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Zombies

By: IMRIOTSTAR



On the outskirts of Raccoon City the wind is strong and very cold; the speed and strength give it an ominous sound like an animal howling. The forest leaves rustle to and fro through the dark green grass blades. Through small breaks in the clouds beams of moonlight shoot down upon a forgotten place. Surprisingly enough a mansion stands among these elements but not in contrast to them. This residence melds into the dark environment perfectly. 

The mansion is styled after the Victorian homes of the early nineteen hundreds. Except in comparison to those beautiful homes this abode quite abnormal; it is in fact a laboratory in disguise. Funded by an international company invested in every area of biological research thinkable to man. The company's name is Umbrella and it owns the goliath of a mansion. Perhaps it named itself Umbrella because like an umbrella it overlays space; casting it's shadow over it's domain. It keeps control and conducts many different biological studies and experiments. So powerful and vast is this company that many agencies including some of our own U.S. government agencies seek it out for inquiries on its recent tests and studies. 

Not much information is available on what types of experiments Umbrella undertakes. What is known is that the F.B.I. tries to keep a close eye on the kinds of studies Umbrella pursues. In the 1960's the U.S. Government seriously explored genetic engineering in order to make a superhuman soldier. Umbrella supplied the Government with study upon study of information on the very subject, which made very many top-government officials nervous. This lead up to an all out investigation into umbrellas secret files and experiments. Mysteriously just after this time, two of Umbrella's secluded laboratories burned down while an avalanche destroyed a third. Ron McCarty, a high-ranking employee of Umbrella and also the man in charge of working alongside the Government died in a peculiar house robbery gone badly. 

Many other strange things occurred around that time of investigation, but never could Umbrella be directly linked to the strange coincidental happenings. All the preceding events were covered by different newspapers but none of it made front-page material on account that neither Umbrella nor the F.B.I. would divulge much information about the timely disasters. Naturally the stories didn't make front-page news. Indirectly Umbrella has been making news again (at least in Raccoon City), except this time it's front-page material. 

Raccoon City Chronicle December 30, 2000

LARGE COMPANY UNDER FBI FIRE FOR POSSIBLE ILLEGAL CHEMICAL EXPERIMENTS

(The Raccoon City Chronicle reported a man claimed to have escaped from a hidden mansion located in a nearby forest just outside of Raccoon City limits. Dr. Furuli gives us some information as to what ails the possibly victimized man).... "Not much is known about the patient because he has been suffering a very high fever aside from other ailments. As to his name I cannot give out that information at this time." "Most of the patient's external injuries consist of what looks like sloppy scalpel incisions and his internal injuries are even less serious. There's no way to know how the patient received his external injuries since he is having much trouble breathing right now. I've contacted the police and I'll report any information necessary to help justice be served. In my professional opinion this man has been seriously abused." says doctor Furuli of St. Joseph's Hospital. "That being the case, if this man continues in this state of health, I'm afraid that he'll never get to tell us what has happened to him." Special unit S.T.A.R.S. (Special Tactics And Rescue Squad) of the Raccoon City Police Department will begin an investigation to uncover if any unlawful activity that has been committed."

Chapter 1

As doctor Furuli woke up next to his wife Susan in his oak bed, he began to think about his patient back at St. Joseph's Hospital. "What a strange fellow." Furuli muttered to himself. He began to contemplate his patient's abrupt entrance into the hospital a couple of nights ago. If he wasn't mistaken the occurrence happened at about 1:30 A.M in the morning. Another mutter. "Just where did you come from my friend?"

"What's that dear? Did you say something Jim? Susan spoke to her husband while half asleep.

"I'm fine, I was just thinking of one of my patients at the hospital. A strange man came in and I can't figure out what's making him so sick."

Concerned with her husband's tone Susan began to wake. She turned her head to face her husband and said. "What's the man's name? Does he have a disease?"

Exasperated over the matter Jim responded. "For now it's John Doe, he doesn't seem to have any diseases though. Funny thing is the man displays symptoms of something like leprosy except not as severe. I just don't know what it is that's causing his condition! Anyhow, I think that maybe for today I'll go into work a little bit earlier than usual just to see how he's doing. In fact, I think I'll call the hospital right now and see if he's at least stabilized. Why don't you cook an early breakfast this morning, it might be a long day for me at work." While talking to his wife Furuli had already sat up and swung his legs over the end of the bead to put his slippers on. He got up from the comfortable bed as he did every morning and made his way to the restroom to relieve himself. Afterwards he walked over to the nightstand on his side of the bed and sat down besides the telephone. He then grabbed the phone's receiver and started dialing the hospital's phone number.

Meanwhile Susan began to make their breakfast. She quickly glanced at her watch and had to look again to make sure her eyes weren't playing tricks on her. "Five thirty!" Susan still in her tired state opened the refrigerator and got out 5 eggs, a package of bacon and a bottle of juice and closed the door behind her. She went through the familiar motions of preparing breakfast; cracking the eggs with a chef's speed and stirring yolk in a small bowl adding pepper and salt for flavor. She looked outside her window into her backyard and checked if lawn chairs had fallen over during last night's strong wind. The wind always kicked up around this time of the year but not usually as strong as last night. She began to hum her favorite tunes to herself as she sometimes did while cooking or baking. Susan started this little ritual of humming and cooking when she first started cooking with her mother. The aroma of freshly baked cookies would fill the kitchen and her father and brothers would come in and taste test the finished products. The satisfaction would come when everyone would tell her how good the cookies tasted. Thinking out loud Susan reminded herself. "Forgot the toast." She placed the bowl down on the kitchen counter and slid open the panel to the small breadbox that was also on the counter. Pulled out four pieces of sour dough bread from the plastic bag. Opened the refrigerator and got out the butter from its small plastic compartment and swung the metal refrigerator door closed. After buttering the bread, she put the four pieces of bread into the toaster. She grabbed the pan she would be using for the bacon and put it on the oven to heat up. Tore off some bacon slices and put them on the pan to cook. Susan's humming stopped because her sleepiness hadn't fully died out. Absent-mindedly she stirred away at the eggs losing thought and letting her eyelids drop down. The kitchen was silent except for the turning of the spoon in Susan's' hands when the sound happened. Behind Susan came a slow grating yowl sounding like an old man moaning. By instinct Susan's breath froze and she spun around in a semi-circle to look at whatever it was that had made the horrible noise. There on the kitchen table's chair was Jim who had pulled a chair out from the breakfast table and had sat down. Now looking at his wife half amused and half apologetic. 

"Sorry dear, I didn't mean to scare you." Now looking truly apologetic.

"It's nothing, you just surprised me while I was half asleep is all," said Susan in a somewhat shaky voice, now trying to get her mind on cooking again. "Did you make the call to the hospital? What did they say?"

Displaying a puzzled face Jim answered. "They didn't say anything. I didn't get through, the lines are still because of the damn wind."

Still curious his wife asked. "Why is this patient so important so that you want to go into work early? Unless you do think he has a disease."

Jim shifted in his chair pondering on that very same question and trying not to show it. "I'm not sure, the whole occurrence was just so strange. A man who nobody knows comes into the hospital in the middle of the night with some small injuries and an awkward skin condition; one that I've never seen in all my years as a doctor. His skin looked somewhat familiar to a mild case of leprosy. That's not what it was; I'm positive of that. Practically all of our best doctors took a look at him and they were all baffled!"

Jim looked at his wife questioningly for a few seconds and then continued. "Also when the man came in he was coherent, coherent enough to speak a few words and walk on his own but the last time I checked him he was in and out of consciousness. The poor man looks so emaciated. His skin has a strange texture; cracked but greasy, most of all though is that it looked infected. 

By now Susan had pulled up a chair and was sitting across from her husband. "For goodness sake Jim what if it's contagious? If you don't know what it is then it could be contagious. Please tell me you were wearing a mask and gloves while you were checking him. 

Jim began to feel unsure about having told his wife as much as he did. He thought Susan was a squeamish woman and got nervous too easily. He knew he had to keep the worst part of the occurrence to himself, at least for now. "Don't worry I'm a doctor, of course I wore a mask and gloves. Do you think I'm crazy?" Actually the only protection Jim used that day was his seatbelt on his way to and from work but he wasn't going to worry his wife if it wasn't necessary. Besides he thought. What are the chances of a strange man coming into a hospital in the middle of the night carrying a disease that no one has ever heard of?

As a final warning Susan warned her husband. "You be safe, don't get to close to him if you don't have to, I don't want no leprosy you hear me?"

"Don't worry it's not leprosy and it's not contagious." Jim wished his wife wouldn't suffer too much while he would be at work. He became a little indignant with himself for agitating his wife the way he just did. What purpose did it serve? It wasn't like she was a colleague of his. She couldn't discuss treatments with him or possible illnesses; it was a vain action on his part. The only purpose being entertained was having the freedom of thinking out loud. Which in a way relieved some of his stress on the problem. One matter was settled; he wouldn't make things worse by discussing the subject any further. Instead he would change the topic all together. While trying to look and sound believable he inquired. "How are those eggs coming along?"

Susan's eyes opened wide. "Oops, I forgot" She got up quickly from her chair picked up a spatula from off the kitchen counter and stirred the lightly burning eggs. "Just another minute and they'll be done."

Dreamily half in thought Jim concluded. "Sounds good dear." And then returned to his analysis of that night's events. Just what did happen that night? Am I making too much of this? Maybe I am, but what if I'm not? Good God what if it is contagious? Diseases don't come out of nowhere; whatever it is it's not a disease, that much is for sure!

"Do you want butter and Jelly with your toast?" His wife was now looking at him with an interested countenance and a hint of a forced smile. "Are you falling back to sleep or are you thinking of your patient again?"

Jim reassured his wife. "Oh me? I'm fine; you were right the first time. I'm just a little sleepy that's all." Jim thought if he could get himself to lie down for a little while after his breakfast then he could make sure his wife wouldn't get too anxious while he was away at work. He would act as if the situation wasn't really as serious as he had first made it sound. He might be in suspense but at least his wife wouldn't worry. Furuli thought. Not too long though, maybe half an hour or forty five minutes at the most but not a minute longer. 

After breakfast Jim lied down next to his wife who fell asleep almost immediately after her head touched the pillow. He would wait until he felt confident she was in a deep sleep before he made so much as a movement. While laying in his comfortable king sized bed Furuli played that night's events over in his head like a movie.

