Cranky wandered the streets with his shotgun in tow for a few minutes feeling completely energized by the thought of rescuing Cindy. He would be a hero – HER hero. But it had taken those few minutes for his brain to kick in, finally overpowering his testosterone charged body.

How in the world was he going to locate her? Back at J's Bar, the zombies were starting to gather around the main street by the time he'd left in the escape vehicle. Officer Raymond had told him that another was on its way. So if Cindy had survived, she'd be evacuated by now. And if she hadn't made it to the van, she was as good as dead. The zombies must've broken into the bar and overrun it by now.

Then, the answer hit him like a brick. The police precinct. That's where the survivors had to be taken! Where else could the police be taking the civilians? What safer spot in the entire city than the police station!

Cranky vaguely remembered passing the station shortly before he fell asleep. And Kenny was found in a crashed police cruiser not too far from where Cranky had stopped. What where the chances that two police vehicles would end up so close to each other, unless they were both heading in the same direction from the precinct before branching off into their own routes? There was a pretty good chance that the precinct would be close by and he was walking in the direction that the cars had been going, not where they'd come from.

Doing a complete 180, Cranky turned and jogged back the way he came, the wind howling around him like some unholy ghost, trying to repel him from carrying out his good intentions. He continued running for a few minutes, his physically able body able to take the long distance. He passed the police cruiser where he found Kenny, glad to see that neither he nor Carlos were there anymore, which meant that were safe. He mentally kicked himself for not asking Carlos the whereabouts to his base of operations. If he was rescuing civilians, where was he storing them?

It was too late to ponder any of that now as Cranky continued running down the street, his head scanning both sides of the street for any zombies that might be lurking in the shadows. Sofar, he'd seen none, probably because he was in a residential area where there was little room to move about. Downtown, however, was a different story. That's where all their food was. Cranky felt lucky in that sick way as he continued his trek down the street, decorated on both sides with beautiful, yet abandoned Victorian style houses.

And then, rising like the sun beyond the horizon, he saw it. There was no mistaking the grand, Roman influenced architecture or the flags of the United States and Raccoon City displayed proudly above the double green doors that served as a main entrance. Standing proudly was a giant building, big enough to be a mansion. It was flanked on both sides by neatly trimmed shrubs that curved around the front entrance, serving as a perimeter for the grassy lawns. Set in large, bold letters lit from underneath by a pair of fisheye lights were the letters R.P.D. He was here.

Cranky opened the gate with one hand, the other gripping the shotgun tightly. He wasn't going to take any chances, keeping it at waist level in case anything decided to jump out at him. A few feet away, he spotted a zombie groaning in hunger, though not paying attention to him. He was probably to far away. Cranky could make out a yellow vest on the zombie with the word S.T.A.R.S. sewed into the back. The zombie wore camouflaged cargo pants and black combat boots. It was probably a member of some police squad but … not anymore. Deciding to save his ammunition, Cranky ignored the zombie and made his way into the police station.

XXXXX

A pair of sharp blue eyes scanned the main hall of the R.P.D. This was the biggest space in the entire police station, and the most hollow. If the kid was around here, he would hear him. The rookie cop brushed his long brown hair out from his eyes, reminding himself that he needed to get it cut. His mind returned to the boy that he'd instructed to remain in the S.T.A.R.S. office. Yet when he'd returned there, the boy had vanished into thin air.

Leon S. Kenny, on his first day on the job, decided that the citizens of Raccoon City were out of whack. Not that the zombies didn't prove it already, but the ones who were left alive should've known that their chances of assuring their survival was to stick together, especially with a police officer that he was!

Leon smirked. "Only that today's your first day on the job and you have no idea what you're doing," he said to himself. First, it was little Kenny running pulling off a disappearing act from the S.T.A.R.S. office, then it was that mysterious lady in the red dress, Ada Wong. He'd instructed both of them to stay close, but Kenny didn't listen and Ada had run off spouting something about looking for a boyfriend.

He could honestly say that he was torn between his job and his survival instincts. There was a primal fear in Leon that screamed at him to get out of the police station and as far away from the city as possible. But there was the righteous, moral voice in his head, the same voice that directed him to becoming a police officer that told him to stay and search for the two civilians. He knew they were alive and he would never let himself leave them alone until he either had them by his side or confirmed their deaths.

