Chapter 14: Exit Strategy

September 28th 0712 hours

Zac Briars, his chest feeling as though it were stuck in a vice, peered his head around the corner of the building he was standing beside. He could see the zombies out in the street- at least four or five- crouched over a dead body, tearing into the exposed flesh on the arms, face and torso, spraying blood onto themselves and across the tarmac. One of them ripped away half of an arm (hand included), and leaned back fully, tearing away a long strip of muscle and sinew, chewing contently.

Zac almost threw up and leaned back into shelter. He'd heard the frantic screams for help a few minutes ago, but by the time he had made it down here it was far too late, whoever it had been now just another morsel for the hordes wandering the streets. Speaking of which, several more zombies, perhaps sensing the commotion, were beginning to make their way along the alleyway, eager to join in the feast- though Zac doubted there was much left after the mess the initial group had made of the body.

He looked backwards instead, towards the clock tower of St Michael's, still looming tall over everything else in the vicinity. It still looked as though it would provide a safe haven, but there was no chance of him ever going back there again.

They had felt safer when that cop had turned up out of the night- Dean, his name was- someone with guns, someone who had some semblance of authority to be making difficult decisions, to take charge when necessary. And then those other two men had appeared- mercenaries with Umbrella, as ridiculous as that sounded. But they were both well-armed, and seemed better informed on what had happened in the city. The dark-haired one, Adams, seemed decent enough, but the other one...

Campbell, his name was. And his attitude was plain aggressive and confrontational, insisting that they all make a break to escape rather than hiding and waiting for the cavalry to roll through town. So desperate was he to leave, in fact, he had no compunctions over sacrificing the others to make sure he got out safely. And he had proved it when he had thrown Sam to the zombies invading the clock tower grounds.

He could still perfectly recall the look of utter horror on Sam's face as the multiple hands grabbed onto him, the teeth tearing into his soft flesh, and could recall the similar look on Angela's face as her partner was killed there on the spot. Joe had been the next to go, trying to overpower the treacherous bastard, only to become zombie food himself. And Zac's own attempt at intervening had resulted in a broken nose. He sighed and rubbed it thoughtfully. The pain had long since faded away after Hopkins had reset it for him, but it was still a little sore and swollen. Angela had joked afterwards that he resembled a clown with a big red nose.

But the deaths hadn't been a laughing matter. Sam and Joe were both dead, as was Campbell, though nobody cried over his loss. And as for Dean- no-one knew for sure. The last that Hopkins had seen was that the R.P.D cop had been fleeing out through the main courtyard gates, out onto the open street, away from the zombies still swarming into the clock tower grounds. He had tried to defend them all from Campbell's insanity, even though it would cost him being separated from the main group. But considering what he had survived through so far, Zac was confident he would make it out in one piece.

With Dean gone and the tower's main hall compromised, the others had retreated into the tiny back storeroom, desperate to try and put as much distance between themselves and the zombies as possible. With the heavy spare bell for the tower blocking the back door, they thought it another safe sanctuary from the dead outside. But it was not to be.

It had been barely half an hour ago that the dead finally gained access, smashing through the door that lead into the main tower itself, pouring in through the narrow bottleneck of the doorway, that hideous stench following after them. Angela and Roger had been killed in moments, leaving only himself, Paula, and Hopkins to try and flee from the advancing monsters. The last thing that he could remember as he fled through the back door was the sight of Hopkins, clutching Paula to his body protectively, as the zombies swarmed in around them.

Fled. After everything, he had ran and left them to die. He was nothing but a coward, plain and simple.

He lowered his head and sighed, feeling the tears beginning to prick his eyes. What good was he to anyone? He'd been running ever since this entire mess had begun, and how many had died since then? The officers of the R.P.D, his friends on campus, and more besides- they all died while he lived on, purely because he had ran like a coward.

But what else could he do? He was a lone university student with little to depend upon other than the handgun he had found on the dead body inside the clock tower- the same one he had had barely used since finding it- and how long would that last against the hundreds of zombies roaming the streets?

All he could do was to keep moving, try and find some manner of safety (if such a thing existed in the city now), or perhaps even something that could let him contact the outside world. He knew that the hospital wasn't far from St Michael's, so that seemed the logical place to start- though he dreaded to imagine the state of things at the hospital now.

With another heavy sigh, he pushed away from the wall and began to make his way in the opposite direction of the zombie feeding frenzy. He could still hear the smacking of lips and the tearing of flesh, indicating that they weren't quite finished yet. As ever, the constant empty moans trickled after him.

The road on which Raccoon General was located happened to encircle Raccoon City Park, and Zac could see the tops of green trees and hedges, peering over the top of the fence bars, and he could hear the faint trickle of running water as well. The pools and self-contained canals that made up the main entrance into the park were much talked about in the city's travel and tourism brochures, but Zac doubted there was anything that could be considered beautiful left in this city now, overrun with the undead and more besides.

Every now and then a lingering vision of those huge spiders from the clock tower, or the grotesque bug monster that had chased him, shrieking, through that back alley, crept into the back of his mind. Those damned freaks were bad enough, but what else lay just out of sight, waiting to pounce and tear his head off?

He shuddered inwardly, making sure that his pistol was close at hand.

The moaning intensified as he drew closer to the hospital, the huge red cross above its front doors shining like a lighthouse beacon in the mist-shrouded seas. He soon saw the zombies arrayed outside though- a couple hundred at least, clamouring around the shut front doors, beating at the bulletproof glass pathetically in an attempt to get inside. Their hands left bloody smears from where they groped and pawed weakly, many of them looking with necks craned upwards, towards the few windows on one of the upper floors that, incredibly, were showing bright light.

Is someone still in there?

The most direct way to find out would be to go inside himself and look around- though not through the front door, obviously.

He moved away from the main road, through another of the narrow back alleyways. Considering how tightly packed the city was structured in general, it shouldn't have been too hard to find a way around the back of the hospital, to the ambulance bay. There had to be an entrance back there, the way that they would bring in accident victims, and hopefully it would be a lot clearer than the front entrance.

It took a little work on his part- he had to take a back alleyway route once again, and then he had to spend a few more minutes finding a place where he could easily scale the rear fence that surrounded the ambulance bay. He used a teetering stack of wooden crates to boost himself over the fence, as a few stray zombies continued to shuffle forwards ever closer. Thankfully, there were nowhere near enough to constitute any kind of concern, and once he was within the fence he was safe.

The ambulance bay was largely deserted, just as he had expected, the patients likely evacuated out of the city before things got too bad. A couple of ambulances had been left behind though, one of them with its rear doors left wide open and a gurney half-hanging out of the back- unoccupied thankfully. Though what he could see where the row upon row of dead bodies that had been left outside, sprawled across the tarmac, their body bags half opened so that their heads and upper bodies were left exposed. Most of the bodies had their heads smashed into mush like ripe melons, others showing a lone gunshot wound to the forehead. It hadn't taken the hospital staff long to work out that the dead were coming back to life, at the very least.

Zac shivered a little as he looked out across the bodies, and then he found the composure to continue forwards, towards the wide open rear doors. He had little intention of remaining out in the cold for much longer, to the point that it overrode the implications of what could be lurking inside, out of sight.

He cleared the steps in a couple of seconds, and stepped forwards into the relative darkness of the hospital.

