The entrance was absent of any barricade, which was rather unexpected. And frightening. An unlocked door could spell trouble. While most panicking citizens wouldn't have thought of the newspaper office as a first choice shelter, circumstances should've forced at least a few into it. The building sat on a main street, after all. They'd found a couple undead by the front door, with small, black holes drilled into their foreheads, but that was little comfort.

The air was surprisingly cool within the small foyer of the building, as if the air conditioning had been running for at least part of the day. But that wasn't possible; the power had been lost in most of the city for over 24 hours. And even if the power had been up, who would be foolish enough to waste it on cooling a newspaper office? They all reached similar conclusions; there was no one in here. The AC unit had probably been set to automatic, and no one had a chance to turn it off in their haste to escape. To be sure, though, the men took the point, their guns cocked and at the ready, quickly checking over every corner of the first floor. The women watched the door, their nervous eyes on the street as the red glow of the emergency lights above them flickered off and on.

The staircase seemed older than the rest of the building, it's creaky wood making Jim and George cringe at each cautious step. From above them, where the stairs turned to the second floor, they heard something. It was a faint, distant sound, almost like clicking. They peered through the glass pane of the door, and seeing no movement, quietly pushed the door open. They heard the sound clearer now, and George could've sworn it was the sound of an old fashioned typewriter. Jim crept ahead, and as he swung around the doorway with his gun poised to fire, a surprised look came over his face. He relaxed for a second before becoming suddenly frightened, and a shot rang out. The plaster just above Jim's head exploded in a small cloud of dust, and he started screaming.

"CALM THE FUCK DOWN, BITCH!" he yelled, throwing his body to the floor. George peeked carefully around the threshold, and was rather surprised to see Alyssa sitting there, a smoking gun in her hand and a stubby cigarette in her mouth. She grinned at them.

"Still alive, hey doc?" she said. George looked at her, confused, as he heard pounding footsteps from the stairwell. He spun around, his assault rifle at his hip, only to see Cindy and Yoko standing at the doorway, worried and out of breath. Jim still lay on the floor, cautiously looking at Alyssa out of one eye, waiting to see if she'd fire again.

"Huh, I didn't think you ever missed," George said, studying the hole in the wall.

"What's going on here," asked Cindy, stepping forward. Seeing George act so casually, she lowered her weapon.

"Ah, Cindy's still kicking too, I see," Alyssa said, rising from her seat and stuffing her gun in the small of her back.

"And little Yoko, too," she said, cooing at the girl, who looked rather put off by Alyssa's behavior. Cindy recognized it right away; it had been part of her on-the-job training, after all.

"Alyssa, are you drunk," Cindy asked, already knowing the answer.

"Lil' bit," she said, looking over the rag tag group. "Where's fatty?"

The group grew somber, and Alyssa knew his fate. She held her tongue for a moment more than usual out of respect.

"I guess those bastards are equal opportunity killers; affirmative action be damned huh," she said. Jim was finally standing now, grinding his teeth in anger at her words. Cindy was ready to jump between them when he surprised her by holding his own tongue. He turned to Yoko as if he had something to say, but thought better of it.

"Seeing as how it's safe here, I'm going to set up a barricade at the front door," he said, his words an open invitation for another to help him. Yoko already had her nose buried in some documents, and Cindy was standing by Alyssa's desk. "Fine, guess I'll do it on my own, then," he added.

"Good thinking, Jim," George said, turning to follow him. "I'll give you a hand," he offered.

"Don't bother," Alyssa called out from behind them. "This building is soundproofed, so those monsters won't even think of coming in here," she said, returning to her seat. "If they could think, that is."

"I'm gonna hit the can, then," Jim said, storming out of the room, eager to get away from Alyssa.

"How did you know they respond to sound," inquired Yoko curiously, setting the file she had been reading back on the desk.

"I'm more than just looks, kiddo," said Alyssa, tapping away at her antique typewriter. "I'm impressed you guys got this far, but there really isn't much to do at this point," she added, bringing a coffee mug to her red lips. Lipstick lined the porcelain rim of the cup, which said "#1 Scoop…of coffee" on it, but Cindy doubted there had ever been coffee in that mug.

