired three shots at the fleeing Chief of Police. All three missed and embedded into the door. Doug got down on one knee to check on Ed, but it was no use- He was gone. Doug now knew that Ben was right about the Chief having dealings with Umbrella, and he had to be stopped. But right now, a bigger task was at hand- Making a final stand against the undead.

September 26th 1998- 1945:

"Alright everybody, listen up!" An officer's voice boomed as he stood on the bonnet of a patrol car. All the available officers, Doug amongst them, sat on the floor with weapons in hand. Doug was still in the same style of uniform that he had been wearing the night he had to break into that warehouse to rescue the civilians. He looked around at the rest of the officers, some of whom he had never spoken to before, but at this point in time they felt like they all knew each other like brothers, and these officers were also the only volunteers for this seemingly suicidal mission.

"We're going to head to Jackson Street where we will set up a large road block and attempt to gun these things down. Word has also been received by our runner that Umbrella has dropped a paramilitary unit into the city to help us. They will meet us there and help us contain whatever those creatures are." He then looked down at the officer sat next to Doug. "Sergeant McCandlish will be head of this operation." The officer gestured to the Sergeant, who stood up and gave them the briefing. His uniform was similar to that of Doug's, only he had a balaclava in his right hand which he would be wearing on the mission, as well as full body armour and a Kevlar helmet. As a sergeant he was older than most of the other officers in the room, approaching his mid forties but still athletically built and showed no signs of age. His blonde hair was cut incredibly short and he had a presence in the room, making the officers look up and listen carefully.

"Here's the plan" McCandlish began, looking incredibly serious. "As Lieutenant Lastimosa has already explained we'll block off Jackson Street, dig ourselves in and pump those little fuckers full of lead. As we are all in this together, I have been taking suggestions from you guys all afternoon and we have come up with a plan with help from Doug and a couple of others. Jackson Street is not too far from Brookmere Road, where there is a large industrial estate, it's a ten minute walk, but if you're running you'll be there in a lot less time than that. Should things go south, you are to head for 1741 Brookmere Road. If the order is given to retreat, you run, and nobody stops until they reach that rendezvous point. Is that clear?" The group replied "yes sir" in unison, and several other traffic officers were recruited to help park some cars in the way, as well as provide transport.

"We have also been told that the massive explosion on Main Street two days ago was the work of Kevin Ryman and a couple of others. We haven't seen them since, although it is rumoured Ryman has escaped with some refugees, although that is only speculation." Several officers looked at Doug, knowing how close the two of them were, but in his head, Doug knew Kevin was still alive, even though he didn't really want to think about that right now, he had bigger things to take care of.

September 26th 1998- 2021:

The van Doug was travelling in arrived at Jackson Street where a few patrol cars had already been parked to form a blockade. The sun had set and what light that remained had been effectively shut out due to the thick black clouds that had rolled in off the mountains in the last few hours. Spots of rain began to fall on the ground and made a hollow metallic clang when it hit the cars. As the police officers began to dig themselves in, a group of large Russian helicopters flew over and hovered above them, with the Umbrella logo emblazoned on the belly of the what appeared to be green aircraft. Several men began fast roping down to them and also dug in.

"What the hell is all this?" McCandlish asked aloud. A large man in grey combat trousers, a green jacket with black boots and black tactical vest approached him. He spoke in a thick Russian accent, although his English was near perfect.

"Nicholai Ginoveaf- Umbrella Biohazard Countermeasures Service" he announced with authority, holding his M4 Carbine in a ready position. Sergeant McCandlish didn't say a word, just nodded. He didn't want to ask questions, he saw a bunch of guys carrying assault rifles who were from a company that provided medical care to billions, and that was backup enough for him. Doug checked the MP5 he had been given for anything that could fail and took up position behind a car, getting down on one knee and pointing the gun up the street, while using the bonnet and front quarter panel of the car for cover. A young Hispanic man in the same colours as the U.B.C.S sergeant took up position next to him and they exchanged glances, but neither said a word.

"Here they come!" One officer shouted as the distant groans and shuffling got closer and closer. A whole horde of the walking dead was approaching them, and the officers and their new friends in the U.B.C.S got into a ready position.

"Wait for it..." McCandlish called to them. The adrenaline began to pump through the officers' bodies.

"Wait for it..."

"Come on..." Doug thought to himself. "Just a little closer..."

