September 29th, 1998, Lawrence, Kansas: The interior of a college dorm room

"You can't be serious, Claire," Elza said as she sat up on her bed, casting a disapproving look at the redhead seated on the opposite bed. Claire slipped on her leather boots. "I'm dead serious, Elza. It's been over a month since I've heard anything from him."

"Why don't you just call the police station? Surely they'll know where he is?"

Claire stood from her bed. "That's just it. I can't get a hold of anyone at the police station either. I need to find him myself."

"But Raccoon City is a three-hour drive, Claire! You're not gonna get there before the sun goes down, and you know how bad the city can get after dark." the blonde protested. "Elza, I'll be fine," Claire replied, grabbing a map, her knife, and her motorcycle keys from her study desk.

Elza rose from her bed and stepped into the middle of the room. "He's probably just busy with work. I mean, didn't you say he had something big going on?"

"That's what's got me so worried. Chris tells me he has some big investigation he's workin' on, and then he goes silent for over a month. It's not like him to do something like that." Claire said, retrieving her helmet from the bed. She turned to face Elza. "Listen, I just need to make sure he's okay. I'll spend the night at Chris's place and be back in time for tomorrow's lecture, I promise."

Elza let out a long sigh before finally relenting. "Ugh, fine! Could you at least call me once you get there?"

Claire rolled her eyes as she slipped on her red leather jacket. "Yes, Chris."

Both women laughed before Elza pulled Claire into a hug. "Drive safe, okay?"

"Don't I always?" Claire said with a smile. Claire exited the dorm, Elza following shortly behind her. "And while you're at it, tell Chris to stop by sometime, would ya?" she called out.

"Will do," Claire responded, waving her helmet back toward Elza. Claire descended the stairs out of the dormitory building and strolled over to the parking lot, twirling her keys as she did.

She took a seat on her Harley and pulled the map from her back pocket. "Hmm. If I take K-10 to I-435 and then head south on I-49, I should make pretty good time."

She tucked the map back into her pocket. Chris is gonna think I'm crazy for worrying this much. she thought, sticking the keys in the ignition. The Harley's engine sat at idle. I'm sure he's fine...but I need to get this off my chest.

She slipped on her helmet and put up the kickstand, her mind thinking back to her conversation with Elza.

She shook her head and chuckled. "Why does everyone think I'm gonna get in trouble?"

September 29th, 1998, Des Moines, Iowa: The carpet floor of a dingy motel room

"Oh...fuck." the young officer groaned as he blinked himself awake, his head feeling like it was locked in a vise. Leon peeled himself from the carpet and crawled up the dresser, his legs wobbling beneath him. Oh God...what the fuck happened? he thought, clutching his aching head. Balancing himself against the dresser, Leon looked over the motel room. A dozen empty Bud Light bottles littered the floor and a half-emptied bottle of fireball whiskey sat on the nightstand.

The memory of last night's escapade slowly returned to him. "Oh, yeah...that," he muttered, staggering over to the side of the bed. He seated himself on the edge of the mattress, staring blankly at the floor for a moment, focusing on keeping the sea of alcohol in his stomach from coming back up. After several deep breaths, the nauseating feeling in his stomach only got worse.

Oh boy...

Leon jumped up from the bed.

Here we go.

He barged into the bathroom and collapsed in front of the toilet. The next few minutes were filled with the sound of vomiting and the occasional obscenity. "Ugh...shit." he cursed, still hunched over the toilet bowl, his chest heaving. A moment passed without Leon vomiting his internal organs out. Oh, thank God, that seems to be the last of it.

He rose to his feet and approached the bathroom sink, washing the rest of the puke from his mouth. He spat into the sink. God...what a fuckin' mess I've got myself into.

Leon ambled out of the bathroom and began discarding the empty beer bottles. He gave a glance at his watch.

Hopefully, I still got enough time to grab some breakfast-

He froze, raising the watch to his face. His eyes focused on the watch.

2:09 PM.

Leon blinked in disbelief. "Huh?!" Did I forget to set it yesterday? Hmm, guess I must've...

He peered over at the clock on the wall.

2:09 PM

His eyes widened, the realization hitting him like a truck. "Oh, fuck!" he exclaimed, feeling like he was about to get sick again. He rushed over to the duffel bag that was resting on the floor near the foot of the bed and fished through the clutter in his bag, desperately searching for his cell phone. "Damn it, I overslept! How the fuck could I have overslept?!" Leon scolded himself.