"What are you writing, Alyssa," Cindy asked, being careful not to read the page over Alyssa's shoulder. Cindy remembered that time Alyssa had nearly broken a bar patron's jaw for reading something she hadn't yet finished. She hadn't been apologetic afterwards, either.

"My last will and testament," she replied, taking a long sip from her mug, one eye on George, who was now by the window overlooking the street. "What's on your mind, doc?"

"But who's going to read-" Cindy wondered, before Alyssa cut her off.

"It's an article, Cindy," she said. "The computer kept crashing, even with the emergency generator chugging away, so I had to dig up this ancient piece of shit to finish it," she complained, shoving the slide back across. "Even if no one reads it…even if I die before I finish it…" her words trailed off.

"You have to at least try," finished George, turning his sharp eyes to her. Whether it was the booze or his understanding words, Alyssa's face reddened a bit under his intense gaze. She took another pull from her cigarette, stamping it out before pulling out a pack from her jacket pocket. She smiled, offering one to George.

"No, no…I quit years ago," he said, stepping back.

"What have you got to worry about now?" she countered. Her words began to make a lot of sense to George, who reluctantly took one. She brought a lit match to hers before leaning towards him and pressing her lit end against his, their faces mere inches apart. Cindy watched this with a strange feeling; it wasn't as if George was her man, but for Alyssa to act like this, right in front of her…

"I'll take one too," Cindy said, suddenly sticking her hand between the two.

"I didn't know you smoked," said George, a bit surprised.

"Not anymore, but what have I got to worry about now," Cindy mockingly mimicked to Alyssa, who only laughed. She tossed Cindy the pack of matches before sitting back down to tap away at her article. Still, she kept one eye on Cindy and George. She watched curiously as George helped her as she struggled with the matchbook, using his own to light hers. So, he liked the damsel in distress bit, she thought to herself. We'll see how long that lasts, she thought.

Cindy took a deep drag of her cigarette, feeling quite content with herself, going so far as to even flash a smug look at Alyssa…just before the smoke hit the soft flesh of her throat and lungs. The sudden burning feeling was too much and she began to choke and cough on this new, painful sensation.

"Haha, this is soo Brady Bunch," Alyssa laughed.

Jim entered the room at that moment to everyone's laughter. He looked at Cindy's beet red face as she coughed violently, George patting her back gently, struggling to stifle his own laughter.

"You guys ain't smoking that chronic shit without me, right," he asked suspiciously.

The laughter had felt good, even if the cigarette hadn't, Cindy thought to herself later. She was digging through files now, wishing Alyssa had done a better job of organizing the many documents she had pulled for her research. She wondered if the news office was always in such disarray; paper laying everywhere, covering nearly every inch of the floor and desks.

"It's pointless to dig through there, Cin," Alyssa said. "I didn't find anything all that noteworthy in there," she added.

"Just because you didn't find something doesn't mean there's nothing in here," Cindy shot back, bristling at Alyssa shortening her name. She hated that nickname, and had always hated it, even as a kid. She took an armful of files and walked to the far end of the room to sit beside Yoko, who was working on a locked file cabinet. Alyssa had lent the young girl her lock pick set, and she was anxious to practice it. The girl was furiously jiggling the tool, her growing frustration obvious.

"Reeoww," mocked Jim, observing their exchange from across the hall. He and George were going through their artillery, deciding yet again what they could leave behind and what would be valuable once they were back on the deadly streets.

"We can probably leave the flashlights," said George. "We're going to make our final push soon, and it'll be light out by then."

"Fuck that," said Jim. "We could end up in a tunnel or some shit, and I don't wanna be down there in the dark…we should at least have one."

"Ok, so we drop two of them…this radio hasn't picked up a single message since we've had it, either-"

"Hold it," called Alyssa from her seat, now coming over to them. "You schmucks had a radio this whole time," she asked, incredulous.

"It doesn't pick up anything," said Yoko, having given up on the finer art of lock picking and coming over to them. "We've only had a few chances to test it, and all it gets is static."