It was before two in the morning and things were quiet. Dr. Furuli was performing night shift, as he sometimes did but not much after gaining seniority at the hospital. After quite a few years of work (and if you were at least 40 years old) the board relaxed with their faithful employees and added a couple days more vacation to your so far accumulated time off. Since though there are always exceptions to the rule Dr. Furuli happened to be working that night at the hospital. He was in a conference room with the patents of one of the patients. The conference room was the room Doctors discussed matters with the relatives of patients who needed surgery or in some cases the amount of time a patient had to live. Dr. Furuli had to give that piece of news to one father and mother of one little boy who had fallen off the monkey bars while playing at school. The boy was at the top of the jungle bars when his grip gave way and he crashed his head on two bars before falling to the floor unconscious. The particular case he was now working on didn't involve such gruesome details but there was a topic of surgery that needed to be discussed. A 13-year-old boy thought he could ride his bike down a steep hill and brake at the last minute. Unfortunate for him it wasn't possible and neither could a motorist stop his vehicle before slamming into the young bicyclist. The patient suffered a shattered femur and 3 broken ribs, he also sustained some lacerations and bruises but not serious. He would need 2 pins in his leg for a year before he could be fully well again. Dr. Furuli was going over the procedures for the operation when a hunched over man abruptly staggered into the hospital. His posture reminded Furuli of Frankenstein's assistant Igor. Of note was the man's lack of cleanliness; from head to toe the man's clothes were grimy as if he had been rolling around in dirt before coming in. "Perhaps he was in a car accident." Furuli had thought. "Excuse me for a moment there's a patient who looks like he's just been in an accident." Furuli told the parents while leaving the conference room. The parents didn't seem to notice the doctor's absence and began speaking to one another about who would take care of their son while they would be at work. By the time Furuli made it out the door the stranger had collapsed on the floor crying for help. The man's cries sounded muffled and unclear and came out sounding like "aelp". A medic who was on a break and had been talking to one of the nurses ran to the collapsed man and checked his vital signs. He called out for a gurney and asked the closest nurse to him to assist with an i.v. insertion. He continued to speak in medical jargon to the surrounding nurses about doses and chemicals while wheeling the patient down to an operating room. Dr. Furuli decided that he would finish his meeting with the parents in the conference room. He figured if he could later remember he would ask about the man who had made the strange appearance. 

Dr. Furuli had just finished explaining the technicalities of the operation the parent's son would need to heal properly. The conference went well and the parents seemed comforted by Furuli's kind patients and detailed explanations. Furuli was one type of doctor but here were some doctors who could be ruthless in the conference room. Furuli avoided those particular colleagues for obvious reasons, they were no more inclined to be kind to their patients then they were to be friendly towards other doctors other than their sort. Furuli liked to take his time explaining and consoling patients and relatives. He took no joy in rushing through procedures or cramming a maximum amount of patients in small time frame to make money. He was well aware other people needed to be shown attention so he didn't believe in lagging either; slow and steady, moderation in all things was a motto he held dear. The parents were satisfied with Furuli's explanations and stated talking among themselves when Furuli thought he'd leave them to discuss matters for a bit. When Furuli closed the door he noticed a group of six doctors standing outside the conference room. One of them was Dr. Edward Delvon the head doctor at St. Josephs Hospital; he was in the middle of a semi-circle of the other doctors of the hospital. They seemed to be discussing some matters of grave importance. Dr. Furuli was about to walk towards the men's restroom when one of the doctors by the name Alex Burton called him over.

"Oh, Dr. Furuli perhaps you may be of some assistance. We're having a problem with one of the patients. This patient seems to have a peculiar skin infection among other complications that have us confused, do you think you can have a look at him and tell us what you think? The patient is in room 607." Dr. Furuli became intrigued. "How serious is it? "You'll have to look for yourself, It'll be easier to understand… trust me. One thing I can tell you is that he's running a very high fever and he was rambling on and on. We've medicated him of course so when you go to see him maybe you can try asking him for his name? We couldn't understand what he was trying to say." Dr. Furuli's curiosity was now double fold. "Has Delvon taken a look?" With an embarrassed look Dr. Burton said. "Yes, he thought we might have to bring in outside help for this one. It sure is a duzie." Furuli was surprised none of the six doctors could diagnose the patient especially Dr. Delvon. Furuli thought the patient must have had a very uncommon strain of virus on his hands if even the head doctor of the hospital couldn't diagnose the problem. "What chance do I have if Delvon couldn't figure it out?" Alex searched for the only answer he could think of. "I don't know but you should have a look anyway."

With a sigh Dr. Furuli began his short trek to room 607. It was on the third floor so he would have to take the elevator. He stood in front of the mirror like doors and pushed the button with an arrow pointing upward and waited for the little bell to sound. As he waited he ran over the names of skin diseases that could be possibilities. Furuli though. "I should have asked whether he has blotches on his skin or if his whole body is covered in the infection. It must be blotches because I don't know anything that would cover all his skin. It would be terminal like leprosy but it isn't leprosy because that's easily enough identifiable. There was a sudden ring and Dr. Furuli walked into the big empty elevator lost in thought. Once in the elevator Furuli abandoned his efforts towards making any more unnecessary postulations. Furuli waited. 

The door made its slow mechanical opening and Dr. Furuli stepped out and made his walk down the long and quiet hallway. He pushed open the double doors to the critical wing section of the hospital. As he walked down the hall he checked the little plaques next to the room doors. He stopped at room 607 and looked inside. 

The lights had been turned off completely and there were no noises to be heard except for the vital reading equipment in the corner with its green waves entering on the left side of the screen and exiting on the right. Furuli didn't know what to say since there hadn't been very many John Does in the hospital. He spoke just above a whisper's tone. "Sir? Are you awake?" A moment or two passed and Furuli wondered whether he should forget about trying to diagnose the patient or not. He decided otherwise and spoke again but with more force. "Excuse me. Hello my name is Dr. Furuli and I'd like to take a look at you and see how you're getting along." He stopped to see if there would be a response. There was a slight moan from the middle of the room. Furuli had just entered the room and couldn't see much except a silhouette of the room's bed. A voice grew from amidst the moan and the patient of room 607 spoke. "Light hurts." Except it came out as "LLigghhhtt hhhhurrts." "I see, well I'm going to have to turn them on for a little bit so I could see what's the problem. I'm reaching for the switch right now so close your eyes." Furuli looked like a mime feeling at a barrier, he was trying to find the switch with both hands and having a hard time at it. A few more seconds and one of the two rows of lights flashed on and the patient made a moan of agony. "I won't leave it on for long Sir." He walked over to the man whose eyes were tightly shut. He found the patients chart and the end of the bed and opened it. Of course it showed the man's name as John Doe, not much help there. It also showed that his lungs were weak and very infected, filled with mucus and not allowing to breath. A very skinny plastic tube went down the man's throat draining the poisonous fluid. There wasn't anything else of use on the form; the rest let him know the different treatments he was receiving but not much else. Furuli walked back to the patient's side and took a good look at the man's face and exposed skin. There were what seemed to be dark brown rashes all over his face and arms. There were small places on his body uncovered by flesh. He had a faint smell of gangrene and he looked very malnourished. Furuli was relieved the patient's eyes were closed because he couldn't help but make a face of disgust. In all his years as a doctor he had never seen any other skin-deteriorating diseases besides Leprosy and a few other skin illnesses that brought about such destruction. {Add in how Leprosy (and the other forms of diseases) looks and how this couldn't be leprosy. Perhaps this is a form of it he thinks.} Dr. Furuli was mentally thrown back and knew the patient would have to be examined somewhere else. Someplace else but he had no idea where that place would be; Delvon would know. Furuli figured the least he could do was find out how the man contracted such a disease and let whoever takes charge know what he had found. "Excuse me sir but how did you get this way? Do you know how this happened to you? Did you get it from someone?" Furuli could see the man's eyes swimming back and forth behind closed eyelids in thought. "Experiments in the woods. At a house. They tricked me." His words were forced and hard to understand, he sounded very much out of breath. Furuli remembered the high fever and so dismissed the ramblings. He went to the counter next to the small room's entrance to get a disposable thermometer. While getting the thermometer Furuli put on gloves and a face mask. He had no idea what the man was suffering and didn't want whatever it was. Walking towards the bed Furuli said. "I'm going to put a thermometer under your tongue." Again Furuli was glad the patient's eyes were closed because his hands were a bit shaky at the thought of having the virus swimming through his veins at that very moment. He couldn't help but imagine he and his wife lying down in hospital beds with the same exact disease. Furuli put the thermometer to the man's mouth and said. "Ok are you ready for the thermometer... By the way you didn't have a wallet on you I don't even know your name. Can you tell me your name? A short period passed in silence as Dr. Furuli waited for a response. The small plastic wire in the man's mouth made speech even more difficult and undoubtedly much more uncomfortable. With a hard T the man said, "Trent" and started to have a coughing fit. Dark brown liquid filled the small plastic tube and made it's way to a plastic bag besides the bed. Furuli knew a wider tube would have to be used or the man would eventually suffocate. Furuli asked the man to relax or the fit would get worse and eventually the man's spasms subsided. "What is your last name sir? Taking as deep of a breath as his lungs would allow he said, "Fore… and coughed loudly and then said "…man". "Trent Foreman you say?" No response just heavy breathing. Furuli grabbed the chart again and made the notation of the man's name. Before he put the chart down he noticed that when the man came in he had a temperature of a hundred and two. Furuli resumed his position besides the man's side and asked. Can you please open your mouth Mr. Foreman? Trent made no effort to respond. He only lay there in what looked like a great amount of pain. Dr. Furuli started to feel inadequate for his ailing patient. "Mr. Foreman...Trent… I can't help you if...." Trent seemed jump started by the word help. In a quiet monotone whisper the man spoke in harsh breaths. "Help me…call the police. Doctors made me sick. Evil men in those woods." Anxiety gripped Furuli. It's the fever talking. "Who made you sick?" The patient looked at a loss for words. "Men in white coats…like you. Scientists! On State Street, large complex." Such statements could not be ignored. There were basic laws to be taken into consideration like contacting police when a patient expressed signs of victimization of any form of abuse. Definitely this situation fell under those such circumstances. In a consoling voice Dr. Furuli told Trent. "I'll take care of that matter Mr. Foreman, for now lift up your tongue." Trent obeyed and Furuli slid the plastic thermometer under Mr. Trent's sickening tongue. Meanwhile Furuli unwrapped his stethoscope from around his neck and put it on. "I'm going to check your breathing alright? I'll have to remove your rob partially, don't worry I'll be out of here and let you rest soon enough. I won't forget to turn off the light when I'm finished either." Furuli undid the robe's fast, which was quite thin and then pulled it down to the man's elbows. To Dr. Furuli's sickening horror was realized as he saw small and large scars up and down Trent's decrepit torso. The more he observed Trent the more Furuli believed Trent was part of some demented crime. The scars were made with a very sharp utensil but done in a sloppy almost careless fashion. Furuli forced his attention on hearing in on the man's lungs. Trent's story sounded fanciful but those scars screamed malevolence. "This might be cold but bare with it Trent." There were more eye movements. Furuli listened to the man's lungs with dark premonition. His lungs were heavily burdened down by infectious mucus. It was surprising Trent could speak at all. Though it did account for his concise answers. Furuli felt a loss of hope. "I'll be needing this." Furuli mumbled while extracting the thermometer from Trent's mouth. His fever was down a couple of degrees. That much was good to see but as far as Furuli could tell everything else the man could be offered was already being administered to him. Except for maybe a larger tube to clear out Trent's lungs, something Furuli would soon remedy. For now the best help for Trent would probably calling the authorities. "Mr. Foreman, I think I've looked at you enough for now. I'll probably return later on to see how you're doing. Take this." While saying this Furuli had put Trent's robe back on. He then handed Trent a small plastic cylinder with a red button sticking out of the top and a thin wire coming out the bottom and going into the wall. "This'll call a nurse if you should need anything. I'm going to turn off the light now." With that said Furuli slowly made his way towards the light switch looked back at Trent and shut the lights off. 


