Cindy squeezed the trigger and closed her eyes. "I'm sorry, Will," she whimpered. After the round struck Will's head, his body jerked and untimely fell entirely still. Kevin grabbed her by the arm and ran. They both left the bar and headed upstairs into the staff room. As they closed the door behind them, the front door fell, and zombies started to shuffle inside.

Everyone assembled in the sitting area. Different rooms were branching from the small corridor. The lounge was small with some good leather seats, a fully stocked fridge and a sizeable TV. However, everyone was still tense and were unable to relax. All on their toes, they all started thinking about what to do next.

Firstly, Kevin decided to try and board up their retreat; the stairs led them into the staff room. Cindy pointed out some planks of wood and a nail gun. So mark and Kevin got on that while she went upstairs; the blue marking on the knob was linked to a key. Kevin came back to Cindy with an empty nail gun and a smile.

"That should do it."

"Will it hold?" asked Cindy.

Kevin nodded. "At least ten minutes, give or take." He dropped the nail gun, and Mark went to the lounge to sit by Bob. He was feeling unwell from his age. "Is there a way out of here other than the front door, Cindy?"

"Upstairs. We can get to the rooftop and try and go on from there."

"Any keys for the door?"

"A key with a blue tag." Cindy tightly grasped her .38 revolver. It was as small as her hand and was only fired once just earlier. Will was the first kill. Ironic. She sighed. "I'll go look for it now." She entered the locker room.

It was a small room with multiple lockers, chairs and cardboard neatly organised. The lockers obviously belonged to the staff, and the boxes were all just junk, nothing significant in any of them. But, nevertheless, Cindy had to organise them all. She knew that.

On each side were the lockers. The one on the right with a female raccoon was hers. Amongst the assortment of junk and old files and papers was a key with a blue keychain. Her pink mobile phone was in there too; it rang a tasteless pop song of the '80s. The caller said it was xXx Scotty 3.

Cindy picked up her phone and answered it. "Hello?"

"Hey." Scott breathed heavily. "Are you okay?"

"What's happening, Scott? Some people are trying to get inside the bar, and they bite." Cindy slid some curtains back from a dusty window by her locker to check outside. There are people scattered out on the streets, all running away from the same monsters from downstairs. They were all continually attacked. Pulled off the streets and eaten alive by groups of them. "Scott… they're acting like monsters out there."

"Then it's already too late. But, listen, I can't explain this over the phone-."

"Explain what? Do you know what's going on, Scott?"

"I do."

"I got others with me. I need to know everything about these monsters to help us survive."

"Those monsters out there are no longer who they appear to be. They're all zombies infected with a virus, an unstable mutagen that is highly contagious." Scott breathed. "Any bite or scratch can infect others."

"That's how Will turned… How did this happen?"

"A virus was spread into the city's outskirts. It is contagious to a wide array of animals and mammals. Once infected, they and the virus live to infect more. They're walking infections. The basic primal instinct."

"How do we kill them?"

"Destroy the brain. Zombies don't react to pain, so shooting anywhere else would be pointless. If my calculations are correct, the infected toll must be in the high thousands by now. You must evacuate the city by any means necessary."

"Is there any way out of the city?"

"I can't help you there. The R.P.D. should have certain procedures to help the civilians; the STARS team will help you further." There was a sound of sudden silence from Scott's side of the line. "Find Zaac; he'll know what to do."

"That shouldn't be a problem; there's an officer here with me. He can take me to the R.P.D."

"Where's Joshua?"

"He's with my parents. I'll call them as soon as I can."

"He'll be fine as long as he stays out of town."

"Where are you?"

"Can't say. I'm near the R.P.D.; I'll meet you there." Scott breathed. "Stay safe, honey. I love you."

"I love you too, Scotty. Stay safe." Cindy hung up. Her battery was still charged, but there was no signal to call her parents.

Cindy never liked being away from her son for too long, though she was glad he was out of town. She left the locker room and stepped to the door with the blue marking. The wooden boards were still up in the hallway, and no zombies were coming up the stairs. Mark and Bob were sat in the lounge with Kevin close by.

