Act 1:Snowblind

The gusty winds of the Razor started to make themselves felt by the time the lawmen returned to to the station. Drake looked at the sky to see the last few rays of sunlight evaporate from sight as dark clouds rolled in. "Might be early," Drake said.

The Sheriff nodded. "Let's get inside. I'll fix us up some coffee," O'Neil said. After a final once-over of the town, the Sheriff wassatisfied that Stonefeather was ready to brace the coming storm. Residents had boarded up their houses and the high school and town hall had prepared shelters in case anyone got left in the cold. Drake checked with his grandfather one last time before coming to the station. 'Don't worry about me kid,' he remembered the old man saying, 'Just do your job.'

The lights were already starting to flicker as the two lawmen entered the station. There was of course a mini-generator down in the basement but Drake was worried that the old machine had seen too many years. O'Neil handed Drake a warm cup of coffee and eased into his chair. "Well, now we wait it out," O'Neil said as he took a sip of the coffee. Standing by the window, Drake nodded. He thought of the Asian woman he'd seen earlier. Stonefeather didn't get many tourists. In fact most of the outside world had never even heard of Stonefeather Lake. Hell, they didn't even have a postal code number, using Fort Holden's Postal services instead. The snow covered the glass of the window quickly as the wind blew strong and unchallenged. He wouldn't want to be out there unless he had to.

"So Drake," the Sheriff began, "I never asked you about your time away. How was your time in Cameron City?"

Drake placed his coffee on the sheriff's desk and sat on one of the guest chairs before it. He contemplated the answer. "Well sheriff...it was rough," Drake said with a hint of sorrow.

"Rough? How so?" O'Neil pressed on.

Drake gave the window behind the sheriff a glance. Darkness had fallen over Stonefeather, the Razor had begun to descend. "Cameron was a rough place. It was a cop's nightmare. Gangs, organized crime cartels, murderers, rapists. You name it Cameron had it," Drake paused, his eyes lowered to his shoes. "There was a suicide every other week. It wasn't pretty. I don't know how I managed to stomach it all. I spent 4 years there hoping that it could get better..." Drake trailed off. He gave Sheriff O'Neil a sad smile. "It didn't."

O'Neil nodded. "The city life. Thank the Lord I never left Stonefeather. Makes waiting out the Razor sound like a walk in the park in comparison," he commented.

"Yeah, well before I got got the news about dad I already had half a mind to quit the force. I wasn't the only one, lots of guys were tired of the killing and the corruption. But...I dunno. Maybe it was because I hated to leave things undone, I stayed on, tolerating all the crap that city could throw at me. Nearly lost my life a couple of times in shoot-outs and raids but I lucked out somehow," Drake continued.

O'Neil chuckled. " I doubt luck has anything to do with it kid. The Hartmanns have always been survivors. Your grandfather is certainly evidence of that."

"The Hartmanns have always been soldiers too. Except me," Drake whispered. Sheriff O'Neil raised his eyebrow.

"You think less of yourself just because you're not a soldier?" he asked.

"Well...maybe. I don't know. When Kent went off for the Gulf when I was 10, I remembered how proud my family was of him. Kent and me weren't the best of brothers. I mean, at the time he was doing to me what all big brothers did to their younger siblings, making my life miserable..." Drake paused as he remembered his older brother's face. "When the government courier came down from Fort Holden, I remember the look on my father's face, sad yet proud at the same time as he accepted the colors," Drake looked up. "I guess I wanted them to feel the same for me. Not that my dad ever treated me differently, it just that I felt it was sort of my family duty since Kent was dead," Drake explained.

As the Sheriff started to say something, a sharp pain seized his chest. His clenched at his chest as he bowled over knocking his cup of coffee to the floor. "Sheriff!" Drake cried as he rush to his side. "Sheriff? Sam? What's wrong? What's..." Drake's eyes went wide as he felt his blood boil within his veins. He fell to his knees as his mind sent him into a state of vertigo. His stomach churned as his chest burned, his legs kicking wildly as he tried to fight the spasm. Drake puked his guts out on the floor, before passing out he heard the window shatter and the screeching of violent winds...

