Survival Horror Community & Podcast


Post Reply

Morning Son
Posts: 67

Jack, the "J" in J's Bar, strained to listen. He closed the door to the roof behind him, cutting off the sounds of distant gunfire and screaming. He could've sworn he'd heard a gunshot in the wine room. Which meant people. As far as he knew, once someone came back, activities like wielding guns became well beyond their intelligence range. From what he'd seen, once someone came back, all they were good for was killing. Killing and eating. Standing alone in the stairwell, he couldn't hear anything below him now. A single gunshot wouldn't be enough to take one down, not from what he'd seen. He wasn't sure if they could be killed at all really, but surely they must? Maybe someone had made it into the wine room, pursued by a group of them, drank a bottle of imported rum, and offed themselves? A scenario that was likely happening all over the city, and would be happening for weeks to come.

Jack had been born ten years to the day after "War of the Worlds" had been originally broadcast, sending millions into a panic, and in some cases, resulting in these panicked individuals taking their own lives. If they thought well done radio theater was scary, what would these people do when they found the horror and bloodshed taking place on their very own street? Their very own doorstep? It was a simple equation. Thousands would die in Raccoon City, many by their own hand. And nationally? Worldwide? Millions. Likely billions. For the majority of the world, this was the end. But not for Jack. He'd been preparing for this day half of his adult life. He'd always had a feeling in the back of his mind, and as the years wore on, a feeling in the front of his mind even, that he would be around to witness the end. Honestly, he'd always looked forward to it in a way. It was sure to be a grand spectacle, a day written about and speculated on by mankind since he'd walked the earth, and a day that would, ultimately, be witnessed by so few.

Based on these first few hours alone, he hadn't been disappointed. From the roof, he'd witnessed a mob of the things chase down a young woman in a red dress, a beautiful blonde, overtake her, and literally tear her apart. Within forty five minutes, what was left of the woman, a head, half a face, one arm, and a torso, was back in action, crawling around on the pavement below, managing to somehow catch a small dog, a half starving mutt, and return the favor.

What goes around...

The tiny dog would surely be down there now, running around looking for it's first victim, only there was nothing left but it's bare skeleton. Literally. There was absolutely no meat left. These things should've scared Jack, but really, they didn't. He surely didn't find them pleasant, he wasn't that sick, but he'd mentally prepared himself for this for years now, or something akin to this anyway. He'd seen things in his life, his past life as a fireman anyway, that he'd never forget. Children, babies, infants, burned, cut, torn, decapitated. Ashes. He'd never forget these things, but they'd served him in a way. They'd hardened him. Prepared him for this day. Judgment day.

The mechanism that opened the shutter to the wine room began to whir. That was fine, Jack figured. Nine times out of ten, the damn thing wouldn't open, and he'd have to call the electrician down the street. As if on cue, the whirring stopped.

"Oh...SHIT!" said someone. A man's voice.

Jack smiled. He'd said the same thing plenty of times before. Another voice now, another man. That was especially troubling. Too much testosterone in a survival situation was how people got shot or stabbed. People that shouldn't. There was a commotion outside the shutter, and soon the mechanism started up again. How the hell? The sound of the shutter rising was capped off with a sharp gasp. Jack smiled again. Things were definitely looking good. All the trouble, time, effort, and money he'd spent over the years preparing. It was all finally paying off. The huge brick wall prop he'd bought years ago for this very purpose. He knew it'd work. At first look and touch, it may as well have been a real brick wall. Enough to keep anyone on the run looking for a quick place to hide moving elsewhere. At first touch, it wasn't so soft or rubbery that the illusion was shattered instantly, and most importantly of all, it was heavy. Not as heavy as a real brick wall of course, but Jack had rigged several chairs and 2x4's behind it, setting it all up in the narrow stairwell so the fake brick wall wouldn't so much as budge if anyone were to try to get through. As if they would. Suddenly, there was a tremendous bang, almost like a gunshot but not, that shook the stairs beneath Jack's feet. Soon after someone began kicking or punching at the faux-brick wall with tremendous force. Jack waited with bated breath, but the wall held. The illusion held. He then heard a woman sobbing uncontrollably then. This piqued Jack's interest. Finding a woman was all a part of the plan he'd laid out. He'd learned in life that a man was wise to take a woman when she presented herself to him. There were times in life when a woman's company could seem like the rarest treasure in all the world. This situation was no different. He'd need to develop some sort of party eventually. Strength in numbers, he knew that. But eventually, when things stabilized, when immediate danger subsided, he would make sure he was on his own again. Supplies would surely be scarce, and he would not be willing to share. Not with just anyone. He was not afraid of death. That wasn't why he went to such great lengths to insure his own safety. He'd done so in order to preserve his own legacy. He'd had a son a long time ago, but he'd died a long time ago as well. Jack wouldn't leave this earth without leaving behind offspring. A legacy. He'd need a woman to do so. He'd make sure there were enough supplies for himself and his mate, and their eventual child. But no more than that. And if the mate of his choosing refused to co-operate? He'd just have to take matters into his own hands. He was no rapist. He wasn't just out to get his rocks off. He was simply seeking to bring new life into this world.