"These are probably the best potato chips I've ever had," said Amy with glee as she stuffed her face with the cheese and onion flavoured corn snacks.

"Well that's good to hear," smiled Lenny from where he was sat opposite, opening his own packet, "it means that it was worthwhile for us to go and get them."

"Hey, it was worthwhile either way," added Steven, as he was finishing off replacing the dressing on Ryan's head wound, carefully wrapping fresh gauze around the student's head. "For him, mainly."

"I know," nodded Amy as she finished off her current mouthful of snacks. "Thank you. Both of you." That second statement was mainly directed towards Lenny, who was sat several feet away from them, facing towards the store's front door, his pistol clutched tightly in his hand. A half-empty bottle of water sat on the counter beside him, as did an unopened bag of chips.

"It's allright," the police officer replied, "it was the least we could do for the poor bastard. Nothing more indignant than dying of a head wound after surviving this long in a city full of zombies..." His voice trailed off quietly when he realised that probably wasn't the best thing to be saying in front of Amy to begin with. "I'm sorry," he then added quickly.

"Don't worry about it," the red head responded, as she looked back over to where Steven was finishing off on applying Ryan's new dressing. "And thank you too, Steven."

"Hey, I had to make up somehow for my comment earlier," the Englishman responded with a wry smile. Amy became quiet at his reference to their past altercation, when she had nearly bitten his head off for his comment that Umbrella couldn't have possibly caused this disaster.

"Listen," she said as she got up and came to stand beside him, "I'm sorry about...what I said earlier on."

"Ah, don't worry about it," Steven said as he finished his work and stood back up. "There. He should be fine now."

"Is there any improvement?" asked Amy curiously, putting a hand tenderly on Ryan's cheek. He moaned very quietly and shifted a little.

"Well," began Steven as he sat himself down against the wall and slid down into a seated position, "as I told you before, I'm not a doctor, per se- but I've done my best. He's got a stable pulse, and his wound hasn't been infected or anything similar, so his chances are good. But I can't tell if he fractured his skull badly or if there's any internal bleeding..."

He trailed off as the grim implications became all too clear to the others. Amy didn't show any visible reaction though, her hand still held to Ryan's cheek.

"He did it to protect me," she whispered, hoarsely. "Ever since we escaped from campus- he went out of his way to protect us all, to lead us away from danger. Ryan was never the type to stand up and take direct charge- he always stood back, let everyone else mingle and do all the heavy lifting. But when this all happened, he just took charge on the spot, tried to lead us all out. And now look at where it got us."

"Hey, don't talk that way," responded Steven in a gentle manner.

"If he hadn't have lead us into that kennel"-

"Hey, you can't change what happened in the past," continued Steven, as he fixed the young girl with his dark eyes. "I can only guess at what's going through your head right now, but dwelling on the ones who have gone won't help you much. You can't let yourself lose your focus on surviving."

Steven half-expected the girl to offer some kind of rebuttal, but instead she only sighed deeply and gave a half-smile. "Thank you," was all she said, and then she moved around to sit down beside the middle-aged man. There was another bout of silence, save for the sounds of mastication as Kelly and Lenny enjoyed their own snacks.

"You know," said Steven suddenly, getting Amy's attention, "about what I said earlier...about Umbrella?"

"Yeah?"

"I've worked for Umbrella for 15 years now. I'd just been cut free from my last job at a major bank, after I'd spent so many years studying finance. I felt as though there was no chance I'd get another job, and that each day I was just aimlessly wandering through life. And then I attended that Umbrella recruitment drive by chance, and within two weeks I was taken on as a Finance Manager in London."

"Really?" asked Amy curiously.

"Yes," nodded Steven, no trace of mirth. "Looking back, it was probably the defining moment in my life so far. I was set for life- a good pension, decent salary, plenty of benefits- and perhaps the most important of all, within my first year there I met Margaret Henderson at a conference up in Manchester- six months later we were married."

"I see what you mean by defining moment," smiled Amy, before noticing how the Englishman was rubbing his wedding band thoughtfully. It didn't last though, as he then reached into one of the pockets in his jacket and retrieving a bras pocket watch. With a quiet click, it popped open, and Amy leaned over to see the picture inside- a woman with two teenage girls.

"Your family?" she asked, and he nodded slowly in confirmation. "Your daughters are beautiful," she then added.

Steven chuckled quietly to himself before he spoke again. "Well they take after their mother in that respect."

"Well I think they have your eyes," added Amy.

"That's very kind of you," chuckled Steven again, "but really, like I said, they take more after their mother. She was probably the most beautiful woman I'd ever met in my life- she had potential suitors trailing around the block, and yet she chose me. It couldn't have been my looks, or my money..."

Amy found herself grinning, in spite of everything that surrounded them- the death and destruction outside on the city streets, the undead that wandered to and fro to seek out the living, and the comatose body of her friend who lay scant feet away from them- despite everything, she felt then and there that things would turn out allright.

"But seriously," said Steven suddenly, moving on rather suddenly from their rather light-hearted conversation. His brow was furrowed now, as he recalled something else of importance, "working with Umbrella, looking back- I realise I should have known something was amiss."

"What do you mean?" asked the redhead.

"When I started with them, the first thing they had me do was to sign a confidentiality statement that was six sides long," explained Steven. "I mean, there was a real zero-tolerance take on what information we spoke of outside the office, even the most mundane things. First three months I was there, I worked with a man called Nathan Willis- stand-up guy, smart- but he never could shut up."

"I see," said Amy.

"Anyway, there was one time we were went out for a load of drinks to celebrate our promotions, and he had a few drinks in him, and he would not shut up about this new the higher-ups had asked him to head-up: something about funding a new facility up in the Scottish moors- why anyone would want to build a place all the way up there was beyond me at the time..."

"I'll say," interrupted Amy, but quieted down to let him continue.

"He was going on and on about how Umbrella had directed nearly 3 million pounds into that venture, all through offshore accounts, in order to get it off the ground," continued Steven, "and we all assumed that he was just talking rubbish, being off his face..." He paused for a while to clear his throat, and continued.

"But then he didn't come in the next day, and we assumed that he was still ill from that night, but when he didn't come back the next few days and he didn't answer his phone, some of us got seriously worried," he continued. "And then two weeks later his replacement came in, started as though nothing had ever happened- and management made it pretty clear they didn't want us talking about Nathan Willis again."

"Wow," said Amy in genuine surprise.

"But there was another man, William, who was good friends with Nathan, got himself all twisted up in knots over the whole thing," Steven continued. "Wouldn't shut up about it, even after he was warned about it twice. The third time he was called into the manager's office, and then he walked out minus his job, just like that."

"And they did this often?" asked Amy.

"Well, from what I heard, yes," responded Steven, glancing over towards Ryan's still form for a few moments. "In most Umbrella workplaces the turnover was ridiculous. The only reason I lasted for 15 years was because I realised that minding my own business and keeping my mouth shut was the best strategy. You know what they say about curiosity, right?"

"It murders cats?"

Both of them jumped at the suddenness of Lenny's comment, abruptly sliding into the conversation from nowhere at all. The cop was still perched on the front counter, but he had turned around now to listen in, his tired eyes showing his lack of sleep.