He found the phone and quickly punched in the number for the department. As the phone rang, Leon pondered what he could say. All right, just calm down, Kennedy. Maybe they messed up the scheduling, and I wasn't supposed to come in today. Maybe I could call in sick? The flu? Yeah, yeah, that might work! I certainly sound like I got it... his thoughts trailed off as he listened for someone to pick up.

He only heard an automated voice message. He cursed under his breath, dialing the number again, only to be met with the same outcome. "Son of a bitch..."

What the fuck do I do now? Should I even bother showing up?

He stared at the floor in quiet contemplation for a moment. No...no, I better show up. Better late than never, right?

Leon grabbed his duffel bag and rushed out of the motel room, issuing a silent apology to the poor room service employees for the mess he had left them. After checking out, Leon stumbled out into the parking and over to his jeep. He tossed the duffel bag onto the passenger seat and climbed into the car. He grabbed a map from the glove box and plotted out his route. "Hmm...if I cut through Kansas City. That should get me there the quickest; hopefully by the end of the day."

He threw the map back into the glove box and tossed a stick of mint gum in his mouth before turning the keys in the ignition.

Leon massaged his temple and put the car in drive. "Oh, I am in so much fuckin' trouble."

"Look man, I'm serious, okay? I saw this with my own eyes. You gotta believe me!" the caller pleaded. Laughter erupted from the host. "Oh, sure, buddy. I believe ya. Listen here, man. I don't need any crank calls on this station, all right? Why don't you go talk to someone who'll listen, huh?" he said, chiding the man.

"Man, I'm not messing with you! Please, just hear me out." the caller begged. The host sighed in response. "All right, let's hear this brief story of yours."

Curtis took a hearty bite out of his burger. Alright, now we're getting somewhere. "Okay, well, uh...it was last Friday night and I, uh...I was walking home from the bar. This woman just comes walking towards me out of the dark. S-She was staggering around, so I figured she was just drunk, you know?"

The host cut him off. "Hey, whoa, whoa, whoa. Come on, be honest with us now. How many drinks did you have, huh?" He said with a chuckle.

"Nah, man, I, I barely had a buzz goin'."

The host laughed again. "Oh, c'mon now. I think you had a bit more than that, my man."

"No, just listen, okay? So, I called out to her and asked her if she needed a ride home, you know. But she said nothing back to me. She got closer, and I got a better look at her..."

The caller paused. "And then...I"

His breathing became short and erratic, as if merely recounting the event was sending him into a panic.

"Ya still with us, my man?" The host questioned. "Uh...yeah, yeah. It's just, well, Y-you had to see it. H-Her eyes, her nose...her entire face. It looked like it was rotting! Like a corpse! Like a walking corpse, man!"

Curtis chuckled as he took another bite of his burger. "Heh, sounds like my wife."

"Yeesh. Well, that's, uh...quite the story you got there, buddy." the host said, a hint of disbelief still in his voice. "Man, I'm telling you, what I saw was real! She even tried to attack me! Screaming and snapping her teeth at me! Like she was some rabid dog!" the caller said, terror dripping from his every word.

The host paused for a moment before continuing. "Okay, well...what did you do? What happened?" he asked, striking a more serious tone. "I ran! I'd never run so fast in my life. S-She didn't seem to follow me, but I swear I haven't been able to sleep since that night."

The host, trying his hardest to lift the mood of the conversation, "Okay, well, calm down, buddy. You just gotta stay strong, okay? Don't give into fear out there, right?"

The sound of static began buzzing through the radio. "Yeah, well, you got that right. Believe me, if you freeze up around these things...they'll sink their teeth into you..."

The static consumed the caller's voice until it was nothing but a garbled mess. "Aaah, come on now. Just gettin' good." Curtis said as he turned the radio dials. The rig continued speeding down the road. Eyes still down on the radio, Curtis yawned, "Damn, I need to get some sleep."

His eyes flashed up at the road; a flash of white caught his attention. "Oh, shit!" he exclaimed as he slammed on the brakes. The rig squealed to a stop, sending the body tumbling down the road before finally coming to a rest. Curtis threw the vehicle into park. He threw the cab door open and stepped out into the rain. "Oh, shit. No, no, no…" he muttered as he stepped out in front of the truck and saw the body of a young woman, her white shirt drenched in blood and rainwater.