"What do we do? What the HELL do we do?" said the first man. A pause.

"Here. Help me!" said the second man. The leader.

Suddenly, another great crash. Plaster, wood splintering. Glass breaking. By god, they were tipping over the shelves! All that wine. All that rum. Every kind of alcohol imaginable. Ruined. He looked through a grate into the room below, and saw the carnage. Three men, a well dressed middle-aged man, a large, black security guard, and a young, white cop did the same to the adjacent shelf. Bottles and bottles rained down and shattered. They'd wreck the entire room if he didn't stop them! He rushed down the steps and began to undo the 2x4's holding the chairs in place in front of the fake wall. He'd done a good job and was having trouble dislodging even the first board. Sweat began pouring down his face as he grew even more frantic. He heard another shelf hit the stone floor.

"Stop! STOP!" he shouted. No one seemed to hear.

He struggled with the 2x4 again, and finally managed to break it free. He moved the chair it was holding in place aside, and moved to the next board. Behind him, the grate he'd been peering through slammed inwards, and a moment later was sent flying into the stairwell. Someone was crawling through. The woman. She was through now, but in the dim light he didn't recognize her until she'd turned to face him. It was Cindy! Comely, sweet Cindy. He'd had his eye on her since the very first day she'd come into the bar looking for a job. He wasn't even hiring at the time, but he immediately gave her an application he'd had lying behind the counter. A week later, he fired the college kid he'd had waiting tables for simply confusing a medium-well steak order with a well. All so he could hire Cindy. He quite liked Cindy.

"Jack!" she yelled. She came racing down the stairs to him. Embraced him. Here was his chance. To hell with strength in numbers. Cindy was able. She was young. Together they could survive. Protect each other. Weather the storm. And then... Another crash broke Jack out of his revery.

"Cindy! W-we have to help your friends. Here! Help me move this out of the way."

She joined him in moving the fake wall aside. As soon as it was out of the way, Jack saw the kid, the cop, throwing an ignited Zippo lighter onto the pile of broken wood, glass, and leaking alcohol.


But he was too late. The pile ignited with a huge start, and the flames danced so high they licked the ceiling. Stepping into the room, he saw what they'd been running from. Saw the reason they'd built this makeshift bonfire. A horde had broken into the wine room. What looked like hundreds of them, with even more cramming themselves in by the moment. The three men turned to Jack in surprise, noticing the now unblocked stairwell behind him. All three made for the exit, the cop grabbing Jack who was still transfixed by the size of the mob advancing even through the flames, and on the flames themselves. Years of collecting, buying, searching. Up in flames. The supplies he'd hidden away in the walk- in humidor. All gone.

"C'mon, let's go!" said the cop. Goddamn him.

Jack followed him and the rest up the stairs and out onto the roof. They stepped over the young couple he'd dispatched of earlier. The couple that were both clearly infected. He could tell. The fear in their eyes. They knew. And they knew he knew. A helicopter flew over the rooftops to the east. Half a mile away. The cop noticed Jack's flare gun lying on the ground, and picked it up, shooting it into the air. Almost immediately, the helicopter started towards them. The large window behind them shattered, and smoke and flames flew into the night air. Everyone ducked and covered their heads until the flames slightly subsided.

"You goddamned idiot!" yelled Jack.

The cop stopped waving in the rapidly approaching chopper, and turned.

"Excuse me?" he said.

Jack advanced on him and grabbed him by the neck, intending to choke the dipshit to death.

"You ignite thousands and thousands of dollars of my goddamn property! You burn my bar to the goddamn ground! I'll kill you!"

"Jack! Jack, stop!" yelled Cindy.

Jack let go. The cop backed away quickly, holding his throat, unholstering his gun, a .45, and pointing it at Jack.

"You wanna shoot me? Go ahead, cop. Shoot the man whose building you just destroyed!"

The cop took more ragged breaths before lowering the gun. He looked up at the helicopter that was descending upon them. An R.P.D. Chopper. Great. More cops. The giant blaze coming out of the skylight prevented the chopper from landing, and whoever was inside opted to drop a rope ladder instead.

"Cindy! You're up first!" said the cop.

