Flamestrike: I'll definitely keep typing. I've got a lot of ideas in my head that I need to get down on paper. I know the story is a little boring at first as it only shows Kenneth running through the halls escaping zombies. But the action picks up towards the end of this chapter as more characters are introduced and the story get just a little deeper with every chapter.
Starscream: Thanks! I'm glad you like it and I hope you will continue to like it as I go on. Your reviews (and other people's reviews too) are really what keep me writing in the end.
RBL_M1A2Tanker: Yeah, I decided to make this story the Act 2 story instead. I needed some other adventure before continuing on with Kenny's involvement with the SF storyline.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
From the main hall, I turned right and walked through some double doors into the receptionist office. Just like the rest of the building, it was dead quiet in here as well. If I was alone in this hellhole of a city, I didn't know what I'd do. I cleared my throat, and spoke in a trembling voice.
"Hello?" I called out, hearing my cracking voice resonate off the white painted cement walls. There was no response, but I didn't want to give up. "Is anybody here?" I walked slowly and cautiously about the room, checking every nook and cranny for anything that might jump out at me. I headed over to the receptionist windows over from the right of the double doors and stared in on the other side, looking for some sign of life. The officers work tables were on that side of the room. Lockers lined the walls that were regularly neat and shiny underneath the neon lights of the building were now splattered with blood, hung open on broken hinges, or were dented, or even all three, their contents spewing all over the dirty tile floor. The desks too had papers spread in a disorganized fashion all over their surfaces, and even all over the floor. Come to think of it, there was a lot of bullshit on the floor from pieces of clothing, patrol gear, rotten food, a gun … a gun!!
I smashed my fists violently against the glass windows but they were specially designed to stop any detainees from assaulting the receptionists. I pulled my fists back and cradled them in my stomach, the pain exploding from my knuckles. Looks like I was going to have to take the long way around.
I reached the back of the room and headed towards another door that lead to a wide hallway that turned right at the far end. I knew that walking near the windows was a death wish. Don't even ask me what I was thinking then, I had no idea. All I remember is just heading over to the window to see if anyone else was alive outside. All I saw were the streets blanketed in shadows. Some of the street lights had gone out and the wind had some kind of ghostly howl to it, as if casting some kind of a death spell on the entire city.
That's when I saw it - these sunken eyes with eyelids that were peeling right off. His nose was half gone and I could see exactly where the cartilage turned to bone. The skin of his face was a disgusting rotting gray color and had large boils on it that looked like they were ready to pop. The scariest part was the eyes though. They were green and had pupils that shrunk to the size of pinheads. The zombie groaned and scratched at the window, trying to get in. That's when I saw another one behind it. There were windows that lined the entire hallway and there were tons of zombies this time, all of them with pieces of flesh hanging from their faces emitting these horrible tortured moans, each one heading towards different windows hoping to smash their way inside.
I fucking lost it at that point. I dashed towards the far end of the hall. I remember there was some kind of switch that closed the metal shutters. As I turned the corner, my caught the gray metal box, its cover already hanging open. There was a green and red button reading open and close respectively. I smothered the red button with my palms, forcing as much strength as I could. I wanted those damn shutters closed! The electronic hum that pursued shortly after was like heaven to my ears - the first bit of heaven I've gotten since this undead bullshit started.
A piece of metal cover for each window slid down taking bits of zombie finger and rotting skin from other areas with them as they protectively fastened themselves over the fragile glass windows. I stood rooted to the spot for a moment catching my breath. The amount of relief that I felt was indescribable. I could only stand, stare and a few moments later, collapse onto the ground. I just sunk my head into my arms as I sat just under the metal box that saved my life and stared at the ground. I felt hot tears seep out of my eyes, but I didn't think I was crying … at least I wasn't trying to cry.
Then I remembered my quest to get a gun. If I wanted to survive this nightmare, I was going to need some kind of weapon. I reluctantly stood up on my shaky legs and continued right down the hallway, my footsteps echoing throughout the room against a backdrop of undead moans coming from beyond the metal shutters.
The next hall was a lot more cramped than the last one that I had just left behind me through that blue weak wooden door. I noticed the windows here had all been smashed open … which meant some of those monsters were already in here. The thought sent a chill down my spine but I pushed on, careful to stay away from the windows this time, my back pressed painfully against the opposite wall. There was about four feet of space between the windows and the walls, the hallway was that narrow. The right turn that snaked around the conference room was coming up. I thought I was almost safe and decided to make a run for it.
