Tyler Andrews knew that he couldn't run forever, either. He had been
sitting alone in an apartment complex for the past 48 hours, shooting any
undead that came near him with his trusty shotgun. At the moment, though,
he was taking a break. Tyler sat in the shadows, puffing on a cigarette.
What the Hell is going on with this city? Not everyone in it can be dead.
I know there's got to be someone out there, he thought to himself, sitting
in the gloomy dark.
Tyler sighed, and flicked his cigarette. There must have been some way to get out of here, but how? Tyler didn't know what that way is, and didn't care, as long as he could get out of there. Raccoon City had gone from a great place to live, with a wonderful atmosphere, to a deserted zombie-town, taken over by Umbrella. Tyler's own parents had worked for Umbrella. How could they have been so stupid? Then again, a great deal of the city people worked for Umbrella. Maybe it was just because they paid well, or just because of the free insurance. Somehow, Tyler believed that the people working at Umbrella had known about this disaster.
Tyler stood up. It was time to get a move on. He couldn't stay in the apartment building forever. He was beginning to get sick from the smell, alone. The old, run-down apartment building smelled of dead bodies, blood, and rotten garbage. Even when Tyler made his way through the dead bodies and out to the street, all he could smell was blood, and the promise of more rotting bodies. He made his way up a couple of blocks when he saw a trio of zombie cops making their way toward him.
Now, he hadn't liked cops before this whole incident, but now, he just despised them even more. Tyler was an excellent shot. He took his shotgun, and loaded it. Damn, these ugly bastards are slow, he thought to himself, shooting the first in the head. The second time, he was a little off aim, and shot the second dead policeman in the cheek. He aimed again, and hit the brain. The third policeman was no trouble for Tyler. He made his way past the twitching bodies, and ran into a small girl. At first, he jumped back, thinking it was another zombie. But it wasn't. She was a cute little girl, with red curls and big green eyes. Her clothes had a bit of blood on them, and she looked scared. Tyler offered her a hand, trying to smile.
"What's your name, kid?" He said, kneeling down.
"…I'm not supposed to talk to strangers, but since you're alive, I guess it's okay. I'm Rachelle."
"I'm Tyler. Where are your parents?"
"Gone. My momma died when I was a little girl, and my daddy got eaten by one of those… monsters."
Tyler frowned. Shit. This kid had no one else, and neither did he. He guessed that he should have been happy that he found someone else who was alive, but he couldn't have a 7-year-old to slow him down.
"Rachelle, will you help me?"
"Help you with what?"
"Help me get out of here. For you to help me, I need you to be really quiet, and really good for me, okay?"
Rachelle nodded. She knew all about being a good girl. She was hardly ever in trouble with her teachers, or her daddy. And, as far as being quiet, Rachelle was the quietest kid in Mrs. Valentine's third grade class.
"You must be one Hell—heck of a brave little girl. You and me, kid, we're going to get out of here." Tyler would try not to let anything happen to this kid—or to himself, for that matter. He hadn't got a scratch, or a bite yet, and apparently, neither had this kid. He looked her over, and nodded to himself. She was a little kid, and she could probably run fast, climb around, do those kinds of things that almost every little kid is able to do. He smiled at her softly, and then took her hand, standing up.
"Okay. We probably shouldn't stand around here much longer… those bas—bad things will come for us."
And with that, they were off. They ventured into a long, hard journey, which would end up where it all started.
Tyler sighed, and flicked his cigarette. There must have been some way to get out of here, but how? Tyler didn't know what that way is, and didn't care, as long as he could get out of there. Raccoon City had gone from a great place to live, with a wonderful atmosphere, to a deserted zombie-town, taken over by Umbrella. Tyler's own parents had worked for Umbrella. How could they have been so stupid? Then again, a great deal of the city people worked for Umbrella. Maybe it was just because they paid well, or just because of the free insurance. Somehow, Tyler believed that the people working at Umbrella had known about this disaster.
Tyler stood up. It was time to get a move on. He couldn't stay in the apartment building forever. He was beginning to get sick from the smell, alone. The old, run-down apartment building smelled of dead bodies, blood, and rotten garbage. Even when Tyler made his way through the dead bodies and out to the street, all he could smell was blood, and the promise of more rotting bodies. He made his way up a couple of blocks when he saw a trio of zombie cops making their way toward him.
Now, he hadn't liked cops before this whole incident, but now, he just despised them even more. Tyler was an excellent shot. He took his shotgun, and loaded it. Damn, these ugly bastards are slow, he thought to himself, shooting the first in the head. The second time, he was a little off aim, and shot the second dead policeman in the cheek. He aimed again, and hit the brain. The third policeman was no trouble for Tyler. He made his way past the twitching bodies, and ran into a small girl. At first, he jumped back, thinking it was another zombie. But it wasn't. She was a cute little girl, with red curls and big green eyes. Her clothes had a bit of blood on them, and she looked scared. Tyler offered her a hand, trying to smile.
"What's your name, kid?" He said, kneeling down.
"…I'm not supposed to talk to strangers, but since you're alive, I guess it's okay. I'm Rachelle."
"I'm Tyler. Where are your parents?"
"Gone. My momma died when I was a little girl, and my daddy got eaten by one of those… monsters."
Tyler frowned. Shit. This kid had no one else, and neither did he. He guessed that he should have been happy that he found someone else who was alive, but he couldn't have a 7-year-old to slow him down.
"Rachelle, will you help me?"
"Help you with what?"
"Help me get out of here. For you to help me, I need you to be really quiet, and really good for me, okay?"
Rachelle nodded. She knew all about being a good girl. She was hardly ever in trouble with her teachers, or her daddy. And, as far as being quiet, Rachelle was the quietest kid in Mrs. Valentine's third grade class.
"You must be one Hell—heck of a brave little girl. You and me, kid, we're going to get out of here." Tyler would try not to let anything happen to this kid—or to himself, for that matter. He hadn't got a scratch, or a bite yet, and apparently, neither had this kid. He looked her over, and nodded to himself. She was a little kid, and she could probably run fast, climb around, do those kinds of things that almost every little kid is able to do. He smiled at her softly, and then took her hand, standing up.
"Okay. We probably shouldn't stand around here much longer… those bas—bad things will come for us."
And with that, they were off. They ventured into a long, hard journey, which would end up where it all started.