(NOTE: Having formatting problems, so there will be no indentions, and the two sections separated from the bulk of the story are supposed to be in italics. Just use your imagination or something.)
"You've gotta be kidding me. Over a hundred people found dead in the streets and I'm sent to interview some old narc about insurance fraud?"
"You have radical views, Al. This is a travesty, and I'm not going to risk the integrity of the paper just so you can get in a few shits and giggles."
"That's not what it's about. I'm not Bertolucci. I state my views, not what needs to be said for the public to get riled up."
"I guess it's all coincidence with you. Just get out of here, and take Cameron with you."
His left hand was shaking violently, and he couldn't tell if the liquid blood or water. It didn't matter; the pain would be the same no matter what. His leg felt crushed but usable, if such state existed. He hadn't noticed that his right hand was plastered to the wheel and that he hadn't moved in the five minutes since his awakening, He slowly let his shivering hand ascend to wipe off his face, soaking in the sudden storm of despair that had swept Raccoon City without any warning, a force so strong that it would soon lead the city's untimely downfall. Alex Pope was alive, but for how long?
The van was now fused with a brick wall. Kate Cameron's head was now fused with the dashboard, but the rest of her body was unintelligible among the debris. Alex was horrified, and for a split second he had forgotten what was happening around him, the death that brewed in the darkness of the city slums. He brushed terror away to concern himself with other thoughts. It's not as if he believed human life was worthless, but when there's pure anarchy in the streets and insanity is the new common cold, one life didn't matter all that much.
For the next few moments, Alex busied himself on breaking free from the metallic grips of the Ford, and succeeded fairly easily. He never stopped to wonder why Kate died and he was only superficially wounded. Such thoughts were trivial, and living in the past was like lying down and letting them come to you.
But what were "them?" He had swerved around Jacobin Street as not to collide with the murderous, foul creatures, and the end result was no exactly ideal. Caught in an alley and blindsided by a wall was not the best way to evade the insane cannibals, but in any case, they were busy with their other meals to take interest in the crash site.
Stepping outside the torn van for the first time in… however long it was… was quite refreshing for Alex, albeit for the foul stench of the soiled city. He limped around to the other side of the vehicle and took a look at the passenger seat. The door was almost completely gone, and all that was left was brick, metal, and human, no Kate's, remains. He didn't want to be too compassionate in this type of situation, but he didn't want to be a complete ass. She was his friend, and they collaborated on good stories from time to time. But that was the extent of the relationship. The left door mirror was lying on the ground in one piece, interestingly enough, and Alex kneeled down to look at himself. His right eye was swelling, and blood covered the same side of his face. It wasn't his blood, though, because he could see no deep cuts. His expression was noticeably darker than this morning, but that was understandable. His physical wounds were superficial. The mental effects were not.
So where was he? Directly in front of Kendo's, a gun shop off of Main Street, said the dilapidated sign in front of the lot. It took him a moment to realize that he didn't need to read the sign to know where it was, as he had been at this exact location several times the previous year. Alex could tell that something was not quite meshing in his mind. He was constantly forgetting the direness of the situation, and the layout of the town was slowly depleting from his memory.
"Concussion," Alex stated to himself, as if the reassurance that he wasn't going out of his mind eased his nerves. He grabbed a jacket from the trunk of the van and strode to Kendo's door, checking around him for any dangers. There were none, so he entered.
Kendo's was bare. It had been ravaged for all its worth, and now stood as the poster child to a dying city. Mankind's need for survival superceded any common sense, and Alex vowed to himself that he'd rather put a bullet in his brain before he sunk to such levels of savagery. It's human nature, but I'm smarter than this. As for Kendo, he was nowhere to be seen, so Alex decided to take a few liberties with the store, such as closing the door and dimming the lights.
Alex reached into his pocket for the pack of cigarettes he always kept on hand, but instead found something heavier and colder. He retracted his arm with the object in hand and realized that he still had his tape recorder on his person. He couldn't remember if he had used it before the crash, so he tapped the 'rewind' button, and then played the tape back.
"—do you have to be such an ass like this? You have a girlfriend—" It was Kate's voice.
"Haven't you heard what's happening in the God forsaken town? People are dying! No tellin' what's happening. All I'm saying is, we could be next."
"All you're ever concerned with is a cheap thrill. Just like that damn Ben."
"I'm not Bertolucci. I'm not like him! And you don't need to rag on him. Just because you're the office slut doesn't mean you have to be all pissy—"
Why had he recorded this? Was it even him you was using it? There was a scuffle on the tape, the sound of a window cracking, and a long string of curses and crying. They were Alex's words. They were Alex's sobs. He was terrified.
"I don't remember this! I don't remember any of this!" He cried out to himself as he back against the wall perpendicular to the door. "I'm not like this! I'm not Bertolucci… It can't be right and—Dear God! I didn't crash evading those fucking walking corpses! I tried to kill myself!"
He felt the tears begin to well up again, and he staggered over to the counter of the store for support. Kneeling over, he felt the bile rushing to his throat, and tears partnered by vomit splattered the floor as croaking sounds filled the small room. Alex grabbed the tape recorder and threw it against the window. It broke into pieces, joining that of Alex's soul. The only way he could stop the grief was to forget it, and that wouldn't be happening any time soon. Alex snatched out a lighter from his coat and lit a cigarette, using it as a distraction from his unrest. Taking a long drag, he began to feel relaxed for the first time since that morning. He looked out the store window to see that all traces if the dying sun had been eradicated as shiver-inducing screams filled the night air.