Leon reached into his pockets and pulled out four electronic plugs of similar size, labeled Queen, Jack, King, and Rook. He knew exactly where these belonged, in an electronic console set the underground level of the station, beyond the parking lot, through a secret spider infested walkway. This was definitely the most cryptic police station he'd ever encountered. Sofar tonight, he'd solved a queen, king and jack puzzle, returned a missing gear to the station's grand clock, and put out the burning helicopter wreckage on the rooftop. All of it was to obtain these four plugs that he felt certain would unlock the door that would lead to the sewers – and hopefully, an escape route.

Then he heard it – a set of footsteps. Leon instinctively stopped breathing and strained his ears to hear. He thought he heard human footsteps, not the shuffling of zombie feet. Leon had a good view of the space, standing on the second level walkway of the precinct that wrapped around the wall of the main hall. He was standing centre of the walkway at the back of the hall, overlooking the entire space. Beneath him was a metal ladder that he'd used to climb up to where he stood.

A deep groan filled the space. His eyes shot to the main doors of the hall, hoping that it was either Ada or Kenny coming through. But it was neither. At least, it wasn't a zombie, or one of those skinless humanoid creatures either. It was a red haired man. He walked tall, broad shoulders bent back with his chest sticking out. He bore an expression of caution, but not fear. Leon decided that this was an individual who could handle himself in the middle of the hell that was Raccoon City. Perhaps he could even help Leon. The two of could make it out of the city if they watched each other's backs – assuming that this Raccoon City citizen agreed to stick with him.

"Hey!" Leon called out, waving the man over.

The man looked up at him and slapped a hand to his forehead. "It's so good to see a cop around here."

"And it's good to see another human being in this crazy place," Leon replied.

"What about the survivors?" the man asked. "Weren't they brought here?"

"There are no survivors," Leon replied regretfully.

XXXXX

Cranky's heart sank. What did the cop mean by 'no survivors'? Obviously that he was the only one alive, most likely. But Cindy … Cranky didn't know why but he really wanted to see her again. He almost felt that by sheer will, he could prevent her from dying or raise her from the dead.

"But that can't be," he insisted, "I thought the survivors were brought here!"

"Trust me, buddy, the survivors are all dead," the cop replied. "I was told to rescue them from the rooms and find an escape route by one of my co-workers when I started my shift. But by the time I got there, they'd all turned into …"

"You didn't happen to see a waitress among them, did you?" Cranky didn't know why he asked the question. But he knew Cindy was a pretty girl and the cop most likely would've noticed too. "Blonde girl, really cute?"

He shook his head. "Today's my first day on the job. I didn't get a good look at the survivors when they were brought in the other day."

The other day? Cranky had just run into Cindy today! She wasn't part of the group of survivors that had turned into zombies! "Have there been any other civilians arriving?"

"Besides me and the three people I ran into tonight, there's been nobody. But we all found our way here – not brought here by the police."

Good, the cop was answering all of the questions Crank was going to ask next. So the chances of Cindy being here were slim, then. Cranky's hopes of finding her may have been dashed, and his selfish wants and desires told him to leave the police station and continue his search. But he didn't feel right leaving the cop to look for the other survivors without help. Besides, Cindy could've been dead for all he knew.

"Come on," the cop said, calling Cranky over to where he stood, "let's work together and find a way out of this mess." Cranky agreed, and headed over to the steel ladder that led to the second level balcony.

"The name's Cranky."

There was a nod of acknowledgement. "Officer Leon S. Kenny."

"So, Officer," Cranky began, "where do we begin to look for these missing people?"

"The ladies have headed off to the sewers," Leon replied, holding out his hand. "And I think these plugs will secure our own entrance into the sewers. I'm hoping we'll meet up with them there."

"If they're already gone, what are you still doing here?"

"I just wanted to take a last look around for Kenny before I go. The kid's gone missing on me."

Cranky's heart leapt in his throat. He pointed a shaky finger at Leon and asked, "How do you know Kenny?"

Leon gave him a look of confusion. "He's one of the survivors, only I'm not sure if he's a survivor anymore." Leon looked down at the ground, disappointed at himself for failing to protect the innocent.

