Raccoon City : Demon's Gate

Chapter 6

First off, sorry about the delay. Life has just gone downhill a bit. It's tough. Got a job, dealing with parental issues, trying to actually get out and do something with my pathetic life but failing miserably. That and I've had a writer's block and was frustrated over the story line. There's going to be a big change in the series which will basically alter all three stories, eliminating most of what was in them. So therein, the other two stories - End Game, Return of a Nightmare - will be redone or deleted completely.

I'll leave them for anybody who's curious enough to see the AU version of my own story.

Also, a goof on the timeline. My bad. The days that were in the story will be set back by one. So the story will have begun on the 24th, not the 25th. The Outbreak would be on the 25th... The last chapter would have been the 26th. Afternoon-ish.

September 26th, 1998
12:46 P.M.

Robert Kendo had never really been a big part of the city he lived in. He was just another soul trying to make a living by doing something he loved, and that something happened to be selling, handling, and firing guns. Over time he had earned slight recognition because he often supplied the R.P.D. with their weaponry, but he was still himself. Time hadn't changed his love for his profession, and in all the ten years that he owned the gun shop and helped those who came to his store looking to buy, he kept it that way.

Because in all his years in the city, you would have thought that he would've seen a lot of strange and shifty things, or things that seemed out-of-this-world once in a while. But things like that rarely ever happened in this large but quiet area. And he didn't really expect things to change.

Of course, a couple of months ago in July, when the murders began to occur and people began vanishing from their hiking trails in the Arklay Mountains and Forest, life went from dull and loveable to strange and terrifying. From the moment the first two people were reported to have been found partially eaten along the trails outside the city, Kendo had never seen so many people barge into his gun shop, looking to buy things in order to protect themselves from possible harm. But then, after the murders, Kendo himself never left his home without a 9mm packed under the seat of his car.

Things quieted after that, after the explosion of the Spencer Estate and the arrests of the S.T.A.R.S. members accused for being intoxicated while investigating the area. Maybe they did blow up the mansion, but in doing so they halted the murders and brought some calm back to the city. Whatever they had done, had stopped the menace.

But only for a little while.

Months after the incident, they began to happen again. And the same fear that gripped the city then came back full-fledged as people flocked to the gun stores to buy ammunition and weapons, or to sports stores to buy things that could be used as blunt weapons.

Kendo expected that things would calm down. It was probably just another lunatic that was in the woods that would flee the area or be arrested courtesy of evidence against the killer thanks to Forensics. The police could find the killer.

That never happened. The murders became more numerous, and grew closer to the city. If the panic wasn't bad before, it was horrible now. The acts didn't stop, and there were no arrests made, although there were sightings of shifty looking characters here and there.

And there were no S.T.A.R.S. members, or very few, to save the day. Most of them had been suspended.

If only the police had searched more thoroughly, investigated without question. But even their forces were limited. The police chief Brian Irons dismissed the whole murder spree as nothing more than a few wild animal attacks that would disperse soon, or other excuses along those lines. He acted like he had something to hide.

And, boy, did he.

Robert Kendo sighed, brushing the oiled cloth against the barrel of the Winchester and then tossing it aside, onto the countertop beneath a display case. He picked the gun up and looked at it, but in reality gazed past and at the bullet-proof window that faced the streets, so decimated, covered in blood and blazing with fire in some spots, or being the marching grounds for the zombies outside in others. Somewhere out there, people were wandering on the asphalt trying to escape, and while they searched for a way out, Robert refused to move. Why he didn't try to flee was beyond him, but he felt as if he should stay.

Perhaps it was the fear that if he went outside, no matter how many guns or how much ammunition he had, he would be torn to pieces. Or the cockiness that if he stayed in a place with weapons and ammo at hand, he would be a little safer from the hordes and be able to hold them back. Perhaps it was a greater calling. Maybe somebody out there, desperate to get out, would think of him and make a rush to his store to arm themselves for battles ahead. Of course, Kendo wouldn't charge. Who would when their days were numbered like this? It was the thought that mattered - that he had tried to help others in the thick of battle.

Besides, he strongly doubted he would make it out alive.