"You mean you haven't left it on?"

"Of course not; you said yourself how those things respond to sound," Cindy said, eager to make Alyssa look bad. She was still worried at how the hawkish reporter looked at George, like he was something good to eat, diet be damned.

"Well hand it over, then," she said, yanking it from Jim's hand before he could comply. She clicked it on, jacking up the volume, the sharp feedback ringing in all their ears. Ignoring everyone's obvious discomfort, she flipped through the channels in a desperate flurry. "Where's the transmit button," she asked loudly. No one had an answer. "Come on, you mean between the doc, the egghead, and um…the rest, you couldn't figure it out?"

Cindy opened her mouth to say something clever, but she realized she couldn't think of anything to say. She turned away quickly and walked back to her mountain of information. She fumed inside, the way Alyssa could put her down so easily, just because she wasn't as smart, or witty, or wordy, or…something. She felt someone standing beside her, and George's warm hand brushed against her own as he reached for a file folder. She turned to him and was pleased to see his mysterious eyes so close to her own, shining at her as if they were in on some great secret joke, just the two of them. Returning her smile, he went back to reading through the file, sneaking quick glances at her once she did the same. He seemed quietly content just to watch her.

Alyssa's keen eyes took this whole wordless exchange in, and she turned away, pretending to be focused on the crackling radio in her hand. She told herself she didn't care, and surprisingly, there was little doubt of that in her mind. She had thought of George merely as a bon voyage roll in the sack, nothing flowery or romantic about it. He was just the best looking guy around; why not go out with a bang, so to speak? She looked over at Jim and laughed aloud before she could even consider the possibility. He couldn't handle a woman like her; she'd break him in two and have room for seconds, she thought. Then again…

The radio in her hand suddenly jumped to life, the static giving way to a broken, desperate message. It sounded like the voice of a young man, but with all the feedback, it was impossible to tell for sure.

"-one hear me?…platoon…cut off…requesting…help…being…slaughtered…city…no escape…is there any-"

The group stood around Alyssa, staring at the radio and holding their collective breaths, waiting for more, hoping for just something to come from the device. But nothing came. The empty squeal of the static filled the room as the desperate man's last words hung heavily on their minds. No escape. Alyssa finally set the radio down, a determined look on her face. Everyone looked to her, expecting her to make some bold declaration, some plan to save them all.

"I'm going to finish my article," she finally said, moving back to her typewriter. Cindy sighed, wondering how she had ever put even a little hope into Alyssa Ashcroft, ace reporter.

Jim stared at the radio. He had cleared off the editor's desk in one huge flourish, dumping the mountain of documents into a heap in the corner. And there, in the middle of the table,he carefully placed the radio. It was almost as if he feared anything close to it might interfere with the signal. But as he hoped, the others knew. They knew no one was going to call on that radio again. Still, no one wanted to say it, no one wanted to admit that they truly were alone, even if it was a truth they had all accepted long ago.

"Will you please turn that thing off," said Alyssa, frustrated as she struggled to finish her article. Jim flashed her a dirty look in response. After a few more moments of the stuttering static, she began to repeat her request, before Jim cut her off.

"Someone might call on it. You said yourself, 'we need all the information we can get'," he said, looking at the radio instead of her. Yoko was studying the film she had just developed, pictures of undead that Alyssa had taken with her pocket camera. The smell of developing fluid still hung in the air; a pungent, vinegar odor. Even though she had worked around the smell and the buzz of activity for years, Alyssa was becoming quite annoyed with these new additions to her hideout. Things had looked up with the appearance of the handsome doctor, but otherwise, this group was a total drag. She took a long puff on her cigarette, holding the hot smoke in her throat for a long moment before sharply exhaling it. She looked at Cindy and George sitting together, and she remembered how much she hated to lose.

"Well, the reception is better on the roof; why don't you go play with it up there," she suggested. Jim was halfway out the door before she mumbled: "And if we're lucky, maybe you fall off."

"Alyssa!" cried Yoko, shocked.

"Ah, he can't hear me anyways," she said, swiveling in her chair to face the young girl. "Tell me, Yoko…why is it I get the feeling that Jim doesn't like you very much?"