Cindy began to climb the unsteady ladder up to the helicopter some seven feet above. Jack said a silent prayer for her safety. He watched her behind wiggle as she made the ascent. A policeman was waiting for her at the top of the ladder and took her hand when she reached the top, safely helping her into the helicopter. Jack wondered if there was room for them all inside. The cop turned to him then.

"You next." said the cop flatly.

Jack made his way to the ladder, returning the cop's glare the entire time. He climbed the ladder evenly, taking his time. Slow and steady wins the race. The same officer grabbed his hand and helped him inside. He sat down directly next to Cindy, immediately putting an arm around her. With a clear view of down below, Jack watched the well-dressed man ascend the ladder next. He sat across from Jack and Cindy once he'd reached the top. On the roof, the cop was telling the black security guard to head up next. The black man seemed hesitant. Maybe uncertain of climbing the ladder due to his size. Saying something and waving him on, the cop placed a hand on the ladder, steadying it. Then, the roof caved in. The intense fire and heat doing it's damage and destroying the ceiling's support. Jack had seen it plenty of times as a firefighter. The black man fell quickly into the flames below. Straight down. One second he was there, and the next he was not. The cop managed to hold onto the ladder and then reached out with the other hand, to the black security guard. Even though he was gone. Engulfed in fire. Taken away by flame. Jack held back a smile. It was one less he'd have to eliminate in the end.

January 12, 2012 at 1:27 AM Flag Quote & Reply

Morning Son
Posts: 67



Jim opened his eyes, and saw the night sky. Stars were what he saw, but he'd sworn he'd heard something. In the state he was in, he could've just dreamt it. Something bright was in his periphery, and when he turned to look, he saw David's van on fire. Smoke drifting up to the sky.


What the hell had happened?


He remembered the van running off the road and through the trees. Remembered soaring through the air as the ground came closer and closer. Remembered waking up and seeing the dog standing over him. It tearing into him and pulling at his chest. Then how was he alive?

Jim reached up to his chest where the dog had torn into him, and felt the rip in his shirt. The breastpocket was gone, torn away by the dog along with the small packet of beef jerky he'd stored away inside of it. The wifebeater he wore underneath was undamaged, as was he. Somehow. First, he'd been thrown through the windshield of the van, and now this. He supposed all the shitty luck he'd had this past year had finally run out. He'd take hard times over being eaten by a rabid dog any time. The really odd thing was he didn't even feel banged up. He sat up and tried to workout a kink in his neck, only there was none. He felt as if he'd just woken up from a deep sleep, and couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this good. He thought about getting up but decided against it. He'd sit for a while and get his bearings.


Had David made it out of the car before it went up? He hoped so. The girl too. Michelle. The prostitute. He'd checked her into the motel at the beginning of the week, and based on her interaction with Mickey, she was a regular resident. She'd spent the first night up at Mickey's house. The next day, she'd propositioned Jim, and while it was tempting, he'd decided against it. On one hand, her spending the night with Mickey had proven to Jim that she wasn't a cop, but on the other hand, she'd fucked Mickey. Jim had never been one to judge women on past relations, but it was just too much for him. He could've used the lay too. He'd been so stressed out lately, mainly since his girl had left him. She was always too damn jealous and untrusting. He'd been unfaithful in the past, but had re-dedicated himself to her this time around. She wouldn't even tell him why she was leaving as she was packing her things. She was so clearly pissed, he knew there was no point in trying to get through to her. She seemed dangerous even. Whatever. She'd be back. He wasn't worried. He wasn't worried about David either, or Michelle. He knew that they'd gotten away safely. Were probably already in town at the hospital getting patched up. He heard something in the distance, coming closer. A steady rumble, and then he saw it. A helicopter. A spotlight shone down directly on him, like God's grace. Still seated, he raised one arm up and waved. But they already saw him. He figured David had called the police and told them what had happened while Michelle was being patched up at the hospital.




Jim heard it again, for sure this time.He looked around as the helicopter began to descend to the ground, but saw nothing. It sounded closer than before. And how had he heard it above the sound of the helicopter?




It was so clear and resonant that time, it awoke Jim from his revery, his eyes snapping open. Immediately, he felt the tremendous pain in his neck where the dog had torn out a chunk of him. Jim cried out in agony. He saw the van. Destroyed and in flames. Knew that David and Michelle had died either in the crash or in the inferno that followed. The helicopter had been real, but the spotlight that shone down on him moved away, and almost immediately, so did the helicopter itself. Jim tried to call out to it, but blood in his throat prevented him from doing so. He coughed,and the thick, dark substance immediately ruined his uniform.