Zombies, Afrikaners And Blacks



In the eyes of most people, the world went to hell on January 17, 2017, when the zombie plague got unleashed and ninety percent of the human population turned into nightmarish ghouls hell-bent on eating the flesh of the other ten percent. For me, things went to hell long before that. It began exactly four years before the Big Event, in the City of Johannesburg, in the Gauteng province of the Republic of South Africa. Oh, silly me. I forgot to introduce myself. The name is Anneke Tannhauser, and I was born in the environs of Johannesburg to Afrikaner parents of German descent. My family has been in South Africa for well over a century, I think. We've seen it all, and been through it all, before and after apartheid, and the interesting times that followed. 

I'm a proud Boer gal through and true, and I've got the physique to prove it. I stand five feet eleven inches tall, chubby without being fat, with short blonde hair and pale blue eyes. My body is big but strong rather than flabby, my bosom is big and my ass is big as well. Yet I can run faster than most men I know and I can definitely beat you in a bout of arm wrestling. I am a true Boer woman. Unlike what you hear in the media, my family never owned a lot of land and what little we got, we took care of by our own damn hands. A lot of folks from the outside world think of us Afrikaners as plantation owners in the Antebellum South of the United States of America. We're completely different from these buggers. Not to say we don't have our faults, of course. Anyhow, I have always believed in Karma, and given the state of the world right now, I'd say I was right, don't you agree? 

In the years that preceded the Big Event, people were out there killing other people. The United States, Canada and Europe were fighting a war against radical Islam, both within their borders and in the distant world of the Middle East and they weren't doing too well. These Islamist militants are insane, I tell you. You cannot destroy a religiously motivated guerilla force with overwhelming technology. My parents and grandparents supported the Apartheid regime in the old days and they tried the same tactics on Zulu insurgents and fighting men from the various rebel South African groups, to no avail. When you're fighting people with nothing to lose and everything to gain, you need to stop relying on technology. you need to get inside your enemy's head.

Before you break a man's flesh, you must first break his spirit. Of course, no one can dare tell the almighty Americans and Canadians anything about warfare. I tell you, if they wanted to win this thing, they should have dropped all their nukes on the Middle East and be done with it. Of course, they don't want to be thought of as monsters, and they're trying to prove to the world that they're morally superior to the so-called evil men they're fighting. Bunch of idiots. First win the war and then worry about morality, otherwise forget about it. 

I've always been good when it comes to strategy, especially when the endgame is the destruction of one's enemies. Before Apartheid ended, my parents trained me to defend the farm against all enemies. After the end of Apartheid, the world relaxed and thought that all South Africans, both black and white, would hold hands and sing Kumbaya. Well, in real life it doesn't work like that, no matter how many Truths and Reconciliation councils you hold. There are many Afrikaners who hate the fact that the blacks had power now, and there are many blacks, both young and old, who would go to their graves hating us Afrikaners. Me? I'm not prejudiced. I hate everyone equally!

You see, I didn't exactly come from what you'd call a healthy environment, and I'm not referring to the fact that my parents are hardline racists. My father, Alfons Tannhauser, was a charming man. When the zombie outbreak that was happening all over the world came to Gauteng, my father, who traveled all over the province in his truck, was one of the first victims. He came home, infected, and after turning into one of them flesh-eating ghouls, he infected my mother. I put two bullets in the son of a bitch's head, then I put my ma down too. When someone becomes infected, they've got to be killed. There is no curse. It's the only way. I never enjoy killing the undead because I know they used to be people. Someone's father or mother, brother or sister. Anyhow, that's how I usually feel about disposing of them.

In my father's case, I shot him happily and eagerly even. My only regret is that I didn't do it while he was still alive. He used to beat me whenever he felt like it, and he did the same thing to my mother, Astrid Hermann-Tannhauser. Mom never stood up to dad for what he did. However, she used to take out her frustrations on me. Dad called her a frigid whore, and when he wasn't ignoring her, he was yelling at her or beating on her. Still, I was often thankful to have my dad around. You see, he kept mom's attention focused away from me. She touched me inappropriately, to say the least. I told my teachers about it and they laughed it off, telling me to stop making stuff up. The abuse continued until I left the family farm and moved to the metropolis. I enrolled at the University of Johannesburg in the civil engineering program. At long last, I was far away from my parents. I was free. I have never ventured more than a few kilometers from the family farm in rural Gauteng, far from the bright lights of the metropolis, you understand. To me, the City of Johannesburg was a brand new world!

It's at the University of Johannesburg dormitories that I met a certain person whom I'll never forget. He just happened to be on the same floor I was. A colored man named Rashid Douglas, an international student from the United States, if you can believe that. The moment I saw this tall, well-built, light-skinned young Black guy, I knew he was different. The way he carried himself, his eyes directly focusing in everyone he came in contact with, even before we spoke I knew he wasn't from South Africa. And I was right. Rashid Douglas came from Boston, Massachusetts, and he was from a mixed-race family. His father, Clyde Douglas, was black and his mother, Deirdre O'Neill-Douglas, was white. When he showed me his family pictures, I was really surprised. You have to understand that in South Africa, even after the end of Apartheid, blacks and whites still view each other with distrust. Sometimes you'll see black women with Afrikaner men, but you'll rarely see Afrikaner women with black men, because Afrikaner men ostracize white women who date outside the race. Things are more permissible for white men when it comes to interracial dating, I guess.

Now, you might be surprised as to how a Boer gal like myself, straight from the farm, warmed up to an African-American student like Rashid Douglas. I mean, my family isn't fond of blacks, and to be honest, at that point, neither was I. Not because of any feeling of racial superiority on my part but because the post-Mandela government of South Africa enacted policies of anti-discrimination which were supposed to help the blacks achieve in business, education and other areas. Those policies helped a few blacks, and annoyed a few wealthy whites, but they utterly destroyed poor white folks like my parents and myself. I didn't hate the black race. I just didn't believe anyone should be given an advantage over someone else because they claim to have suffered injustice at some point. There is injustice in the world, and it can happen to anyone regardless of color. People of all races should learn to stop whining because suffering is part of the human condition. That's my opinion as a Boer woman and if you don't like it you can kiss my fat white ass. Got it? Alright!

My first week at the University of Johannesburg was hell. It's hands-down the most prestigious school in all of South Africa, and as a country hick, I stood out like the proverbial sore thumb. To go there, whether black or white, you needed some serious money. Me? I was lucky enough to win a scholarship. The other students made fun of me for being a country gal and my rough bearing and outdated clothes didn't help matters. You'd never guess who got them off my back. The tall black guy from America. Rashid Douglas. He stuck up for me while I was being made fun of by a trio of meanies, two whites and one black. How about that? When I asked him why he was helping me, Rashid Douglas flashed me the crucifix hanging around his neck and told me that it was the Christian thing to do. I've never put much stock in religion, because it makes otherwise decent people go bonkers, but there was something about Rashid. He was...different. When he offered me his friendship, I accepted. Don't ask me why. The guy was just different, that's all. 

Rashid Douglas was unlike anyone I ever met, black or white. When he spoke about his native Boston, he made it seem like a magical place. I mean, I always wanted to visit the U.S. just like everyone else on this planet. A mostly white country that elected a colored man as its President in a general election. A nation that allowed gay marriage in many of its states. Yeah, after hearing Rashid speak of America, I was dying to go there. My friendship with this charming young African-American man was changing me in many ways. For starters, he told me that he and other blacks found terms like darky, blacky or colored to be offensive. Now, I wasn't ready to start hugging every black person I encountered and apologize for the sins of the white race, but I liked Rashid. So I watched what I said around him. I cared what he thought of me, and for the life of me I couldn't tell you why.

My friendship with Rashid was hands-down one of the most important things to happen to me during that magical freshman year at the University of Johannesburg. He was my guide to a whole new world, in more ways than one. I mean, Johannesburg was the capital of my province, and he knew this town better than I did. Also, he knew everybody at the University of Johannesburg. Even among narrow-minded Afrikaners, being an American was considered cool in those days. Shows you how much we knew, huh? Anyhow, that first year at university was beyond amazing, at least to me. My whole life I thought I was good only for shoveling manure and growing crops in the same farm my great-grandparents owned. At U of J, I made new friends, and discovered new skills within myself. Always thought I had a head for numbers. At our faculty of engineering, I was wowing them with my talents. They were calling me a prodigy. I was amazed. Sometimes I wished I had someone to share it with. My parents were out of the question, of course. They would never understand and of course, they never supported anything I did. I made it to the University of Johannesburg on my own. Always on my own, that's me. Rashid showed me I didn't have to be alone any longer.

I still remember that magical night, in early December, when we first made love. We were hanging out in my dorm, playing chess while listening to music on YouTube. Rashid introduced me to Linkin Park and I must say, I'm really into them. Their song "Numb" was tailor-made for me, I think. Shows exactly how I felt about my parents, and about my life. So there we were, sitting on the couch, the African-American and the Afrikaner, playing chess and talking nonsense. Rashid looked really cool in his bright green Celtics T-shirt and black boxer shorts. I wore a red T-shirt and sweatpants. I never remember which one of us made the first move, but one minute we were looking at each other, and the next, we were making out on the carpet. It's weird how these things happen, huh?