"Got the keys?" Kevin asked.

"Yeah." Cindy went to unlock the door.

"Who were you talking to in there?"

"My fiancée. He… told me about the monsters outside and how to kill them."

"Aim for the head, right?"

"How'd-"

"I heard stories from STARS about the Mansion Incident back at the department. Similar monsters and such." Kevin placed his hands on his hips. "Never thought I would ever be in a situation like that, so I didn't think much of it."

"They're infectious."

"Great… I was hoping that part I true… Let's just get out of here already."

"Sure. We'll head to the rooftop; follow me."

Cindy led Kevin and Mark to the third floor, where the bar keeps their stock and brews. They were popular casks and barrels of ale. Racks of wine bottles were all on the right side, a wide selection of all types, though not many expensive ones. Caskets of beer and ciders were very plentiful throughout the L-shaped room. Wooden crates occupied the empty space.

At the far end by the yellow forklift was a shutter that led to the rooftop. It was a short walk in the dim light. Cindy was happy she didn't have to bottle up today. Never liked it.

The roof was wide open and clear of any obstruction. It was nice to take in the cold air, though some sounds of distant cries and howls from the screaming citizens made it hard to enjoy the relaxing feeling. The groups of zombies were forming at all sides. Chain fences sealed off most of the rooftop could only walk in one direction all the way around to get to the other side.

A storeroom was there and, more importantly, a catwalk that can be used to leave the bar. It was either that or a leap of faith. They all stayed together until Mark's friend, Bob, started to lag behind. He was barely able to stand from his older age. Mark sat him down and sat close to him. Cindy and Kevin carried on to the catwalk, leaving the two older men to have some time alone.

Bob rested himself against a cold wall; he could barely keep his eyes open. Mark came into view. His best friend was always there for him. Bob thought it was his old age getting to him, or his health was deteriorating. Then his skin felt itchy, and his mouth felt dry with a pang of sudden hunger. A rat bite on his leg started to act up. He was all right since then. At least he had Mark with him on this cold night to share the pain.

"How are you holding up, Bob?"

"I can't move anymore… I don't want to slow you down."

"You're not slowing us down, Bob. We just need to keep going."

"I don't want to be someone else's burden." Bob slid out his 9mm Beretta from his hip holster. It was loaded.

"What are you doing?" Mark's eyes rolled his eyes over Bob's handgun's gleam. His finger was dangerously close to the trigger. "Bob?"

"You don't understand, Mark. I'm no different from those things down there. I can feel their hunger..."

When Mark looped it around in his head, the thought of leaving Bob was something he never considered. His eyes started to fade whiter over the original blue slowly. Bob shared more than the zombies' hunger… "No..."

"I don't want to hurt anyone, Mark. End it… Please..."

Mark picked up Bob's handgun and stood up on his aching feet. He turned away, and after a long sigh, he made up his mind. "After everything we been through, Bob, it's a shame for you to go out like this."

Bob raised his head and smiled as Mark turned back around. Their smiles practically shook hands and met each other accordingly. Bob's face started to sag, yet his smile never went anywhere. "We both made some tough decisions back in 'Nam, hadn't we?"

"We did..."

"Don't let me down, Mark."

Back then, over thirty years ago in the Vietnam War, the city was at war with the monsters below, and the survivors were nothing less than the soldiers of war. And when there's war, there's death and destruction. Realistically, Bob was slowing them down, and he looked like he was going to turn any minute. Mark had to mercy kill at least a couple of soldiers back in the day, but he never expected his last one to be Bob, his closest friend.

Mark shook his head and met Bob's eyes. "I'll do it..." He raised his handgun at Bob. "I'm sorry, Bob."

Bob closed his eyes, waiting for that stairway to heaven. Mark hesitated, deciding if he should stare Bob in the face and own the mercy kill or do it the easy way and just close his eyes. Mark was all about owning to responsibilities and facing situations head-on, but he had a quieter life now; he never even had to draw his gun on another person since Vietnam.