The voice that had awoken him. An inhuman growl almost. As if the dog that had attacked him was speaking to him from it's fiery grave. But, soon, he saw the source of the voice. Stepping around the wreckage of the van, standing in front, silhouetted by the chaos, looking like the devil himself as it looked down on Jim. Jim immediately felt the hate as it's gaze fell upon him. The man was tall. Seven feet at least, clad in an enormous leather trenchcoat. Bald and missing an eye, but as the man grew closer, Jim saw that he was no man at all. Only a sick parody of what a human should look like. The skin on it's face was crudely stitched together, made from varying shades and colors. The mouth was full of large, false, white teeth. Every one straight and in place. Jim could tell because the thing had no lips. The thing's lone white, iris-less eye stared straight into Jim's, and Jim knew his bad luck had culminated. Mercifully, this thing had been sent. An agent of death to put Jim out of his misery. Only as the thing grew closer and bore down on Jim, he knew for certain that this thing was no agent of mercy, but an agent of evil. Maybe even evil incarnate. Truly, the devil come to earth.


“Stars.” the thing said again as it reached down, a lone, spiked tentacle slithering out from the sleeve of the trenchcoat.


One large, gloved hand grabbed hold of Jim's head, covering his face entirely, cutting off all oxygen immediately. Jim was unable to scream between the blood in his throat and the lack of air, but inside, he was hysterically screaming. Cursing. Crying. Calling out for anyone or anything to help him. But even if someone were to come, they couldn't save him or themselves from this thing. The devil would lay waste to all men. All cities. Only God could save them now. There was no God. There was a quick,sharp pain in Jim's forehead, then nothing.

January 12, 2012 at 11:34 PM Flag Quote & Reply

Posts: 222

Enter the Nemesis! You wouldn't believe how many nights I've woken from nightmares because of that huge bastard. Still, he's my favourite RE monster. Staaaars ...
Poor Jim. But at least it was over quick. And I'm really looking forward to what you have in stall for Jack. I'm hoping for something nasty happening to him ...
Again, another tremendously good read. Keep it up!


When you're good at something, never do it for free ...

January 15, 2012 at 8:15 AM Flag Quote & Reply

Morning Son
Posts: 67

Thanks again for the kind words! The next chapter will be up later tonight.

January 20, 2012 at 5:05 PM Flag Quote & Reply

Morning Son
Posts: 67

Rain pounded the metal roof of the unmarked Cadillac and made it impossible to see out of the vehicle's wide windows. David sat slumped in the driver's seat, wearing a soaked, black leather jacket and dark shades irregardless of the weather outside. In the passenger seat, his brother, Eliot, stared out into the white abyss, silently mulling over what David had just told him. Impatiently, David awaited his mentally handicapped brother's response. Somewhere nearby, a car horn blew. One short, followed by a long one, soon joined by another in a long chorus of unpleasant noise. Thunder sounded overhead, and then it was quiet. David looked over to Eliot who was still staring out the window.


“'re leaving?” asked Eliot.


David leaned back in his seat and exhaled.


“Eliot...what did I just tell you?”He said, his irritation getting in the way of his ability to make words.


His brother's mental handicap had always proven to be an annoyance to David, even when they were kids.All the way through high school too, and even now, well into their adult lives. He tried his best to be tolerant of his brother, but at times his temper got the best of him. Now was certainly proving to be one of those times.


“Yeah, I'm leaving. I'm headed out of town tomorrow morning, and I'm going far away. Far, far away.” David looked back to Eliot as he said this, only to find the man still looking blankly out of the window into the rain.


Grinding his teeth, David forced himself to hold his tongue and calm himself. After all, this would be the last time he'd see his brother for...well, a while. He looked from Eliot and turned instead to look out into the rain himself. Several minutes passed, and they sat in mutual silence.


“So, it's the gangsters?” said Eliot.


Shocked, David sat up in his seat and turned his whole body in his seat toward his brother.


“Jesus, Eliot! No! No, it's-”


Eliot finally turned to look at him then. David looked around, only to find he could still not see through the downpour outside. Thinking it safe, he took off the darkshades and faced his brother.


“Yeah. Yeah, it is. How'd you know?” asked David.


“I know. I know.” replied Eliot.




“I always weren't like them. You couldn't do the things they do.”


David didn't know if that was true or not.


“Eliot, look...some bad guys are after me, and-”


Images of the house blown to pieces the morning before flashed in David's mind. Julie inside, and the money. And the baby. David swallowed a lump in his throat.


“Me and Julie are getting out oftown. I can't tell you where. I don't want anybody bugging you about where we are okay?”


Eliot nodded in agreement.


“And I'll get Uncle Jimmy to check in on you once a week just like I used to, okay?”


Eliot nodded again, then, reached over and put a hand on David's shoulder.


“I love you, David.”




Somewhere nearby, a car backfired.