He rushed over to the mangled body of the woman he had hit, desperately feeling for a pulse. "Oh no. No, no, please God, no!"

The gravity of the situation set in. I just killed someone. Dear God, I just fucking killed a woman! What the hell was she doing out here? A hitchhiker? he thought. He looked back at his truck. Blood and clumps of wet hair adorned the truck's grill.

He stood up and stepped towards the truck, burying his face in his hands. "Oh God, what have I done?" He muttered into his hands. Curtis stared off into the dark for a moment, rubbing his beard. "Oh...what do I do...? What am I gonna do?"

Curtis took off his ball cap, running a hand over his head, "Okay...okay, calm down. I, I just gotta call someone. I just gotta get on the radio and-" Curtis stopped as icy fingers gripped his shoulder.

The woman was back on her feet.

A lone jeep raced down the road, the rain beating incessantly against the windshield. Leon glanced at his watch. 8:10 PM. He sank back into his seat, his heart sinking along with him. Damn it. Should've just stayed at the motel, he thought to himself. No wonder no one's not picking up my calls. As late as I am, they've probably already fired my ass. Now I'm driving all the way out here just to get told that to my face.

Leon massaged his forehead, still suffering from a lingering hangover. All this nonsense over a fuckin' breakup. All that time I spent at the academy, studying and training. And for what? Just to get fired in record time.

A dejected sigh left his lips. Couldn't even hack it for one day, huh?

He looked over at a passing sign on the road. A Mizoil gas station was coming up in three miles, the first one he'd seen in quite a while. He glanced over at the fuel gauge, noticing the needle closing in on empty.

Ah, what the hell. It's not like I'm not already late. I just need to pick up some gas, and I'll be on my way. Leon rubbed his forehead again. And some ibuprofen.

Leon pulled his jeep into the station, parking alongside one of the vacant pumps. He stepped from the car and took in his surroundings. "Huh...where the hell is everyone?"

He hadn't seen another car on the road during the drive-in. No cars, no people, no animals, only the rain remained. He went to grab the fuel nozzle when he glanced over to his left. An Arklay County sheriff's patrol car sat haphazardly facing the storefront, and both the driver and passenger side doors to the cruiser were swung wide open. The headlights shined on the front of the store. However, the interior was still bathed in darkness. "Hm, that's weird..."

A sudden crash emanated from within the convenience store. Leon's eyes snapped to the front of the store. "The fuck…?" he muttered, stepping out in front of his car. He made his way over to the door when he stopped in his tracks. A pair of bloody footprints trailed to the front door and disappeared into the building. Leon glanced at the patrol car, and then back to the door. Shit, looks like someone's in trouble.

Leon retreated to his jeep and opened the passenger door, retrieving his VP70 from the glove box. He approached the front door, his heart beating faster with each step. Gripping the cold steel of the handle, he slowly pushed the door open. The chime of the bell overhead caused Leon to recoil slightly, his heart pounding in his chest. Damn it, Leon. Get your shit together! Someone needs help!

A single flashlight sat on the floor in front of the counter, serving as the only source of light in the store. Fresh blood spattered the counter and tile floor. The cashier was nowhere to be found. Leon retrieved the flashlight from the floor and waved the light across the store. "Hello? Anyone there?" he called out. No one called back to the rookie officer. Fantastic.

Leon cautiously pressed forward into the store, taking care not to step on the bags of snacks that littered the floor. The muffled sounds of a struggle emanated from somewhere within the store. Leon tried opening the door to the right behind the counter, but the handle gave him stiff resistance. "God damn it..." he cursed. Leon turned and illuminated the aisle behind him. A heavy-set man sat slumped against the cooler. He had his hand pressed firmly against the side of his neck; his navy blue uniform stained a dark crimson. Oh, shit...

Leon rushed to the man's side. "Sir, are you all right?" he said as he inspected the man's wounds. The employee gave no response, only raising his arm and motioning towards the open door of the storeroom. Leon stood up from his side. "Okay...don't move. I'll be back, all right?" he said as he moved through the doorway. Leon turned to his right and started down the hall when the door behind him closed. "Hey! What the hell are you doing?"