"Some people just don't get along, I guess," she replied.

"No…that's not it," said Alyssa, chewing on her pen cap. "I know guys like Jim; they'd do anything for a cute girl, especially in a situation where this might be their last chance to get some 'goodbye' action…or in Jim's case, 'hello-first-time' action," she added, smiling at her little put down. She dearly wished he had been there to hear it.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Yoko said, turning away as her face reddened. Alyssa rose from her chair and stood close to her, close enough for the young girl to feel even more uncomfortable.

"Young girls your age only blush for two reasons: they're embarrassed because they find out the boy they like likes them back, or…they're lying. Which is it?"

"Tell me, Alyssa…what do you know about this outbreak," Yoko asked, her eyes suddenly distant.

Alyssa sighed, leaning against the desk by Yoko. "I know that there's a player more influential than the US government involved, keeping things quiet here, and I think I know who it is. I'm betting you do, too, little lady."

"What do you mean?" said Yoko, flustering again.

"See, Yoko…now I know which one it is. No mention of a boy, and you're redder than a commie. Talk to me, kid…maybe I can help." Yoko looked at her, wondering if she could trust her, until she realized she had no choice.

"I-I used to work for Umbrella," she said, resignation in her voice. "But that's all I know…really." She turned to Alyssa, expecting doubt and coldness in her eyes, but there was none. She simply nodded, accepting her words.

"I suspected as much," she said, nonchalant. "Their logo is on about 90 of the city, after all. I've also heard they have some extremely top secret stuff going on in their labs, and that they've been known to use rather…questionable methods when it came to 'former' employees." She sat back in her chair, turning back to her work. "Quite frankly, I'm surprised you made it out alive."

"Why do you say that," wondered Yoko.

"Even though Umbrella owns a majority share in our paper, doesn't mean we don't pursue the truth as hard as anyone else," answered Alyssa. "We've had more than a few undercover reporters and such go in…and never come out. Those that do, are either too frightened to talk, or claim to remember nothing at all." She scoffed. "And to think; I used to bitch at those people who I thought were faking their amnesia."

"You believe me?"

"I'm a walking bullshit detector, kid," she said, chewing her pen. She appeared to reconsider something. "Should I not believe you?"

"Well, uh, you should believe me, because it's true."

"So that's the real reason you guys came here, isn't it? You hoped seeing something in our files might jog your memory, huh?"

"Yes, that's why I wanted to come here," the young girl admitted.

"And...?" pressed Alyssa. "Anything?"

"Nothing we can really use right now…" she said, a nervous doubt in her words.

"That's not all, is it? You want your memory back for yourself, not necessarily to help everyone get out of here, right""

"And what if I do? Can't I be selfish once in awhile," she asked, anger flashing across her face.

Alyssa shrugged. "Hey, do as you please. I'm not relying on you or anyone else to stay alive, so no skin off my nose, kid." The reporter turned back to her desk, keeping one wary eye on the confused young girl.

"You know…if the generator were back up, you could access our database to do specific searches," Alyssa suggested. "The 'S' paper drawer only goes up till the mid eighties."

"I was…just looking for something on my family," Yoko admitted. "If I even have one," she added under her breath.

"That's what I figured. The generator is in the basement if you wanna tinker with it," said Alyssa. "I'm pretty useless when it comes to electronics."

"And when it comes down to everything else…?" said Cindy, coming into the room with George at her side.

"Well, then I'm just pretty," she shot back, winking at George. "What have you kids been doing," she asked, again turning back to her work. It seemed she had been stuck on this same paragraph for the last few hours.

"Digging through that Umbrella file cabinet," sighed George. "Didn't find a damn thing, either."

"Well, I guess I'll take a look at that generator then," said Yoko, wondering if anyone even heard her.

"I'll give you a hand, Yoko," offered George. She couldn't be sure, but Yoko suspected that George didn't like being in the same room with Alyssa and Cindy. Like he was a piece of meat between two hungry wolves. He didn't look back as he followed her out of the room, shutting the door quietly behind them.