'Put the gun down,' Drake yelled at the thug, his own firearm aimed at his target. 'Fuck off cop!' came the familiar reply as the thug continued to manhandle his female hostage. Her sobbing and cries for help filled the night sky and unnerved Drake. Where was Andy? He couldn't handle this by himself. 'Back away man! I ain't fucking here! I swear you come close, I'll put a bullet is this bitch's face!' A drop of sweat rolled down Drake's face, in the darkness of the alley, he could miss his shot. But what if he didn't take the shot? What if Andy didn't arrive in time? Drake backed away slowly. 'Okay man,' Drake said,'I'm going to put the gun away and I'm backing off. Just don't hurt the lady,' Drake said as he slowly holstered his gun. 'That's right, back off or keel her man' the thug said, he voice thick with anxiety and fear. 'Let the lady go man. Do that and I'll leave you alone,' Drake pleaded. 'Fuck man! Don't you tell me what the fuck to do! I'll blow your brains out!' he threatened. As Drake's eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could see that his perp was just a kid, 18 maybe less. His gun was jammed into the temple of the young woman he was trying to rob, the weapon shaking in his hands. 'Okay okay. You're the boss man. You're the boss. Just let the girl go. Don't do this man. Don't throw your life away,' Drake said softly. The kid was on the verge of tears. Probably looking for a quick score, a quick hit and run. Never thought he'd run into trouble, thought the gun would scare anyone. Drake was scared, but so was the young woman he was trying to save. He had to do his best. 'Listen man. You're only making this worse on yourself. You kill her, you'll have the cops on you, you kill me, they'll hunt you down like a dog,' Drake said, trying not to make his words sound like a threat. He heard the sounds of footsteps behind him. Andy? His peripheral vision showed him that his partner hid behind a corner of the alley, gun drawn. 'Just let the lady go and we won't bother you okay?' he said. The thug pointed his gun at Drake, the young officer's heart skipped a beat. He returned the gun to the woman's head, panic clouding his judgement. After what seemed like an eternity, the kid released his vice-grip on the woman and pushed her roughly towards Drake. Drake caught her as she stumbled forward, her tears rolling down her cheeks. The kid took a step forward. It was all a blur as Drake turned to see Andy open fire. His eyes went wide as the perp went down on his knees, his white top stained with blood. 'NO!' Drake screamed as he rushed to the kid's side. Holding him in his arms, the kid's lips trembled as he tried to say something, a trickle of blood rolling down his chin. Andy stood over them, gunsmoke still emitting from the barrel of his weapon.'He had a gun Drake,' he said soberly. 'He had a gun...

The sound of the wind stirred Drake awake. Spitting out some blood Drake rose to his feet slowly. The lights were out and the storm raged on. His head was a mess as he leaned against the desk to regain his balance. 'What the Hell happend?' he wondered. He put his hand on his chest where he had felt the pain earlier. 'Was it a heart attack?' Drake thought. His thoughts snapped back to Sheriff O'Neil. "Sam?" Drake called out in the darkness. "Sheriff?" he called again again as he stumbled around in the dark. Tripping over something, Drake fell hard. He turned to make out what he had tripped over. It was the Sheriff, laying on the ground facedown . "Sam?" he whispered as he shook the Sheriff gently. "Sam?" he said again. O'Neil began to move, raising to his feet slowly. "You okay Sam?" Drake asked. The Sheriff made no reply as he swayed from side to side. Drake thought he still wasn't lucid. "Sheriff?" Drake said as he put his hand on the Sheriff's shoulder. The man turned to face Drake, his eyes hollow, his mouth agape. Drake removed his hand from O'Neil's shoulder. Something was wrong. "Sam?" Drake whispered, uncertainty crept in his voice. O'Neil let out a low moan as he slowly walked towards Drake. Drake took a few steps back. "Is something wrong? Sam?" Drake asked.