It had felt like time had slowed down. Those walkers could have been only a hundred feet away, but for the police who were brave enough to stand up against them, they were about a mile away. Doug felt like he was in some weird dream in that he was part of a B Horror movie that had no director and the events of this movie were in real life. For the first time in a couple of days, Doug was now genuinely scared, and it was too late to opt out now. The young man beside him held a frag grenade in his right hand, with his left hand on the pin. In what seemed the longest ten seconds anyone had experienced, McCandlish finally ordered weapons free. The pin on the grenade was pulled and thrown a good distance, exploding and blowing the walking dead limb from limb. The police fired at the horde, but the bullets did not seem to be doing anything and they were going through clips like no tomorrow. Dropping the MP5 Doug pulled a shotgun and fired just as a zombie came within about five feet of the patrol car he was camped behind. He pulled the trigger at near point blank range- The spread shot of the shotgun decapitating three of the zombies and showering the others with decayed brains and blood with the now dead walkers falling to their knees and falling what would be face first to the concrete

"Go for the head!" he yelled to the others.

But the call came too late. The zombies overran the barricade and began to tuck into the officers and the U.B.C.S. Before officers could react and turn to run they too were taken down, and Doug swore he could hear McCandlish yelling for them to run. Doug did so, knowing the suicidal position he was in, and he helped a fellow officer to his feet and began to run with him north towards the emergency rally point.

He wasn't going to go that way...

Or back the way he was facing...

He was trapped, but then he heard a group of officers shouting from inside an alley, and he ran towards them as the rest of the undead convened around the fallen, one of them just brushing Doug's arm, but didn't scratch or otherwise injure him. One of the seven officers who had survived had twisted his ankle and they needed to get somewhere safe. The only place they knew they could dig into that they knew well was the last bastion of hope for everybody who had survived up to this point regardless if they were a police officer, a firefighter, a doctor or a civilian: The R.P.D building. Using alleys and side streets, the officers pushed forward, with the injured officer surrounded by the others as they covered his position. Two civilians who had been hiding in a shop came running out and joined the group, hoping that they could find safety in the police station, and during the mammoth trek back, Doug began to learn what made these 'things' become attracted to their position. The obvious one was smell, but Doug had made two other observations: One of which becoming apparent as another officer shot a zombie between the eyes and four other undead civilians who were nowhere near at the time came shuffling round a street corner. These undead monsters, despite their very basic motor skills, could also hear. This theory was also proved when Doug spotted a group of them searching a damaged car that had its alarm blaring out across the street, as well as the noise of the roaring fires that had been caused as a result of gas mains getting ruptured and igniting through gunfire or the U.B.C.S deploying flash or frag grenades. Doug could only look around in disbelief as to what was going on. Raccoon City was such a peaceful town, but then again, it was also under the grip of Umbrella. Doug knew that the virus that Chris and the other S.T.A.R.S members had written about had caused all this, and now he didn't want to know what had caused it as he vowed to keep what he knew secret from everybody that he knew, including his co-workers, his family and his friends. Not that it mattered anymore, most of them were probably dead, although he was kept sane by knowing his parents and his sister were very much alive as they lived far out of town.

But then he stopped.

What if the virus had gone state-wide in the last two months? What if Raccoon City wasn't the only town infected? Stoneville, Denver, Aspen... Colorado could have been under the control of the undead by now. But they were not going to know that- The city had been shut off to the outside world, there was no way of sending a message to the police control centre, there was no way out. Only confusion and the feeling that they were just being left here to die. But Doug and the group he was with were not like that. They still had a job to do, and if there were no civilians left to save, the only people they could save were themselves. For all intents and purposes, they were still on duty, even though everybody around them was dead or dying. The gunshots behind them continued for another five minutes and slowly began to fade out like an 80s stadium rock song as one by one, U.B.C.S members and the brave volunteers from the Raccoon City Police Department were killed by the zombie mass.

They got back to the police station about twenty minutes later. They were tired, they were out of breath and they were shaken, but Doug seemed to muster the strength to run ahead as he pounded on the main double doors of the police station, as the other officers inside had locked it, due to an assault by the dead while Doug and his friends were gone. It was now raining outside, giving Doug an improvised shower since he had not had one since the day he shot that zombie in the police station's underground car park. He shouted for someone to let them in as the others came up behind. He pounded and shouted for at least a minute before finally he heard someone unlocking the door on the other side and opening it slightly to take a peek: Marvin.