Wrong. Just as I headed for the conference room doors, something cold and slimy grabbed a hold of my collar. Something equally gross took a hold of the back of my neck and began pulling me backwards. I turned around to see a zombie hauling me towards its rotten face. If there was one thing intact in a zombie's body, it was definitely its teeth. The disgust that swallowed my stomach, the fear that once again took over my mind and the adrenaline that pumped through my limbs somehow gave me the power to tear myself away from the zombie's death grip as I ran. I got a safe distance from the windows alright, but I still felt the cold, slimy thing holding onto my neck, sending deep chills all the way down to the base of my spine. I took a hold of it and ripped it off painfully, feeling its nails scratch the skin on my neck. It wasn't too deep though. It was the zombie's hand. I threw it to the floor upon recognition and kicked it away, watching it fly towards the wall and bounce off harmlessly back to me and I jumped. God, I laugh now when I think about how pathetic I was back then. I realized it was time to stop acting like a pussy and get down to business. I couldn't go on having a mental breakdown whenever I saw a zombie.
I had to think logically. Zombies were slow. They couldn't run, only shuffle. They were also decaying which meant they could be easily torn apart. All I needed was a good stick or something to beat them to death. Upon realizing this, I calmed down a little and I continued onwards on my quest for a weapon. Yeah, a broomstick or a metal pipe would've worked, but somehow, I just wanted a gun. Maybe it was because I've never held a gun in my life and I've seen it on TV a million times. Well there was one lying on the ground in the office and that's where I was headed. I could already feel the cool metal of the handle in my hand, the feeling driving me on.
* * *
"Fuck!" I cried, clasping the cold metal knob, attempting to turn it, but the damn thing wouldn't budge. In front of me was a large metal door that had seen better days with dents and scratches adorning its surface. I tried it again, hoping that I'd been dreaming the first time … but no. The blasted door was locked. I noticed a diamond shape carved just above the keyhole. It wasn't like I never noticed it before, in fact I knew that there were doors in the precinct that had the suits of cards carved just above their keyholes but I never knew what they meant.
Whatever, if the receptionist's office was going to be locked, I could always find another weapon in the S.T.A.R.S. office. They probably had more kickass weapons there anyway. Across the hallway, past the dark room just by the fragile looking window, was the base of a staircase that led to the upper levels. I ran to my destination this time. I mean, there was little else I could do but run and scream. My adventure was getting really repetitive at this point and I needed some excitement. I was sick of feeling like some trapped mouse in a city of cats. I wanted to fight back.
I climbed the stairs in a hurry and took a quick note of the freaky looking statue of a warrior carved out of stone. It was just the upper body and it was holding up his arm with a sparkling diamond in his hand. It was a nice jewel and I wanted to take it, but with the grip the statue had on the thing, it was impossible to pry the jewel out. Not that I've ever tried that, I mean. Stealing is bad.
So I entered the next room, a brightly lit hallway with a few bloodstains on the floor. Normally, the sight of blood would have freaked the daylights out of me but I'd been so conditioned to it at that point I just continued on my way to the S.T.A.R.S. office, which door, to my surprise was unlocked. They lock the damn receptionist office and leave the S.T.A.R.S. office unlocked? It seemed like they had different priorities at the R.P.D.
I stepped into the office, just as brightly lit as the hallway I came from. Everybody's work station was here, each station showing signs of their owner's personality. I headed over to Chris's desk right away. I mean the gun was lying right there among the mess of papers. It was kinda funny actually; it reminded me of my room.
My heart nearly skipped a beat when I heard footsteps outside. A goddamned zombie was following me! I knew they were persistent but this was just crazy. I always thought they couldn't open doors. The footsteps, coming from the hallway outside stopped short of the door. Oh god, I knew they could sense me. They could smell my fear with their decomposing noses. I hid behind Wesker's desk, feeling kind of creeped out, just knowing that creepy man worked at this desk. But Wesker wasn't here but right now, I'd be relieved even to see him … and those stupid sunglasses that have been begging to come off from the day I laid eyes upon him.
I heard the soft click of the door opening, and the heavy footsteps found their way inside the room. I clutched the gun to my heart, promising myself that if the thing got any closer, I jump out and shoot it. And it did. My adrenaline pumped body shot itself out from hiding, although my mind was screaming at me to stop. It was a cop zombie this time, not decaying like the rest of them. He was probably recently killed.
He had brown hair that reached down to about eye level. At that first impression, I couldn't find any boils or imperfections on his skin, or at least the little skin that the police uniform showed. He was a little taller than me and bigger built too. Well, that's not saying much but knowing his rotting corpse, there was nothing he could do against a well placed bullet to the head. I aimed the gun just as the thing turned to face me, clenched my teeth, and prepared for the first time ever that I would be firing a gun. I heard the thing click, but there was no recoil. It was dead. I felt so stupid … I should've checked the thing for bullets.
