Chapter 2

September 26th, 1998

6:00 AM

Several of the remaining police officers in the Raccoon Police Department sat around the stone statue in the main hall. 16 in all, their numbers had considerably dwindled since last night. Jason found himself reliving those events, remembering every single horrid detail. During the late hours of last night, many people has tried to seek refuge within the precincts walls, including Raccoon City's mayor and his daughter. As people unloaded by the truck-full, screaming, crying, shocked and confused, the station was unexpectedly attacked by hordes of those damned things. The ensuing battle raged in the parking garage, where many innocent lives were lost, as well as the lives of police officers. The remaining officers managed to hold off the zombie hordes and succeeded in barricading the parking garage. They were far from safe, but what-ever moment of clarity that could be found was golden.

Right now, Jason stared around at the worn, tired faces of his comrades. The far away gaze in their eyes that he knew he also possessed, a look of hollowness... and hope.

Meyer leaned against the statue, arms folded across his defined chest with a look of indignation on his face. George Scott stood next to him, talking in a low tone, probably going over strategic options. George was a senior officer of the R.P.D., and served as the foundation of the precinct for years. He was often the butt of 'old age' jokes around the station, due to his well groomed salt and pepper beard and mustache, but there was no doubt of his usefulness during the city crisis. Elliot Edward sat cross legged on the floor, quietly talking with Elran Pressman from the Boy's Crime Department and keeping in radio contact with the other officers on point in the station. David Ford was busy inspecting his brown and black Mossberg shotgun, meticulously sliding the stock back and fourth and screwing and unscrewing the barrel. Anna O'Neil was in charge of weapon maintenance for the remaining officers. Another new recruit, Anna was also thrust head-long into the nightmare of Raccoon City. A small, petite woman with short length blond hair ans piercing blue eyes, she had proven her worth during the outbreak, tending to survivors, securing enough food, and handling weapons inspection.

Right now, she sat legs apart in front of various R.P.D. weapons and food rations strewn in front of her. During the late hours of last night, procuring enough weapons and ammunition was a huge concern in trying to combat the hordes. They were woefully under-powered due to police chief Brian Irons decision to relocate armaments throughout the precinct. Jason still found himself cursing that decision. If only he knew the shit this town was going to get into.

They were down to seven standard issue Berreta 92FS handguns, with multiple clips each, two Browning High Power 9mm, and David's Mossberg. Jason watched as Anna carefully cleaned their weapons. She gingerly wiped down the barrels with a dingy green rag, removing any residue that could interfere with firing. She took weapons apart, cleaned, re-assembled them, and reloaded, over and over. He found himself staring at her eyes, which were transfixed on the guns in her hands. There was a sort of sadness in her eyes, and Jason could sense that it was something personal.

Jason reached for a bag of ammunition lying between them. As he grabbed hold of the bags strap, he felt another hand cover his, a warm, delicate hand.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Anna gasped.

"It's alright." Jason assured her. "I was actually just, uh -----"

Anna smiled sheepishly and blushed.

She reached for another gun to clean when the east end door to the main hall opened. The officers attention turned to the door as Martinez returned to join them. She looks like hell. Her eyes were blood-shot from crying and her shoulders slumped in a defeated posture. She averted her gaze away from her fellow officers and eased down to the floor. A hush fell over the other officers. Meyer had no doubt informed them of the infected girl.

"I...I couldn't do it." Martinez said in a low tone.

"Where is she?" Meyer asked.

Martinez wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and sobbed.

"I took her to the interrogation room. I cleaned her wound, gave her plenty of food and water. I told her we were coming back for her, I said everything was going to be okay..."

Anna put her arm around her as she began to sob uncontrollably. Meyer brushed his brown hair back and sighed.

"Alright, now I guess we can get started." He said.

Elliot cleared his throat and began speaking. "As you are all well aware, the seizure of the various armaments scattered throughout the precinct should be our first priority."

He wasn't saying anything that the other cops already didn't know. They knew their weapons were running thin, and with every bullet fired and zombie put down, it was just like adding one more nail to their coffin.

Elliot took a map out of his pocket and spread it on the floor. Several red "X's" marked various points on the map, along with hastily scribbled writing. The other officers were listening intently except for Martinez, who was still being tended to by Anna, and David, who continued to toy with his Mossberg, cocking it back and fourth.

"Now, I've Xed all the various spots where these armaments may be located. Storage rooms, the east wing, and such. Now, if we can just-----"

"Wait a minute." George interjected. "Let me take a look at that map."

Elliot reluctantly gave over the map, a look of confusion etched on his face. George studied the map for a couple of seconds and chuckled, a low guttural chortle.

"Just as I thought. This map is as old as dirt. This was taken from the time when the station used to be an art museum Hell, some of these rooms aren't even there anymore!"

"What? Let me see that!" Elliot snatched the map from George's hands. After studying the map, Elliot tossed it to the floor, visibly embarrassed. "You know how long it took me to find that map? Fuck it..."

George let out another chuckle and slapped Elliot on the shoulder. "Don't be a poor sport. We all appreciate your actions, we just need to find an updated map. I'm sure a quick search of the computers database will give us what we need. Besides, instead of going off on a wild goose chase for these armaments, we should be focusing on the underground weapons storage----------"

CHE-CHIK!!!

David loudly cocked his shotgun. Jason, Elliot, and George turned their attention to him. He was not looking well. Despite his young age, gray streaks were beginning to form in his jet-black hair and beard, and deep bags marked his sharp gray eyes.

"Say Dave, you want to give that thing over to O'Neil? You haven't let go of it since last night." George asked, referring to his Mossberg.