Decked in a blood-spattered pale yellow Tee and an equally stained pair of blue jeans, Kendo leaned back against the counter and took a deep breath, glancing carelessly at the door, left unlocked. Hell, it wasn't like they knew how to open them, and if the lepers grouped up into a mob, they could easily break down the barrier. What was the point in locking it then? He brushed his hand against his flattop brown hair, resting the Winchester on the counter behind him and within easy reach. He glanced once more out the window to be sure nobody was going to make a run for the shop and then kneeled down to inspect the amount of ammunition that was left. Since the outbreak the prior day, two people burst in and scavenged for whatever they could bring with them, scooping up armfuls or handfuls of shells or bullets. Despite how much they took, there was still a great deal left over, and plenty in the storage room.

As they left, each offered Kendo a chance to get out. He refused.

As their faces contorted into confusion at his negative answer, he grinned and replied, "While the war is raging, somebody's gotta help the soldiers."

He wondered, then, if he sent them to their deaths. Each person came in alone, left alone. And it was horrible to fight a battle alone. He closed his eyes and hoped that, by chance, if that yellow-vested officer and that young skateboarding teen were faring well.

The contrast in the noise outside and inside were what alerted him the most. While the chaos and screams occurred outside, inside the sound was muted. So when the noise outside suddenly became louder, like the shop was suddenly exposed to the outdoors, his eyes opened and he snapped onto his feet, reaching for the Winchester and aiming it automatically at the half-opened door. He would have fired off a deadly shot had it not been the small noise made by the person who was virtually coated in blood and looking no better than any of the beasts outside. A small voice - that was all that kept him from shooting.

"I...I..."

The person said no more, still staring at Kendo with half-lidded hazel eyes and a look on her face that showed that she cared little of anything anymore. Part of the look on the person's face, a young girl, was fearful of being killed, while another part seemed to wait hopefully for the escape from the hell they were placed into.

The strange mix of emotions on the girl's face caused Kendo to lower the weapon, and he motioned his head to the door she held half-open.

"Close it, girl, before they hear us and come lookin'," he said, more haggard than he intended.

Kendo watched her flinch inwardly at the slight rebuke and move away from the door, placing her hand on the side of it as it closed to keep it from slamming. Once it was gently closed she hesitated and then remained still.

Feeling guilty for emitting sharp words to somebody who already seemed wounded emotionally, he stepped around the counter, still holding the gun in a passive way, and moved slowly towards her. With all the blood covering the girl, he wondered if she was bitten and it was her blood, and in that was afraid she would attack if he came closer. He stopped five feet away, enough room to get time to shoot should worse come to worse.

"You're bloody. You wounded?"

She shook her head, her eyes glancing to her hand. For the first time Kendo noticed the large axe coated in the same scarlet. Apparently, she had her fair of trouble.

But she's so young...

Young or old, Kendo though grimly, they were all faced with the same dilemma - fight or take flight, hunt or be hunted. And even the youngest of the human race had the instinct to survive... But this was a brutal way to bring it out.

A feeling of respect welled up inside of him.

The girl was tensed up, obviously just as afraid of him as he was of her - he, of being bitten by her, and her, of being shot by him. After a moment passed and no move was made, Kendo loosened up and tried to mellow the atmosphere, if only a little.

"What's your name, kid?" he whispered, trying to introduce formalities in what was a very un-informal situation.

There was silence for a long moment. Then the girl parted her lips and said in a weak, raspy voice, "Rowan."

Kendo blinked and tilted his head. "Just Rowan?" he asked, trying to add humor to his voice. Given the situation outside, he was finding it a little difficult.

"Rowan Naton," she completed, looking down as soon as the last name was spoken. As soon as it was, Kendo pulled his head back in surprise, his eyes widening.

"Naton...I remember that name," he whispered, turning back and taking a few steps before swiveling around again. "Roid married some gal who had that last name, said his step-kid kept it." He grinned. "I should have known that anybody related to him would survive well in this kind of situation. He was a great marksman, even if it was only hunting wild game."

At the confused look on Rowan's face, he said, "Roid was my friend. Been my friend for a long time. We hunted together, you know." A look of recognition and realization crossed the child's face. "He told you then?" Kendo took a couple of steps forward, holding out his hand and suddenly feeling a little bit chipper. If the man's step-daughter survived this mess, than Roid was also well, and so was his wife. Right? At least somebody he knew survived it all... "Name's Robert Kendo."