"He is," Cranky replied, a grin spreading across his face. "I came to Raccoon City to pay him a visit – we've been friends for pretty much all our lives. But I just ran into him on the streets. He's unconscious, but alive – under the care of one of Umbrella's Soldiers."

Leon stared at Cranky in disbelief. "You intentionally left him with an Umbrella Soldier?"

"Is there something wrong with that?" he asked, looking a little concerned.

"Umbrella's the company behind this mess! That soldier's probably gonna feed your friend to the zombies to get himself out of here alive!"

Cranky's heart skipped a beat. What Leon serious? Carlos seemed like a decent guy with respectable moral views. "No, the soldier was in the city looking for survivors," Cranky insisted. But he didn't find himself believing his own words. What Carlos told him easily could've been a cover up. And Cranky had been so foolishly trusting of him that he didn't even consider that Carlos would be lying. But why would anyone be lying in the middle of a city-wide disaster like this? People were supposed to band together and work with each other to escape, right?

Then the thought occurred to him – Carlos said that a survivor was recuperating at the clock tower. That's where his group was based, and it was likely that's where he'd taken Kenny.

"Where's the Raccoon City Clock Tower?" Cranky asked Leon, seemingly out of the blue.

"Why do you want to know?"

"Because I think that's where the Umbrella Soldier went," Cranky explained. "Look, I don't know if he really was one of the good guys, but he did a pretty good job of convincing me that he was. I've got to find him and make sure Kenny's in good hands …" before I continue my search for Cindy, he added sub-consciously.

Leon supposed Cranky had his reasons for leaving the police station, and not sticking with him. Leon half expected it though. So far nobody he'd run into tonight had stuck with him. Why should this guy be any different? Sighing outwardly, he explained to Cranky how to get to the clock tower.

XXXXX

Career criminal Jake Cavanaugh stalked the dilapidated streets of Raccoon City in search for a man. He reached into his denim pockets and pulled out the snapshot of the man, Dr. William Birkin, to remind himself of what this character looked like. As he stared at the picture, at the image of a blonde scrawny scientist with shaggy hair, Jake imagined ten million dollars. This was the face of ten million dollars, and that money would be his after he eliminated Dr. Birkin.

Jake thought back to events that had let up to this moment. He'd come into town in search of the scientist earlier today – or was that yesterday? He couldn't remember. After grabbing a bite to eat at a local bar, things got shot to hell. Zombies – he'd decided by now that that's what those creatures were – had overrun the joint and simultaneously, the entire city. Since the first one appeared back at J's Bar, they'd seem to be running amuck wherever in the city he went.

He'd met some interesting survivors along the way – Kevin the police officer, Eric the brave but stupid college student, Jim the cowardly subway attendant and Cindy the bar's waitress, just to name a few. They escaped the bar together, but had since been split up. Jake put on the aura of an innocent man caught up in the mess, not wanting to reveal his true intentions to his fellow survivors. But now that they had scattered, he was free to carry out his mission.

Jake couldn't help feeling a slight concern for the others, though. Over the years, he'd trained himself to suppress his compassion for others – it only got in the way of achieving mission objectives. But tonight, since the zombie infestation, seeing people get eaten right before his very eyes time after time, all the trauma had taken a toll even on an experienced, cold blooded killer like Jake himself. The rocket explosion that had completely destroyed the police escape vehicle that he and the other survivors were riding in was gigantic, big enough to separate everyone. Jake wondered if he was alone, cut off completely without any companions. He was glad it was him to be separated without anyone with him – after all, he had a mission to carry out and couldn't afford to have someone else slow him down. Had it been anybody else … he already felt sorry for them.

Jake stopped by a nearby car parked at the side of the main road, miraculously undamaged from all the chaos and carnage surrounding it. He checked himself out in the reflection, wondering if he looked as shitty as he felt after everything that had happened to him.