O'Neil reached for Drake with a sharp hiss. Drake's eyes widened as O'Neil put him in a vice-grip. He sunk his teeth into Drake's shoulder, shaking his head violently like he was trying to tear Drake's arm off. Drake let out a cry of agony as he struggled to be free of O'Neil's grip. He elbowed the possessed Sheriff in the back of his head with blows that would have rendered a normal man unconscious. O'Neil released Drake's shoulder, his teeth stained with blood. Holding his injured shoulder, Drake rushed for the door, O'Neil...or whatever it was trailing behind slowly. Snow covered Drake's eyes as he kicked open the department's door, running into the streets. The storm was in full force, the harsh arctic winds blowing thick snow in every direction, blinding him. Drake drew his weapon, his adrenaline and fear fueling him. The snow beneath him was stained with red drops of blood as he walked. Drake could hear the sound of low growls all around him. The snowstorm kept Drake from seeing anyone, he could barely see their shadows.

"Anyone out there? I need help!" cried Drake as he shielded his eyes from the snow. Two figures came into view. "Hey! Over here!" Drake called out as he pressed his hand down on the bite marks O'Neil had left on his shoulder. The hisses and moans grew louder as the two figures drew closer, the sound of footsteps on snow behind Drake revealed that O'Neil was behind him. He turned and pointed his gun at O'Neil. "I don't wanna hurt you Sam!" he yelled. Sam responded with a shrill cry as he rushed forward, ignoring the weapon in Drake's hand. Drake's eyes widened as he unloaded his weapon, firing two shots, but the storm clouded his vision, his first missing O'Neil entirely, the second catching O'Neil in his left arm. Growls and hisses from behind him caught Drake off guard as two men grabbed him, their eyes as hollow and empty as O'Neil's, their mouths hung open. Drake swung his gunhand, smacking one of them in the face with the grip of his .40 Beretta. Released, Drake fired blindly at them hearing the sound of pierced flesh as he moved away from them. There were three of them now, Sheriff O'Neil and two of the townsfolk. What the Hell happend to them? Why were they attacking him? Thoughts raced through Drake's mind as he moved forward, completely oblivious to where he was or where he was going. He breathed hard, the wound and the cold were getting to him as his muscles began to tighten and his eyesight began to blur with all the snow that blew into his face.

Something gripped his foot. Drake stared in horror as another possessed townsman rose from the ground, his body covered in a layer of snow. Shocked, Drake instinctively blew off the creature's head, warm gush of blood spewed onto his face and uniform. He fell over, still in shock over what he had done. A growl caught his attention as O'Neil pounced on the fallen Drake,his cold hands tightening around Drake's neck. Hot drool fell onto Drake's face as the Sheriff drew closer,his blood-covered mouth wide open. Drake tried to break O'Neil's grip but failed. Feeling the air leave him Drake raised his gunhand to O'Neil's head, a tear rolling down his cheek. He pulled the trigger. Warm blood and bone covered Drake's face as part of O'Neil's head disappeared. O'Neil hands loosened it grip on Drake's neck as his body slumped over Drake's. Pushing the Sheriff off him, Drake looked at what was left of the Sheriff's face. "I'm sorry" was all he could manage as the Sheriff's blood created a crimson stain on the snow. Hearing the sounds of more growls and hisses, Drake knew he had no time to feel sorry. He took two clips of ammo from the Sheriff's belt and his silver Sheriff's Star. Scanning the surroundings, he could barely make out where he was. A fallen signpost told him that he was less than a block away from his house.'Grandpa!' Drake thought suddenly. Putting the Sheriff's Star in his pocket, Drake raced in the direction of his home, his heart beating faster as the snowstorm grew harsher...