"Sorry," he said with a slight smile, "didn't mean to make you jump. But what you just said- that sounds awfully similar to something I saw last year."

"Oh?" asked Steven curiously.

"I was on patrol on the edge of the city when I pulled this guy over for having a busted tail light," Lenny explained. "He was wearing this real expensive suit, gold watch, all the trimmings- turned out he was an executive with Umbrella. But we were more interested on why he was so insistent on getting away- and that he had a gun and a briefcase with a hundred thousand dollars in it."

"Wow," said Amy in shock.

"Yep," nodded Lenny, "and when we put him in another patrol car to take him back to the precinct, he was begging us to let him go, that 'they' were after him and that he wouldn't last the night. We all assumed he was just talking BS, but that car never made it back to the station- we found it left in some alleyway in downtown Raccoon. Both of the officers and that guy we pulled over were dead- killed execution style."

"Jesus Christ," whispered Steven, before quickly adding, "pardon my French."

"Witnesses stated they saw a pair of men dressed all in black fleeing the scene, but we never found them," continued Lenny, "and the case was never closed either. When we looked into it, it turned out this poor guy had just walked out of his job that day, got given his notice for some reason we never found out about."

"Maybe he saw or heard something he shouldn't have?" suggested Amy.

"So it's all just a big conspiracy theory?" added Steven. "Even so, if Umbrella had something to do with what's happening in this town, why? Why would they do something which destroys their base of operations in North America?"

"Who knows?" replied Lenny, "but we can't worry about that. We need to worry about ourselves right now."

"Well we need an exit strategy then," suggested Steven. "How long do you think it'll be before the cavalry rolls into town? Fact is, we could be stuck here for a lot longer than we think."

"We have these," said Lenny, producing the distress flares that Ryan had taken from the body of the Umbrella mercenary who had tried to kill him and Amy hours beforehand. "If a helicopter passes overhead, we just set these off and throw them into the street. Going by air would probably be the best way for them to search the city anyway."

"Well we only have one shot at that if they do come by air," reasoned Steven. "And we have to worry about carrying him out as well," he then added, indicating towards Ryan.

"Yeah," said Lenny, almost distractedly.

"We got plenty more of those old sheets lying around," butted in Amy, "and maybe we can break down some chairs and use the wood to tie together a frame for a makeshift stretcher. It'll be easier than carrying him by hand, at the very least."

"Okay then," replied Lenny, "we should get started then, just in case." He stood up, letting Steven and Amy go their own separate ways to seek out what they needed to put together Ryan's home-made stretcher.

At least we can still keep our hopes up somewhat, the R.P.D officer thought to himself, thinking briefly of his missing family. He sighed and glanced up at Kelly, who was currently mopping Ryan's brow with a damp cloth, trying to keep his fever down. She looked up at him and gave a hopeful smile that he returned after a few seconds.

I hope we can stretch it out for a bit longer.

Zac was beginning to think that coming into the hospital had been a really bad idea.

The place was a mess, either from the sudden evacuation of the patients stuck in the building, or from the zombies that had likely swept through the building like a tornado. Most of the ceiling lights had been shorted out, the few remaining ones flickering on and off in sequence. A wheelchair and a gurney had been knocked onto their sides, while others had been left where they had been abandoned, the sheets stained with dried blood. Speaking of which, the red fluid was sprayed across the walls and the ceiling- even onto the furniture and the vending machines.

There were no bodies though. The stench of blood was overpowering from the moment he had entered the corridor, and yet there wasn't a single body in sight. So either they had all been moved already...

Or they got up themselves.

He shook that morbid thought away, making sure that the Glock was close to hand. He approached the door which featured a sign reading 'Pharmacy', where the patients would receive their prescriptions. His hand closed around the brass knob, and he held it for a few seconds, before he pushed the door open gently and peeked inside. The pharmacy was relatively untouched, although he still saw the body of another fallen citizen of Raccoon City, laying face-down on the tiled floor. He quietly left the way he had entered, closing the door shut as he went, in case the corpse decided to follow after its brief visitor.

The other door within the waiting area lead him into the lower stairwell, where an angry red emergency light flared on and off, no longer able to be shut off manually. This time Zac did see a body- one of the doctor's, judging by the white coat- but it was a body so badly chewed up that it resembled nothing more than a pathetic pile of bones, shredded clothing, and desiccated flesh. Zac turned away from it, shivering, and peered up the stairs trying to discern anything, but it was too dark to see anything. Perhaps it would be best if he found a flashlight or something similar before he went any further upstairs.

The next door he tried opened into the hospital's main lobby, perhaps the only room he had seen so far which was still in one piece, save for the odd streak of blood across the tiled floor, and the potted plants which had been knocked onto their sides. The front doors were locked tight, and on the opposite side he could see the dozens of zombified citizens that had gathered, pressing up against the reinforced glass in a futile attempt to get in. Their wandering hands left bloody smears and handprints on the glass, their yawning jaws opening and closing in a creepy unison.

Despite their stupidity, he wondered if they had some kind of inherent hive mind, which compelled them to band together, to follow one another to nearby sources of food. It was something that slipped into the back of his mind from time to time, distracting him from the important task of surviving. Constantly he had to push it back down, smother it to stop himself getting dangerously distracted. Just as he did here, pushing the thought away as he entered the wooden door marked 'Staff Only', beside the reception window.

The room inside was clearly an admin office, the large oak desk in the centre of the room piled high will all sorts of paperwork and other office stationary. A number of cabinets in the corners were also ram-packed with files and other items, along with an old typewriter and a grey storage chest in the corner to his left, beside the door into the staff room, if the notice on it was anything to go by. A quick search of the office, and the many drawers, soon turned up a standard-issue flashlight, if those things came in a standard issue. He clicked it on and its beam was bright as it could be, and he tapped it against his open palm a few times to make sure that the beam didn't flicker out.

"This'll do," he whispered to himself, walking back out of the office. As he did, he failed to hear the faint, wet, slurping sounds emanating from the ventilation duct in the corner.

He made his way back to the stairwell as quickly as he dared, not wanting to stop for any reason lest something ambush him from an unseen corner. Once there, he clicked the flashlight on and shone the beam up the stairs. When the light only illuminated the blank wall, he began to ascend them slowly, one at a time. His footfalls made depressingly loud sounds as he ascended, making him cringe.

The landing for the 2nd floor was thankfully free of any threats or obstructions, and he carefully tried the door that lead into the actual floor itself. It was unlocked, and he edged it open to peer inside. The passage beyond was almost completely in darkness, his torch beam illuminating the barest traces of the wall closest to him, as well as another couple of abandoned gurneys. He also briefly lit up the back of a figure in patient's scrubs, standing with head bowed. He quickly shut the door as quietly as he dared to.

Not that way, he thought to himself. At the least, he now knew that there were zombies still inside the hospital.

He tried the third floor instead, but the door only opened a few inches, blocked by something on the other side, something that had been shoved up against it as an impromptu barricade. The lights in the corridor beyond were mostly intact though, so hopefully he wouldn't have to stumble around in the dark for much longer. He shoved again, and this time there was a groaning of steel as the object- a patient's bed which had been upturned and dragged into the hall- was pushed out of the way enough for him to force his way in.