He had to take a step back to get a good view of his face. Being 6'3", his whole upper torso wasn't easily visible standing so close to the car. His jeans were torn in a few places and stained with the bodily fluids of zombies he'd killed earlier that night. His dark brown hair hung in greasy locks, framing a pair of cold, gray eyes that had recently been revealed from behind a pair of sunglasses that he'd lost track of. The black T-shirt that hugged a powerful, muscular body was emblazoned with an intricate design of a red dragon. His trench coat was beginning to tear from all the action it had seen tonight. But it still did its job well – to conceal all the weapons he had. There was a nine millimeter handgun sitting comfortably in its holster strapped to his waist. He wore a shoulder holster housing a powerful magnum, and an automatic shotgun on the inside of the trench coat. He still looked ready to tackle the undead and that was good enough for him.

A sound somewhere in the distance caught Jake's attention. He heard faint shouting from more than one person. Perhaps it was the band of survivors he'd traveled with? Or were they a totally different band of survivors? He caught himself hoping for the company of others again. He had an assassination to carry out! But it wouldn't hurt just to see what the commotion was about, right?

Jake continued down the street, not turning at the junction. He eventually came to a graveyard, fenced off from the sidewalk and saw a triad of unfamiliar faces scaling the fence. He stood in the middle of the deserted road and watched the three make it onto his side of the fence.

The woman was the first to notice him. She had short black hair, pale skin and dark eyes – of Asian descent. She wore a red form fitting cocktail dress that hugged her body, showing curves in all the right places. Jake continued staring for a lust filled second longer.

The next was an athletically built man around Jake's age, maybe a few years older. Like Jake, this guy had dark brown hair, only it was slicked back, and a rough, hard face decorated with razor stubble. The dark blue wife beater he wore was stained with sweat and blood. But the most interesting characteristic of this guy was the elaborate tattoo that ran over his arm completely stating "Mother Love."

The final survivor, also of Asian descent, was a mere teenager, a few years from graduating from high school, Jake guessed. He had on a yellow T-shirt and black shorts – regularly dressed except that on his face, he wore an expression of fatigue. There was a bandaged wrapped around his forehead with a large, crusty blood stain on it. The scratches on his face looked like he'd gotten into a fight with a monster cat. The three of them vaguely resembled a family.

"Why, hello there," the woman spoke first in a sultry voice, noticing Jake.

"You look like you've been through hell," the man commented.

"Something like that," Jake replied, scratching the back of his head. "You think you guys could spare some ammo?" Jake grabbed the opening of his trench coat and exposed his arsenal, strapped to his body. "I'm not sure what kind of ammunition you've got but …"

"We could really use some guns like that," the teen said, gazing at the shotgun in his coat.

"Sorry, kid," Jake said, closing up his coat. "I've got some things to take care of and these weapons are what's gonna help me out."

The man shook his head. "Sorry, but we can't just hand over our ammo. We need it to contribute to our escape. If you've got other plans, then screw it." This man spoke in a gruff voice, absent of any regard for Jake. Jake had refused to co-operate with them, and he in turn had refused any co-operation with him either. Jake recognized that he possessed the same personality trait and in another situation, would have walked away. But they were in the middle of a ghost town with the undead infesting the streets. Jake needed the ammunition to live and he needed it to carry out his mission in assassinating William Birkin. He'd already wasted what he'd brought with him on the zombie attacks – attacks that he wasn't expecting upon entering the town.

As the man turned away, gesturing towards his two friends to do the same, Jake made his move, lunging for him.

"Shit, Billy!" the woman cried.

Jake and Billy tumbled over each other on the asphalt now, grappling violent with each other, both of them trying to get a good strike in. Billy was strong in his own respects, but Jake had sheer size over the man and landed a few good punches to his jaw. But Billy had taken it well, ramming his own fist into Jake's stomach from time to time, weakening the criminal's hold on him.

An audible click of a gun could be heard. Jake looked up, about to strike Billy in the face one more time and noticed the woman in the red dress, pointing a handgun at his forehead, the barrel of the gun just a foot away from his head.

"Get off of him, NOW!" she ordered.

Jake slowly raised his hands. "Listen, lady, I don't want any trouble. Just ammo."

"Well attacking us isn't exactly-" she never got to finish her sentence. Jake, with his inhumanly quick reflexes had taken the gun from the woman and turned it around on her in one swift motion. It was now her turn to put her hands up.

"I want everything you've got," Jake said calmly. He turned his head slightly, talking to Billy and the teen, but never taking his eyes off the woman. "Either of you move and I shoot the bitch."