I was laughing as Rashid and I rolled around on the floor, one on top of the other. I ended up on top of him. I looked into his beautiful face, and kissed him again. When his hands moved to my shirt and he started to undress me, I hesitated. I blurted out that I'd never done it before. Rashid smiled, and promised me he'd be gentle with me. He took my hands in his and kissed them. I smiled, for no one had ever done that to me before. I was in for a night of firsts, ladies and gentlemen. Rashid made love to me, and showed me pathways to pleasure I hadn't known existed. He kissed my lips softly, and then kissed my neck before making his way to my tits, which he massaged then sucked gently. He cupped my buttocks, smacked my ass and raised my legs in the air before sucking on my toes. I giggled because I was really ticklish. Rashid grinned and told me I hadn't felt anything yet. Then he spread my legs and began eating my pussy. My sexy African-American stud went down on me, and pleasured me like I've never been pleasured before. By the time I came, shrieking in pleasure, the man made me see stars! Grabbing the box of condoms which gets handed out to guys and gals at University of Johannesburg in an effort to combat the STD epidemic in South Africa, Rashid rolled one on his long, thick member. Looking me in the eyes, he asked me if I was ready for him. I spread my legs wide, grinned and told him to stick it in. Does that sound ready enough for you? Rashid laughed and then penetrated me, gently but swiftly. I winced at the initial pain I had been told to expect, and he asked me if I was okay. I nodded, and told him to continue. Raising my big legs into the air, Rashid began fucking me with deep, powerful strokes. We made love all night, and fell asleep in each other's arms.

Yeah, that's how I became a woman. Rashid and I became an item after that night. We'd walk through campus holding hands, causing both black folks and white folks to gawk. In post-Apartheid South Africa, as I said before, you'll see a few black women with white men, but it's a rare white woman who will publicly date a black man. In class, I'd notice other students staring at me. The Afrikaner males glared at me with open disdain and more than one of them called me a traitor to the white race. The funny thing is that one of the more vocal bigots who hated me for dating Rashid was Brent, a white guy with a colored girlfriend. How about that? The hypocrite never saw the irony in what he was doing. I guess he's an idiot. Rashid and I continued seeing each other and things were getting pretty serious. 

I honestly think I fell in love with Rashid. He introduced me to his parents via Skype, and they were really nice. Rashid began pressuring me to meet my parents, and I kept putting it off, not because I'm ashamed of him but because my parents are hardline, gun-toting racists. If they saw me and Rashid kissing, they'd shoot us both. Lots of Boers feel that way about interracial couples, especially when it's the woman who is white. Doesn't seem to bother them too much if the man is white and the woman is black. A white man who dates outside his race is a conqueror and a hero to his fellow white males. He's exploring new, exotic pussy. A white woman who dates outside of her race is a traitor to the white community and the cause of anxiety issues to many white males far and wide. Sad reality of the times we lived in, I'm afraid. 

Rashid and I dated up until the end of the school year. At the end of May, he boarded a flight back to Europe, and from there, he would make his way toward the United States. We promised we'd keep in touch, and for a time, we did. We talked through Facebook, and via Skype. We also called each other all the time. I thought he'd come back to U of J the following September. Unfortunately, life had other plans. Rashid couldn't return to South Africa. Indeed, he couldn't even return to his old school, Northeastern University. His father had a stroke and Rashid was forced to get a job to support his mother and siblings. I felt for him, I really did. I even made plans to go to Boston to see him. Sadly, as life would have it, those plans fell through. With Rashid gone, I felt lost. I was heartbroken. When September came, I returned to school but with a heavy heart. My grades slipped. I lost my scholarship. I ended up going back to my parents farm, my own private hell. Isn't life grand?

So you see, for some of us, the advent of a zombie plague that wipes out the bulk of humanity and turns into a global war of man against flesh-eating mindless ghoul isn't the big tragedy many make it out to be. For me, the worst events of my life had already transpired long before ordinary men and women started coming back from the dead, hungry for the flesh of the living, reanimated by a virus nobody will ever understand. I am alone on the family farm now. I buried my parents by the old coconut tree near the shed. I erected a nice fence around the property. I've got canned goods and water, and enough ammo to last me and my five rifles a long good while. From time to time, zombies come nearby and I dispose of them neatly and efficiently. Dealing with the dead isn't complicated. It's the living I've always had problems with. 

All the people that once made up my world are gone now. From time to time I think of Rashid. Did he and his family make it through the nightmare North America's big cities became once the undead rose? America and Canada were the first countries to fall, followed by Europe, and much of Asia. The Middle East followed. The last place where I hear people are still holding on is Australia, but that was ages ago. Who knows what happened since? I don't know and honestly, I don't care. I take care of my land. I grow my crops. I keep the farm nice and clean, just like my parents taught me. They were good for that, at least. For some of us, the end of the world isn't a big deal. You see, for me, it happened a long time ago. Long before the first zombie rose, my world ended. And if the day comes when I must go to my grave, I won't make it easy for whoever comes after me, whether man or monster. Taking the easy way out has never been my strong suit. I am a Boer woman, after all. 



Zombies



"I'm still here, what's the address?" replied Jill.

Richard gave her the information. He could hear her typing on the keyboard and thought that she was almost as fast as he was (65 wpm). He thought to himself that if he weighed a little bit more he would probably have enough guts to ask Jill out on a date. For now he was satisfied just being able to work alongside such a great girl. "Is anything coming up?"

Static came sharp and loud and it was making Jill's voice come out choppy and muzzled. "Hold … looking… lot… anything..."

Richard held the phone closer to his ear and spoke loudly. "Jill are you there? Can you hear me? You're breaking up I couldn't understand what you just said."

The interference was gone as soon as it had come and Jill was back on. She gave her famous giggle that you couldn't help but adore and responded. "Hey, you're not going to get any info if you keep yelling into my ear like that. I found the file on Umbrella…"

Richard's phone began to squeak and scream with static, loud enough so that he pulled the phone away from his ear in pain. Meloy still driving and occasionally looking out of his window turned toward Richard with a concerned glance but didn't ask any questions. He knew that the wind destroyed the connection between the two S.T.A.R.S. members. Richard reached for the off button and pushed it hard with his skinny index finger.

"Damn I can't believe that! These things 'ill disconnect on you if you pronounce your Ps too hard!" In frustration he threw the small black phone into the back seat of the dark gray Pontiac. "Claire said she had the Umbrella file too!"

Meloy began to look out of his window, following this he took a glance at his rear-view mirror. "The wind is getting worse. When are we going to find the cross road?"

Richard stretched himself over to peak at Meloy's mileage gauge. "How many miles have we gone so far?"

Meloy took a quick glance at the numbers behind the steering wheel and began to calculate things out. "It's been at least ten miles since we reached the thick part of the forest."

Quickly Richard did the math and not even really thinking about it said. "It'll take us another 15 miles before we reach a dirt road. From there we drive another five miles and we'll run into a gate, I'll use this to open it." Richard produced a small brass key out from his shirt pocket near his chest.

Meloy looked surprised. "Where did you get that?"

"I got it from the good Mayor himself, it just arrived today in the morning."

Sounds suspicious Meloy said. "Why does? The Mayor of the city having a copy to the Umbrella facility?"

Trying to sound sarcastic and condescending Richard said. "I guess for just such an emergency. I tell you, I don't think there's anything to worry about. We're going to go down to the Umbrella Facility talk to mister Flagg and his staff; find out there's been a terrible misunderstanding with that man in the hospital, you'll see. After if you still feel suspicious you can have a look around the place until you're satisfied. Then after, we go out and get a slice of pie and coffee at Marlene's diner. Sound good?"

Meloy feeling calm and confident said. "Right, first we get to this here secret hideout, ask to speak to Mister Flagg. Get permission the hard-way to have a little looksie around the premises just to make sure everything's in order. Discover he's been testing toxic drugs on victims he's been kidnapping. Go to Marlene's have a piece of pie and coffee, sounds good, yeah, I like that. 

Richard began to wonder if there really was something to discover at the research facility. Questions began to pop up in Richards mind. The whole idea of a place way out there seems creepy, good thing I have King Kong here to protect me. Richard looked at Meloy's stature real quick and while doing so made a sigh of relief.

Meloy could hear Richard's sigh and asked. "Are you okay with this job? I know you're new. If you like, I could do this one alone while you stay in the car and try to contact Claire."

Richard felt ashamed and quickly tried to strike that notion out of Meloy's mind. "No, that's alright, I just want to hurry up with this job so that we can get back and get a slice of pie that's all. I'm getting pretty hungry." To make his cover up sound truthful Richard added a nervous chuckle, which didn't sound very genuine.

6

On Holly Street people were walking while covering their eyes to shield themselves from the flying debris. Within the hour the wind had taken on high speeds and was using the city's trash to throw the people in a frenzy to be in doors. There were many people walking since noon, everyone rushing to their favorite restaurants to eat as fast as they could to get back to work on time. There were quite a few restaurants around the surrounding area, mostly catering to the staff of St. Joseph's Hospital. 

Inside the hospital however was a different story. Things were quiet and people were calm, nobody was in a hurry to do anything or go anywhere. There were no major traumas to take care of, there was only serenity. Most doctors were making their rounds, some were talking and shooting the breeze in-between checking on patients but one particular doctor was on the phone with the hospital's coroner. 

Jim Furuli had been debating with himself on whether he should call the coroner or just abandon his hopes of learning about what happened to his former patient. He worked for an hour straight before he gave up the forced effort of forgetting and headed to his medium-sized office. When he got there he closed the heavy door behind him and locked it. Flicked off the main light switch and turned his desk light on. He closed his eyes and massaged them with his fingertips. Looking at the phone with frustration Richard Furuli picked up the phone and dialed the coroner's extension number. 

7

The coroner whose name is James Bolvdeck was sitting down on a small wooden stool in front of a corps he wasn't yet done examining. He had been working on a firefighters charred body before he had realized he was due for a break twenty minutes ago. He walked over to his locker adjacent to the autopsy room and grabbed his igloo chest cooler out from under a thick jacket he had taken off in the morning. When he opened the small cooler, he pushed aside a banana and hoagie sandwich and reached for one of two Coca-Cola cans and closed the little igloo and returned it to its place in the locker. Just beginning to enjoy his break James noticed a shrieking sound coming from the next-door autopsy room. James almost dropped his coke and realized that the phone was ringing. James thought it must be his wife or maybe a friend who wanted to have lunch. On the other hand he thought it might be work related but he was betting on his former guesses. Not too many things go on in a small city like Raccoon City and James was just fine with that fact. He thought about it somewhat grudgingly and made his way to the phone. He opened the door letting out the smell of death and passively glanced at the burned corpse lying on the table with a y cut into his chest. He sat his soda down alongside the corpse since he wouldn't have to worry about the fireman taking a sip while he would be on the phone. 

Some people would shrink back at the idea of setting down anything edible next to a dead body but once you've been a coroner for 20 years death doesn't look as scary as it once did. James was surprised at how many people asked him about the gruesome parts of his job. Questions about organ extractions and mangled bodies, the obese and things of that kind. People asked him the strangest questions about his job; he forgot how it felt to be curious about death since he had observed so much about it during his lengthy career.