The howling winds did little to conceal the sounds of deep moans and low grunts that echoed through the night, putting Drake on edge as he rushed for to his home to find his grandfather. The force of the Razor seemed against him as the strong winds fought the young man at every step, the thick snow rendereing his sight nearly useless. But Drake had to try. His grandfather was all the family he had left. He breathing grew shallow as he sprinted in the direction of his home, relying on sheer instinct that he was on the right path and praying that he'd have no more encounters with any possesed townspeople, 'possesed' being the only word that Drake could think of. Why else would the Sheriff and some of the townsfolk attack him? Like a mockery to his prayers, Drake stopped as he made out a number of shadows in his path, the snow concealing their identities. The shadows drew closer, silent and ominous. Not taking any chances, Drake raised his weapon. "Who's there?" he yelled over the howls of the Razor. The shadows drew closer, Drake's question unanswered. Drake's stomach tightened as he yelled out the same question again. Again, no answer. He took a few steps back, his heart pounding. Then he heard it, the sound of boots on snow...behind him. Drake turned around to see six or seven men and women, all swaying from side to side, uttering low growls and grunts. Drake turned to where he saw the shadows, now replaced by a number of men and women. "Christ Almighty," the words escaped Drake's lips as he watched in horror as the townspeople rushed him from all sides.

Drake fired blindly, unsure if he nailed a single one of his attackers. A hiss from behind him forced Drake to roll to his left, shooting again as he recovered from his roll, he could make out that two his attackers had fallen, but the rest continued to approach him, unfazed by the gun or the loss of their comrades. A woman popped out from the snow behind Drake, seizing him in a strong hold, letting out a shrill cry into the night. Drake struggled hard but to no avail as he watched as more of the possesed townspeople approach him from all sides. One of the men drew closer, his arms out and him jaw hung open, the same hollow look in his eyes like Sam and the other townsfolk. Drake shut his eyes as he felt the man's arms on his shoulders. It was over...

A thunderous sound followed by a warm gush of blood awakened Drake as he looked upon his would-be killer, his head missing. The woman behind him released Drake, turning her attention to the origin of the sound, Drake's other attackers followed suit. Drake could barely make out the figure before him, smoke being blown in the wind. "Get down kid!" the unknown figure yelled. Drake's eyes widened as he realised who it was that stood before him, his ears hearing the sound of a reloading weapon. Drake dived for cover as a hole appeared in the chest of his captor. The woman fell to her knees with a sharp cry of agony. Drake rose to his feet, weapon in hand, he avoided the other townsfolk and rushed to his savior's side. Daniel Hartmann, dressed in a simple blue shirt, a brown leather jacket and his trusty shotgun. The two Hartmanns stood side by side, their weapons trained at the figures that approached them. "Wait till they're in clear view," whispered Daniel as he pumped his shotgun. Drake nodded silently. He still had four shots in his own gun and about two spare clips. He needed to make every shot count. The first man to come through the storm got a bullet in between his eyes courtesy of Drake, his friend lost his entire arm with a blast from Daniel's shotgun. The two backed off slowly as more of the townsmen drew closer, the snow befroe them turned into a small field of blood. Drake reloaded his weapon as a woman ran towards him, Daniel covering his grandson by blowing off her head.

"We can't take em' all!" Drake yelled as he shot the kneecaps off an attacking townsman.

"Back to the house!" Daniel responded as he layed down some cover fire.

Drake and Daniel slowly backed their way into their home, leaving a trail of bodies in their wake. Drake shut the door as soon as they entered the house, with Daniel already pushing a hefty cabinet before it. The windows were already boarded up, a precaution taken for the Razor. It seemed that that was the only good the Razor had done since this nightmare began. Drake turned to see a dead body lying on the doorway. He turned to his grandfather. "Rat-bastard bit me", he said as he loaded shells into his already empty shotgun.

"What the Hell's happening?" Drake asked as he peered out the cracks of the boarded windows.

"I was hoping you'd tell me. One moment I was getting myself a sandwich then the next I'm on my knees...like something crushing my heart. I blacked out. The I woke up hearing someone banging on the door. Went to check it out when this...freak busted in and tried to make me lunch", Daniel said, rolling up the sleeve of his shirt to show Drake deep bite marks on his left arm. Drake winced at the sight of the marks, looking at his own that adorned in his right shoulder. He shook his head and returned his attention to the door. They were banging on it hard now, trying to force their way in. Drake's throat went dry as he saw the door slowly splintering at the knob. He kept his gun trained at the door, sweat rolling down his blood-covered face. They kept banging, their moans and growls growing louder. Then...nothing. Daniel and Drake stood, their guns still aimed at the door, unsure of what to do next. Drake gave his grandfather a signal. He'd take a look outside first. Daniel nodded as he and Drake lifted the cabinet away from the door as carefully and quietly as they could. Drake opened the door and winced as he heard the sharp creak at it's hinges. He peered outside, scanning the snow-covered area for hostiles. Keeping low, he took a step out, his weapon ready. He scanned the area again. Nothing, no shadows, no hostiles. Nothing. "Clear," Drake said softly. Daniel crept close to Drake, looking around.