The third floor corridor was a lot cleaner and tidier than the rest of the hospital had been, although there was the odd splash of blood and disorganisation from where wounded bodies had been hurried through here en masse. The lights were also largely intact, save for the odd blinking bulb. Zac let out a soft sigh of relief.

He decided to search the floor room-by-room, starting with the short corridor he found to his right, with only a single door that he came across. It was unlocked, and he peered inside to see it was a ward, the far wall lined with four beds, their drapes pulled back, the beds themselves mercifully empty of any bodies, alive or otherwise.

On one of the tables, someone had left a written note behind. There was no clue as to who had left it exactly, and a quick read over it painted it as a pretence to something nasty in the near future.

It's been several hours since the bulk of the patients and staff were evacuated by the army troops who broke into Raccoon City from the West. They couldn't spare any men to leave behind though, so it falls to myself and a few others in the unenviable task of helping any people still left in the city. A ridiculous premise, judging by the countless 'zombies' that now roam the streets.

Doctor Marston and Henning went out onto the streets a few hours ago to find a pharmacy to load up on supplies, and to look for any other survivors. We haven't seen or heard from them since- no doubt they've been added to the already immense death toll. Now it's down to just myself, and perhaps two of the nurses. But I haven't seen them for a while now, and the second floor has been overrun with zombies. And it's not just them.

There's something else in the hospital. I caught a glimpse of it earlier on- it was of a human shape, but it was no zombie. No matter where I run to, it finds me, as though it can smell me. It has problems with doors, but it uses the ventilation system to get about through the entire building. At this rate, I don't have long left to live. When I started my career as a doctor, I never in my life would have thought I would witness something like this. It is as though a biblical plague has been unleashed upon Raccoon City, and we are all powerless to resist.

Even now I can-

The message ended there abruptly, as though the author had been interrupted suddenly. The part about there being something else inside the Hospital made him a little on edge, to say the least.

-it uses the ventilation system to get about-

His eyes arched upwards towards the ceiling, where he could see the cold grey steel of the ventilation duct that emanated from one corner of the ceiling, and trailed across the entire ceiling length into the opposite corner. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, and he slowly put the paper down, wanting to get a move on as soon as possible-

There was an almighty crash as the ventilation cover fell from its place with a loud clatter, and something horrific slithered out of the darkness.

Brad Vickers stood with his back to the wall, his harsh gasps for air making him sound on the verge of hyperventilating. The Samurai Edge was clutched tightly in his hand, gnawing him to the bone. Before everything had gone to hell in Raccoon City, he had never fired it before throughout his career in the S.T.A.R.S- and now it had got in plenty of use.

He had been the only one from the surviving S.T.A.R.S who hadn't experienced the horrors in the forest and the mansion first hand, but he had seen enough of that towering, albino brute that had been blown into pieces with the rocket launcher dropped for Chris and the others, as well as the dogs in the woods, to have an idea of what they had all gone through.

All gone through because of him. If he hadn't have lifted off then and there, as the rotted dogs slammed against the reinforced glass of the chopper's cockpit, leaving bloody smears across the glass. Brad had stayed in the chopper while the others headed out on foot to search the woods- hearing Joseph's screams over the radio was bad enough, but seeing those Dobermen, their heads with the flesh peeling away, took the proverbial biscuit, and in his blind fear, he had lifted off, despite the fact the rest of Alpha Team were still in the woods.

Sure, he had come back for them at the very end, after spending hours circling the forest, looking for some sign of their life- but he always knew that it wasn't enough. They had all been understandably grateful to begin with, but Chris had never forgiven Brad for his initial abandonment. He recalled how he always glared at Brad from the opposite end of the room, as though he wanted to murder him. Brad didn't blame him, frankly. He'd be pissed off if someone had left him to fend for himself in the midst of a dangerous situation.

And then when they had all gathered to discuss their next move following their suspension, he had once again ran out on them. He reasoned that he wanted nothing more to do with the entire thing- with his law enforcement career effectively over; he wanted to head back home and try to start afresh. Jill and Rebecca had been fairly understanding over his choice, Chris and Barry had silently glared right at him.

I ran away on that night, and I ran away afterwards as well.

He screwed his eyes shut, the guilt seeping back into his mind. It had tormented him for weeks afterwards, and he had finally take the decision to head back into town to try and help them when everything had gone to hell, and he found himself in the middle of a real-life horror movie. Although the 'zombies' were terrifying to behold and almost countless in number, he had quickly got over his fear (mostly) when he realised they could easily be killed with a single gunshot or a good blow to the head.

The other monster though, was something else entirely. Nearly twice his size and built from sheer muscle, he had managed to evade it twice over the course of the last several hours, slowing it down in the tight network of alleyways and apartment blocks that formed most of Raccoon City's downtown region. He had no choice but to run as shooting it was practically useless- it hadn't even flinched from the bullet impacts. And the fact that it had been carrying a rocket launcher and could punch through solid brick walls further proved its sheer power.

He knew that it was after him. It wasn't a coincidence that it kept finding him- it was stalking him and the other S.T.A.R.S members specifically, if its guttural roars were anything to go by.

Though he hadn't had much luck in finding any of his colleagues so far. He had been through both Chris's apartment and the Burton household, and both of them were completely empty, as though they had moved out recently. If they had done, Brad didn't blame them thankfully. He'd been trying to get to the block where Jill's apartment was located, but the car wrecks blocked off most of the main streets, forcing him to circle instead, looking for another way through. All the while that damned creature was after him.

He peered around the corner of the wall he was pressed against. The wide alleyway he had come down was occupied by a few loitering zombies, but that was about it- no lumbering behemoths in black charging after him like a maddened rhino. He sighed in blessed relief, and ducked behind the corner again, looking in front of him this time. A set of stone stairs trailed back and forth down into one of the courtyards behind a set of apartment complexes built from red brick. Several garages for cars and storage sheds stood in two roughly parallel lines, and more zombies wandered to and fro. Thankfully, they were spread out enough for him to make a mad dash through them if it came to that.

Then he heard a low, rumbling growl from behind him, and his heart stopped.

No-

He quickly turned around and stared back down the alley he had just come down. The zombies were still there, but now they had turned back away from Brad, at something which had caught their attention. Brad could see the outline of something barrelling down the alley at high speed, dressed all in black.

Oh fuck no-

It slammed into the first two zombies with the force of a runaway freight train, tossing their limb, broken bodies into the air like rag dolls, leaving them in its wake. A third zombie- a tall man wearing a grey fleece jacket- lunged at the massive figure, but a huge fist closed around its throat, lifted it into the air, and then smashed it against the wall with enough force to reduce its skull and upper torso to bloody jam.

No no no, why me?

At that moment, its pallid head whipped towards Brad, single white eye glowing in the limited light.

"S.T.A.R.S..."

"Oh fuck me!" cried Brad, turning and fleeing down the stairs as fast as he dared.

"S.T.A.!" the monster roared, its voice threatening to bring the buildings down around it. It tossed the limb body aside, and then plunged into a sprint after its intended target.

Brad cleared the stairs in the space of five seconds, vaulting over the red-painted safety bar which had been installed on the step's side wall when he got to the bottom. He then began to sprint forwards, into the open, towards the nearest apartment block. He hoped that he could lose the monster the same way he had done the last two times, and put as much distance between it and himself-

Those thoughts were savagely interrupted as a massive black shape slammed down onto the concrete a few feet behind him, sending out a shockwave that threw him off his feet and at least ten feet forwards, where he landed harshly enough to knock the air from his lungs and leave him rolling along several feet. Thankfully he kept a tight grip on his pistol.