The employee gave him no answer. No turning back now, I guess, he thought, looking back down the dim hallway. Various soda cans and beer bottles lay scattered, knocked from their shelves. A single door sat at the end of the hallway, the sounds of a scuffle growing louder with each step closer. Leon braced against the door, drawing his pistol from his jacket pocket. He took a deep breath, steadied his nerves, and pushed the door aside.

He spotted the county sheriff wrestling with a disheveled man, pinning him against the back wall. "God damn it, stop moving!" the officer grunted. Leon raised his flashlight. "Officer, do you need help?"

The sheriff turned to face him. "Stand back, sir, I've got this," he said, putting his hand up to the rookie officer. No sooner did the words leave the sheriff's mouth than the assailant whirled around and tackled the deputy to the ground. The man wasted no time in burying his teeth in the sheriff's neck, the sheriff flailing and screaming beneath him.

"Hey! Hey, get off of him, right now!" Leon shouted, raising his pistol to the attacker. But the man paid no attention to Leon's demands and continued to tear at the officer's flesh. The officer reached his hand out to Leon, "H-Help me..." he pleaded before his body went limp. With a sickening tear, the attacker ripped a chunk of flesh from the deputy's neck. He raised his head until his eyes met Leon's, the flashlight revealing the horrid detail of the man's face. The man's skin had turned a ghastly gray; his eyes were white as bleached bone and devoid of any life. His cheeks and lips had been torn away, twisting his mouth into a disgusting, toothy smile. He staggered to his feet, the chunk of flesh falling from the man's mouth, fresh blood dripping from his chin.

"What the fuck...?!"

Jesus Christ...why did he? What the fuck's wrong with him?! he thought, his mind trying to comprehend what he was witnessing. The man dragged his feet forward, emitting a horrendous groan with his arms stretched towards him. Leon raised his handgun. "Freeze! I'll shoot!"

But the assailant continued his advancement toward him. Leon rested a finger on the trigger of his VP70. "God damn it, stop!" he shouted. The killer, seemingly oblivious to his demands, lunged for the young officer.

"Fuck!" Leon exclaimed, firing off a single round. A bullet ripped through the man's chest, causing him to stumble backward. The attacker tripped over the corpse of the slain sheriff and collapsed to the floor with a thud where he lay motionless. Leon kept his pistol trained on the attacker, his chest heaving as he tried to compose himself.

He...He was fucking eating him! Leon thought as he kneeled beside the sheriff's body, shining the light on the officer's wound. What kind of sick fuck could do something like this?

Leon shined the flashlight back at the attacker and inspected the man's face more thoroughly, his milky white eyes staring absently at the ceiling. What the fuck even is this guy?! God, he looks like just he crawled out of the grave. Like he's some kind of... his thoughts trailed off as he rose to his feet, still staring at the putrid face of his assailant.

"Zombie..."

The word fell from Leon's mouth as a chill ran up his spine. No, no, that can't be right. This isn't some fuckin' horror movie. There's no way he could...

Leon averted his eyes from the man's rotting face, "I gotta get the hell outta here...oh, how the hell am I gonna explain this to the station?"

Leon peered over to the locked storage room door, his only avenue of escape now. "Gotta find the key first. It has to be somewhere, right?"

He stepped over the remains of the two men and turned to his right. A single lightbulb flickered overhead, illuminating what he presumed was the manager's desk. A key holder was fastened to the wall, surrounded by several pin-up posters. Leon spotted a single key hanging from the rack. He hurried forward and snatched the key from its hook. The word storage was scribbled on the key tag.

"Nice!" he whispered, tucking the key in the jacket's pocket. "Now I get the hell outta here-" the words snagged in his throat as a hoarse moan sounded from behind him. Leon turned to see the monster stagger to its feet, its eyes locked on the rookie officer. Leon stared back at the creature in horror. "No way...he can't be alive."

The creature shambled forward, arms outstretched. Two rows of shelves stood on either side of Leon, the zombie in front of him blocking his only path of escape. Leon raised his pistol. "S-Stop! Stay away!" he cried as he fired off two rounds.