"Where'd the Hell they go?" Daniel demanded.

Drake shrugged. "Beats me," he replied, wiping blood off his face with the sleeve of his light blue uniform. He stood up, taking a gamble that the danger had passed. Momentarily at least. "We need to call for help," Drake said finally. "There might be some normal people out there. We need to help them too."

"Power's down. And even if it wasn't, I saw a couple of cable wires on the streets. Phones lines are probably dead too," Daniel responded grimly, prompting Drake to let out a frustrated sigh. The two re-entered the house, Drake trying his best to get the telephone to work. Only an eerie silence greeted him as he attempted to call for help.

" I need to get back out there," Drake said, his head hung low.

"What?"

"I need to make sure there everyone's safe," Drake said as he headed for the living room, looking at the small cabinet where his family's picture hung above. He pulled out a drawer and retrieved his father's old Ranger combat knife, kept in its black leather sheath. Drake drew the blade and traced a finger along its edge. Sharp as ever. Drake remembered how he got himself into trouble once when Kent dared him to take his father's old knife from the drawer that was often locked when they were kids. He remembered how furious his father was when he saw Drake with the knife. Looking at the reflection of his brown eyes in the steely blade, Drake banished the memories from his mind as he sheathed the knife and tucked it behind his shirt.

Daniel shook his head. "Kid, there's a storm out there. You can barely see your own hand in front of your face. It's too dangerous," Daniel told his grandson as the two walked out onto the front porch.

"I have to grandpa. Sam's dead. He became...one of them. He was going to kill me if I hadn't..." Drake said, pulling out Sam's blood-covered star to show his grandfather. "It's my responsibility now grandpa. I have to make sure that the town is safe."

Daniel looked hard at Sam's sheriff's star. "Christ," whispered Daniel. He gave Drake a concerned look. He'd lost both his son and his grandson, Kent. Drake was all the family he had left. Yet somehow he knew he couldn't talk Drake out of it. He was too much like his father. He was a Hartmann. "Well, if there are some normal people still out there, the smartest thing for them to do would be to stay indoors and off the streets. But maybe they could have headed for the shelters in Town Hall or the High school. It'd make sense if they did. Strength in numbers and all," Daniel said with uncertainty.

Drake nodded. "It's a longshot. But it's better than nothing. We'll check the High school first. If I remember, there's a bomb shelter underneath it. The townspeople who haven't gone crazy would probably hole themselves up there. There's enough supplies to last a year there," Drake said.

"You go on ahead first. I need to check on some friends. See if they're okay," Daniel explained.

"But grandpa..." Drake pleaded.

Daniel gave Drake a wolfish grin, patting his shotgun. "Don't worry kid. I've got more fight in me left," Daniel said with false bravado. He was scared. Perhaps even more frightened than Drake was, but his grandson had to do his duty, he didn't want to worry him. "I'll meet you at the school as soon as I'm done."

Reluctantly, Drake nodded. As he turned to leave Daniel stopped him. "Wait. You can't possibly go running blind out there with those things prowling about," Daniel said. He took aff a pair of goggles that hung around his neck. "Anti-flare goggles, from my soldier days. They won't help much but at least they'll keep the snow out of your eyes," Daniel said.

Drake accepted the goggles from his grandfather. "What about you?" he asked.

"Got another pair," Daniel lied. Drake considered his grandfather's answer for a moment before turning to face the storm. "Good luck kid," whispered Daniel as he watched his grandson disappear into the snowstorm. "And God help us all."