James had almost reached the phone when he knew it wasn't going to be a friend inviting him out to lunch just as he knew that it wasn't going to be his wife asking him to buy chicken before coming home latter that day. "Hello, Bolvdeck speaking." A man spoke to James slowly and nervously and he didn't recognize the voice of the man who was trying to get a certain point out but obviously having some trouble doing so. "Is everything alright Jim? How's your wife doing? She's alright isn't she?" Some more nervous chatter came out of the phone's receiver. Something about a patient that James was supposed to check out. The call was over the patient with a peculiar skin condition. "Oh I think I know the one that you're talking about. Why all the concern? Is there something you're not telling me Jim? Maybe you can help yourself and let me in on whatever you're holding back. James thought that Jim was giving him all questions and no answers. Jim swore there wasn't anything to be concerned about but the tone of his voice told a different story. "I'm sorry Jim I can't help you; I'm waiting for some people to give me some help overlooking this particular body. You're not the only one who has his eye on it. The Mayor himself made a special request that I hold off and wait for some doctors who work for some a company that may shine some light on our friends strange skin condition. They're should be here in about 4 hours or so. I can keep you posted if you want. Sure thing, all right bye."

8

The S.T.A.R.S. issued car slowly drove up to a heavy wooden fence and stopped. The wind had picked up considerably within the last half hour. Across town parents brought their children in from playing in backyards and ridding bikes on the streets. 

Meloy was in his seat looking around taking in the scenery but not for the pleasure but for any suspicious activity. Meloy thought he'd better take a little peep and make sure there weren't any more victims lying around dead. Leave it to Meloy to make sure things were running on the up and up. The closer the both of them got to the house the more Richard believed some of Meloy's suspicions.

Richard took the little brass key out of his pocket and held it up for the both of them to see. "I guess I'll do the honors." Richard slowly reached for the door handle and before operating it he gave a final look out the windows and then opened the door. The ground was very absorbent, no doubt to recent rainy weather. An ugly thought ran through Richards mind as he was noticing the soft texture of the dark ground. What if it were to start raining right now? Rain plus this crazy wind and on top of that we have to still get to the facility. Doesn't seem very appealing but we have to go. There isn't that many clouds, it won't rain tonight. I hope. Richard picked up speed and made a slow jog toward the rest of the way to the lock. The lock was also brass just like the key; it was the biggest looking lock Richard had ever seen in his entire life. "What the heck! Hey Meloy look at this thing, I wonder how Jehovah's Witnesses get in haha." The lock gave no trouble opening up and the tumblers inside seemed recently greased with oil. The double-door gate itself presented more of a problem, it took all of Richard's strength to pull apart. Richard now gaining composure and feeling gratified over his making a joke at a time he was feeling nervous walked back to the car and sat down next to Meloy who would give the occasional look around to make sure no perps were sneaking up on the both of them. Meloy looked over at Richard while giving his tuff grin and said. "Good workout? Let's get going before the wind gets too bad." 

"I'm with you let's go, the sooner the better. It's about 2 miles more before we reach the compound."

9

The car twisted and turned down a narrow dusty road. Off to both sides dark grass grew abundantly. The grass was thin and knee high; it was quite thick, enough to where you couldn't see the ground. Eddies of dust flew around the approaching outsiders as a final warning. It would rain that night but the two detectives would never see the first drops fall. Grass and dead foliage danced devilishly around the car in a macabre ritual.

10

When they arrived at the facility Meloy parked in front of the huge mansion about 17 feet away from the first steps leading up to the thick wood front door. Richard looked at Meloy and said. "Let's make this quick alright?" Meloy looked from the colossal mansion to Richard and agreed to a degree. "Yeah, but not too fast, we'll make sure that everything is running the way it should be and then we'll go." As an after thought Richard threw in. "That's what I meant, let's go. Are you ready?" Meloy's made his answer by opening his door and stepping out onto the fertile ground. He shut his door and adjusted his gun holster. Richard looked from Meloy to the front Door and then to the handle of the police issued car and pulled it. Richard was a little bit slower getting out and he slowly jogged to catch up to Meloy who had begun to climb the steps. He was just about to get to the first step himself when one of the two doors opened up and a tall broad shouldered man looked at the at the two officers with an omniscient facial expression.

"You must be the detectives I presume?" My name is Randolph Flagg nice to meet your acquaintance. My associates and I are working on some very important business right now and shouldn't be disturbed at this time. Didn't the mayor get into touch with you and tell you that the investigation would put onto a hold? Richard almost reeled back and fell off the threshold from which he was standing but gained his balance and looked to Meloy who had his back to him. Meloy didn't waver for even a second, but only realized that he was at his height of suspicions and would not be leaving the premises anytime soon. "We didn't get that call Mr. Flagg, which means we come in." With a hint of a smile Meloy continued. "By any means necessary." Mr. Flagg didn't continue speaking but looked incredulously at Meloy the gargantuan and realized there was going to be no stopping him. As a last attempt Mr. Flagg uttered his final protests. "The mayor and Umbrella are very closely related and I don't know if you would want to be crossing either. I advise you to leave now and take up the matter with your superiors, Good day gentl...." Meloy outstretched his massive arm and stopped Mr. Flagg from closing the door and that's when it happened. A keen piercing noise came out from behind the detectives and all three men froze to see what had mad the sharp cry. It seemed to be coming from the direction of the car and Richard was first to realize that it was the cell phone he had thrown in the back seat after being frustrated when it disconnected the two S.T.A.R.S. members from their official business conversation. Mr. Flagg looked at Richard hopefully and Richard looked at Meloy as if to say: What do you want me to do big guy you're in charge of this show? Meloy just looked back at Richard and said. "That could be Claire." 

Richard didn't want to leave Meloy with Flagg even though Meloy was fully capable of taking down the oversized scientists. He decided to go for it; he quickly made his way down the steps and towards the car. He tried to open the back door but it was locked, he was lost in thought about what to do when he tried the passenger door and it opened right up for him. He jumped knees first on the seat and bent over the seat to search for the ringing phone. By this time it had already rang 7 times and he hoped whoever it was calling him would not hang up. It was nowhere on the seats so he had to practically dive over the front-seat to be able to search the floors for the phone that would not let itself be discovered without a fight. Both hands scrambling over each other trying to grab onto anything and finally they snatched onto what they were looking for, immediately he pushed the familiar button that would allow him to communicate with whoever was so desperately tiring to get into touch with him. Since it first started the phone had rung another 3 times but it was ok because he was now speaking to the person who had wanted to speak to him with some very alarming news.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to come in Mr. Flagg, there's no use trying to stop me. "Mr. Flagg looked at Richard intently and then looked at Meloy with glee and said. "Detective it's just that my colleagues and I were looking at some very interesting specimens and did not want to be disturbed but if it's all that important please come in." 

Meloy looked at the man curiously and let himself be invited through the very thick wood doors. "I'll just close these doors so that the heat doesn't get out, I'm sure you've noticed that the weather has been murder lately. Meloy didn't seem to notice what Mr. Flagg had just said and began the interrogation. "What type of experiments goes on in a place like this?" 

Mr. Flagg's eyes sharpened and his jaws clamped down and he gave a big smile to the detective and said. "It would be best if I showed you, please come this way." Before Mr. Flagg had a chance to lead Meloy out of the main hall Meloy flatly refused. "I think I'll wait for my partner Mr. Flagg." Mr. Flagg could not take no for an answer, the continuation of his studies depended on his working quickly. "Don't worry detective I'll return for your friend while one of my colleagues shows you what we do out here in the middle of nowhere. I'm sure you'll be very surprised indeed." And he said this last part as you would expect a mad scientist would in an old Frankenstein movie. Also when he had finished he headed for a door that was a few feet away from himself and began to turn the knob. "Meloy looked alarmed because he knew that Flagg was trying to rush him for some reason, he wondered whether it would be unreasonable to pull his firearm out at this point or not but he had to do something. "Hold on. I said hold on god damn it!" But Flagg was already closing the door behind him and Meloy could hear Flagg pick up the pace. "He's running!" Meloy looked at the door that Flagg had just made his escape and thought of what he should do. Pulling his gun from its holster Meloy uttered under his breath. "Damn!" Meloy did exactly as Mr. Flagg had hopped for and followed in after him.

Meanwhile Richard was on the phone with Claire trying to figure out what she was saying. Claire's voice was coming out in squeaks and chirps. "What happened to you guys I was going to tell.... about...character?" Richard could feel his muscles tense up and cursed under his breath. "Claire say again, do you hear me Claire?" In a clear voice Claire responded. "I said what happened to you guys? I was about to tell you what I have on Randolph Flagg." Richard quickly retorted. "Let's not beat around the bush Claire be quick about any information you have before I loose you again." Claire cleared her throat and recited in her own words what the files had brought up. "Ok, there's not very much here, but what is here is of importance. If you're to come across this Mr. Randolph Flagg you're to apprehend him and hand him over to the FBI for questioning. It just mentions that he might be involved in illegal chemical experiments but it doesn't give any details, huh, that's unusual." Richard wide-eyed turned around expecting to see his partner and an over-sized scientist trying to block the entry. What he saw instead though was a double door entryway and it was closed. In a panicking voice Richard told Claire. "Claire I'll have to call you back. I don't see Meloy." Before Claire could protest Richard hung up the phone.

When Meloy opened the door he stepped into a very narrow and long hallway that had five doors all except one made of wood, the last one at the end of the hallway looked like an elevator because there was a type of metal grating instead of a door. As quickly as he could Meloy tried to think of where this doctor could have gone. Not in the elevator because he didn't have time, besides I didn't hear anything. Meloy slowly walked trying not to make much noise and looked at the first door, which was to his left. He re-gripped his gun (now starting to perspire greatly) and with his left hand gripped the doorknob and slowly turned it. The knob stopped turning and Meloy took a deep breath and then swung the door opened took a quick look and whipped his head back to safety. In terror Meloy agonized. It's another hallway that ran perfectly straight. More doors maybe just two but their was a cross hallway around the middle. Meloy now starting to panic thought of whether he should enter or if he should close the door and take a look into the other rooms first. He decided to close the door and did it as fast as he could. He approached the next door that was now to his right. Slowly, ever so slowly Meloy turned the knob so as not to let Flagg hear his approach. If Flagg was actually in that room or not Meloy had no idea. He took a heavy swallow and waited until the knob couldn't turn any further. This time he threw the door open even faster than the first time and it hit against the wall sending the handle into the plaster a smacking sound as it sunk into the wall. Meloy jumped into the doorway aiming his weapon and what ever would move but there was nothing there. Actually there were many things to see in this particular room except Meloy could not see any of them for the light was off. In total despair Meloy thought he was going to be sick. He's here in the dark and he's aiming his gun at me, he's going to shoot.