One round struck the creature's collarbone, causing its left arm to fall slack. The second tore through the throat of the monster, reducing its shrieks to gargled nonsenses. And yet the creature persisted, lurching forward with animalistic fervor. The zombie pinned the young officer against the back wall, ravenously snapping its teeth at his neck. "Get the fuck off me!" Leon grunted, throwing all of his weight into shoving the zombie back. The monster stumbled back, crashing into one of the storage shelves, sending several bags of chips and canned goods tumbling to the floor. Leon seized the opportunity and sprinted for the exit. The zombie shrieked and took one last swipe at his ankle as he passed.

Leon rushed to the storage room, jamming the key into the lock and turning it. He threw open the door and was confronted by the employee he had encountered before. The man was back on his feet and leaned against the cooler's glass door, his arms dangling lazily by his side. He perked his head up at the commotion, his milky white eyes meeting Leon's. The rookie recoiled at the sight of the now undead cashier in front of him before peering out of the window. Several more of those monsters were making their way toward the station. His eyes darted back and forth from the cashier to the approaching horde outside, praying that he would be waking up back at the motel in the next moment.

No...no, dear God, this can't be happening.

A lone Harley pulled into the station and parked off to the side of the road. The red-headed driver put down the kickstand and broke into a light jog over to a payphone. Claire glanced off to her left, noticing an olive green jeep parked alongside one of the pumps, as well as an Arklay County patrol car parked out in front of the store. Both of the vehicle's respective drivers were nowhere to be found. That's odd. She thought. Better give Elza a quick call and then get out of here.

She stepped into the booth and out of the rain. "You'd better be here, Chris. After making me drive through this shit..." she muttered, shaking her jacket free of the rainwater. She punched in Elza's cell phone as she slipped off her helmet. The phone rang for a moment before Elza's voice came through. "Hello?"

"Elza, it's me, Claire."

The woman's voice immediately brightened. "Claire! It's so nice to hear from you. How goes the trip? Have you made it to the city yet?"

"Just about. I'm just outside the city limits. Won't be too long now."

"That's good to hear. Just...please be careful, okay? A lone college girl wandering the streets of Raccoon City at night? That city will eat you alive if you're not careful."

Claire chuckled into the phone. "Elza, you know me. I'll be fine."

Elza let out a small sigh. "I know, Claire. I'm just worried, that's all."

A sudden crash erupted from outside the phone booth. Claire turned to see a man had tripped over her motorcycle, tipping it onto its side. The man himself laid face-down on the pavement. Claire narrowed her eyes. "I'm sorry, Elza, but I gotta deal with something real quick," she said, stifling a curse. "Okay, just be careful," Elza said. "I will, but I gotta go," Claire said before quickly hanging up the phone. Her eyes snapped back to the man sprawled on the ground.

"This asshole..." she growled. She threw open the door of the pay phone and stomped toward the man. "Hey, shithead! That's a brand new bike!"

The man groaned as he picked himself off the ground. "You better not have scratched the paint-"

Her blood ran cold as the man stood upright, allowing Claire a better look at his features. He wore a tattered St. Louis Cardinals jersey, thoroughly soaked in blood and rainwater. His skin was a pallid gray and had the texture of worn leather. The man stepped forward at Claire, his cloudy white eyes staring unblinkingly at her. "Uh, sir...I-I'm sorry if I...listen, d-don't worry about the bike. It's no big deal, okay? A-are you hurt?" Claire stammered, striking a more apologetic tone.

The man's only response to her was a guttural moan. Claire's heart hammered in her chest. "Sir, please. I'm sorry I bothered you, okay? Let's just forget this ever happened, huh?"

The man continued his advance toward Claire, both hands reaching out to her. Claire slowly backpedaled away from the man. "Are you listening?!"

Claire looked over her shoulder, a muffled gunshot coming from inside the store. She turned her attention back to the man in front of her, noticing several more people approaching from the road behind him, all sharing the same rotten appearance. Oh shit! Shit, shit, what the fuck do I do?

Claire ripped her knife from its sheath. "Stop! Get away from me!"

The man lurched forward, grabbing hold of Claire's wrist and pulling her hand to his mouth. "No!" Claire screamed, stabbing him in the throat. The man stumbled back with a groan, blood pumping from the wound. And yet he remained standing, ignoring the mortal wound in his throat. Claire looked on in horror. What the hell!? How is he still standing?! What the fuck is wrong with these people?!