He gasped for breath and glanced up to see the monstrous stalker crouched on the ground, a crater some ten feet wide surrounding where it had landed, the concrete having shattered and buckled almost as though a miniature earthquake had ripped through the area. It issued a low, throbbing growl, and then stood up straight, rearing up to its full height. Brad looked into its single white eye and the demented grin of slab-like teeth which took up the lower half of its head, and he swore very loudly indeed.

"S.T.A.R.S," the monster growled once more, taking slow, plodding steps towards him. Even those 'little' steps covered at least five feet, its massive boots shaking the ground. Brad scrambled back desperately, aiming his pistol with one hand.

"Get away!" he cried frantically, firing a few shots into its misshapen head. There was the clear splash of blood from each hit, but the brute didn't even flinch from the impacts, the ripped flesh stitching itself back together as if by magic. It raised its right arm, and there was a sickening rip of flesh as a purple tendril, writhing like a live snake, tore itself free from inside the monster's arm. It coiled around its thick wrist, preparing to strike.

"Oh damn it!" cried Brad, waiting for the end to come-

There was a brief whistle, and then suddenly a small explosion spread across the giant's shoulders. It let out a pained roar and rocked forwards, the purple tendril retracting back into the monster's flesh with a slick slurping sound. The monster then turned and growled, glaring back the way they had both come from. Standing atop the stone stairs was the soldier- Leland- that Brad had encountered not too long ago, smoke issuing from the M203 launcher attached underneath the barrel of his M4A1.

"Pick on someone your own size!" he called out. The towering monster roared in fury and surged forwards, temporarily distracted from its current mission.

The soldier fired another grenade round, but this time to miss as the creature effortlessly dodged to the side, the round exploding and leaving a blackened halo on the concrete instead. It hurled itself into the air, sailing towards the soldier with one massive fist clenched to smash him into a bloody pulp. Though he was long on the move, and the death blow missed by a country mile, the fist smashing a crater into the stone instead. As the soldier ran, he fired behind him, the 5.56 rounds tearing through the giant's black coat and into its flesh, splashing more blood.

Brad hauled himself up, realising this was his chance to make a run for it while the beast was distracted from him for the time being. He turned towards the nearest apartment back door, and slowed to a halt when he saw a figure standing in the doorway, glaring at him with lifeless eyes. Then it took a step forwards, and Brad promptly raised his Beretta and put a bullet through its right eye. It hit the doorstep hard, splattering blood across the concrete.

The soldier reached the bottom of the stairs and vaulted over the barrier, much as Brad had done not too long ago. He turned swiftly and poured more gunfire into the monster's broad chest, eliciting a few grunts of pain- or anger, it was hard to tell- before sprinting at him, swinging its massive fists wildly. He dropped and rolled, narrowly avoiding a huge fist as it tore the safety railing off and sent stone chips flying like confetti. Coming up on one knee, he unloaded the rest of the magazine into the monster's face and shoulders, forcing it backwards a few steps. A huge fist grabbed at its bleeding face, though it continued to growl from the back of its throat.

Leland turned to look behind him, trying to find where Brad had gotten to, but the man in yellow had vanished from sight. No doubt he had used the distraction to make himself scare, leaving Leland to deal with the beast by himself.

Figures-

A huge balled-up fist slammed into his right cheek and knocked him flying onto his back, knocking the air form his lungs. He felt the copper tang of blood in his mouth, and then the monster hovered over him, ready to bring its massive boot down on his head for an instant kill. Leland rolled out of the way as the foot came down, and then quickly drew his knife, slashing it across the monster's ankle. The black material ripped open easily, and purple fluid splashed from the pallid flesh. The creature pulled back a little, giving him enough time to get to his feet and reload the M4, snapping the bolt back to chamber a round.

"Come on," he cried out, "I'm not done yet!"

The monster roared once more and lunged forwards, swinging a thick arm like a tree trunk. Leland ducked under the attack, and then dropped and rolled backwards to avoid another fist that cracked the concrete at its feet. He fired a few rounds into the exposed flesh on its right shoulder, though as usual the beast never flinched. Its blood seemed to be mixed in with a thick purple fluid, leaving slick patterns across the concrete.

"Goddamn it!" gasped Leland as he backed away frantically, firing a few more shots into the giant's broad chest and arms. He may as well have been shooting a brick wall for all the 5.56 rounds were doing. The grenades had more of an effect upon the creature, but he had to get some more range between the two of them before he could rely on the M203 again.

The creature let out another dull roar and charged at him. Leland responded by dropping and rolling away, and then making a run for the small group of storage sheds that were nearby, hoping that using the tight, narrow confines of the buildings would slow his pursuer down. He barged past a few zombies that had been approaching throughout the commotion, and a couple of them were subsequently clubbed or tossed aside by the hulking beast chasing him. It was like some unstoppable force, like the Terminator cyborg from the movie of the same name. No matter how fast he ran, it was always there, right behind him.

He broke out into an open spot between the sheds. The creature came behind him, roaring in a monstrous fashion. It swung its arm wide, and smashed a hole nearly ten feet wide through the side of one of the sheds. He shot it a few more times in the back as it tore its arm free, and then fired an M203 grenade. Flames and shrapnel engulfed its upper torso, and it let out a surprised grunt as the force of the blast smashed it head-first into the wall, dropping bricks and mortar onto its head as the ceiling caved in.

"How do you like that?" he yelled confidently, before turning and resuming his escape, ducking into one of the spacious parking garages. A few zombies lingered amongst the cars, just watching him blankly when he first appeared. Then the first one- a young man wearing a denim jacket and grey slacks, began to hobble towards him. In response, Leland snatched up a screwdriver which had been left in an open toolbox on a workbench and plunged it through the man's eye- deep enough to pierce the brain. He keeled over backwards, his arms seizing up spastically.

Then the monster appeared- crashing through the small doorway with such force that its broad shoulders destroyed the door frame- coming straight for him. Leland quickly slid over the hood of a red sedan, and the beast responded by smashing its fists down onto the bodywork, flattening the hood and the engine block with the sounds of crunching steel and shattering glass. The sudden force nearly knocked Leland from his feet- instead he nearly fell into the waiting arms of a second zombie, which he quickly pushed away with his boot. It fell to the ground, flailing wildly, and he took the opportunity to escape by dropping to the ground and rolling underneath a partially-open garage rolling door.

He scrambled to his feet quickly, realising that he had done a nearly full circuit of the yard, bringing him closer to where he had last seen Brad standing. A couple of dead zombies lay sprawled in the front doorway of the nearby apartment building- he must have gone that way. Leland hurried in the same direction, even as he heard the all-too familiar roar behind him, and a deep indentation appeared on the garage door as a massive fist slammed into it from inside.

"Damn it, don't you ever give up?" snapped Leland, almost out of breath, as he entered the building and raced up the stairs, feet pounding on the wood. Another furious roar sounded, and a second indent appeared. It would break free in time. And he would have to figure out a way to kill it before it caught up to him and killed him.

