Boring stupid disclaimer: I don't own Resident Evil. Neither do you. (Suckers)
Author's Note: Hello readers. This is my first submission to so please don't flame me if it sucks.
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The Story of a Lifetime 11:26PM September 23rd,1998 One Hour Away From Raccoon City Thomas Benson drove along, hardly able to keep his eyes open. "Why did I take this job?" he muttered to himself absently. Crappy hours, boss hated him, no time for any social life, bad pay.
The list went on and on. He was a reporter for the Globe and Mail. His boss had gotten wind that something big was happening in Raccoon City, Pennsylvania. He didn't know what, of course, but Tom was sent in to try to find out what was going on.
"I've got to get some sleep,"Tom said to himself. He was still an hour away from the city. After driving for another 10 minutes he finally came upon a motel. After checking in he collapsed into bed and fell asleep almost instantly.
4:13AM September 24th, 1998 Sleep Easy Motel
A crash and thump from downstairs woke Tom. "What the hell?" he groaned, stumbling out of bed.
A scream echoed up from the office, followed by groaning and, to round everything out, a shotgun blast. "Damn it!" he muttered. Tom grabbed the bowie knife he always kept with him off the headboard of his bed and started towards the office. The first thing he noticed was the broken window. It looked like someone had jumped through it. He then heard chewing. "Aw crap," he said, noticing a pool of blood seeping out from under the door. "I know your name and the police are on their way!" he bluffed.
"I also have a gun!" he added. There was a pause in the chewing and a slow shuffling sound developed.
Tom gathered all of his courage and jumped into the room. He took one look at the sight inside and wished he hadn't. The motel manager was lying on the ground with his stomach torn apart. His intestines were strewn all over the floor. Tom then looked at the assailant. It was almost inhuman It had once been a man in his early 20's. He was almost unrecognisable now. It looked like he had been in some sort of horrible car accident. His left arm was bent at an odd angle and the right one had what looked like a dog bite of some sort on it. Part of his stomach had been blown away by a shotgun blast. There was blood dripping down his chin. The thing, whatever it was, was coming straight for him.
"Whoa buddy," Tom said as he pulled the knife out, "Stay where you are." The guy kept advancing.
"Stay there!" Tom said again loudly. Suddenly, the man lunged toward him, moaning. A single gunshot rang out and the man dropped dead, a single hole in his head. Tom looked up and saw a man in a State Trooper's uniform standing at the door, gun raised. "Are you alright sir?" the officer asked, " Someone upstairs called us after they heard shots." "Yes,I'm fine," Tom gasped, still staring at the freak of nature lying at his feet.
7:29AM September 24th, 1998 Just Outside The City
"What the hell?" Tom said to himself as he looked ahead. He had left the motel about an hour before after giving a statement to the police. Now up ahead there seemed to be a barricade of some sort. Tom pulled up and rolled down the window. Some guy in a gas mask walked up to the window. "Hello there,"
Tom said, "Um, could I get through here." "I'm sorry sir," the man replied, "This is a quarantine zone."
"Quarantine?" Tom said in disbelief, "Why?" "Might I ask who you are?" the man countered. "I am Thomas Benson. I'm with the Globe and Mail," Tom replied, holding up his reporter's ID. The soldier looked at the ID and said, "The Black Plague has infected the city. I am afraid I can't allow you in." Tom opened his mouth to argue but saw that he was wasting his breath. He turned around and drove away.
Suddenly, he remembered something that he had read once. Something about a path that lead through Raccoon Forest into the city. He figured that he may as well give it a shot and started looking.
8:41AM September 24th, 1998 Raccoon Forest
"God dammit!" Tom yelled to nobody in particular. He had found the path about 20 minutes ago and was driving along it. Unfortunately, the path was now blocked by a fallen tree. "Aw well," he reasoned, "I can't be that far away from the city." He climbed out of the car and shivered, not because it was cold as it wasn't, but because of the unearthly silence. There weren't even any birds chirping. He shut off the engine and and started taking supplies. He grabbed his knife, a bottle of Tylenol, a bottle of Gatorade, some AA batteries, some duct tape, a small flashlight, his lighter, his cellphone and a backpack to carry it in. He went to the trunk and grabbed his camera, some extra film, a few road flares, some lighter fluid, and a small hand saw.