Zombies



11

Richard as if entranced walked clumsily toward the front door. Not knowing exactly what to do he pulled his gun from it's holster and let his gun arm fall to his side. Richard walked to the front door and opened it. When he first looked in some of his fear was replaced by awe. The interior to the monstrously huge mansion was beautifully furnished. Everything seemed to be made out of strong heavy wood thickly lacquered and polished masterfully. All tables, chairs, banisters were works of professional craftsman, men who knew how to please the eye. Richard could hear the echo of his right foot as he made his first step into doom. He gave no effort to call out to Meloy; he could obviously see that there was no one in the main hall. He would have to enter through one of the doors and look for him. His first choice to make was to see whether he would begin his search up stairs or down. Trying to make himself feel better he thought nice thoughts to himself. Meloy is probably using the phone. No, he can't be using the phone because the lines are down. Maybe he's checking to see if they're on. He's probably checking things out without me. He knew I didn't really want to do this job. He's just trying to do me a favor. That's it, that's all that this is. Wouldn't he tell me? Richard pulled the hammer back on his gun; this made Richard feel just a little bit better. Knowing that if he had to use his weapon it would take a little less time since the hammer was pulled back and the trigger would now only need a gentle squeeze to fire. "Downstairs, he must be down stairs." Richard had made up his mind to stay downstairs. Now that he decided on what floor to look on he now was presented with another choice. Which door would he go through? There were four doors from which he could choose. 

The main hall was one of the largest rooms of the whole estate. The lobby room was in a rectangular form and there were five doors made of heavy wood connected to the lobby. Against the right wall was the staircase with a thick red and gold rug running down the length of it. Each door was engraved with designs that were very detailed. There were five doors and each door had a different type of doorknob. On the wall to the left the doorknob was silver, the upper left door had a gold doorknob and the upper right doorknob was brass. Finally the door connected to the right wall looked like a type of green emerald material. The wallpaper was a bland sort of yellow and it looked like it had perhaps a few years left before it would have to be changed. 

Richard looked from door to door and began to feel panic. His legs would begin to move towards one door and change its direction before even getting started to move to they're first destination. In frustration Richard charged for the door with the silver knob. He reached the door and turned the knob not knowing what to expect on the other side. What he saw matched the main hall in beauty but not in size. There was a long but narrow hall, which had suits of knight armor standing off center to both sides. Some wielded swords but others held axes ready to cut off an opposer's head at a whim, yet others held spears and shields. They were all polished with care and placed in combat positions. There was one suit of armor that stood out from the rest, it was a very dark colored metal and it held a huge mace over it's head about to strike anyone who came against the fierce warrior. Richard wondered if the mace had ever really been used on a person during combat. He thought it probably had. Over each suit of armor there was an individual soft beam of light bearing down on it. The room wasn't unbearably dark but not very well lit either. At the end of the hall there looked like there was a pair of pants and shoes lying on the floor. A scientist jacket was thrown over both things in a careless fashion. Richard walked slowly toward the end of the hallway while looking at the armor displays, fearing that somehow one of them would move and begin attacking him he looked intently at his surroundings. Nothing did attack Richard but he did get closer to the end of the room. He could see there was a door to the upper right of the wall so he started walking towards the door when he noticed movement from under the pile of clothes. He stopped dead in his tracks to see if it was just his eyes playing tricks with him due to the poorly lit room. He began to walk towards the pile again and happened to notice a painting on the furthest wall from the door he had come in through. It was a painting of a dark valley and there were wolves in the shadows and a lamb at the very bottom of the valley. The lamb's facial features took on human qualities with its eyes in utter fear and its mouth dropped open as if to scream in fear. Richard focused his attention more closely at the picture again to see that the wolves looked as if they were laughing at the thought of ripping the lamb to pieces. It gave Richard a chill down his spin thinking about the wolves finally getting to the lamb and sinking their teeth into it's soft flesh and greedily licking up it's spilled blood. All of a sudden a hand wriggled it's self free from the sleeve that had been covering it from the pile of clothes. Richard brain was overloaded with the seriousness of the situation. He could see the figure now; it had been a body the whole time. It looked like a skeleton was wearing clothes and was now being resurrected to life again. The hand stopped moving and just collapsed where it lay. Richard now wanted Meloy by his side to reassure him that everything would be ok. Meloy wasn't there though and Richard would have to take this matter up on his own. Richard undid the hammer to his gun with careful ease and placed it into his hip holster and swung the flap of his jacket over it. He grabbed for his phone but didn't do any dialing yet. Richard looked around for a light switch so that he could get a better look at the victim but there was no switch that he could see. He knelt down next to the creature and tried to communicate with the body that began to resume its lazy movements. "Sir? Sir can you hear me? I'm an officer of the law, I'm going to help you don't worry. I'm going to call for an ambulance? Can you hear me sir?" There was a moan that sounded like if someone hadn't drunk any liquids for two weeks. It made a barely audible dry moan. Richard turned his attention to his phone and pressed the number that would get him into touch with that pretty girl whose name is Claire. While punching the number into the telephone Richard looked up at the painting again and felt as if he was that lamb amidst a huge slaughter which was exactly what he was. The phone rang and Richard felt a sense of accomplishment against the frustration that had mounted up in the last 20 minutes or so. It was too good to be true because the connection was lost and the dial tone was all that was left. In a fit of rage Richard cursed at the painting. "I won't be kept here, I'm getting out!" He began to repeat the number into the phone when he felt a tug at on his cuff. He quickly looked down at his leg to see the deathly-emaciated hand grabbing onto his ankle with the last of its strength while moaning terrible gaggles and slurs. Richard walked back in terrible fright because he knew in his bones that the body that was now crawling towards him was not looking for pity but was looking to slaughter. He was looking at a human body but he was also looking at a wolf looking at a lamb! Richard hysterically thought to himself that he had to run away from this wretched creature before he fainted. At this time Richard had been backing away from the slow pursuer and forgotten all about the gun next to his hip. Richard could not pull himself from the creatures glare; it kept him at the height of fear. All Richard knew was that he was walking backwards. Richard's feet were no longer his own but they moved of they're own accord. The gruesome creature pursued with hastening speed but the most freighting aspect of it all was it's decrepit form. It couldn't be alive, it shouldn't be moving, it should be asking for help, is shouldn't be looking at me like that! Richard kept moving until the heel of his left foot hit against the podium of the black night that was holding the deadly mace. It took a matter of seconds but for Richard he was trapped in an endless cycle of falling through space with an evil pursuer not more than five feet from where he was now falling backwards. Richard's back crashed into the metal legs of the offensive looking armor and it too began to fall. Richard could feel blunt pain as if he weren't really living the moment, he could feel warm blood dripping out from the space between where his right shoulder and head where the mace had crashed down upon. There were no more cares in the world, all Richard could do was fall asleep while the creature inched its way towards him.

Meloy waited for another second in utter disbelief and then backed into the hallway and let himself lay against the wall. He was breathing heavily and softly laughing at the same time. Resting his elbows on his knees and trying to catch his breath before he would go on searching. He thought about Richard and decided he should go back and have him try to contact the S.T.A.R.S and get back up. He gave one final look into the darkness and started toward the door he had first entered. When he got to the door he cocked the hammer and proceeded to reach for the handle when he heard a soft crash that sounded close. Meloy would have acted faster had he known that the crash was the sound of his partner falling into heavy armor and getting himself struck in the neck by a mace. Before rushing toward the noise Meloy thought it best to kneel down and try to look through the keyhole and see if he could find out if anyone was in the next room. 

The dark filled room door was still wide open and the large shouldered man was still standing there with a magnum gun cocked in his hand ready to fire. He slowly lifted the gun in front of himself and walked out of the big closet ever so quietly. He pointed the gun at Meloy's back.

Richard roused for one last time. The room seemed darker than before. There wasn't any strength left in his body; he could still see the picture on the wall but it didn't matter anymore. He new he was the lamb and everything would soon be over. Before Richard was lost in total darkness he heard a loud bang that seemed to echo into his mind. Richard slipped into coldness and was no more.

12

Chris Renfield had just gotten a soda from the dispenser of the police station when he noticed Claire walking towards him. 

"Hey, changed your mind about getting a soda? If you did you're gonna to have to pitch in, I don't have enough quarters." Something on Claire's face looked distracted and uncomfortable. "What's wrong?"

Claire looked at Chris. "I think something might be wrong with Richard and Meloy." 

Chris made a frown. "Why do you mean?"

Claire pondered trying to separate fact from worried speculation but found it rather difficult. She felt self-doubt begin to ebb in on her. "Well… Richard said Meloy was gone and he sounded panicky. "Maybe it was nothing, but it sounded…"

Chris' sympathy coerced him to console his sister's worries. "Get a five-0 on it and have them check just in case. Though I'm sure there's nothing wrong.

Chris and Claire walked back to the S.T.A.R.S. department. Nothing was said between the two. When entering the S.T.A.R.S. room Chris walked to his desk and resumed filling out a report that was due in a couple of days. Claire walked to her computer and pushed the keys that would give her the address where she would send a patrol unit.

Chris usually didn't look forward to filling out reports but he didn't feel very energetic that day. He could hear Claire on the radio sending a squad car up to the place where Richard and Meloy should have been. Reviewing what he'd written in his statement for the report he would be turning in, Claire's troubles slowly faded away from his thought. 

STATEMENT BY CHRIS RENFIELD

On the day of question my unit (S.T.A.R.S.) was called in for a hostage situation. Specifically, Edison's bank (345 Washington Main) was under the control of several perpetrators. My team and I arrived at the scene at 9:16 am; where we were briefed on the situation by sergeant Patrick Williams of the Raccoon City Police Department. There were five gunmen all carrying automatic weapons and wearing protective vests. The number of hostages was not exact but close, 17 people inside 10 employees of Edison bank. Earlier attempts had been made to contact the gunmen and reach an agreement with no luck. The men were unreceptive. My team's captain, Barry [find last name] directed us on how we would engage the enemy. 

There are two entrances to Edison's bank, one front door and one fire exit towards the back of the bank. The fire exit isn't used by patrons unless in an emergency. Meloy and I would storm through the fire exit when given the signal but first my teammates would enter in through the front to draw attention. Before going in though smoke grenades were launched into the store to add further distraction and confusion. The grenade was launched, my team members caused they're distraction and Meloy and I entered through the back. Four of the five perpetrators complied quickly by dropping their weapons and lying on the floor while the fifth perpetrator resisted. He turned toward Meloy and I gun in hand. At this moment I feared for the life of my partner and the lives of the hostages as well as my own life. Quickly I gave no hesitation and fired my weapon. Striking the gunman on his left shoulder disabling him. I feel as if he gave me no other choice. My unit proceeded to apprehend the suspects and escort the hostages to safety. After these events took place I made an oral report of the preceding events to sergeant Williams. 