The woman flipped backwards, her feet kicking the gun out from Jake's hand like some kind of a ninja. The firearm went sailing into the air. The woman kicked Jake in the chest, pushing him painfully away with a heeled stiletto and caught the gun again. But before she had the chance to aim the gun, Jake performed a spinning back kick, knocking her to the ground.

The force was strong enough to knock her down and keep her there, while Billy was still recovering from the multiple blows received earlier from Jake. Only the teenager was left now and Jake turned around to face him, half expecting the kid to be cowering in fear. "Like taking candy from a baby," he said to himself.

"Kenny," Billy said weakly, "get out of here." But the teen stayed his ground, much to Jake's surprise, staring back at him defiantly.

"Don't make this harder for yourself than it has to be," Jake said. "Just hand over your ammo, and I'll leave the three of you well alone."

Jake reached out his arm, expecting the teen to hand it over. But what he got instead, was a lightning fast judo flip. Kenny reached out with his hand and seized Jake's wrist, pulling the bigger man towards him. Kenny kicked his foot out, tripping Jake as he fell forward, and with his hand still grasping Jake's wrist, flipped the career criminal over as he landed on his back with a loud thud.

Jake jumped back to his feet and struck Kenny in blind rage, a powerful back fist that connected with Kenny's cheek, picking him off the ground and throwing him a few meters back from where he once stood.

It took a long moment for Kenny to get back up – but the fact that he was able to surprised Jake. He'd hit the kid harder than he did the woman and Billy and yet, the first to get up was this scrawny teenager less than half Jake's weight! Jake hid his surprise well as he spoke.

"You sure you can take anymore?" he asked with a cocky smile on his face.

Kenny produced a glass bottle from his pocket, filled with a gray looking liquid. He threw his arm forward and the bottle sailed towards Jake who batted it away with his hand. But the moment his hand came into contact with the bottle, the force broke the glass and a minor explosion occurred. It wasn't strong enough to damage Jake, but it was enough to distract him. The kid took off with a knapsack strapped to his back, running down the street away from Jake as fast as he could.

Jake coughed the smoke out of his lungs and followed in pursuit. He needed the ammunition in that bag. There wasn't nearly enough in Billy's or the woman's gun, but there should've definitely been more than enough in the kid's bag.

Kenny didn't start showing signs of weariness until about seven or eight city blocks of running. Jake was surprised at his stamina, but was able to last longer nonetheless. He eventually caught up to the teen and withdrew the combat knife tucked into his boot. Jake didn't want to kill anyone, let alone a kid for some measly ammunition so he threw the knife, shooting it through one of the bag straps, pinning him to a crashed car.

Jake advanced towards the struggling teen, trying to intimidate him using their difference in size. From what he could tell sofar, it was working – finally! So he knew when to give up!

"Piss off, you fucking ogre," Kenny spat. Okay, maybe he didn't know when after all.

"Look man, you think I like doing this sort of thing?" Jake asked. "I got some business to take care of, and you've got what I need. If I wanted to kill you, I would've thrown this knife at your neck."

Kenny remained silent as Jake opened up the bag he was wearing. Kenny silently slipped his arms out from the straps, thinking that Jake wouldn't notice until he said, "One wrong move and I will kill you." Though he was free from the bag now, there was nothing he could do to stop Jake from taking their precious ammo.

"So how do you think we're gonna survive, then?" he asked, throwing his hands up in the air. "You're taking away our only hope of survival. We've worked hard, searched everywhere for all this and you just come and …" Kenny shook his head. "You fucking jerk. I hope you get eaten alive for this."

"Step away from the kid," a third voice interrupted.

Jake looked up from the pack and saw a figure standing a few meters away, toting a powerful looking shotgun aimed at him. It was a red haired guy with a similar build to Jake. There was a no-nonsense frown on his lips and his brows were furrowed, expressing deeply angered green eyes. The man looked familiar – it was the guy that had come into J's Bar earlier that evening, asking for directions.

Kenny seemed to recognize the figure two as his eyes widened in surprise.

"Cranky?"

Authors Note: Jake Cavanaugh is a character borrowed from fellow author, E-Z B. "World of the Undead – File 2" is loosely connected with his Resident Evil story, "Darkness Arises" and I encourage all my readers to go and check out his work. It's definitely worth a good look.