It was at this time that more of his memory of that evening began to come back to him, and he remembered the time before his murderous deed. He recalled watching from afar the last stand of the final police barricade as Kate's sobs filled his background thoughts. It was at that moment that the city gave its final gasp, and that those… those zombies were free to roam the city, doing as the pleased.
The back door swung open with great urgency, and Joe Kendo appeared, waltzing through the doorway with such vigor that intimidated Alex. By this time he was behind a smaller counter perpendicular to the one where most of the guns were sold, and he slouched down as not to be seen by the daunting man. The two were not exactly on friendly terms, and Alex didn't want to get the large man riled up with such a demeanor already in play.
Kendo growled and instantly locked the door, walking behind the main counter in a dire search for something. Alex peeked above his barrier and watched as Kendo opened a First Aid kit and wrapped it around his wrist. Alex hadn't noticed before but the large man's arm was bleeding profusely, leaving at least three moderately sized puddles on the ground since he entered the shop.
"Ah! Dammit!" He exclaimed, and Alex wasn't surprised. He couldn't imagine the pain he must be going through. The reporter tensed with each passing moment. The city was in ruins, and Kendo didn't have much of a reason not to kill Alex just for kicks before his own inevitable death. Alex continued to wait until… he could sense something was wrong. He had forgotten something, his cigarette, and he could feel the heat of failure at his neck. But it wasn't proverbial, as Alex soon found that is jacket had caught aflame.
"Shit!" Alex cried as he jumped up and tossed the coat to the ground, stomping it until the fire had been put out.
"Pope…" Kendo muttered as he walked over to where the incident had taken place. Alex was amazed that the large man wasn't surprised in the least by his outburst. He had an almost glazed over look to his face, as if all emotion had been sucked out of him. Well, except anger that is, Alex found, when Kendo rushed up to him and pinned the journalist to the wall by his neck. "What a convenient time to be paying me a visit."
Alex struggled to get the words to form in his voice box. "This… isn't… the… time…" he coughed out. He felt his eyelids grow heavy, and right before he was sure to black out, a great relief filled him as he fell to the ground and slumped against a nearby wall.
"You almost ruined me, Pope. Give me one good reason not to kill you right now. No one would find out. You'd be just another dead body along with every other fucking person in this city," Kendo replied to Alex's pathetic struggle for survival.
"You kn—" Alex was interrupted by his own scratched trachea with several deep coughs. "You know I told you that someday this city would see the real you, Kendo. Guess you were right all along. Listen, you were selling guns to illegal minors at the time, ass. It's my job to help the city—"
"Help the city, eh? Those guns were attributed to five self-defense cases and absolutely no criminal involvement, Pope! I saved lives, and what did I get for it? Three lawsuits! You're just like Bertolucci, lookin' out for no one but himself."
"I'm not like Bertolucci, Kendo. What you did was against the law, and so is what you're about to do. Now I'm the only live person you know right now so I suggest you calm the fuck down."
Kendo was hysterical. He started throwing objects around the store. He destroyed his displays with absolutely no regard for his own safety, and tossed any remaining boxes of ammo he had around the room. Once he was done releasing his rage, he kneeled over the counter and began to weep. For the first time, Alex actually felt sorry for him.
"My wife… My family…" The big man sobbed. Alex lifted his arm and brought it along his jet-black hair. He was never comfortable in these types of situations, so he always kept his hands busy in a nervous style. "Listen, Pope. We've got no chance. No fucking chance! I was chased inside while bringin' a shipment in through the back. I managed to cage them in the court right outside, but… but I dunno how long it'll hold 'em. No chance! They've got no compassion, no emotion. All they want is flesh and they won't fucking stop 'till they get it! One of 'em took a huge chunk out of my arm here and I… I…"
"Calm down, Kendo. We can still get out of here, but… but I need some time to rest. And to think." Alex fumbled for another cigarette. His hands trembled at the thought of the monsters Kendo was describing. He saw them, lazily feasting and standing on the streets while their flesh rotted and their putrid stench filled the night air, but he had never had a direct confrontation with one.
"Those things, they'll kill ya," Kendo stated, motioning toward the burning nicotine stick.
"And they won't?" Alex retorted, pointing at the shotgun Kendo was currently loading. For the first time, the gun shop owner cracked a smile. The smile faded as he noticed Alex nodding off. The head injury was starting to take its toll on the writer.
"There's a cot in the back room. Go and rest up. I'll guard the store," Kendo stated. Alex gratefully obliged, bidding farewell to his former enemy and staggering through the doorway.
It was a dark, musty room, but Alex found his way to the makeshift bed nonetheless and let his mind go blank.
When he woke up, he was confused, but soon remembered everything that had happened the night before. He crept toward the door and let his hands rest on it, applying more pressure very slowly as not to make a creaking sound. He peered through the crack. He had slept throughout the day and the sun was once again setting, but that's not what caught Alex's attention.
Kendo was sprawled on the ground, the living dead were currently taking residence in the shop, and death was just around the corner…