David's eyes snapped open. He'd sat down to rest and had apparently passed out, but for how long he wasn't sure. He felt like shit. Even worse than before, like he was coming down with the flu on top of the bruised (cracked) ribs. He tried to get to his feet, got to a squatting position, and then sank back to his knees, groaning in pain. Searing pain in his midsection, as if something were growing outwards from within him. His ribs were cracked for sure. He sat in the fetal position, the night throbbing around him. Wind blowing through the trees. Crickets chirping reminded him of summer nights in the old house with Julie.


David began sobbing. An endless stream of tears ran down his face as he bawled loudly, not caring who or what heard him. He cried long and hard until he was out of breath. He stopped for a moment, but immediately started crying again harder than ever. Several minutes passed by as David thought of Julie, then Michelle, then Jim. They were all dead, and their blood was on his hands. He stopped crying then. He didn't deserve to cry.


As he began to regain his composure, he noticed the crickets had stopped chirping. The night was completely silent save for the wind, but that too soon ceased. Dead leaves, sticks cracking up on the hill he'd just come from. Heavy footsteps. Someone was coming. Panic coursed through David's veins. Someone, anyone, was exactly what he needed at the moment, but for some reason, overwhelming dread filled David as the person's heavy, plodding footsteps grew nearer. Looking around frantically, he searched for a place to hide.

January 21, 2012 at 2:42 AM Flag Quote & Reply

Posts: 222

Oh come on, you can't stop there! Hell, you're a torturer!


When you're good at something, never do it for free ...

January 21, 2012 at 2:30 PM Flag Quote & Reply

Morning Son
Posts: 67


January 21, 2012 at 2:55 PM Flag Quote & Reply

Morning Son
Posts: 67

Mark shook Bob, but he remained still, pale, and white.

“Oh, God. Is he dead?” asked Cindy creeping up behind them. Kevin knelt down and checked his pulse. Still ticking.

“No. Not yet anyway. We gotta get him up and outta here though, or he won't last much longer.”

“And then what?!” inquired George shuffling over from his corner of the room. “Let him bleed out on the roof in the fresh air instead of this musty old hellhole? That's all the good you're doing him. He can't even stand on his own!”

“WE'LL CARRY HIM GODDAMMIT!” Mark burst out suddenly. “We'll carry him as far as it takes. Until we find help because he's my friend.”

The large security guards eyes began welling up with tears.

“Shit.” he said trying to blink them away. “He's my friend.”

Cindy put her hand on Mark's shoulder, consoling him as Kevin guided George lightly by the arm away from them.

“Listen to me.” Kevin said lightly. “You've gotta take it easy. That's his friend over there dying. He don't mean nothing to me or you. I see people get killed all the time. I've seen friends get shot and killed. I'm sure you see people die all the time too in your line of work, but you've gotta realize that's his friend. We can't give up on him. We've gotta stick it out for him.”

Kevin noticed that George was looking through him to Mark, Cindy, and Bob behind him.

“Hey,” he said getting the man's attention again. “I'm no doctor, but he doesn't look too good. I don't see him lasting much longer.”

“That's what I'm afraid of.” said George. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Kevin nodded and looked around at the wine bottles lining the walls.

“Look, you wanna help?” asked Kevin noticing the doctor's eyes trained on the group across the room again. “Look at me. You wanna help? Go grab the key to the shutter and get it open. Me and Mark will try to get Bob to his feet. Okay?”

George nodded dumbly.

“Hey, we're gonna be fine, alright?”

Another dumb nod. Kevin nodded back before making his way over to the others.

“He's gonna get that shutter open, so we can get outta here. Is he still out?”

“Not quite.”Mark said. “He was mumbling something in his sleep just now. It was the same thing over and over. I can't make it out.”

The three of them listened intently, staring at the unconscious security guard as they did so. All three of them jumped a bit when his eyes opened.

“Bob! Bob, you're awake!” said Mark excitedly. The balding man only looked at them blankly. “Bob? You okay, man? We're gonna get ya outta here. Don't worry.”

Bob made a pained expression then before letting out a low whine. He then began gesturing nonsensically with his hands before mumbling incoherently.

“Bob, I'm not getting it, man. You've gotta speak up.”

Bob mumbled the same thing again, louder this time, but they were still unable to make it out. Bob pushed away from Mark and with a pained expression sat up against the large shelf behind him. He mumbled again, this time with a more agitated tone. The three of them watched him silently, not wanting to irritate him more. Bob watched them, and they watched Bob. All was quiet before they heard the cock of the gun.

“Cindy, step aside.” said George coldly. They all turned to see George pointing the pistol squarely at Bob. Where the hell had he gotten it?