"Hey, hold on!" I thought I heard the thing say. But I was so firm in determination to kill the zombie, I couldn't be swayed. I reached for a broomstick. I know, you'll laugh at me now, fighting like a woman, but it was the closest thing to a weapon! So I swung the stick, but for a zombie, his reflexes were really quick. He raised an arm and blocked the strike, absorbing the impact with his forearm. He then grabbed the stick with his other hand and jabbed me painfully in the chest with it. The force was so great, it threw me backwards and I landed flat on my ass on the floor. I looked up to see him standing over me in victory. I knew I was done for. I had the perfect shot at the zombie but I was stupid enough to pick up an empty gun. And I now paid for that mistake with my life. He squatted down to face me eye to eye, reached his hand out to me …
… and placed it on my shoulder. "Are you alright?" he asked. I opened my eyes. I was face to face with the thing alright, but he didn't look like a zombie. Just some average Joe in a cop uniform. Was he … human?! The thought of another human being alive was such an exotic thought to me, and I'd only been on my own for a few hours. I couldn't even respond. I was in so much shock. All I could do was sit there catching my breath and stare at another human face. The feeling of relief was overwhelming.
"You … you …" was all I was able to get out.
"It's alright," the man said, "I'm a cop. You're safe now."
"So there are others," I managed to croak out. "The R.P.D. managed to get back up. Thank god, you have no idea what a shit hole this entire city is in. There's these … things and they're crawling everywhere." I had to choose my words carefully. I didn't want to sound as insane and Chris and the others did when they said the word "zombie."
"Those zombies?" the officer replied. Okay, it was good to know I wasn't the only crazy one around these parts. "I got some bad news for you," he said, breaking the eye contact. "The R.P.D. weren't able to get any back up. I'm a cop, yes. But this is my first day on the job. My name's Leon Kennedy. What's yours?"
The words hit me like a brick. Not his name, I didn't even care to remember at that point. But he wasn't back up? "You mean … you didn't come with some S.W.A.T. team crew to clean this mess up?" I asked.
The guy shrugged in response. "Nope. It's just me."
"We're all gonna die," I said, getting up, dusting myself off. "Two normal people in a city of cannibals - how are we going to survive? I attacked you with a fucking broom stick."
"Well," Leon said, reaching into his back pocket, "I found these that might help with your empty gun." He pulled out a red box, built like a matchbox and slid the compartment open. Inside was stocked to the brim with shiny handgun shells. "It's yours," he said, putting the box into my hand.
"Are you the only one?" I asked again. "Maybe not with a special team but … is there anyone else left in this city alive?"
He nodded, much to my relief. "There's a girl running around here somewhere," he said. "Her name's Claire, and that's all I got out of her. We were supposed to meet here. I was looking for her when I ran into you."
"The more the merrier," I said. "Let's go find this girl. We stand a better chance of surviving if we stick together."
But he shook his head in response. "I don't think that's such a good idea. You have any training with a firearm?"
"No." I wasn't about to lie to a cop. I was a law student and I know how those have severe penalties.
"Just what I thought. If someone at your age did, I'd be a little worried."
"I've been working at the Raccoon precinct for three months now! Don't even think …"
"Ooh, three months! I lower my head in shame in front of the veteran!" Leon shot back sarcastically. I just met the guy and already I wasn't appreciating his patronizing.
"Shut up."
"Okay look, seriously, I want you to stay here. You've done a pretty good job surviving by yourself this far, but from here on, I want you to let me go first. I'll clear a path for us to get through and I'll come get you when I'm done."
"What the hell do you think I am?" I cried out. I couldn't believe he was treating me like some baby. This was a survival situation and we had to work together to get out! Right?
"This is my job," Leon explained patiently. "I'm not about to blow my first day by putting an innocent civilian at risk. Now I'm going to head out and make sure the coast is clear. I'll be back soon."
"Good luck getting your paycheck," I spat bitterly as he left the room. Leon didn't bother looking back as he closed the door behind him. Sure, he was a little by-the-book, but I guess I didn't mind living with it for the next few hours if it saved my life. I heard his footsteps disappear down the opposite end of the hall.
I grabbed a seat at Chris's desk and opened up all his drawers. Maybe there were extra boxes of bullets lying around somewhere. Instead, I found some rather interesting newspaper clippings, all about the strange incidences that occurred in the outskirts of Raccoon City, just prior to the disaster that struck. I was totally sidetracked, reading about the detailed mauling of various victims of varying ages. These zombies didn't discriminate. They ate anybody!
Just then the door opened. "Ah, you're finally back," I said, not looking up from my reading. But there was no response. Instead, all I heard was a click of a gun safety going off. I looked up slowly from the clippings I held in my hands and in my face was the barrel of a handgun. My assailant was a man - definitely not Leon. This guy was much more rugged with stubble across his chin. He had dark brown hair slicked neatly back. He wore a grayish blue wife beater tucked into a pair of jeans, showing off a muscularly built torso with a strange black tattoo running down his right arm. I swallowed the lump that had instantly formed in my throat. "Leon … get back here …" I said in a coarse whisper. But the man grinned menacingly and prepared to pull the trigger.