He locked his car and started walking down the path. He walked for about 15 minutes before he noticed something lying by the side of the path. He took a close look and realized it was a person... minus a head.
"Oh my god," he said in disbelief. The body was wearing hunter's clothes so he figured he was out hunting when he died. Then he noticed the rifle. It was a Heckler & Koch HK630 (this he knew from a report on firearms he did for the paper a few years back) and it still had 8 of the 10 bullets in it. He checked the body and found 20 more rounds of .30 USC ammo on it. Figuring that he was wandering through an unfamiliar forest, he decided to take it for protection. He also marked the location of the body in his head so he could alert the police in Raccoon.
He continued walking. Tom then noticed a small structure up ahead of him. Above the door the words "Ranger's Station" were written. The thing he paid most attention to, however, was the jeep in the driveway. "Thank god," Tom said in relief. He walked into the building and saw a horrible sight. There was blood everywhere and in the middle of the blood, was the ranger. "Holy crap," Tom said, "Are you alright?" The ranger looked up and Tom was repulsed by the sight. The ranger's face was decomposing! The ranger started towards him. Tom raised the rifle and fired a shot into the thing's chest. It was knocked back a bit but didn't stop. Tom fired another shot.
It hit the thing in the leg. It stumbled, fell, and started crawling towards him. "What's this guy on?" Tom said in disbelief. He then remembered what the police officer had done at the motel. Tom aimed carefully and fired one shot through it's head. It stopped moving. Tom dropped the rifle and started rubbing his arms. That thing had more recoil than he had expected. Tom finally reached over and grabbed the jeep keys off of the desk. He then picked up the rifle and got in the jeep. After turning it on he stopped and asked himself, "What is wrong with this place?"
Author's Note: Hello readers. This is my first submission to so please don't flame me if it sucks.
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The Story of a Lifetime 11:26PM September 23rd,1998 One Hour Away From Raccoon City Thomas Benson drove along, hardly able to keep his eyes open. "Why did I take this job?" he muttered to himself absently. Crappy hours, boss hated him, no time for any social life, bad pay.
The list went on and on. He was a reporter for the Globe and Mail. His boss had gotten wind that something big was happening in Raccoon City, Pennsylvania. He didn't know what, of course, but Tom was sent in to try to find out what was going on.
"I've got to get some sleep,"Tom said to himself. He was still an hour away from the city. After driving for another 10 minutes he finally came upon a motel. After checking in he collapsed into bed and fell asleep almost instantly.
4:13AM September 24th, 1998 Sleep Easy Motel
A crash and thump from downstairs woke Tom. "What the hell?" he groaned, stumbling out of bed.
A scream echoed up from the office, followed by groaning and, to round everything out, a shotgun blast. "Damn it!" he muttered. Tom grabbed the bowie knife he always kept with him off the headboard of his bed and started towards the office. The first thing he noticed was the broken window. It looked like someone had jumped through it. He then heard chewing. "Aw crap," he said, noticing a pool of blood seeping out from under the door. "I know your name and the police are on their way!" he bluffed.
"I also have a gun!" he added. There was a pause in the chewing and a slow shuffling sound developed.
Tom gathered all of his courage and jumped into the room. He took one look at the sight inside and wished he hadn't. The motel manager was lying on the ground with his stomach torn apart. His intestines were strewn all over the floor. Tom then looked at the assailant. It was almost inhuman It had once been a man in his early 20's. He was almost unrecognisable now. It looked like he had been in some sort of horrible car accident. His left arm was bent at an odd angle and the right one had what looked like a dog bite of some sort on it. Part of his stomach had been blown away by a shotgun blast. There was blood dripping down his chin. The thing, whatever it was, was coming straight for him.