“Hey, George, c'mon. We don't need to do that.” said Kevin trying to sound calm.

“Cindy, I strongly recommend that you move.” said George even more stoically than before.

Hearing the eerie inflection in his voice, Cindy stood up and quickly moved away. George kept the pistol and his eyes trained on Bob. Mark could only watch helplessly as the scene unfolded.

“George, don't do this.” said Kevin trying to diffuse the situation again. George pulled the trigger.

March 23, 2012 at 11:02 PM Flag Quote & Reply

Morning Son
Posts: 67

Jack noticed the cop watching the doctor the entire helicopter ride. It was impossible not to feel the tension, even with the chopper's deafening blades and the roller coaster like trajectory of their journey. Something bad was brewing. Jack loved it.

The helicopter descended on the landing pad on the roof of the Raccoon Police Department. The landing was shaky and sent a jolt through all of the passengers, but at least they were safe now. Kevin turned the safety lever and slid the large door on the side of the chopper open. He nodded to Cindy and Jack,and they rose and made their way out. His eyes settled on George. He slid the door shut and pounced on the doctor. He jammed his thumbs into the man's eyes. Felt the warm liquid seep out. Reveled in the screams and the begging. Drank it in like it was whiskey. Or vodka.


“Hey, Ryman.”


Roberts, the helicopter pilot, was standing outside the open door of the chopper. Everyone else had already gotten off.


“You okay?”


“Yeah yeah.” said Kevin as he came back to the real world.


“Let's get downstairs. I'm sure they'll be happy to see you.”


He stepped out of the helicopter and looked to the other survivors. Jack had his arm around Cindy and was consoling her. George walked a good distance behind sullenly.


“Hey!” Kevin shouted to the doctor.


George stopped and turned to look at him as he approached.


“Where you goin'? You're under arrest, asshole.” said Kevin as he grabbed the doctor's wrist and attempted to apply as pair of handcuffs.


The doctor yanked his wrist away.


“For what?” he asked.


“For what? For murder, you piece of shit!”


Kevin grabbed the man's wrist again and the two began struggling for leverage. Soon, the two were wrestling on the ground. A group of officers had just arrived on the roof to greet the group and quickly made their way over to the scuffling men.


“Ryman! Ryman!” exclaimed a tall,black, middle-aged officer. “What the hell?! Get off, goddammit!”


The officers separated the two men.Kevin struggled against the two men restraining him.


“This shithead's resisting arrest,Marvin!”


“He is, is he? Is this true Dr.Hamilton?”


George brushed himself off.


“No sir, Lieutenant Branagh.”


“There you have it, Ryman.” said Marvin.




“Rodriguez, Nelson, escort Dr.Hamilton downstairs and make him comfortable. Get him anything he needs.”


The two officers nodded and led the way for George. George nodded to Marvin, then Kevin.


“Thank you, gentlemen.”


“Wait! Wait a second!” Kevin called after them.


They descended down the steps and outof sight. Marvin made his way over to Kevin and gave the order for him to be released.


“What the hell are you thinking,Ryman?! Do you know who the hell that is?!” he asked.


“A murderer! That's who he is! I saw it! Killed a man, shot him!”


“Oh, really? Well, if you hadn't noticed, everybody's killing everybody! And if there was one person in this city that could literally get away with murder, it's him!”


“What? Who the hell is this guy?”


“George Hamilton? Dr. George Hamilton?”


“Like I hadn't guessed he was a doctor. He only wears a stethoscope all around town. Doesn't even take it off to take a piss!”


One of the big men that had been holding Kevin started to laugh.


“Shut up!” said Marvin. “Both of you! Dr. George Hamilton has done more for this city than either of you assholes ever will!”


“Marvin, gimme a break. The guy's what? A gynecologist? He feel's up soccer mom tits for lumps daily,while I'm out here getting shot at?”


“I'm talking money, Ryman! Yeah, he's as worthless as any other doctor, but for Raccoon, he's a goddamn cash cow. Born and raised in Raccoon. Studied at the university. Went off to work at Umbrella, and was there when they went public. Story is, he was the one that was responsible for them setting up shop here. Umbrella AND all of their money. Get it now? As far as HQ i sconcerned, the man's royalty. Umbrella's been more than generous to the R.P.D. over the years. I know you may be pretty new in town, but I sure as hell thought you were smarter than that.”


“Look, why are we up here discussing finances when there's a citywide epidemic?!”


“The riots?”


“Yeah, there's more than rioting going on.”


“It's being handled. Our best officers are out there taking care of it. It's well in hand.”


Kevin looked at Marvin in disgust and shook his head.


“What? You wanna tell me how to do my job now?” asked Marvin. “I've got thirty years on this job, kid. I've handled riots before, I can do it again.”