"Doug" He said with a look of surprise as he opened the door fully to allow the others to enter. "Is everybody else behind you?" Doug didn't say anything. As far as he was concerned, they were everybody. David Ford was also in the main hall, and he led the survivors to the confiscation room on the second floor. On a normal day, the police would be there in moments, but tonight, the walk seems like an eternity and they had never thought of having to walk through the corridors with guns drawn and having to cover each others' backs.

The building was an old art museum, converted into the police station in the late 1980s, as the art museum was closed due to lack of interest and the police department needed a bigger precinct. Instead of having a new, larger police station built at the tax payers' expense, the Raccoon City Police Department simply knocked a few walls down and put some desks in the various rooms of the old art gallery. A move deemed as win-win by the city council. Chief Brian Irons himself was an art fanatic, as various pieces of artwork were placed around the station. The station's interior was considered 'old school' by the officers and suited the art gallery more than it suited the police station. In the main hall that they had entered, the R.P.D's emblem was painted on the floor in front of a massive statue of a woman holding a jug, something that looked very out of place. Behind the statue was a desk which served as main reception, where there was a computer that had had data regarding visitors and also controlled the electronic locks on doors within the hall. One of these doors was directly opposite the desk on the left hand side as people entered. Through here was an office area where members of the S.P.F had desks. One of the desks in this room had paper plates and party hats on it, as if it was someone's birthday or that a rookie had just joined. Immediately on the left as people walked through the main doors was another door that led into another waiting area and to a door within this room that led into the west wing of the station. This room was left relatively tidy, and the door at the back of this room was boarded shut to keep unwanted visitors at bay. Opposite the door to this room was a double door that led towards the east offices and a corridor down to interrogation and the press room, as well as another corridor that was found via the east offices that led to the stairs to the basement and the night watchman's room. Also located near the east offices was the fire exit stairs that allowed easy access to the first floor, and this is where the survivors were heading. Once upstairs, they joined the others. David Ford and Elliot Edward, two officers Doug knew well, were in here and they were able to catch their breath, get some sleep and check ammunition stocks. The next afternoon, David added extra notes to his operation report:

Three additional people were killed following the sudden appearance of an as of yet unknown creature.
This creature is identified by missing patches of skin and razor-like claws. However, its most distinguishing characteristic is its lance-like tongue, capable of piercing a human torso in an instant.
Their numbers as well as their location remains unknown. we have tentatively named this creature the "licker" and are currently in the process of developing countermeasures to deal with his new threat.
"A licker?" Doug asked as he read what David had written. "What the hell is one of those?" "You'll know when you see it" David replied. "It killed three guys in the east halls. It was a bloodbath." David had a shotgun in his right hand and looked like the only way to get hold of it was to pry it from his cold, dead hands. Unbeknownst to the others, David had also written a memo that he was going to place somewhere in the station where survivors could read it.
My sanity is at its end... I still can't believe this is happening. We lost another man yesterday. Meyer; one of our better marksmen. He saw me panic once we were overrun by the zombies, but he came back to save me.
But when the time came to return the debt, I ran. I can still hear him calling out my name. I can still hear the screams coming from behind. The sound of his flesh being stripped from his bones. I was afraid... Terrified...
It's the 27th. The fight to stay alive continues. I took out several zombies who managed to break through the barricades. Now I'm cutting through the chill with whiskey, unloading my Mossberg on anything undead. That shogun has become my best friend. I've blasted many a zombie into fertilizer with it.
We've lost thirteen men as of yesterday. In three hours, we'll bicker over trivial things in the meeting room. It's a total fucking waste of time. When I finish this bottle, my old friend Mossberg will be turning one last body into fertilizer. Peace at last.
I can hardly wait...
"We've gotta get out of here" Elliot announced. "Yeah, thanks Captain Obvious" Iain, one of the officers who arrived with Doug scoffed. Tensions had been running high since they got back. The officers were starting to lose their mind and they knew the end was imminent. "What's your damn problem?" Elliot asked, standing up. Iain also stood up and there was a tense confrontation. "All I'm saying is that it's all well and good saying that we need to leave when going out on to those streets is suicidal. We're the only cops left! Plus who knows how many people are still alive out there that need rescuing." Elliot was taller and better built than Iain, who was thinner and younger. In his stressed out state, Elliot raised his handgun and pointed it between Iain's eyes with one outstretched hand. Immediately, Doug stood up and pointed his handgun at the side of Elliot's head with an outstretched hand. "This is not helping at all" he said sternly. "You pull that trigger, you not only kill him, but you'll attract more of those things to our position and all of us will be dead before you know it. So if any of you are thinking of blowing your brains out, you do it alone and away from those of us who still have the will to live." David began to look around the room. He was one of those people, but he didn't exactly want to die alone in a secluded area of the police station since the chances are he would be dead by the time he got to where it was he wanted to be. Elliot realised Doug was right and he promptly apologised and lowered his gun. "Elliot is right though." Doug continued. "We have to get out of here. If any civilians were still alive they'd be here by now. I know this sounds selfish but the time has come for us to save ourselves. There's very little we can do for these people now, especially when those things are constantly assaulting this building." He took hold of David's report. "Thirteen people lost in three days... That's good enough reason for us to leave." "But the door to the basement is locked" David told him. "And there's no power to the shutters in the garage." Doug checked the magazine on his Beretta, and realised he only had one round in the chamber. He headed for a box in the corner, where he remembered where he might find a new weapon. Inside the box was the Glock 17 he had taken from Ben when he had arrested him. Also in the room was a fully loaded shotgun that would serve him well. Doug checked his equipment and faced David, who was sat on the floor using a pile of boxes to keep him sat upright. "So lets go and restore the power then." He smiled. David looked down at his whiskey and realised that there was only a tiny sip left. He quickly swigged it and stood up to join Doug on their suicidal mission. It was now 1am on the morning of the 28th, although for the officers it felt like they had been stuck in this building for months, with time only seeming to pass while they slept, and it was through sleeping they had arrived at this time of day. Doug gingerly opened the door and looked around. The lights in the building were still on although they were dimmed, but he could still see where he was going. "The key is in the East Office" Elliot explained. "Should you get that door open, return it, because we don't know if any of those things have the intelligence to use keys." Doug nodded and left the room, with Elliot quietly closing it behind them. The shotgun and the Glock were the only protection he had, and he was hoping to whatever god existed that David was not too drunk to shoot if he had to. The floorboards beneath them creaked as they headed for the secretary's office that appeared to be just fine given the circumstances. It was as if no one had been through here since the outbreak. On the other side of the room was the door to the main hall, and this was opened incredibly carefully.
On the balcony that ran round the right hand wall, the back wall and round to the left hand side were a few of the officers who had died and reanimated as the walking dead. Doug drew the Glock and fired at the heads of them at close range, killing them instantly. They checked all around before heading round to the door to the library, as the emergency ladder that allowed emergency access to the ground floor was up and they didn't want to lower it in case the zombies could climb up it. They cautiously treaded through the library, with Doug stopping to liberate any handgun magazines from Ed's body. Two magazines for a Beretta 92FS, the standard issue handgun to R.P.D officers, were in the magazine pouches on Ed's brown leather shoulder holster, which was worn over his button up shirt but underneath his casual suit jacket to keep his gun concealed as he was a plain clothes detective rather than a regular officer.