Seeing that he needed to be strong during the outbreak. Mark opted to stare at Bob while he takes his life away. It would be a testament to not only his will to live but his dependence. He squeezed the trigger, and just like that, Bob's head sagged down, blood splattered on the wall behind his head. Then Bob's body fell to its side. Mark didn't even wipe away the tears forming.

"Oh… Bob..." he sobbed. Someone ran around a corner ahead past the metal railings. It was Kevin.

"What happened?" Kevin asked.

"He didn't want to turn..."

"I'm sorry… We need to move. Come on, Mark." They both left Bob's body. Mark stopped several times to glance back at his corpse. It was hard to let go of him, to wonder if he'll ever see him again on the other side.

They were all on the roof of J's Bar now. The night was horrible. It was cold, and the howls and wailing of the infected in the distance were constant. It would be the beautiful side of sombre, but the hellish situation was not to be taken lightly.

Cindy found a chain fence leading to the catwalk, the crooked fence her colleague regularly complained about. Kids would break it down to trespass on the private property of Jack's. This time Cindy was the one to kick it down and walk on the catwalk. She was a kid, after all.

The metal catwalk was behind the fluorescent lights that illuminated the name Jack's Bar. It was amazing the lights were still lit; they hummed and buzzed in working order. Down below, some scattered people were seen, not infected ones but actual citizens.

Of course, they were fleeing the streets, fearing for their lives. The infected were in small numbers yet never looked any less threatening. They just never stopped chasing people running away. Then they saw a small group of R.P.D. officers setting up a police checkpoint, and one of them had a megaphone.

"Attention, everyone! Due to the riots in progress, this area will be closed off soon! Please proceed to this checkpoint immediately! If you do not leave the area in time, we cannot guarantee your safety!"

"That's our ticket outta here," Kevin said, "Come on."

The three rushed over the catwalk and passed down through the crummy apartment complex. It was a mediocre building with decent apartments, though the company that owned the complex was corrupt.

The complex was full of zombies, and after an elevator down and a short walk, the group reached the outside. Unfortunately, the cold streets were just as dangerous as the screaming grew louder.

The police officers attempting to cover the fleeing survivors on the streets were being mauled to death; the slowest citizens were also savagely mauled by the lumbering zombies. The infected didn't even slow down. They also had a habit of coming out of the darkest corners and alleys.

It was worse upfront. Just outside J's Bar, police cruisers were set up as barricades to funnel survivors off the streets. Kevin confirmed that the R.P.D were known to do that in worst-case scenarios.

Another officer was just outside the apartment complex, the only one alive outside; the others were all torn apart some distance ahead. Kevin recognised him as the R.P.D.'s Deputy Chief, Raymond Douglas.

He was providing gunfire support from behind a police cruiser. The lone idle zombies fell hard with some potshots delivered by his Beretta M9F2; R.P.D. standard issue. Replacing the Browning HP. Kevin stood by him quickly after noticing him.

"Raymond!" Kevin called.

"Kevin? Damn son, you startled me," Ray replied. His handgun never weaved from the shuffling walkers ahead. They never attempted to advance until now. "Glad you're here. The whole city's a warzone, and I could use some extra muscle." He pulled a magazine from his hip pocket, realising it was empty, he discarded it. He took a Spas-12 shotgun from his cruiser, along with a small box of shells.

"Is there any way we can reach the station?" Kevin asked.

"Hmmm… Yes. The checkpoint outside Apple Inn. Dorian should be there. He's organising a small transport to the department."

"What are we waiting for? Let's get going then."

"You good on ammo?"

"Yeah. You?"

Ray patted down his fully-loaded shotgun with a small smile. "Been saving this puppy for a while; I'll be fine."

Kevin and Ray quickly make haste down the road, away from J's Bar and the approaching zombies. They were forming small groups around the police cruisers. Another horrible thing about zombies is that if they wanted to, they could be incredibly silent when they wanted to be, though they were too stupid to realise it was a benefit.