Two more gunshots rang out from inside the store. Claire's head swiveled back and forth from the store to her motorcycle, the latter of which was now completely cut off by the approaching mob. No...no, this isn't happening. This has to be some kind of nightmare, she thought, her mind racing to come up with a plan. "No! Get away from me!" she cried. The monster screamed and propelled itself at her once more. Claire threw her helmet at the creature and took off for the front door. Oh God, please...please, I can't die here. Please, just let me see Chris again, she prayed, tears welling in her eyes. Claire reached the door, ramming it open with her shoulder.

She took a step through the doorway before she found herself staring into the eyes of a terrified young man. To her relief, he didn't look like one of those things outside. He wore a plain black jacket and blue jeans, the former sporting a bloody handprint on the left shoulder. Claire noticed a handgun gripped tightly in his right hand. The man hesitated, his eyes wide and filled with fear and bewilderment. Then the man narrowed his eyes, raising his pistol to her face.

"Wait, don't shoot!" she pleaded, throwing her hands in the air. "Get down!"

Without question, Claire dropped to the tile floor. A single gunshot rang out, followed shortly after by a wet thud. Claire peered over her shoulder and found the man that had attacked her sprawled across the pavement. A single stream of blood trickled from a hole in his forehead.

The man glanced behind him before stepping forward. "Ma'am, are you all right?" he asked, extending his hand to the redhead. She turned to look up at the young man, "Yeah...I-I think so." Claire stammered, taking his hand. The young man pulled her to her feet. "We need to get out of here, now!" he said, turning his attention back forward. "Oh, no..." Claire muttered, her eyes set on the horde that now swarmed the gas station. Shit, they're everywhere! No way we can get to the bike or the jeep now. Oh God, what are we gonna do?

"Miss, the patrol car! Come on!" the man shouted, pulling Claire out of her thoughts. The pair dashed for the cruiser, a zombie shrieking as it lunged for her. Claire ducked the attack before climbing into the cruiser. "Come on, hurry!"

The young man shoved one zombie to the ground and rushed into the car, slamming the door behind him. He reached for the ignition. His eyes went wide.

"Where the fuck are the keys?!" he exclaimed, frantically searching the car's interior. "What?!" Claire cried. Several zombies were already mobbing the car, wailing and beating their bloodied hands against the windows. "Hurry! Please, they're about to get in!" she pleaded. "I'm looking, I'm looking!" he replied, rifling through the glove box.

Please, not like this. We're so close...

The young man pulled down the sun visor, a single key dropping into his lap. He grabbed the key and rammed it into the ignition. The cruiser's engine roared to life.

Oh, thank God...

"Hang on!" he said, shifting the car in reverse. "Okay!" Claire replied, clutching her seat. He slammed on the gas and turned the steering wheel hard, sending a zombie that had crawled on the hood sliding to the ground. The tires squealed as the cruiser raced out of the station and down the road. The two survivors peered behind them, watching the gas station fade into the night. Claire released her hold on her seat, her chest still heaving. Feeling the adrenaline drain from her body, she sank back into her seat and closed her eyes. What the hell is happening here?! Why were they attacking us? What the fuck even were they?!

Oh, God...why didn't I listen to Elza? Please, please, God...I just want to go home. I...

"Ma'am, are you okay?"

She looked over at her savior, "W-What?" Claire stammered, his voice taking her out of her thoughts.

"Are you all right? Are you hurt?" he asked, his blue eyes looking intently over at her. Claire hesitated for a moment, "Y-Yeah...I-I'm okay..." she stammered, still in shock over the prior ordeal. Her eyes darted to the rearview mirror before turning back to him. "W-what the hell's going on? What were those things?!"

The man turned his head back to the road, "I...I have no idea, miss." he replied, relaxing his death grip on the steering wheel. "I'll file a report with the police station. Hopefully, they'll have some answers."

Or maybe they're just as clueless as we are.

"Wait, you're a cop?" she asked, cocking her head. "Yeah, first day on the job, great, huh?" he said with a slight smirk. He turned to face her. "My name's Leon Kennedy. Nice to meet you."

"Could you tell your name, miss?" Leon asked calmly. Although, his trembling hands on the steering wheel betrayed his composed demeanor. He was just as terrified as her.

"I'm Claire...Claire Redfield," she answered, her voice still wavering. It was Claire's first good look at the man. He was young, certainly not much older than her. His sandy blond bangs parted down his forehead, revealing a sharp, handsome face. His striking blue eyes gleamed even in the low light of the car. Are you sure you're not a model?