The steel of the garage door peeled open in a flower petal pattern, and the imposing figure of the Nemesis burst free into the open air, roaring in fury. Having finally managed to track down one of its assigned targets, it would show no signs of allowing its prey to make its escape.

Yet this one man- the one in a soldier's uniform- had stood in its way, distracted the killing machine long enough for the S.T.A.R.S member to flee into the network of back alleys and apartment buildings that comprised most of Raccoon City's geography. And now the monster wanted nothing more than to spill this man's blood, to tear his fragile body limb from limb. He could detect the exact cocktail of sweat and blood that comprised the man's unique body odour, and it could follow that right to him now.

The Nemesis advanced towards the nearby apartment door, flexing its fists in anticipation of the upcoming kill. It reached the door and simply walked though into the entry hall, despite the fact its head and shoulders smashed the top few inches of plaster above the frame. Inside, the scent trail lead around the corner and upstairs- so close that the B.O.W could almost taste it. It pounded upwards, its huge boots leaving small craters in the wood with each step it took.

The massive beast moved onwards and upwards, circling each stairwell like a shark circling the wounded seal in the water, preparing to close in for the kill when the time came. There was a sick tearing noise, and the lance-like tip of a purple tendril emerged from the folds of skin at the base of its right wrist, writhing like a cobra waiting to strike- much like the beast it was attached to. Beneath the Nemesis' skin, dozens of such tendrils writhed in tandem, eager to break free. The heavy coat and pants it wore forced a more human shape, and kept the unruly mutations in line.

"Hey!"

The Nemesis' single eye snapped up, and it saw the soldier standing at the top of the next flight of stairs, aiming his assault rifle towards it. "What's the matter? Running short on breath?"

The Nemesis let out a furious roar and charged forwards to disembowel the puny human in as short a time as possible. The tendril coiled around its wrist unfurled, preparing to launch forwards like a lance. Its massive feet began to pound up the fragile steps, wood splintering beneath its sheer weight, the floor in real danger of giving away then and there.

Then the human fired the M203 grenade launcher attached to the underbarrel of his rifle. Normally, the Nemesis would have just about enough room to dodge the projectile with ease, but on the stairway there was no room to dodge. Instead it let the explosive impact against the front of its broad chest, flames and shrapnel expanding around it like a balloon.

Then the explosion destroyed the wall to its right and the floor, and the Nemesis plummeted down in a hail of fire and wood splinters, roaring all the time as it fell. The flames touched off the gas boiler that was stored in the basement, and a huge sheet of flame rushed up to engulf the Nemesis.

The monster roared as Leland's grenade took out the flimsy walls and floor that it was standing amongst, and the huge beast simply dropped straight down like a boulder, roaring furiously as it slammed into the stairs below this floor and continued on, plummeting straight down into the basement without much of a fanfre, fire from a ruptured gas boiler rushing up to meet him, the heat singing his eyebrows and the fringe of his hair, forcing him to turn away. He listened for a few seconds more as the ambient sounds died down.

Fuck me, it actually worked!

He sighed in relief and snapped the M203 open, loading a new grenade inside and snapping it shut again. He peered over the edge of the stairwell, down into the gaping void created. He couldn't see the creature anymore, or hear it. With any luck it had been incapacitated long enough for him to get the hell out of there. He stepped back from the edge of the hole and glanced around, noticing how the flames were starting to take hold, creeping up the walls and across the ceiling.

"Gotta be another stairwell here in this building," he gasped looking back and forth down the long passage he was standing in, the one which ran through the entire building he was in. A few zombified residents approached him slowly, arms outstretched. He raised the M4 and fired, cutting down three former humans, their heads smashed apart. He started to jog down the corridor when a fourth one suddenly lunged out of an apartment to his immediate right. Without slowing down, Leland slammed the rifle butt into the creature's stomach, making it double over, and then landed an uppercut into its chin, snapping its head back to break its neck.

He ran on before its dead weight even hit the floor, but he could still hear many more approaching from somewhere close by- lethargic feet dragging over the carpeted floor, bumping into walls and other objects in their way, hollow moans filling his ears- so he couldn't linger. He ran on and on, past open apartment doors and slumped bodies that began to rise up at his presence, and he sped past a sign pointing towards the stairwell and fire exit.

That's it!

He stepped out onto a stairwell similar to the one that he had ascended minutes ago, yet this time the flight of stairs leading up was blocked with flaming debris, denying him passage. But as he wanted to go down rather than up, that was of no concern to him- the zombies that were thronging around the stairs was of his main concern. He turned and fired, blowing out the guts of an old man in a dirty vest and tearing off one of the arms from a teenage girl with red hair and wearing a green dress that had been soiled with blood and dirt hours ago. She spun away, knocked down by the impact of the shots.

A middle-aged man with receding hair and wearing a striped sweater tried to grab Leland from behind, but the sergeant turned and thrust the rifle butt into its nose, breaking it, before sweeping wide to send him stumbling back and toppling over the banister, falling down the stairwell and breaking his back as he landed awkwardly across the lower banister. A teenage boy tried his luck afterwards, but Leland pushed the rifle's barrel into his open mouth and fired a single shot- enough to explode his skull messily.

From somewhere behind him, a horrific noise sounded, and Leland spun around as fast as he dared, allowing the teenager to fall to the ground, leaving a messy splat where what was left of his head hit the carpet. "What the hell was that?" the sergeant asked, though he would soon be granted an answer. A few more zombies were approaching from the direction he had originally come from to escape from his hulking pursuer, but behind them a door slammed open and a third zombie emerged.

It was a man in his thirties, his blonde hair streaked with grease and dried blood, the green waistcoat and white shirt he wore stained with red as well. His pants were badly torn from the knee down, and one of his shoes was missing. But Leland took more interest in the fact that the man's exposed skin was bright red- almost blood-coloured- and his fingers had been replaced with three-inch claws that looked painfully sharp. His eyes seemed to burn with an unholy light as he looked both ways, and then they locked straight onto William Leland.

"Oh fuck," the sergeant managed, before the red-skinned zombie let out a murderous howl and sprinted straight down the passage towards him, moving at speeds assumed impossible by zombie standards. It barged straight through the zombies in its way, slamming one of them into the wall, and slicing open the throat of the other in its blind urge to get at the human before it. Leland raised his M4 and fired, the assault rifle exploding within the narrow space.

One of the 5.56 rounds smacked into the zombie's shoulder. There was a burst of red fluid and it was spun around by the sheer force of the round. It fell against the wall, supporting itself with its hands, before pushing off and coming for him again at full speed. Leland fired again, ripping open the zombie's stomach, but it didn't even slow down as it lunged for him, attempting to grab onto him in a bear hug motion.

Leland shouted in alarm and fell back, shooting his leg out, placing his boot into the centre of the zombie's chest and raising it up and over his head, even as it tried frantically grabbing at him with its claws. It sailed up and above, crashing through the banister and falling onto the stairs below, tumbling down the steps and making a considerable racket as it did.

Leland sighed in relief and struggled to his feet, only to hear more angered shouting from down the passage. He looked back down the passage- and saw at least three more red-skinned zombies come racing around the corner towards him, shrieking madly.