Doug decided that on their way to the east office, they should stop by the S.T.A.R.S office to see if there was anything in there that could be used as a weapon and if there were any spare boxes of ammunition in there, as nobody had any real reason to be in there apart from the S.T.A.R.S members, and even in these desperate times, the surviving officers had not been in there. They poked their heads in. It was tidy, although Wesker's desk had been trashed, as if someone had been frantically searching for something specific. A box of shotgun shells sat on Barry's desk, and on Joseph's desk, David found a combat knife in its sheath. He exchanged this for the box of shotgun shells picked up by Doug and Doug strapped the knife sheath to his right thigh, with his handgun holster on his left, as he is not only a left handed shooter, he had been handed a couple of magazine pouches that could only be fitted to the black belt around his waist. As a result, his modifiable handgun holster had to go on his thigh. This didn't bother Doug that much. He found it more comfortable drawing from the thigh than the waist, and the extra magazines he could carry with him could mean the difference between life and death. "Have you seen this?" David asked, pointing at the bank of radio equipment used by S.T.A.R.S. The console had been smashed, burn marks on the olive green metal. "Irons..." Doug whispered to himself, knowing it was the chief that had done it. The zombies couldn't have done it, why would the radio equipment be totalled and the rest of the office bar Wesker's desk be intact? "You think Irons trashed that desk over there as well?" David asked, pointing at Wesker's desk. "No..." Doug replied. "Chris and Barry went through that when they got home from the mountains." David gave Doug a funny look. He had been in here before? Regular officers never got to see the inside of this office. "They were right..." David sighed, shaking his head before shouting. "Damn it Doug, they were right!" He swung at a pile of papers on Wesker's desk and caused them to crash to the floor before falling to his knees and sobbing. Doug placed his shotgun on Brad's desk and comforted his friend, whose sanity was hanging by a thread. All this time Doug had maintained a cool head but he too was feeling the strain; But he could not show any emotion because he would have just made David's condition worse. "Come on David" He said calmly, giving his friend a brotherly embrace. "This will all be over soon. We'll soon be out of here" He picked David to his feet and they left the office. They finally reached the stairwell and carefully made their way down, checking nooks and crannies for anything out of the ordinary. Forward they moved to the first door on their right, thinking that something may be of use in the briefing room. In this corridor all the windows were boarded up from the first attack on the 26th and glass and debris littered the floor. Inside the wrecked briefing room was nothing, so they pressed forward to give the entire floor a good check in the hope their missing weapons cache could be found. In the corridor ahead, there was a sight that shocked the pair of them: Blood... But it was everywhere: On the walls, on the ceiling and all over the floor, as if someone had been dragged away by something as it bled out, but no body or bodies were to be found. As they tiptoed a little further, they realised the had company: A sibilant hissing sound could be heard as well as what sounded like claws creeping over a surface...
And whatever it was jumped out at them, causing Doug to jump out of the way to the floor thanks to his quick reflexes, causing his uniform to be soaked in the still wet blood that was on the floor on his left side while David fired at the monstrosity, not being able to do anything to it, as if he was missing. The beast, which resembled a human being turned inside out with large muscle mass and an oversized brain and a large tongue turned to face David and thrust at him with its tongue, piercing his torso and heart and causing him to scream out in agony. The being put one foot on David's fallen torso and using its other foot proceeded to twist his head off, causing more blood to be sprayed over any surface nearby. Doug didn't need to think twice and he turned to run, not looking back, but feeling immense sorrow for the loss of his friend and co-worker. He was not the only person involved in carnage either, he could hear banging and gunshots coming from upstairs. Elliot and the others must have tried to move to somewhere else. Doug ran back to the corridor near the stairwell and turned right through the storage room into the east office to grab that key that the others could use to get into the basement. Slumped up against a locker near the door to the main hall was an African-American man in an R.P.D uniform: Marvin. "You're three minutes too late" Marvin panted, holding onto a wound that was slowly bleeding out. "You're here for the heart key, right? Here. Take it. Get out of here and don't turn back." "Marvin... I..." Doug couldn't figure what to say. He had just lost David and was now losing another friend, not just his superior officer. Doug bent down on one knee and checked the wound to see if it could be treated. It was an instinctive reaction, but he knew there was nothing he could do. Marvin would be one of the zombies soon, and there was nothing he could do to stop that. Reaching into his ammunition pouch, Doug gave Marvin a spare clip and stood up. "It's been a pleasure working with you sir" He managed to force a smile. Marvin coughed and laughed. "Just get Elliot and whoever is left out of here." Doug turned and headed back the way he came, just in time to see the other officers piling into the dark room. Doug followed them in and they locked themselves in the dark room.
"Where's David?" Elliot asked worriedly. Doug's silence explained it all. Elliot cursed and shouted as well as kicking a locker hard that was in the room. "And Marvin? And we also lost Joe and Gary on the way over here... Shit, shit, shit, shit SHIT!" He kicked the locked every time he swore, causing it to buckle from the impact with his boot. He grabbed a piece of paper and a pen that were in the room to write notes on the photographs that were developed in this room and checked his watch before writing an operation report:

September 28th

Early morning 2:30 AM. Zombies overran our operation room and another

battle broke out. We lost 4 more people, including David.

We're down to 4 people, including myself. We failed to secure the weapons

cache and hope for our survival continues to diminish. We won't last much longer...

We agreed upon a plan to escape through the sewer. There's a path leading

from the precinct underground to the sewage disposal plant. We should be

able to access the sewers through there. The only drawback is that there is no

guarantee the sewer disposal plant is free of any possible dangers.

We know our chances in the sewer are slim, but anything is better than simply

waiting here to die.

In order to buy more time, we locked the only door leading to the underground, which is located in the eastern office. We left the key behind in

the western office since its unlikely that any of those creatures have the

intelligence to find it and unlock the door.

I pray that this operation report will be helpful to whoever may find it.

Recorder: Elliot Edward