Chris was satisfied with his written statement and would later hand it to Claire for editing. For now he noticed his sister was still looking for information on the computer's database. Probably on the case Richard and Meloy were supposed to be on. "Why don't you call Richard back and see what happened?" The idea just dawned into Chris' mind. 

Sounding as if she wasn't really paying attention Claire said. "I already tried that, the connection's been bad all day, I can't get through."

"Well try anyways, it might be working now. Give me the phone; I'll try for you." Chris made a gesture with his hands so Claire would throw the phone over to him. With the same lack of attention Claire grabbed the cell phone from off her desk and threw it to Chris. Chris caught the phone and tried to remember the code that would connect him to his friends Richard and Meloy. "Umm… What was that number…"

Claire told Chris the code. "Push star zero three."

Chris pushed the fluorescent buttons and put the small plastic phone to his ear. 

Claire looked up at Chris and knew she had to remind him of the about the send button. "Did you forget to push the send button?" 

In exasperation Chris realized he did and he had been holding the phone to his ear for about five seconds waiting for a response. "Stupid send button! There aren't any on real phones why do we have to have them on these huh?" Claire chuckled and so did Chris. He scanned for the send button and found it alongside the power button and then pushed it. He waited a few seconds and then heard a ring. "I got it Claire." Claire looked up from her monitor and waited for what would happen.

13

From inside Richard's coat jacket came a high-pitched squealing noise. The entity consuming Richard paid no head to anything except for the delicious corpse. Meloy's large bleeding body was slumped up against the door he had tried to peek through. The little green vile was still in his coat pocket safe and tucked away. Flagg was around, waiting to send the results of the G-virus specimens back to Umbrella headquarters. Flagg thought to himself that after all his hard work was over he'd be written down in history. Randolph Flagg, the man who created the perfect killing machine. 

14

"Nope… no answer. Either the ringer's off or the phone is in the car." Chris still didn't exactly know the location of the facility and so said. "The unit is probably already there, just radio them and see what happened to Meloy and Richard. 

For a fact Claire knew the police weren't there and wouldn't get there for at least half an hour more. According to the database's information the lab was far out, almost past city limits. She would wait 30 minutes or so before she would check with the unit. Meanwhile Claire would try to entertain herself in some manner or another. She was sure that Chris would like to have her look over his statement of the bank robbery. That would shave off most of the time, but she started to feel a little grumble in her belly and thought she should probably catch a burger instead. "Hey Chris, you hungry?"

"Mmm… Yeah, what do you feel like? Burger? Chinese? Mexican?"

"Nah, how 'bout sushi?" Claire awaited Chris' response with foreknowledge.

Chris' face contorted in disgust and turned his head away from Claire in fake-shame. "Raw fish and rice! I thought you were hungry! Let's get some tacos and soda."

"But we just got tacos!"

"When?"

"A couple of days ago after work! You want them again? Nah, nah, nah, we'll go to the deli you get a sandwich and another coke you're not even finished with that one and I'll get some sushi and a bottle of juice. I don't feel like eating much that's why."

Chris was satisfied with the menu and gave it the ok. "Alright I'll get a sandwich and you can get your raw fish if that's what you want." Chris laid his papers on his desk and stretched before standing up and feeling the dizzying affects of sitting down to long without moving. "Wow, let's go before I fall asleep. I'll need another soda."

Claire was already up from her desk and was waiting for her brother with his jacket in her arms. "Don't forget this, it's cold out there remember?"

"I'll be alright don't worry."

"Just put this on!"

Chris didn't have to be told twice and slipped the dark colored jacket on and zipped it up to the middle of his chest. "Alright then, ready? Let's go."

Chris and Jill walked down a narrow stairwell towards the first floor when they saw to individuals walking up their way. The two men were S.T.A.R.S.; there was Wesker and Barry and they both had coffees in their hands most likely coming from the lounge where fresh donuts and coffee were waiting for anyone who wanted a quick bite. 

Wesker was the first to speak. He was the leading officer of the S.T.A.R.S. and the oldest. He was also the founder of the new group (S.T.A.R.S.) and he was instrumental in its success. He mostly wore the same colored fatigue when he worked. Black boots, black fatigue pants, and a black fatigue shirt with more pockets then he actually would have use for. His hair matched his clothes and personality; it was a crew cut. His shades were in his shirt but on most sunny days he wore them. 

"Where are the two of you going?" Wesker asked this question in a non-confronted way and simply wanted to know where two of his officers were going.

Chris answered. "Sis and I are gonna get some grub, want something while were out?"

"Have you finished your statement yet?"

"Don't worry boss I just have to give her the look over and she'll be done ok?"

"I guess so, did you want anything Barry?"

Barry was a large built man; somewhat close to Meloy's physique but clearly everyone knew that Meloy was stronger. Meloy was in a category all to himself and he would be sorely missed. Barry was wearing a brown leather jacket, green army pants, and brown leather shoes. 





Zombies



"Just get me a bottle of water if you can remember, thanks."

Barry liked to eat healthy and he sometimes went over board. He absolutely refused to drink the police department's water.

"Will do." The members passing each other in the cramped staircase, Claire following in back of Chris and Barry behind Wesker. When they made it down stairs a couple of officers came in from outside and the door swung against the outside wall. "Damn! Wind is strong, hope it doesn't get any worse that's for sure." The two S.T.A.R.S. walked outside and felt cold wind slapping against their faces. Claire wrapped her arms over each other and her teeth chattered. "Hurry, open the door Chris." Chris delved his hand into his right-side pants pocket and felt only the lint there. "Hold on… looking." Chris pulled his hand out and felt his other pockets but only felt the wallet in his back pocket. "Shoot! I left my keys in the office!" Claire voiced her frustration. "Chris! Well go get them before I freeze!" As Chris started making his way to the front doors he put his hands into the jacket pockets to warm his hands. His left hand bumped into small metal pieces and he was happy to know they were his keys. "Ha ha ha, here they are, they were in my jacket the whole time. Let me open the door before you get a cold." As Chris opened the passenger side door for Claire his chuckles barely audible went on. Claire got in her seat and Chris closed the door for her and briskly walked to the driver's side that Claire had opened for him and climbed in. 

"Man that's cold isn't it? It wasn't that cold this morning, crazy weather."

"Yeah and look, looks like it might even rain. Those clouds are getting pretty dark. Looks like good times ahead huh? 

"Oh yea, as usual I guess." With that Chris started the police issued automobile, turned the heater full blast and pulled out from in front of the police station.

15

Chris and Claire had gone to get their lunch and were on their way back when the officer Claire had sent arrived at the scene. He stepped out of the vehicle and took in the awesome sight of the facility. "Good God." He didn't even close the door to his car but walked in front of the hood and took a good look at everything that was standing there. He didn't know any of the S.T.A.R.S. members closely but he recognized the car ten feet ahead of him. The plates confirmed what he knew, the detectives were still in the mansion some place and he would find out just where exactly. As he walked closer to the facility he noticed one of the doors open to the detective's car. Forgetfulness? Suspicions heightened slightly. Seeing the opened door reminded him that he left his own door open. He sat down on the imitation leather and radioed into the S.T.A.R.S. office. "This is unit 0246 do you read me Claire, this is unit 0246 I'm at the facility. After a bit of waiting he reached a man named Wesker who he wasn't familiar with. "Excuse me sir, may I speak with Claire to let her know that I'm at the facility? 

"Unit 0246, why are you at the Umbrella facility?"

"Sir, Claire from special forces S.T.A.R.S. instructed me to check on two agents and see if everything was well. That's all she told me."

Wesker wasn't sure what was going on but he figured Claire must have had her reasons. "How are the agents?"

"I haven't seen them because I haven't entered the premises yet. I only radioed to notify Claire that I arrived at the destination."

"I guess you should carry on then officer. Have you heard or seen anything of importance?"

The officer contemplated the importance of the opened door. "I don't know if it's note worthy sir but the agent's car is parked in the front of the facility and the door is opened. I just thought it was strange that they would leave the door open like that."

Wesker didn't respond right away. "Get in touch within five minutes officer. I doubt anything is wrong but let's make sure. Over and out."

The officer walked back to his cruiser and hesitated closing his door; he looked at his shotgun for what was at least five seconds before finally shutting the door. Officer Roberts walked to the front door of the mansion then opened it. There was nobody in the Main room and so he started to call out for Meloy and Richard without success in return. He walked up the stairs to see what he could find. 

16

Chris and Claire drove up to the drive-thru intercom of a taco fast-food joint. They had just left a super-market from getting Claire's sushi and Barry's bottled water. Chris would get his tacos and they would get to the office, eat their food with their comrades, and check in with the police officer Claire sent to the Umbrella facility. 

"Are you sure you don't want a taco or burrito Claire?"

Claire's stomach slightly turned with the thought of eating anything as greasy as a taco or as filling as a burrito. "I'm sure, thanks."

"Suit yourself, I'm going to get the combo and maybe I'll have the Orchata. Yeah, that sounds good!"

Claire was happy that her brother could enjoy himself after working hard on his statement. She knew it was a serious one, a suspect had been shot and that was big news in Raccoon City. "Sounds yummy but I'll pass. Give me an Orchata though."

"Alright then."

Chris hollered his order into the intercom and the cashier hollered back that he owed seven dollars and twenty-six cents. The food was a little expensive but couldn't be beat. Chris drove over to the window and gave the cashier a ten-dollar bill and waited for his food to be served. While they waited in the idling car Claire raised the level of heat just below maximum. 

"Why don't you roll the window up a little bit?"

Chris rolled the window almost all the way up. "Sure is cold and the clouds are getting darker." One small grain of a droplet fell on the front windshield but neither Chris nor Claire noticed. A few more drizzles fell but didn't persist yet the wind was gaining an edge and the S.T.A.R.S. car's antenna was lightly wavering back and forth. "Snow's going to be bad this winter. "It's ok, at least you'll shovel my sidewalk right?" Chris thought this statement was quite hilarious and gave way to laughter. Claire didn't think much of her brother's antic, so she gave Chris a tired look with the roll of eyes look. The cashier decided to show up while Chris while laughing and was flustered because she didn't look amused either. "Oops." Chris lowered his window and reached out to receive his food. 

In a robotic manner and tone the cashier said. "Want some hot-sauce with that?" 