"Oh fuck!" cursed Leland, scrambling to his feet and making a run for the nearby stairs, rounding the corner and descending the first flight of steps just as the first zombie reached the landing- but he was moving so fast that he couldn't slow down in time and instead fell straight through the gap formed by the first zombie, crashing chin-first against the wall and knocking out several of its teeth. It let out a strangled grunt as it landed in a heap at Leland's feet, who subsequently let out a startled cry, and then promptly shot it through the face with his M4.

That left two more close on his heels though, and he quickly set off, descending the stairs at three at a time, hopping over the fallen corpse and circling around on the landings, narrowly dodging the normal zombies which lingered here and there, shoving the odd one which got too close out of his way. The red-skinned beasts were close on his heels though, and one of them nearly grabbed onto him, its claws tearing through the sleeve of his fatigue jacket instead. Leland then wrapped his fingers around the man's neck and slammed him face-first into the nearest wall, knocking it onto its back. Then he was off again, trying to desperately stay one step ahead of his pursuers.

He hit the second floor and nearly ran face-first into an obese female zombie, one half of her scalp practically skinned off of her skull, the other half displaying some mid-length auburn curls, her green vest top in danger of splitting open at any second. She growled as she turned and grabbed for him, but Leland swerved around her, smacking his M4's stock across her cheek, and there was a loud pop as her jaw dislocated. She span away, into the arms of the pursuing red-skinned zombies. Their sharp claws ripped her apart, so consumed were they in their blood frenzy. Leland descended the last set of steps, swinging around the banister so that he was running headlong down the corridor- only to see that the far wall was only a dead end formed by red brick.

Damn it! Nowhere else to go...unless I improvise-

He raised his M4, aimed for half a second, and then pulled the trigger on the M203. The grenade whistled down the passage and exploded against the far well, the blast of flame contained within the passage rushing back towards him, but thankfully Leland was standing just about far enough back to avoid the licking flames. The wave of heat still hit him in the face though, forcing him to turn his head away. He looked back as the rumbling through the building ceased, and he saw the wall was partially caved-in- but most of the brickwork was still largely intact.

"Fuck!" he cursed, snapping the launcher tube open and slotting another explosive shell inside. Behind him, another murderous howl was heard behind him- and then the red-skinned zombies charged into view, two more having joined the initial pair of creatures. One of them was a boy, a child- barely twelve years old, but the sharp claws and the glowing eyes showed he was as dangerous as the others.

Leland turned and instinctively fired the M4 on full auto, the hail of gunfire tearing apart the first two zombies, who only stopped moving when their torsos had been reduced to shredded flesh and muscle that could scarcely support the rest of their bodies. The third one- the boy- took a bullet to the temple, and he was spun off his feet onto the floor, half of his face blasted apart. The last one managed to squeeze past the deluge of gunfire and launched itself at Leland, claws outstretched, ready to sink into his flesh. Leland let his M4 hang loosely from its strap, and promptly drew his handgun, rasing the sights and firing a single shot. The bullet burrowed through the zombie's right eye and exploded out the back of its skull-

-and then its dead weight slammed into Leland, pinning him to the floor.

"Damn it!" the sergeant yelled, trying to shove the corpse off of him with one hand, still keeping a death grip on his handgun in the other hand. He groaned and let it fall limp across him, even as further down the hallway more zombies approached, no doubt drawn out by the commotion. He planted his hand on the zombie's chin and pushed once more, managing to push it a few inches back, and then planted a boot into the centre of its chest, kicking it back and freeing himself.

"I've had enough of you and your kind!" he yelled angrily, raising his arm and opening fire, cutting down two more undead walkers. Then he quickly scrambled to his feet- most of his torso soaked with the blood of that one he had been pinned underneath- and grabbed for his M4, readying the M203 launcher and aiming towards the crumbled wall. "Come on, let this work," he whispered, firing another explosive shell.

This time it had the required effect, blowing out most of the far wall, leaving a large enough hole for him to make his escape through. Cool outside air came flowing in through the gap, helping to combat the smothering effect of the fires that were starting to consume the building, threatening to bring it down on his head. Unfortunately, it also served as the metaphorical dinner bell for the dozens of zombies who had been congregating on the roads surrounding the buildings, and they began to shuffle towards the great burst of light and noise that had caught their very limited attention span.

"Thank God," whispered Leland, snapping the launcher tube open and slotting another shell inside, "time to get the hell out of this death trap." Somewhere close by, he heard an all-too familiar roar of fury, rising up from the bowls of this dusty brick building. Looked as though his little gambit still hadn't got rid of Mr Tall, Dark and Ugly- a thirty foot fall and a gas explosion hadn't slowed him down, and wouldn't have likely helped his temper either.

"Damn it," he cursed, looking up in time to see a few more zombies come shambling in through the hole he had just put in the wall. Holding back on the grenades unless he caused a larger building collapse, he opened up with good old-fashioned hot lead instead. The figures shuddered and jiggled like marionettes on strings before they collapsed to the ground, but there were many more coming in from behind, more than he could count on the fingers of both hands.

"Is the whole town like this?" he asked himself as he jogged forwards, standing on the small pile of rubble left in the wake of high-explosive grenade blasts. Standing on the crest of a chunk of concrete, he was overlooking the street out the front of the apartment block, choked with burning car wrecks and corpses almost picked clean to the bone by roving zombies. Across the street, a child's play park remained destitute and empty, one swing rocking gently in the breeze- he felt as though he had literally walked out into the apocalypse. Several of the undead stood around in a daze, but most of them were advancing on Leland now, eager to feed once more.

"Come on then!" he shouted, lowering his M4 and firing from the hip, "you want to eat, come and get it!" The first row of zombies crumpled like a house of cards, and he quickly reloaded as a second wave got dangerously close, continuing to pour down the gunfire. They were close enough that blood and brain matter was splattering back onto his clothes, across his face. There was no finesse to his actions, just a desperate ploy to keep the bastards away from him, but with the constantly swelling numbers, he had to come up with an exit strategy soon.

The rifle clicked on empty once more, and when he turned to reach for another magazine, another red-skinned zombie who had got too close for comfort made a desperate lunge for him. He looked into those glowing eyes, just waiting for the lethal blow to come-

BANG!

There was a sudden gunshot and the zombie's head simply popped like a cherry, its body thudding to the ground at his feet. Leland looked up, and saw a familiar yellow vest across the way. Brad had come back to help him.

"Come on!" the cowardly man yelled, waving his hand above his head, "this way!" Then he raised his pistol and fired a few more shots, each bullet popping a skull with relative ease.

Leland knew that it was better than just standing there like General Custer waging his last stand at the Little Bighorn, so he quickly snapped a fresh clip into his rifle and ran for it, pushing in between a trio of zombies and heading straight towards Brad's position, firing the M4 one-handed as he did, pushing the zombies back enough for him to slip past. A set of nails tried to grab his jacket, but he kicked out, knocking the female teenager to the tarmac.

"Hurry!" cried Brad, firing off one more shot and then pausing to reload his pistol. A moment later, Leland drew level with him, gasping for air.

"You came back at least!" he gasped, leaning heavily on his knees.

"It was the least I could do," responded Brad, "come on, we have to go now, before he catches up to us!"

As if to punctuate Brad's statement, there was a terrific crash and the wall beside where Leland had blasted a hole suddenly exploded outwards, the huge brute that had chased them into the lot behind the tenement blocks emerging into view, roaring furiously, flames licking at its immense arms and torso. It began to sprint right towards them, the fall into the basement having done nothing to slow it down or hurt it.

