------
I just got to thank the people who took the time to review my story. Here's to Horrorfanatic6990, Tinkies, and AnimaSola!I luv you guys!
------
My name is Jackson Loams. If you are reading this, odds are I'm dead, or very close to it.
I'll get to the point. There's been an outbreak of some sort of a certain manmade virus in Raccoon City, called the T-Virus, and we have no idea how to control this. The symptoms of this virus start out varied between people, with symptoms ranging from those in a simple cold, to fatal conditions like pneumonia.
Eventually, the virus develops inside the host, and kills it. The one thing that sets this virus apart from a quickly developing flu is the fact that once the host body is dead, the virus, plainly put, brings it back to life.
The resurrected host doesn't seem to have conscious thought. Their nerves seem to remain dead, meaning they don't feel pain. The one thing that their reanimated bodies seem to acknowledge is the primal need to feed. No matter how mutilated their bodies are, they only try to meet that need.
Although we still don't know exactly how this virus is transmitted, we can theorize that it needs a solid or liquid form to enter new host bodies. We're nearly positive that this outbreak hasn't contaminated the air to a high enough level to spread airborne.
The simplest way that we know of to become infected with the T-Virus is to be bitten or scratched by one in the final (hopefully the final) stages of the virus. Avoid contact with any infected at all costs! If you yourself are succumbing to the thrall of this virus, please realize the danger you are putting others in. If possible, quarantine yourself. If unable, suicide is the only other moral option.
Although illogical and morally unsound, termination of those in the deeper stages might be necessary. There are precious few ways to kill the reanimated bodies - God bless us, zombies - that we know of. Severe trauma to the head is a possibility, as is burning the body. These are the only two ways which I know of, so my advice to you is 'aim for the head'. Simply crippling the infected will not stop them, but can allow for escape.
I know all this, as I work for the very people who created the T-Virus. Namely, the Umbrella Corporation. Do not be fooled by their general services front; they hold extreme power in military and espionage forces alike.
If you find this, please, take it to someone with power. Raccoon City isn't the smallest; I'm sure somebody will survive. We need to reveal the darker side of the Umbrella Corporation before they can continue creating things that no man was ever meant to.
The infection spreads through me now, and I'll be incapable of writing soon. My last words to you are godspeed and, simply, there's always something worth living for.
------
"So, this is all Umbrella's fault?" Matt said sharply.
"As far as we know. It might be something else, though…" Mean responded.
"It's not." Matt cut in sharply. "It never is."
Matt sat down on the couch. They rested in silence for a moment, absorbing the situation. Then, Mean asked, "Is this Hell?"
Turning his head towards her, Matt quickly replied, "No!" He frowned. "Things have just…"
Glaring at him behind wet eyes, Mean snapped, "Things have just what, Matt? Everyone's dead, a killer virus is on the loose, and we're sitting in a hospital surrounded with zombies and things with long arms and who the fuck knows what else!" She screamed the last part. Something from the lobby, most likely a zombie, walked into the barricaded door, trying to get to the sound. Mean went on, louder, "So what do we do? We're gonna die today, so let's just shoot ourselves in the head, shall we? Or what else did the miracle file from beneath the seven layers say? Huh? Fire? Shall we dance in the fucking flames of…"
"SHUT UP!" Matt yelled. "Just shut up! I don't know!" Mean stopped, and burst into tears. A second later, Matt joined her. Unashamed, the two teens cried in frustration, pain, and fear.
A minute later, Matt put his hands over his eyes, and rubbed them dry, trying to stop. He succeeded, and breathed heavily for a moment. Putting his injured hand on Mean's back, Matt said, "Mean, you gotta stop."
She turned, and looked at him, tears subsiding. "What are we gonna do?" she asked in a whisper.
Matt opened his mouth, and closed it. A thought went through his head, making him seriously think for a minute. Still working on it, he asked, "Mean…where did you find that note?"
Wiping tears from her face, she muttered, "What? Um…probably the research wing. I think I ended up there after…after Pain…"
"Your boyfriend?" Matt asked. She nodded, so he continued. "Do you remember how to get to the research wing?"
"Well…not really." Mean answered.
With a sigh, Matt said, "Well that's where we're gonna go."
A minute later, they stood side by side next to the wooden door on the side farthest from where they had came in. Gun in his shaking hand, Matt turned the doorknob.
Something inside the next room made a sound. Matt released the handle and stumbled back, aiming the gun at the door he had left unopened.
Sighing, and with a hint of a grin on her face, Mean stepped up and opened the door, revealing a small bathroom. The hinges squeaked as she did so. Looking at Matt, she slightly shook her head in amusement. "Ok, it seems I'll be opening the doors." she said quietly.
Matt arbitrarily shivered. They moved to the next closest door.
Mean turned the gold knob, and quickly moved backwards. Matt, gun first, went through the door. Aiming it in all the corners, he inched into the room, seeing it was a hallway. An end table sat in front of a window in the corner of an L-shaped bend in the hallway. Moonlight shone in, making six illuminated squares on the carpet.
Stepping in, Matt looked at Mean, who slowly walked in after him. "You're acting like a rookie cop," she muttered as she neared him.