Kevin was so baffled by this entire night all he could do was exhale. Marvin's face lit up then and he looked Kevin in the eye. Kevin knew the look.


“Ryman, I need to talk to you about something in private.”


“Yes, sir.”


He followed Marvin inside and down a dim, musty hallway. Marvin opened a fancily decorated door at the end and stepped inside. Kevin entered the dusty spareroom. A gas lantern burned in the corner illuminating the various paintings, vases, and gaudy statues that had been left over by the curator of this former museum. As Marvin took his time in addressing him for dramatic effect, Kevin admired the stained glass skylight overhead. A museum turned police station. Who the hell could dream of such a thing?


“Was that alcohol I smelled on your breath, Ryman?” asked Marvin.


Marvin had been instrumental in getting Kevin a second chance after he'd fucked up on the job because of the sauce countless times. The department had been looking to cut their losses and get rid of him, and Kevin didn't blame them, but Marvin had gone to bat for him, and had even gotten the department to pay for his stay in a rehabilitation treatment. He wasn't supposed to find out.


“No, sir.”




“Yes, sir.”


Marvin turned to face him and shook his head. The look of disappointment on his face hurt more than anything.


“Marvin...would you have known it? Is it showing on the j-”


“Ah! Ryman, I don't wanna hear it! After I put my ass on the line for you, this is how you repay me?!”


Kevin stared down at his shoes.


Marvin's radio buzzed to life.


“Come in, lieutenant!”


“I thought the phones were down?”asked Kevin.


“But the radios still work, asshole.Are you stupid or is that just the alcohol impairing your brain?”


Marvin spoke into the radio.


“Go for Lieutenant Branagh.”


“Lieutenant, we've got considerable rioting and damage down in front of the Apple Inn. The numbers are starting to become overwhelming. Requesting backup.”


“You got it. It's on the way.”


“Also, lieutenant, that reporter bitch is down here getting in the way. Keeps trying to ask us questions.”


Marvin looked over to Kevin who could only shrug.


“Really? Well, tell her I said to stay the hell out of the way.”


“Yes, sir. Err, double time on that backup, lieutenant. Things are...things are getting hairy down here.”


Considerable commotion could be heard over the tiny radio speaker.


“Dispatching now. Over.”


Marvin exhaled and looked at Kevin.


“I'll deal with you later.”


“Right. Let's move.” said Kevin.




“The Apple Inn? Let's get down there.”


Marvin began to laugh.


“I'm not going anywhere. I've gotta stay here and make sure nobody accidentally shoots themselves. You're not going anywhere either. I know you're eager to go play tough guy cop for your little reporter girlfriend, but you're not going out on the field after you've been drinking.”


“Marvin, I'm not drunk! I had a few drinks, but that was hours ago!”


“Wanna try a breathalyzer? Stay here. Sober up. Jackass.”


Marvin exited and slammed the door behind him. Kevin started to follow behind him, but decided against it. It was hopeless.



March 24, 2012 at 12:40 AM Flag Quote & Reply

Posts: 222

Finally you're back! Thought I'll never find out what'll happen next. Thanks for updating, my friend, Again, this was an amazing read!


When you're good at something, never do it for free ...

March 24, 2012 at 3:09 AM Flag Quote & Reply

Morning Son
Posts: 67

Thanks for your comments! Sorry I've been away for so long. Been really overwhelmed with school and personal stuff, but things are definitely looking up for the moment, so I should be updating regularly again.

Thanks again for reading! 

March 24, 2012 at 3:36 PM Flag Quote & Reply

George Trevor
Site Owner
Posts: 1124

Morning Son at March 24, 2012 at 3:36 PM

Thanks for your comments! Sorry I've been away for so long. Been really overwhelmed with school and personal stuff, but things are definitely looking up for the moment, so I should be updating regularly again.

Thanks again for reading! 

I knew you hadn't strayed too far Morning're loyalty & support here, together with your contributions to the Forum {particularily your first class fan-fiction} is a highlight of the site.

As one of are longest serving residents, I know you'll pass through here when you have the time.....I know how distracting the world outside of RE can be !

I myself have found it quite difficult to spend the time here I need to of late.....but that will change soon with the advent of more rare media coming in the summer.

Cheers as always Morning Son.


Jessica... Lisa... Forgive me. May god justify my death in exchange for your safety.

March 29, 2012 at 10:30 AM Flag Quote & Reply

Morning Son
Posts: 67

Back at ya, George. Can't wait for the new content this summer!