A wooden double door was chained shut at a left turn by Ray and Kevin. They looked like they had the key to the padlock. Mark took the few seconds to pass Cindy Bob's Beretta. It was loaded with one round missing. She knew how to use it, and he appreciated that and smiled. She saw how guns worked in movies.

When the four were at the wooden doors, the iron padlock dropped. "I'll cover the rear," Ray said, "You three need to get into the canal and pass through the sewer."

Kevin nodded in agreement. "What about you?"

"My job is to get you to safety."

"Okay then, I'll take point."

"Your street smarts could come in very handy right now."

Time was ticking very early in the night. A handful of minutes just after 9 PM. The weather was still cold, with no signs of rain happening anytime soon. Past the second set of wooden doors that were far easier to open with a firm kick over the lock, they just entered a slope along a canal.

Just ahead was a left turn that would lead straight to the checkpoint; that's where Apple Inn was. Just around a corner. A tanker. A tanker truck was unaccounted for. It was rammed over the turn into a wall ahead. It was blocking the way with hardly any room to move around.

A horde of zombies tore down the wooden birch doors with their limbs and claws and tailed the four survivors. Roughly a dozen was shuffling quicker in the front after the slowest one of the group. That one being Ray, who tried to slow them down for the others to get away.

They had to get to the checkpoint at all costs; only then it would be safer to work on evacuating the city. There was plenty of distance from Ray and the zombies at the tanker, but the zombies were shown no signs of slowing down. Ray peppered the zombies with reckless abandon; however, he paused to glance at the tanker behind.

The truck was carrying a fuel tank; just mere gallons of the stuff could completely halt the zombies' relentless pursuit. Then he remembered his iron flip lighter in his rear trouser pocket. He paused again to take it out, then it was too late to pause again to pass it on.

A zombie lunged at him. A skinny one in a hideous blue jumper. They wrestled on the ground. "Kevin!" he called loudly, "The fuel tank! Light it!" He chucked his grey lighter in Kevin's general direction, and he caught while in the air. He had no more strength to fend off the zombie on top of him.

"Ray!"

Kevin tried to make a small dash to Ray, but it was too late. Three more zombies were already approaching and piling on him while he still struggled. His cries slowly faded into gurgling gasps then they fell silent. Kevin cried and fired his .45 automatic at Ray's attackers. Bullets whistled past and over him but failed to deter the said attackers. Ray was already dead. Kevin sagged and ejected his handgun's magazine and let it drop.

When Cindy pulled him back, he shed some tears in his eye. He was a good boss. Kevin honoured his wish and spun the valve at the end of the truck's tank, pouring the pure gasoline over the floor.

Everyone stood aside as the gas flow over the stone floor. It coated all the zombies behind them. The gas tank in a guilty pleasurable way. Cindy protested on the smell. A small retreat was in order before ignition.

The unfortunate three stood at the tip of the ledge over the canal. The one that led to a small canal that ran to a small sewer. "We'll get even, Ray," said Kevin. He sparked the flip lighter on the second spark and heaved it at the zombies.

The lighter's flame instantly engulfed the first zombie it touched. Within seconds the entire crowd was coated in the ferocious fire as it burned them all. The fire was raging, and in seconds their advance slowed down. Their moans faded into bloody gurgles and grumbles. The raging fire was unkempt as it spread everywhere the gasoline smeared over.

The ground and the way they came was a raging path of hell. Then the zombies fell to their knees. Even if they didn't register pain in any form, the tissue damage from the burns was diabolical. They collapsed under their weight and fell hard. Then the fire trailed dangerously trailed its way up the small hill towards the tanker.

The fire spread too fast; the flames surrounded the tanker's fuel tank and were ready to erupt. Getting red hot too quickly. If it went off, it could wipe out everything on the ledge and anyone in the vicinity. There was another option, though.

The odourless canal was only a six-foot drop, and it was reasonably deep. Kevin demanded everyone to jump before the tanker went off; that was obvious to them, though he wasn't the first one in the murky water. They all dropped in.