Now she remembered. Her stepfather told her of the numerous hunting trips they went on together, how they used to tell stories with each other, routinely hang out.

Rowan took his hand and gave a weak little shake, but the grave smile on her face told the gun-shop owner that his words made her remember something grim. "Are they all right, then?"

Her face fell. So did his. Understanding seeped through him.

"I...," he began, then paused. "I won't press you, lil' miss." He nodded his head to a door near the counter and put his hand on her shoulder in a comforting manner. "The bathroom's back there... Why don't you go get cleaned up? You look like death warmed over." His meek smile and his weak joke seemed to pass her by. The girl's eyes were half-lidded and, with his small attempt to cheer the atmosphere, seemed to dim.

Kendo noticed how off the joke must have seemed, gently led her to the bathroom, and stood by the counter of the gun shop awaiting her to leave it. He heard the water running within, heard frantic scrubbing as the young kid - Rowan - tried to clean off the blood, and with a deep, regretful sigh, sank against the counter, covering his eyes.

There were two more casualties added to the insane body count of the city's massacre. And as if to spite him, to show his small attempts to help the survivors by providing them with ammunition and some guidance, they had been close friends.

And I'll never see them again, never laugh...

The sudden barrage of that knowledge, added to the weight of what was going on all around him, pushed the invulnerability he had felt by merely being in a shop with weapons away. He may not have been the one that was maimed and killed, but those he knew were, and countless other people who knew other people were dying out there, losing everything they had.

He pressed his hands against his face to try to blot the feeling of remorse out.

And a small silver of liquid dripped from his cheek to the countertop.

The ice cold water was enough to jolt her out of her half-dreaming state, but that was all. The ill feeling of clotted blood on her body still clung to her even though it was still gone. The guilt for not being able to save her friends stuck just as much. And no matter how much scrubbing she did on her hands, arms and face, the feeling of dirtiness, of blood, and all the other emotions mixed together would not leave.

Finally she gave up, looking deep into the mirror and gazing at her own eyes. Strange how they seemed so alien, so distant. They were a mere shadow of the bright and cheerful temper that once beheld the girl, a wisp of a breeze left behind by a turbulent and vibrant tornado. Light hazel were the orbs staring back at her, rimmed with red.

Red like the blood staining her shirt and jeans. Even if she had managed to clean it all from her skin, it was all on her clothes. Plastered to her dark slate tee and blue jeans was evidence of what she had gone through, and all macabre mementos of her friends, of her family.

There was some of it within her hair, but she had washed it out. It now clung to the sides of her face, making her look like she was hopelessly drowning. The newer tears only added to the effect, but she wiped them dry quickly, feeling ashamed and as if she didn't deserve to have pain of her own when so many suffered around her. As she turned the water on once more to wash her face of guilt and mourning, she wondered if this was how the more heartful serial killers in jail felt - pained by what they had done, and not being able to change a thing that happened.

Rowan turned the water off and turned around, searching for towels and finding their paper relative in a dispenser nearby. She wiped her face dry and left the bathroom, casting one baleful look back at the reflection that contrasted her past self so well. Rowan scooped the axe off the counter, the sharp head and wooden handle now cleansed of blood.

She turned off the light as she left, and felt her eyes adjust to the sudden dimness of the room in front of her. Kendo had kept it barely lit, only bright enough to see the shell casings in front of him and not nearly bright enough to advertise their existence here to the whole undead world outside. Curiosity caused her to look at the various weapons displayed in the case behind and the ones placed inside the counter Kendo was leaning against, leaving her suddenly wondering how it would feel to have one against her temple, ready to end her misery.

The morbid thought faded back into memory rather than being pushed harshly away. Such thoughts were not so alarming anymore.

Her ghostly hazel orbs fell upon the man leaning against the counter, taking in how still he was and how a small puddle of water seemed to be forming beneath where he held his head. Her sorrow struck again. Here was a man who was a fierce fighter, according to her stepfather. He was a great hunter and usually completely ruthless when going after game, yet he was easygoing and lighthearted when he was around his friends.