"Damn it!" cursed Leland, raising his rifle and firing the grenade launcher once again. The shell hit the monster dead-on in its centre mass, engulfing it and the car beside it in a roaring sphere of flame, that touched off the car's fuel tank and sent up another pillar of fire, but Leland turned to run after Brad rather than staying behind to see if it stayed down this time. They sprinted down yet another destitute back alleyway, corpses slumped in dark corners or shuffling to their feet as the humans approached.

A metal door to Leland's right burst open and another half dozen zombies poured out, growling and moaning in unison. He promptly turned and kicked the first one in the line onto the ground, unloading into the others, cutting them down on the spot, before rushing after Brad once again. He emerged into another back lot, this one taken up mostly by a basketball court that had been hosting a game when all this shit had hit the fan- a basketball lay discarded in the centre of the court, while several zombies in basketball shirts and shorts lumbered about.

Brad stood at the edge of the court, firing his pistol two-handed, dropping a zombie with each shot. Aside from the basketball players, at least another dozen undead citizens approached from all directions, eager to feed. Leland came up beside Brad and started to fire himself, setting the M4 to single-shot mode to save on ammo. Skulls popped and blood sprayed with each discharge, but the two men knew they couldn't stay there for too long.

"Where are we heading?" Leland shouted over the noise as he snapped a fresh magazine into his M4.

"The R.P.D building!" shouted Brad back, "it has to be at least somewhat safer than out on the streets!" Leland considered saying something about this grand plan, but in the absence of any alternatives suggestions, he had no choice but to go along with the panicky man. Besides, he was a US Army soldier cut off and on his own behind enemy lines (or something close enough to it), so what else could he do?

"Fine," he shouted instead, "which way?" He turned and fired a shot that scalped the top of the skull off of a teenage girl who was inches away from grabbing onto him.

"That way!" called Brad, pointing straight ahead towards an iron gate at the far end of the lot. "We cut through there it should be a clear route up towards the R.P.D building! Come on!" And with that, he set off at a running sprint, hopping over a few fallen zombie corpses.

"Wait!" Leland called, running after him, taking a few more precious moments to turn and gun down the last few zombies that had been creeping up behind them. The last body was still crumpling like a discarded puppet by the time he was turning and running after Brad, rifle hugged close to his chest. He'd made it about 15 yards when he heard the all-too familiar roar behind him, and he turned as quickly as he dared to see an immense black-clad form coming towards him, and a massive fist swinging itself towards his face-

He had no time at all to prepare for the crushing blow that hit him with the force of a freight train. His head snapped back so forcefully it was a miracle that his neck didn't break, and then he was flying backwards freely, arms pin wheeling freely. He smashed through a wooden door and went sliding back across a concrete floor, before his spine slammed up against heavy, and three of his ribs snapped with the sheer impact, causing him to scream in agony.

"No!" called Brad, having glanced back over his shoulder in time to see Leland get punched in the face by the massive beast pursuing him. He wondered briefly if he was still alive or not after that hit, but considering that the beast was already stalking forwards once again, it was likely he'd be dead in the next few seconds anyway. Much as it pained him, Brad couldn't do anything else for the poor man. He turned and ran on, through the gate and onto the street beyond, leaving him behind. Just like back in the Arklay Forest, when he had left his team mates to a horrific fate. Once again, he was fleeing from his responsibilities as a police officer.

Leland coughed, a sharp pain shooting through his body as blood burst from his mouth. His entire chest cavity was on fire, his lungs and other vital organs no doubt shredded by the broken ribs. Despite his best efforts, he had failed. He hadn't seen that punch coming, hadn't had enough time to react to it- and now he was doomed to die in some dingy storage shed in this armpit of a town, without anyone knowing how and why he had died.

He dragged himself back half an inch, but that half an inch felt like a marathon, any minute motion causing his shattered ribs to flare up again. He could see his vision darkening, could feel the sound around him starting to drown out. He didn't have long left to live, that much he was certain of, even without a degree in medicine. His M4 lay too far out of reach, but his Beretta was still in its holster- though that wouldn't do much against his brutish killer.

Speaking of which, he looked up weakly to see the creature tear what remained of the door off of its hinges before pushing into the storage shed, its broad shoulders and bald head chipping the concrete door frame. It started to pound towards him across the floor towards him, a low growl emanating from behind its slab-like teeth.

So this is it-

His parents had passed away years before and he was an only child, so he had no close family to speak off- the only person he could think of right then and there was Lucy Walker, the girl he had loved since High School, the one who had been oblivious of his feelings until a couple of years ago. But she would be marrying another man, and that hurt him more than anything he had ever experienced in his life- even this moment right now. And now she would never know about how he felt about her.

I'm sorry Lucy...

He slowly pulled the Beretta from its holster and looked up towards the monster as its shadow fell over him, a purple tendril ripping through the flesh of its wrist, ready to skewer him like a slab of meat. It was then that Leland noticed the smell of gasoline in the air, and finally realised that he was leaning up against a stack of red barrels. One of them had been knocked over during his brief flight, spilling a large puddle of flammable liquid across the floor.

He'd been thrown into the fuel store for the entire block. There was enough potential explosive here to bring down an entire city block if needed- and right now, Leland had no other choice, save for letting this monster have its way with him and then going on to kill Brad and whoever knew how many more people.

"Allright," he said weakly, lowering his aim so that he was aiming at the gasoline puddle, "guess it's time to end this." And with that, he pulled the trigger.

The brief moment of friction produced by the bullet deflecting off of the concrete caused a brief spark- but it was enough to set off the puddle, which promptly rushed into the spilled barrel, and then the entire store house was engulfed in a pillar of flame that engulfed Leland, the creature, and the dozen or so zombies who had been standing too close.

Half a block away, Brad Vickers flinched and let out a cry of surprise when he heard the immense explosion. He looked over his shoulder to see a great tower of flame and concrete chunks reaching nearly twenty feet into the air, from where he had last seen Leland being punched in the face by that towering creature in black. By the looks of things, the soldier had just given the world one last 'f-you' before he went.

What a brave man- despite being exhausted, cut off, and having no clue what was going on in that town, he had risked everything to save Brad's life. The man was a hero, or at least as close to a hero that you got in this Necropolis.

"Damn it," sighed Brad, running a hand through his hair before setting off again. He had to keep going, there had to be some safe place left in this damn city.

A/N: Hey guys, first off I'd like to apologise once more for taking forever to get this story updated- I was mega-busy with real-life stuff, and was even considering discontinuing this story altogether- but as it's still fairly popular and a few other people have asked about it, I decided to push on to get it updated for all you readers out there.

I've been played a lot of Dead Island recently- it's a decent game despite its buggy nature and the inconsistent sound and graphics design- and the 'Infected' zombies that you fight are essentially that game's version of the Crimson Heads. When you've got three or four of them sprinting after you at full speed, screaming like hyenas, it's a classic squeaky bum moment, so I wanted to try and bring some of that tension and fear into Leland's encounter with the Crimson Heads in the apartment.

But that's enough from me right now- this story should only have a couple of chapters left to it, and then after that I can fully focus on my other projects for this site. R & R as always people, your reviews make all the hard work worth it.