"Well, it's better I'm a cop than someone useless here. Like a… a librarian. Or a salesman." Matt snapped back at her. He started to say more, but stopped when he saw her smiling a little and shaking her head at him. Pushing past her, he walked up to the window.
Immediately, a zombie slammed his head and both hands into the window, shattering shards of glass and wood frame onto the tiled ground. Matt screamed shortly, and jumped back into a similarly screaming Mean. They tripped over each other, and fell onto the ground. The gun fell out of Matt's handed as he landed on the floor, on Mean's legs.
The zombie toppled headfirst through the window, and another appeared at the scene. Rolling off Mean, Matt reached blindly for the gun, not knowing where it had fallen. The zombie struggled to rise, as the one now in the window tried to push through. Lucky for them, the window was rather small and the zombie incredibly obese.
Mean got to her knees, and helped Matt in his blind search for the weapon. They both moved their hands across the floor frantically, the zombie now standing and staggering towards them.
Giving up on the search, Matt stood up. "Aww, fuck it." he said. Balling his fist, he punched the rotting zombie right in the temple. Blood splattered against the wall as the zombie fell against it. The blow had dented its skull, but it still pushed itself up, never turning away from its prey. Matt shook the blood and skin off of his hand, holding in a scream of pain, as the zombie rose.
"Mean," Matt said. "A gun would make me happy right now."
"Trying, Matt." Mean said abruptly.
The zombie took a step towards Matt. Panicking, he reached at the walls, vaguely hoping for a painting or something to hit the thing with. "Mean!" he said, as he backed up another step.
Wordlessly, she rose and put a cold metal object into his hands. Matt found the handle, and raised the gun up to the zombie's head. Stupidly, it took another step forwards, and reached for Matt's hands.
He fired.
Blood, bone, and something unidentifiable in the dark splattered across the fat zombie in the window. The one in the room fell back against the end table, breaking the wooden legs as they both fell.
"Oh, Hell," Mean stammered. She turned around, crouched, and vomited. Matt just stood there, staring at the lifeless body, and looking even closer at the blood and guts on the window zombie. Raising the gun again, he shot a round at the zombie's head. It grazed the skull, but he (don't think of them as people, Matt) kept on trying to squeeze through the window. A distant moan sounded from outside.
A hand reached through the broken window, squeezing in next to the fat zombie's head. More moans sounded from behind them. The fat zombie was nearly crushed as multiple other zombies from outside tried to squeeze into the window. None of them seemed to notice that the others were even there. All they could see was the pair of living, breathing people.
"Mean," Matt said softly. "There's…more. Lots. We…we gotta go past them."
"I can't," Mean said abruptly. "We can go back, find another door…"
"No. There's probably just another bathroom back in the break room, and there's gonna be too many of them in the hall. This is it. The way."
Matt paused, watching them cram into the window. Almost sadly, he asked, "Do you wanna go first?"
Although he couldn't see her, Matt knew she was shaking her head. "Shoot them! We'll…just shoot them…" Mean pleaded.
"We gotta be running out of ammo soon. And I'm sure there's more of them around." Not sparing another word, Matt squeezed against the wall and prepared to go around the corner.
Mean was breathing quite heavily. No panic attacks, Mean, he tried to tell her silently.
He suddenly remembered the zombie's corpse, and all conscious thought transferred from her to the dead body as he approached the corner of the hall. A backboard running all around the hallway dug into the small of his back, but he ignored it, like he did the throbbing pain in his right arm.
Slowly moving his feet around the sharp bend, Matt tried to ignore the undead hands an inch from his face.
He totally failed. He'd used up all his bravery for the day already.
Forgetting to shriek, he dived around the corner. Fingertips brushed past his bare skin, causing him to shudder in midair. He fell out of reach on the other side of the corner, enraging the zombies. They renewed their attempts to get through, but they just ended up shoving closer together. Three heads and a whole lot of arms were poking through the window.
Standing up out of reach, Matt yelled, "Mean! Come on!"
"I can't!" she yelled back, as she stepped closer to the corner. A hand reached towards her, and she screamed and jumped back.
Matt sighed, shut his eyes, and thought. Her taking a detour is out, he thought. The window's too low to the ground for her to crawl under, and she won't just slip past…Matt looked again at the fat zombie. All the others were behind him, heads and arms poking in from every way.
Without thinking, Matt raised the gun and shot the fat one in the head. He fell back, taking the other zombies with him. Still without thought, he stepped up, grabbed Mean by the arm, and pulled her away right as another zombie came up to the window. "Come on!" he yelled, seeing the new zombie slide through the window onto the floor. Half dragging Mean, Matt ran to the end of the hall and opened the door.
Or, more like, jiggled the handle to no avail.
It was locked.
Whirling around, Matt saw that the new zombie had gotten to its feet somehow. Slowly, it inched towards him. Matt raised the gun.
With a fluid motion from beside him, Mean grabbed it. She aimed it at the door handle and pulled the trigger.
Click.
Another zombie fell through the window.
Weaponless and trapped, Matt and Mean watched in horror as the zombie neared them.