But then, Roid had also told her that Kendo's fierceness had softened considerably since the attacks only a month before. Just a week ago her stepfather told her that Kendo was getting nervous and touchy, and spending longer hours in the gun shop, surrounded by protection, than he did sleeping. The ruthlessness had crumbled, exposing the soft, vulnerable man inside.

Now that man was crying silently, most likely hurt by the nonverbal information from Rowan that her parents were dead. Or maybe it was everything combined, a ball of hurt that grew with each glance at the news and, in the past couple days, outside until it was no longer a small ball but a huge globe ready to burst.

The globe's water broke, Rowan thought humorlessly.

She stepped forward, half-reaching her hand out to comfort him because his pain was just as great as her's, half-holding her arm back. Finally giving into the latter command, she walked silently up beside him and leaned against the counter, softly putting the axe to rest on the glass. She drew in a deep, shaky breath.

"I'm sorry," came her whisper. Kendo's nearly silent cries halted. Almost a second later, he stood straight and wiped his eyes, glancing down at her and trying to smile and act as if nothing was wrong, that he wasn't pained. Rowan wasn't fazed by it.

"Now why would it be your f-," he began, but she didn't let him finish.

"I couldn't help them," she interrupted. "I wasn't there... I was with my friends, holding out in a crappy shed instead of going out there..." She motioned to the windows, exposing the whole smoking and bloody world to them. "I was..." Rowan hesitated then halted altogether.

"You were afraid," Kendo finished. He leaned against the surface again, looking between her and the scenery outside.

Rowan nodded weakly. "Yeah..." Her eyes were cast downward, and her voice grew noticeably softer. "By the time I actually left to find them...it was too late. The city had already been overtaken. I should've guessed. If I got there sooner..."

Kendo watched, waiting for her to finish speaking, but she never got around to it. Rather, fresh tears slid off her face and onto the ground below. Without making a noise, she lifted her hand and wiped them away, and shakily whispered, "It's my fault they're..."

She broke off because her breath caught in her throat. She hiccuped, and then, very softly, sobbed.

It hurt Robert to watch.

He placed his hand on her back. "It wasn't-"

"I could have saved them," she continued, cutting him off. "I could have saved them all...but...I was too late, I was too slow, I was too insignificant...I was...e-everything but what I should have been at the moment... And now...now they're all gone."

"But you're not," Kendo whispered.

"I might as well be," came her cold response. Her sobbing stopped, but the tears still flowed.

"You shouldn't. Roid would never have said such a thing," was the gruff reply, suddenly stern and lightly reprimanding. Rowan looked up, surprised, to see Kendo glaring down at her with a strange mix of sympathy and anger, of pride and disgust. Again Rowan recoiled just slightly, not used to the unusual stare. If anything, it made her feel more worthless.

Kendo saw the reaction. "Now now," he said quickly, "I don't mean it like that... But Roid...he was a fighter. He always stood up for himself, and for others, no matter how cocky he could get or how bad things got. No matter what dragged him down, he always got back up. He never gave up." There was a faint smile as Kendo drifted down memory lane. "Celia was just like your pop...well, step-pop. But you, you just give up? Throw in the towel?"

Rowan barked a wry laugh. "My God! What have I got left?" she half-hissed. "My friends are dead, my family's dead, my town's dead... Hell, even my pet cat is dead! Half the people I knew in this run-down city are the walking dead who only think of eating me alive!" The sarcasm in her tone was biting.

"There are still some things worth fighting for, aren't there?"

Rowan's eyes dropped. "I...don't know..."

Kendo's orbs followed the movement of her's. "Neither do I."

"You don't?" was the surprised remark.

"I haven't gotten a thing to live for, darlin'!" he laughed, half-surprised by his own words. "I'm alone, got no family, my friends are dead, and all the people who came through here, offering to let me come with them in an attempt to escape this hell... Well, I refused the offer. I'm out of shape, so it would be pointless to take off when I'll wind up winded and as somebody's lunch, anyway. And I'm old... It's hard to rebuild your life when you're halfway through it, considering I ever do get out of here..."

Rowan blinked. "You still have a chance..."

The man grinned at her. "So do you. My chances are less than slim, anyway. Besides...I feel like I should stay. Like something's waiting for me... You know what I mean?"