"No,,,,,,,,,," David replied, staring straight ahead at nothing in particular.

"How much ammo you got for that thing?" George continued.

David grabbed a brown shoulder harness and dropped it to the floor. It fell with a heavy clang and a single shot-gun shell slipped out.

"Lots..."

Jason could not find it in himself to judge David's demeanor. They all had their own ways of coping with the disaster. David was a good cop, always friendly and helpful, but the situation was just beginning to take a toll on him.

Meyer interjected in on the increasingly uncomfortable scene. "The underground weapons storage is useless. The cop that was in charge of the key-card is missing. We'll never be able to find him."

Elliot sighed and shook his head. "Well, it seems like we only got two options: first, try to find the hidden armaments in the precinct, and second, find the key-card to the weapons storage. It's the only chance we've got if we're going to hold off those things for much longer. I'll inform B and C teams of our decision. We'll reconvene at 13:00 sharp. That's all people."

Agitation, uncertainty, fear, it was all starting to kick in. Ever since last night there chain if command was thrown in a spiral of chaos. Now, there seemed to be an imminent power struggle between George, Meyer, and Elliot, each one competing for their colleagues trust.

Elliot was about to say something else when his police radio crackled to life. A burst of static emanated from the radio and the frantic voices of squad A could be heard.

"...Elliot! We're in deep at the west end corridor! The barricade isn't holding!...Jason could hear the sound of gunfire coming from the radio, and the unmistakable moans of the zombies. "...Requesting back-up! Oh shit..." The sound of splintering wood and glass breaking was the last thing they heard before the radio went dead.

"Hamilton, Meyer, George, let's go.!" Elliot demanded. The four officers took their weapons and headed for the west wing. Before they left, Jason's eyes met Anna's. There was a brief silent pause as he hurried past her.

"Be careful." She said.

Jason nodded and followed the others through a door leading to the west wing. They raced past the receptions desk, once teeming with life, and through to the first-floor corridor.

"Hey Elliot, I wonder how many of those fucking zeds I can take out!?" Meyer shouted as they ran.

"You're horrible." Elliot spat.

Meyer darted his tongue out and cackled with glee. Maybe it's not so bad having a sick bastard like him on our side. Jason thought.

"I'll take point, the rest of you cover me!" Elliot ordered.

Gun-fire was erupting from the closed door just in front of them. Elliot rushed through the hall-way and seized the door-knob, ready to go in, when the door suddenly burst open. Elliot was knocked back-wards as a body stumbled into the hall-way. It was an officer, firing blindly with one arm as he screamed and flailed about in pain. Deep patches of blood smeared his uniform, along with something else. A thick, sickly green substance. As the officer continued to thrash about, Jason could see morbid figures forming in the door-way behind him, and the familiar stench of rotting flesh fell over them like a thick blanket.

Oh shit, here they come.

Three zombies lurched into the hall-way, relentlessly clawing at the injured officer. Elliot tried avoid the struggle happening just above him but he was too late as the lumbering bodies collapsed over him.

"Elliot!" George cried. Elliot lay trapped as the zombies tore into the officer above him. He thrashed about and tried to crawl under the bodies, but they were too heavy. He would die if they didn't do something.

Meyer's gun was the first to go off. Jason watched as a bullet ripped through one of the zombies skulls, destroying its brain.

"GET THEM THE FUCK OFF OF ME!" Elliot cried.

Jason took careful aim at the closest zombie threatening Elliot and fired. The shot tore through the zombies temple and it toppled over, once more lifeless. George fired his weapon off, killing the last zombie pinning Elliot and the other officer down. The three of them rushed to Elliot's side, pulling him from underneath the mountain of dead bodies. He was covered in blood, and his eyes roamed the hall fiercely, darting back and fourth in extreme anxiety.

"Were you bit!?" George asked. "Were you bit!?"

Elliot desperately tried to wipe the blood from his face but only succeeded in smearing it further. "What!? No, fuck no! Go help the others! I'm fine!"

Jason, Meyer, and George bounded into the west-end hall-way, and found it to be a slaughter-house. Thick smears of blood caked the walls and broken glass and boards that once served as the barricades to the windows lay useless on the ground. The remaining three officers of A squad were being massacred, there was no one left to help. Zombies ripped through the remaining barricades, pulling the bodies of the officers through. Jason could hear their dying screams and the sound of their flesh being torn from their bodies. Meyer's gun fired again, killing two zombies struggling over the remains of an officer. Jason centered on one closest to him, a female in the remains of a blouse and skirt, and fired. The shot went wild, narrowly missing the coming wraith.

Concentrate...

Jason fired again. The bullet drove the zombie back as it connected with the side of its neck, another shot and the zombie was down, blood gushing through the hole in its eye. Their three guns echoed in unison, eradicating anything dead in the hall. George picked off the last one, and everything was still in the hall-way. Jason found a dry patch of wall and leaned heavily against it. The horrible smell of death and gunpowder was making him nauseous.

"Hey Elliot!" Mayer called out.

Elliot was on his feet, using the inside of his shirt to wipe the blood off of his face. "What!?"

Meyer held up his free hand, all fingers extended. "I got five." He said, smirking defiantly from ear to ear.

Elliot stared at Meyer with a perplexed look on his face and just shook his head. "You belong out there with them you fucking animal!" He screamed.

Meyer began laughing. "Trust me, you need someone like me on your side. We got to find some more materials to put these barricades back up, let's move!"

Jason, George, and Meyer exited the hall-way past Elliot, who just stood there with a look of vexation on his face.

"By the way, Elliot" Meyer said "...You've got red on you."