"Uh, no thank you that's all right." Chris handed the bag to his sister and fully rolled up his window and turned the heater one level down. The car pulled out of the driveway and got onto the main street. The station was about fifteen minutes away but since Chris was hungry they'd make it in ten. Chris' mind was on his combo meal but Claire was thinking about Richard and Meloy again. 

"I wonder if they're ok."

"You wonder if who's ok?"

"Richard and Meloy."

"Oh yeah… Call Barry of the radio and see what's up with the unit you sent."

Claire grabbed for the radio microphone and called into the station. Usually Barry handled the S.T.A.R.S. communications but Wesker was the person to answer Claire's call. 

"Wesker?"

"What's going on Claire?"

"Nothing, we just picked up the food and we're heading back. Any word from Richard, Meloy or the police unit?"

"Nothing from Richard or Meloy but the unit did call in. He's checking on things right now. He did say that one of their car doors was open but that doesn't really mean anything."

When Claire heard that the police unit was there and checking on things Claire's hopes were raised but after hearing about the door they dropped back down a bit. What could an open door mean? Richard had sounded nervous, maybe he left it open to check on Meloy but he left the door open. He just forgot to close it.

"Don't worry Claire, the unit should be getting in touch in about five minutes. If not we'll call in and see what happened but I'm sure Richard and especially Meloy are just fine. 

"We'll be there in about 10 minutes or so. Tell Barry we have his water. Over and out." Claire rested the radio speaker in its cradle and then sat back in her seat. 

Chris saw that Claire was scared for Richard and Meloy and started to wonder whether he should also be worried. He enjoyed both of their company, more so towards Meloy but he and Richard were close as well. Sometimes on Friday nights he liked to go to one of the cities' bars and have a few beers and play a few games of pool with Meloy. Richard was also an enjoyable person; he had a good sense of humor and always liked to talk about different and interesting things. He was really laid back and got along with everyone. He even got along with Brian Irons, the chief of police, and no one really liked Irons very much. Except for maybe Wesker, who at least could have a small conversation with the police chief. Richard and Meloy were both men who Chris trusted. Richard had only been working with the S.T.A.R.S. for five months but in that little time they became friends. 

Claire didn't feel in the mood for talking. She would wait until they pulled in front of the station, she would quickly get out of the car and head to the S.T.A.R.S. office to see what police unit 0246 had found. 

They drove down the mostly car-free streets at a quick rate. It was about 2:30 and people were mostly at work or in their homes away from the harsh wind. In two and a half hours it would be dark. Brother and sister Chris and Claire didn't speak to each other in the car. Chris had turned on the radio and was listening to his favorite station while Claire seemed not to hear or pay attention to the music. Things continued on that way until Chris turned the corner that led the down the street to their station. Chris pulled in front of the station and hadn't even finished parking when Claire opened the car door and jogged in through the front doors of the Raccoon City police department. Chris hurried and parked, got the food, and headed after his sister.

Claire hurried up the narrow wooden steps, forgetting the food she left behind in the car. The sound of the stair-planks thudding against her boots echoed in her mind and she felt a little nauseous and dizzy. Quickly she opened the door to the S.T.A.R.S. department and found Barry and Wesker talking but she didn't know about what. 

"Claire…" Wesker was about to go on but Claire interrupted. 

"Did the officer radio in?" Claire eyes were wide we expectation.

"No, I was just about to radio in." Wesker realized Claire's sincerity and thought it was unfounded and harbored mistrust of her comrades skills out in the field. "Were you going to eat first or did you want me to contact the officer?"

"That's ok Wesker, I'll radio in."

Barry was the one to ask what was going on. "What did I miss? Why is their a unit checking on Meloy and Richard?"

Wesker joined in the curiosity. "I was just about to ask the same question. So how about it Claire, what's going on?"

Claire had forgotten that her emotions were the biggest reason she sent out the police unit. Other than that all she had as an excuse for sending the officer out was Richard's abrupt disconnection. "I… mostly because…" Claire was foundering for the right words. Finally she blurted out the unconvincing truth. "I was talking to Richard when he mentioned something about Meloy missing. He hung up but he sounded stressed." Claire waited for Wesker's response.

Wesker and Barry waited for Claire to finish her reason when they both suddenly realized that she had finished. 

Wesker's unbelieving look subsided a bit and then he asked. "And what? Is that it Claire? Why did you send a unit all the way out there for that?" 

Claire's frustration and worry heightened to new levels. "If everything is ok then I'll admit I was wrong. If not… we better get down there." Claire walked to the little adjacent room of communications equipment and weapon storage; she sat down on a stool in front of an old CB radio and turned the knobs and dials accordingly. The little red power light was on and a soft squeak pronounced itself as so. Claire put the over-sized earphones on and then she picked the microphone up and put it to her mouth.

"Officer 0246 come in… This is Claire Renfield speaking, over." She allowed time for the officer to respond. Claire thought he should have had time to assess the situation and then notify her with what he had found. "Officer 0246 come in, this is Claire Renfield, over. The tenseness of her stomach tightened and she no longer was even hungry for the food she had bought.

Everyone was in the other room hearing in on Claire's transmission. Chris was listening more with fear in his belly then the other two S.T.A.R.S. members. Wesker felt almost amused at how Claire's fear was getting the best of her. Barry sat quietly looking from Chris to Wesker and then back and forth again. His interest into the matter was growing but he didn't feel a very high degree of urgency. Mostly, Barry went along with his superior officer's assumption. As far as brains went Barry wasn't stupid but neither was he outstanding, he was more like Meloy, a field man.

Claire's pleads for officer 0246 to respond went on for another ten minutes without letup. When she stopped she didn't come out but only stay seated on the stool, sulking. 

Chris had made up his mind to investigate the matter himself. "Wesker? I think something is wrong."

Wesker had been amused since the begging of Claire's plea for officer's 0246 response. He thought the officer would be calling in at any moment like he had told the officer to do but the officer never radioed back. Obviously he's forgotten what I told him! Damn patrol unit probably! Incompetent slime! Wesker shifted in his seat, "Idiot officer". He got up and walked over to the small office and stood in the doorway; Chris and Barry followed. Wesker was disgusted to see Claire on the verge of tears. Women! You can't live with them and you can't live without them. 

Wesker had his temper under control and so he said. "Claire…If the officer doesn't call back within twenty minutes then we'll all go in ourselves but I promise you he will!" There, now you can stop that bellyaching.

Claire felt that whatever they did something had happened to her friends. We all are going to find some ugly truth when we go up there. "I don't think there's going to be any call. He was supposed to have notified us on his whereabouts but he didn't. There's something wrong, I can just feel it."

Wesker realized there was no convincing Claire. "If that is the case which it's not! Then we'll all go down there personally in twenty minutes. Wesker walked back to his desk and sat down. 

Chris looked at his superior and then entered the small room that Claire was in. Barry stood where he was taking in the soap opera.

Chris said. "Go ahead and start eating your food and I'll continue trying to contact the officer."

"I'm not hungry anymore; we should try to make Wesker let us all go now!"

Chris knew that his sister was right but he likewise knew his commanding officer didn't think a search and rescue was necessary at this point. "Yeah, in fifteen minutes I'll ask him. You're just going to have to wait for fifteen minutes more."

Claire felt that she had waited for long enough. "Maybe…their still ok? If we go now we have the best chance we'll have."

Chris couldn't argue with his sister any longer. He wore a terribly frustrated expression on his face and retreated towards Wesker. "Hey boss, you have to let me and Claire go to this place. If you don't want to leave yet you can meet up with us their but I think it's safer if we all go together. As a matter of fact I think you should call in Vickers." 

Vickers was their pilot, driver, and other S.T.A.R.S. member, the last member of their team. He had been given basic training but he wasn't field material and he didn't seem to mind. The other team members hounded him of his lack of a killer instinct but he went along. He would serve as driver if Wesker decided on calling him in. The helicopter was currently being repaired and wasn't fully operational; the stars would be stuck with dark green Dodge Ram van. It served its purpose but the copter was a lot faster. 

"Can't your sister wait for twenty more damn minutes more Renfield? I've been on the force longer than the both of you combined I've seen it all. For some stupid reason or another our men are tied up for the moment. What's twenty minutes more going to take?"

Chris was settled in his opinion; he felt that Claire's worries were warranted. "Sir, I think something is wrong. First, Richard says Meloy is missing then he doesn't answer his phone. Now the officer isn't responding. What more do you need?"

Wesker contemplated what had been thrown to him and felt the shame blanket him. "You're right, I'll call Vickers and tell him to get over here." In a loud shout Wesker said. "Everybody suit up and get ready to roll, 15 min!" 

Wesker got on the phone while Chris, Barry, and Claire walked quickly out the door and to the subbasement where the bulletproof vests and automatic rifles were. Wesker knew the phone numbers to all his comrades and so he dialed Vickers' phone number without thinking. The phone rang 3 times before Vickers picked it up.

"Wesker?"

"How did you know it was me?"

"It was either you or my mother."

Vickers laughed but Wesker didn't.

"Get down here in ten. We have an operation. Meloy and Richard might be in trouble."

"Really? What's going on?"

"Just get down here; I'll tell you in the van."

Wesker laid the phone-handle on its cradle and headed towards the subbasement. When he got there everyone had their vests on and they were all checking or loading their weapons. All the S.T.A.R.S. members had hand-held guns. Chris and Claire had automatic 9mm guns while Barry carried his precious Colt Python. Wesker had the same issue as Chris and Claire except his gun was painted black while their guns were chrome. While on serious operations each member carried an M-16; there were eight clips, forty bullets a clip, all the clips were in various places in their fatigue pockets. None of the Stars were talking; all their attention was focused on their preparation. Chris was adding a mechanical contraption to his 9mm that allowed his gun a rapid-fire option. It changed the look of his gun immensely by elongating it. Most of the contraption was a handle, like a shotgun handle. It could be strapped to his arm, which he preferred. Claire reached into the upper chamber of her locker and pulled out a purple velvet pouch, her lock pit set. She placed it into a hip pouch that she had also gotten from her locker. Barry was wiping at his very clean very shiny Chrome Python. He was wearing a belt that held about 50 bullets and there was a large hunting knife strapped to it. Wesker was the only one to lock his locker. He spun the knob in the direction it needed to go; he heard the lock release. Wesker's locker was somewhat messy; there were grenades (some of them were gas and the others were explosive), a vest (with a couple of bullet marks on the chest), and some papers scattered here and there that he never bothered to file correctly. He slipped quickly into the vest and loaded his M-16 with a full clip. He put the extra clips into his pockets and fastened the grenades onto his legs at the appropriate places. Legs were the least possible area to be shot. When a person gets shot it's mostly in the torso. He never gave much consideration to the possibility of his grenades being shot at. He never wanted an opportunity to present itself where he was in view of the enemy.