The girl's eyes narrowed. "Waiting for you to be on a dinner plate, you mean."

Despite the harshness of her comment, Kendo chuckled. "Maybe, but that's not what I mean. People have already come through here looking for help. Just as you did. I feel like...other people will come too."

There was a sudden spark in Rowan's eye that Kendo could not place. Her words came out in a surprised and curious tone. "Who came through?"

"Two other people," he said, waving a nonchalant hand through the air. "One was this kid in about his twenties or so... Skateboarder stunt kid, I think. His name was Rodney. He took off with a double-barreled shotgun and a pouch to carry the ammo in. Then there was this other guy... A man in a yellow vest with the S.T.A.R.S. task force symbol on his sleeve. He said his name was-"

"-Brad," she interrupted, suddenly wide-eyed.

Robert nodded. "Yeah, Brad Vickers..." He paused, then looked at her, shocked. "You know him?"

"I met him. Early, early this morning. He saved my life..." Once more, her eyes fell downward. "I remember...that he told me to meet him at the R.P.D., because we split up. Something was following him, he didn't want me to get hurt." Suddenly overpowered by guilt, Rowan held her forehead with her right palm. "I almost forgot..."

Whatever smile was on Kendo's face dispersed when the R.P.D. was mentioned. "The R.P.D...you haven't heard?" he whispered, choosing his words wisely. What he was about to say might unsettle her.

Rowan was not oblivious. She picked up on his sudden change in the tone of voice and locked eyes with him, questioning, "What?"

"When he came through, brad told me that that was where he was headed. Told me that Marvin - he's one of the cops, was holding down the fort there, trying to provide shelter for the survivors until more help arrives. But Brad told me that there would be no help coming. Didn't tell me why."

Confusion clouded Rowan's facial expressions. "So what's wrong?"

"Since nobody is coming to help the cops and the survivors there," he sighed, "they're sitting ducks. The zombies have been roving around, searching for more food. They followed the trail of sirens and gunfire without a problem, because all the forces that were around the city trying to stop them are dead, or have retreated." He winced. "The R.P.D. is completely surrounded by them. Brad says it's only a matter of time before the zombies get into the station. The last sturdy safe-haven for this city is about to crumble..."

"But the survivors--!"

"He told me he was trying to figure out way to help them get out of the station. He was using a two-way radio with somebody in the station. The R.P.D. isn't that far away from us, you know. Anyway, I overheard him saying something about a map of the place when it was still a museum... Another way out of the station, I guess. It's way too dangerous for him to get close to the R.P.D."

Then Robert's eyes lightened, barely. "Which reminds me, he also told me he was looking for a young girl by the name of Rowan. Said that he told you to get to the R.P.D., but that it would be too risky now. He couldn't find you anywhere, but I have! So now you know."

"Where did he go once he left?" Rowan asked, standing straighter, looking more alarmed.

"Back out to the city, looking for you."

"I have to find him!" she started, and stood up. The moment she was on her feet, her vision dulled and she felt as though she were spinning. Kendo reached out a hand to steady her, but she did it herself, looking panicked so that Kendo would think that was the only reason she looked so ill for a second. It wasn't all false, anyway. The realization that Brad was out there looking for her made her stomach twist.

Kendo held his hand up to make her pause anyway, but did not tell her to relax or lie down so she could calm her nerves like she had expected. Rather, he took her by the arm and led her to the locked glass door of the cabinet they had both been leaning on. He kneeled down, and motioned for her to do the same.

"If you're going out there, you'll need more than that rugged-looking axe," he said, motioning towards the weapon lying on the countertop.

Rowan realized what he was implying and raised her hands in protest. "I don't know how-"

"There's nothing you need to know, except the basics," Kendo repliedfeeling a little proud to act as the gun-shopkeeper again. He pulled out a sleek looking gun and placed it on top of the counter, then grabbed a couple of boxes that were about the size of a hand and put them beside it. As he stood up, her turned to the display case behind them both and, after opening it, pulled a polished leather belt off of the rack. He glanced back at Rowan, looked at her waist, and quickly switched the belt he held with another, smaller one.

