Warmth. That's all he felt as a ray of sunlight bathed his face. He rolled over, hoping he was in bed hearing the blare of his alarm, but the papers he had used for pillows ruffled under his weight, sending him back to reality. He had fallen asleep longer than he had originally thought about. Scott got up, checking the bullets of the handgun he had gotten the night before. He stood there for a while looking at his raggedy boots and ripped jeans. He wished he had a mirror to see what he could possibly look like.
Homeless, most likely, he thought as he adjusted his cotton woven gloves with the fingers cut off.
He listened as an empty breeze blew against the shop door, almost making him jump. He opened the cage door reluctantly, gripping the handle of the gun and walking towards the exit. He didn't want to walk through that door, but he couldn't stay there forever. He opened the door, and peaked out into an empty alley. A few loose papers lay dormant on the ground, soggy from rain. It was a silent city. No humming of cars or screaming of people for taxes-just complete silence. This is what killed him. Living in Raccoon City was unbearable because of the noise pollution, but now all that could be heard was the malicious winds, which seemed to bring the undead a bit nearer to him. Scott walked down into the alley, pulling out the gun from the holster and cocking it. Slowly, he crept down the alleyway, praying to himself that he'd be safe. Turning a corner, he found himself in the main street of Raccoon City. He closed his eyes for a second in pure shock. He had been on this street a million times, but each time he came here, he felt a sense of sorrow and horror. Looking out over the street, he felt his heart begin to thump a little harder in his chest. Overturned cars lined the streets, blood streaking the windshields. Dead bodies hung out the open windows of some, like hellish rag dolls. It was unreal. Scott walked on a little. His vision blurred slightly as tears welled up in his eyes. He couldn't think clearly; his head was a storm of emotions, ready to explode at any second. He felt the need to bury every single body that he saw out there, but he knew there was no time for that. He was in a war. It was a war he could never win, but he had to fight. All he had left was to fight for his liberation.
I envy them, he thought as he passed an overturned car, They never knew. Scott walked on, pointing the handgun ahead of him. He couldn't be unprepared. His heart started to race with anxiety as he moved with great care through the streets. When he was younger, he used to pretend some tragedy would befall Raccoon City. Aliens had taken over and Scott was the world's last hope. With his red plastic toy gun he would valiantly defend humanity, pointing it up at the sky and killing the invaders all by himself. He was a hero. Now, a tragedy had destroyed Raccoon City, and though Scott had killed many of the infected, he felt less. He felt like nothing. Scott's thoughts were disturbed when he heard a rustling behind him. He swung around, his adrenaline pumping as he stood face to face with two walking corpses. He moved back, breaking out in a cold sweat. The one was once a waitress, with an apron tied securely around her waist. The other was just a simple entrepreneur, his once expensive suit now torn and ragged, exposing bite marks on his body from the zombies. Scott shot at them, unloading his gun frantically into their bodies until at last they fell. The body of the entrepreneur continued to twitch violently, and Scott walked away quickly, hoping it wouldn't pop back up and start following.
Bullets, I need more bullets, he thought as he struggled to put in a few in the gun. Suddenly, out of no where, he heard a low painful growl. Scott hesitated to look up for fear of what was in front of him. Then he saw it. A large dog exposed himself from the protection of a car. Scott backed up slowly, struggling to put a bullet in the gun, as he dropped a few on the ground. Scott stumbled as his back hit something solid, and he found himself cornered against a car. The dog started to charge, leaving Scott with no choice but to drop the rest of his bullets and put one in the chamber. The dog leapt high in the air; Scott could feel it's cold breath against his face. He closed his eyes, his heart pounding as if it were going to burst out of his chest. He pulled the trigger. Instantly he felt himself bathed a cold liquid. He didn't want to open his eyes. Sliding down the side of the car, Scott opened his eyes to face the headless dog that lay in front of him.
"I use to love dogs," he gasped, clutching his chest.
He started to pick up some of the bullets that he had dropped. Once he had a good amount, he looked under the car to see one more lying by bits of glass and blood.
Every one counts, he thought as he reached for it. His hand froze in midair. In front of him, he saw the thin jagged legs of a dog carelessly stepping on bits of broken glass. Scott took the bullet in his hand. He slid back slowly, trying not to arouse the dog's senses. It was useless; he knew the animal could smell his blood. It could smell him from a mile away. Scott pushed his way from underneath the car, standing up as slowly as possible, but then he realized something was wrong. A group of deep growls joined together in a cacophonic chorus, making Scott swing around to find a group of dogs staring back at him. They had cornered him. He stood there for a while, his heart beating with anticipation. They didn't attack right away, but instead, they walked slowly towards him, torturing him before they devoured his flesh. He pressed up against the car, trying to put the bullets in the gun. A rush of air whipped by him, and out of the corner of his eye he saw the teeth of the sixth dog snap at him as it jumped off the top of the car and fell to the ground, barely missing him. Scott stood there, gritting his teeth in pure horror as the dog joined his group, and the pack of six slowly crept in on him. Scott managed to get four bullets in the chamber. He cocked the gun and shot at the sixth. It took in the bullet, falling over, it's whining faded away. Scott thought quickly, pulling him self up on top of the car. The dogs charged, as he jumped off the other side, cutting his arm on broken glass that hung out of the window. He fell to the ground, quickly jumping up and running away as quickly as he could. The dogs barked loudly as they jumped over the car and began the chase of their prey. Scott turned corners quickly, barely making it past zombies and overturned cars. The dogs still chased him. Scott found himself trapped, a tall concrete wall and a group of cars piled together blocked his way from getting away, he was desperate. They were too close to him now, he could either use the three bullets in his gun or he could try to make his way over the wall. Scott made his choice quickly. He jumped up on one of the overturned cars in front of him, frantically scratching at the wall. The dogs had gained up on him, they growled, almost mocking his efforts to get across the wall. Scott managed to climb up on grooves on the wall, almost throwing himself over the wall, just in time for a dog to swipe by him. Scott landed hard on the ground, and for that second he was unconscious.