"Whoa buddy," Tom said as he pulled the knife out, "Stay where you are." The guy kept advancing.
"Stay there!" Tom said again loudly. Suddenly, the man lunged toward him, moaning. A single gunshot rang out and the man dropped dead, a single hole in his head. Tom looked up and saw a man in a State Trooper's uniform standing at the door, gun raised. "Are you alright sir?" the officer asked, " Someone upstairs called us after they heard shots." "Yes,I'm fine," Tom gasped, still staring at the freak of nature lying at his feet.
7:29AM September 24th, 1998 Just Outside The City
"What the hell?" Tom said to himself as he looked ahead. He had left the motel about an hour before after giving a statement to the police. Now up ahead there seemed to be a barricade of some sort. Tom pulled up and rolled down the window. Some guy in a gas mask walked up to the window. "Hello there,"
Tom said, "Um, could I get through here." "I'm sorry sir," the man replied, "This is a quarantine zone."
"Quarantine?" Tom said in disbelief, "Why?" "Might I ask who you are?" the man countered. "I am Thomas Benson. I'm with the Globe and Mail," Tom replied, holding up his reporter's ID. The soldier looked at the ID and said, "The Black Plague has infected the city. I am afraid I can't allow you in." Tom opened his mouth to argue but saw that he was wasting his breath. He turned around and drove away.
Suddenly, he remembered something that he had read once. Something about a path that lead through Raccoon Forest into the city. He figured that he may as well give it a shot and started looking.
8:41AM September 24th, 1998 Raccoon Forest
"God dammit!" Tom yelled to nobody in particular. He had found the path about 20 minutes ago and was driving along it. Unfortunately, the path was now blocked by a fallen tree. "Aw well," he reasoned, "I can't be that far away from the city." He climbed out of the car and shivered, not because it was cold as it wasn't, but because of the unearthly silence. There weren't even any birds chirping. He shut off the engine and and started taking supplies. He grabbed his knife, a bottle of Tylenol, a bottle of Gatorade, some AA batteries, some duct tape, a small flashlight, his lighter, his cellphone and a backpack to carry it in. He went to the trunk and grabbed his camera, some extra film, a few road flares, some lighter fluid, and a small hand saw.
He locked his car and started walking down the path. He walked for about 15 minutes before he noticed something lying by the side of the path. He took a close look and realized it was a person... minus a head.
"Oh my god," he said in disbelief. The body was wearing hunter's clothes so he figured he was out hunting when he died. Then he noticed the rifle. It was a Heckler & Koch HK630 (this he knew from a report on firearms he did for the paper a few years back) and it still had 8 of the 10 bullets in it. He checked the body and found 20 more rounds of .30 USC ammo on it. Figuring that he was wandering through an unfamiliar forest, he decided to take it for protection. He also marked the location of the body in his head so he could alert the police in Raccoon.
He continued walking. Tom then noticed a small structure up ahead of him. Above the door the words "Ranger's Station" were written. The thing he paid most attention to, however, was the jeep in the driveway. "Thank god," Tom said in relief. He walked into the building and saw a horrible sight. There was blood everywhere and in the middle of the blood, was the ranger. "Holy crap," Tom said, "Are you alright?" The ranger looked up and Tom was repulsed by the sight. The ranger's face was decomposing! The ranger started towards him. Tom raised the rifle and fired a shot into the thing's chest. It was knocked back a bit but didn't stop. Tom fired another shot.
It hit the thing in the leg. It stumbled, fell, and started crawling towards him. "What's this guy on?" Tom said in disbelief. He then remembered what the police officer had done at the motel. Tom aimed carefully and fired one shot through it's head. It stopped moving. Tom dropped the rifle and started rubbing his arms. That thing had more recoil than he had expected. Tom finally reached over and grabbed the jeep keys off of the desk. He then picked up the rifle and got in the jeep. After turning it on he stopped and asked himself, "What is wrong with this place?"