Finally turning to her, he picked up the weapon and held it so that the barrel faced skywards. "Now this...is a standard nine millimeter beretta. The R.P.D. cops love these guns for some reason or another. Probably because they're small and it's not so hard to find the common ammunition for it." He looked at it with a smile crossing his face. "Roid loved to use these, too..."

He showed her the basics of how to aim and fire, had her repeat and mimic him, and when he was confident that she knew how to handle it, he moved on to the boxes he put beside it. "Now these... These are nine millimeter clips. Typically hold around thirteen bullets." Kendo opened one of the boxes and slid one of them into his hand. "Although they're big and take up more space than singular bullets, they are faster to load. And time is precious in this situation."

Kendo showed her how to load them and how to remove them, and finally moved on to the belt. He picked it up and handed it to her.

He pointed to each individual pocket, telling him what they were typically called and which held what. There was a holster on the right side of her thigh, and on the left side were two semi-large pouches, each big enough to hold around three clips. "Keep in mind that, since you have no idea if you will find a place that has ammunition in it or not - some people have dropped them here and there, and there are storage areas all throughout the town that hold onto these things - you won't know how long it will be until you find more for your gun. Use your ammunition sparingly. If you're in a situation where firing a gun is optional, don't waste the ammo."

Once Rowan placed the belt around her hips, Kendo smiled and lifted the gun again, which resumed its resting place on the countertop. "Now... Before you pull the trigger, know who you're shooting. There are still people out there who will think you're one of them." He cast a cold glance out the window to the stumbling demons outside, oblivious to the existence of the two living beings within the shop. "And vice versa."

"Friendly fire," Rowan murmured.

Kendo nodded. He kneeled down before the girl, taking her hand and patting it. He spoke in soft words, trying to display both pride and hope towards her, and searching for some meaningful wisdom to give. "Little miss Naton..."

Rowan's eyes softened as she looked to him.

"I know it seems tough. You've lost a lot of things..."

"I know."

"But if you're anything like your stepfather, I know that you'll pull through. He was a tough guy, a loving family guy who never gave up. And despite all the hardships you faced in the past few days, you pressed on just like he would have."

The words seeped through to her, gave Rowan some heart even though she felt that her own was dying. Kendo noted her silence and stood, placing both hands on her shoulders.

"You've made me proud by holding your own. By standing to fight while the world burns... Roid would be proud. Celia would be proud."

Finally, he leaned forward and gave her a little kiss on the forehead before stepping back. "Give 'em hell, and tell Brad I send my regards."

"What about you?" Rowan asked suddenly.

And Kendo smiled, his face dry of humor and lacking hope, but full of the spirit of somebody who would never give up if Death itself were staring him down. "While the war is raging, somebody's gotta help the soldiers."

Rowan's first few steps back out into the mangled city brought tears to her eyes as the acrid fumes and smoke made their way to her face. The scent of burning buildings and, even worse, rotting bodies made their way to her nostrils and remained there until, after moments of wandering, she was able to ignore it. The sight of the burning fires and crumbling houses, of bloodied sidewalks and brain-splattered walls, of walking corpses and freshly killed humans, however, would remain ingrained within her memory for years to come.

She wandered aimlessly for long moments, not exactly certain of where to go. Kendo had said that the R.P.D. was very close by, but according to Brad's information to him, it was in its death throes, falling to ruin just like everything else. Although she longed to be inside that building, to be standing alongside people who, just like her, were fighting to survive even though they had lost everything, she couldn't take a step near them. It was as if everything in the city was doing all it could to keep the lone, living wolves apart. To slim their chances of survival.

Divided we stand.

No smirk appeared at her inward joke.

Rowan instinctively glanced at the sky to see where the sun was, because the clock in Kendo's shop said that it was an hour past noon, meaning the sun would be heading west and to its resting place. She was disappointed when her eyes found only rolling gray clouds of smoke and ash. She squinted, not giving in to that fault, and as a reward to her search found one bright spot admist the dark coal sky. It was to her right, and since that was west, she turned to her left, to the east, and suddenly found her entire effort in finding the sun meaningless. She was unconsciously looking for the police station even though she knew that she could not get there.

So without having a clue of where to go, she moved forward. North.