Her cheeks flushed slightly. "Well, T-Thank you, Leon. For...for saving me back there. I don't know what I would've done..."

"Don't mention it, Claire. Just doing my job." Leon said, flashing a smile. Leon's eyes rested on the redhead seated next to him. She was young, college-aged, he presumed. Her baby blue eyes complimented the rest of her lovely facial features. Her rich auburn hair was pulled back into a ponytail that came down to shoulder length. She sported a sleeveless red leather jacket with a black turtleneck undershirt that clung tightly to her petite figure. He found his eyes wandering south, noticing her midriff peeking out at him. Settle down, Kennedy, he thought, snapping his eyes back to the road.

The two continued down the barren road as Leon fidgeted with the cruiser's radio dials. "I can't get a hold of anyone on this damn thing," Leon muttered in frustration as the radio spat out nothing but static. He glanced over at Claire, noticing her wiping some blood from her knife. A small medallion in the center of the hilt caught his attention.

"That's a STARS knife...a special forces issue, huh?"

He had heard of the STARS unit from when he went in for his interview, but he had never met any of its members. She turned her head. "Hmm? Oh, it's my brother's. That's why I'm here. To find him." Claire said, sheathing the blade.

"Do you and your brother live in the city?"

"He does. I live in Lawrence right now. But I haven't heard from him in over a month. It's...It's just not like him to just disappear like that without telling me." she said, sinking back into her seat.

Leon glanced over at Claire, observing the obvious concern on the young woman's face. Poor girl. She comes out all this way to find her missing brother and nearly gets torn apart by a pack of psychotic cannibals. The least I can do is lend her a hand.

"Well...tell you what. We can look for your brother together. I'm sure, between the two of us, we'll find him in no time. Don't worry, okay?" he said, softening his voice.

Claire perked her head over at him. Her blue eyes brightened and the corners of her lips curled into a smile. "Thank you, Leon."

Leon returned a smile. "Of course." At least she's calming down now...

His eyes drifted over to the glove box. "Oh, and before I forget. Could you open the glove box real quick? I thought I saw something in there back at the gas station."

"Sure."

Claire popped open the glove box. Sure enough, a Browning Hi-Power and a spare magazine sat atop miscellaneous papers and wads of napkins. "You better take that with you. Lord knows how many more of those things are out there."

Claire retrieved the pistol from the glove box, dropping the magazine into her off-hand and setting it on her lap. She pulled the slide back slightly, noting the brass casing of the round already within the chamber. She reinserted the magazine, pulled the hammer back, and pushed up on the thumb safety before tucking the pistol into the waistband of her blue denim shorts.

"Woah..." he murmured, a tiny smirk growing on his face. Damn girl…

Claire glanced up at the road, her eyes suddenly widening. "Oh my God..." she gasped, putting a hand over her mouth. Ahead, the cruiser's headlights illuminated an abandoned military checkpoint. A lone national guardsman staggered in the middle of the road. The soldier turned to face the car, displaying the same decayed appearance as the zombies back at the gas station. His right arm was missing entirely from his torso. The soldier let out a bloodcurdling scream as the patrol car approached.

"Claire, hang on!" Leon said as the car picked up speed. The zombified soldier lunged for the car, the rearview mirror clipping the soldier as the car sped by. Several more zombies stumbled from the side of the road toward the car, some in uniform and others in tattered civilian clothes. The cruiser raced through the checkpoint, weaving through the crowd of zombies.

Leon peered back over his seat, myriad thoughts swirling in his head. God, if the national guard can't even handle this...just how bad is it getting out here? Leon's mind wandered back to the calls he made to the station. What if there's a reason no one picked up my calls? What if the station's already... he stopped himself, his stomach turning over at the mere thought.

Claire rested her head against the window, peering out into the night. All those unanswered phone calls to the police station, Chris's sudden disappearance. It all made sense now.

Claire began blinking back tears. Please, Chris...please be safe. I'm begging you.

Her eyes gravitated to a passing road sign.

Welcome to Raccoon City - Home of Umbrella

Her mind lingered on that single word. Welcome. The morbid irony of it was not lost on the young woman.

The two survivors fell silent, each left to ponder what awaited them within the city as the cruiser raced into the night.