Aside from the zombies and the blood dripping here and there onto the pavement, from the crashed cars and distant, desperate cries for help, there was nothing strange. Her hand fell momentarily upon the handle of the beretta packed firmly on her belt, but remembering Kendo's wisdom pulled it away. The nearest zombies were thirty or so feet away and unaware of her, so there would be no point in shooting.

Instead, she looked ahead, trying to ignore the walking, shuffling, groaning dead lingering around. She moved quietly, trying to not make a noise.

So engrossed was she in moving ahead without paying mind to the things around her, that she didn't notice the flurry of footsteps until they were almost upon her. Startled, she swung around, letting out a scream that she cut off and muffled quickly before the zombies caught wind of her.

Her own sudden movements must have startled the person who was running past her. Whoever it was swung around just as she did. For one fleeting moment, their eyes met - light hazel and dark blue - and for the whole second that they saw each other, Rowan noticed the red cap topping his head and loose pale gray tee-shirt. She also noticed the person's - his - arm move, but too late. She had no time to react as a loud explosion erupted in front of her.

There was a sudden, piercing pain and burning sensation in her chest that didn't seem to concentrate in any single area. Her whole body was in sudden agony, and as she let loose a shuddering, pained groan, her knees crumpled and she fell to the ground, her hands making their way to the bullet's entrance before her chest hit the concrete.

She was aware of hot liquid flowing onto her hands, aware of her vision dulling once more, this time by a combination of various things - from the fatigue from not getting much sleep, from the food deprivation of her body, from the depression of losing it all, from the sudden loss of plenty of blood and the incredible pain, and from the realization that her efforts to survive with her friends had all been in vain. She had tried to survive, no matter what stood in her path. Kendo's words had given her that much strength. The realization that others were hoping for her to make it out, that others wanted her to live, gave her the courage and ability to fight.

And in the tragic irony of that turning point in her mind, she was cut down the moment she made an effort to live.

What was the point in fighting, when one would only die trying?

It was all let out in one pained wail that escaped from her lips. Her baleful eyes moved upward, trying to catch a glimpse of the face of the person who killed her. One bloody hand removed itself from her chest, reaching up to the man while her face contorted into an expression of misery.

She saw the man frown down at her, raising his weapon to aim at her head.

And then saw his eyes widen in shock as he realized his error.

But rather than take her hand, rather than save her life, he backed away, suddenly fearful. The man glanced up and looked beyond her, and Rowan could barely discern the growing fearful expression when he saw something. She could hardly hear the shuffling of feet behind her as the living dead picked up the scent of freshly spilled blood and made their way to food.

Casting one final glance down, catching her pale eyes for just another second, Rowan thought she saw the faint hint of an apology on his face. He opened his mouth to say something but stopped, turned, and ran.

The tears freely ran down Rowan's cheeks. She lowered her head, dropping her hand limply to her side, and exhaled slowly. The slow, clumsy shuffles grew louder, closer. Closing her eyes, Rowan wondered if it would be painful.

The numbness that slowly began to spread from her chest to her limps seemed to answer her.

She couldn't feel the tears slip down her cheeks, onto the pavement. She could no longer feel the warm liquid seeping from one fatal wound in her chest. But she could still hear. Oh, she could still hear them, wailing piteously, smelling fresh food that would soon be in their never saited stomachs. Their footsteps drew closer. They were joined by another, faster pair.

As Rowan awaited to be engulfed by the darkness that started to cloud her vision moments before, she could dimly hear one pair of footsteps stop beside her. She felt herself being lifted up, up, and beyond.

Then nothing.

Next chapter hopefully up next week. Hope y'all enjoyed.
I couldn't really get Kendo's character right, since I barely remember him from the game. Did some guesswork. Hope it turned out alright.

Son Goharotto - So do I, actually. When characters die, it kind of puts more meaning into the story. Wierd, huh? I'm trying to make this as realistic as possible. :D

Tinkies: I'll go check out the next chappie, then.

Nuke Umbrella: Thanks! Unfortunately, I'm not going to be updating End Game. I'm going to be revamping it and the second story, however. After playing Outbreak File 2, I saw that some changes needed to be made. They were drastic ones, however. Never fear.

Ivy: I mailed you. o.o? Whazzwrong?