March 29, 2012 at 1:36 PM Flag Quote & Reply

Morning Son
Posts: 67

David clanked the metal knocker against the door, taking the time to look around the lonesome deserted backstreet. The lamp that illuminated this particular stoop had a crack in the bulb cover, and bugs flew in and out while the carcasses of their fallen comrades could be seen within. David placed the half-burnt cigarette in his mouth and knocked again, but heard no movement within the dark house. Looking around again, anxious, he noticed mail littering the stoop adjacent to the one he was standing on. The mailbox had overflowed and vomited the excess mail to the green welcome mat below. He'd noticed an old woman, ancient, peeking out of the storm door at him on his prior trips here. Her prospects weren't looking good at the moment. He wondered why nobody else had suspected the worst with at least a weeks worth of postage neglected in the mailbox. Maybe she was on vacation?


Cigarette smoke engulfed his head andstung his eyes (in a good way) as he reached to use the old cheesy door knocker again. Before he could, the heavy, paint chipped door swung open, revealing the sleepy eyed, clearly irritated, yet still beautiful creature behind it. David met her unamused gaze with one of indifference, picked up the leather satchel at his feet, and pushed by her into the house. The trail of cigarette smoke followed him into the small kitchen.


“Excuse me!” called Julie behind him. “Well, just come on in! Make yourself comfortable!”


David placed the satchel on the table,and moved over to the cabinet above the sink. He noticed a watercolor painting hanging above the sink she'd done of a sinking ship in stormy waters. Fitting. He began rummaging through the cabinet, noisily placing ceramic plates and bowls on the counter.


“Hey! What is your problem?! Do I come to your house and just throw your shit around?!” Julie pulled on David's shoulder, but he continued digging through the cabinet,eventually pulling down a small, clear vase. He filled it halfway at the sink, and took it over to the table and set it down. Noticing a dangling mass of ash was all that remained of his cigarette, David walked back to the sink and dropped it in. Walking back to the table, he unzipped the leather satchel, and withdrew a bouquet of lilacs and set them down into the vase.


“Aw, my favorite.” said Julie unaffected. “That is sweet, David, but did you have to wake me up at four in the fucking morning for this?!”


David stood watching her patiently. Admiring the view, although to most people, this screeching hellcat in a robe and no makeup wasn't all that much of a sight to see.


“David, look, I don't know how many times we've been through this, and I hate to sound cold, but nothing is EVER going to happen between us. Okay? Are you hearing me?”


David closed his eyes and cleared his throat before taking the unzipped satchel and turning it upside down, dumping out 80 bunches of rolled 100's. Not all his of course, but the boys had agreed to let him borrow the entire pot for dramatic effect. Noticing the vase threateningly close to tumbling off the table on account of the avalanche of green, he lifted it up above the table until the rolled bills had all settled onto the table and floor below. He set the vase back down, and looked at Julie, whose eyes were wide and mouth agape, totally awake now, as she attempted to comprehend that her life had just changed. She finally met David's eyes and a small grin crossed her lips.


They moved to the bedroom and made love. Passionately the first time, slowly the second time, and with varying degrees of force the following times, David taking liberties at times, unloading the frustration he'd felt over this woman over the years. All the times he'd fantasized about doing this to her, and here he was, finally. In between their lovemaking, they would talk about their prospective futures together, mostly Julie talking while David listened. That pattern carried on until 10 the following morning, when they finally drifted off into sleep wrapped up in eachother.


Months later, long after the old lady next door had been carried off, after the crack in the lamp finally grew and burst, and long after the effect of money had worn off, they'd become genuinely in love with the other, and now they argued often. She worried more about David than she did about the money, and one night after a particularly close call with a bullet grazing off the very top portion of David's ear, Julie declared she wanted him out of the life. This was the first time of many in which David would agree just to appease her, but knew deep down nothing would change. Maybe they both knew it. As time wore on, the arguments became more intense.


“You know what I realized today? That no matter how hard I try, or how much I don't give a shit, nothing really seems to change one way or the other. I can't even hold down a job in a goddamn shoe store, Julie!”


“Because you were an hour late three days in a row! I would've fired you if I were them! And you were late because you were out all night pretending you're a fucking mobster!”


Eventually, David made an attempt to work less jobs with the boys, mainly because she always seemed to find out, and focus on finding and keeping a steady day job. He wasn't sure if she meant it when she threatened leaving him, but he only needed to hear it once for it to stick. At this point, he couldn't imagine life without her, even loathed the rare weekend when she left to see her mother in Jersey City. He tried a little harder each day, and started to try even harder when she got pregnant. It wasn't planned, but what ever is?


She was finally beginning to show the night, Sean and Tommy had called him about a big score. One last job, to pad them out nice and good. Maybe even enough for him to quit his shitty job at D'Angelo's Pizza, and just pretend to go to work during the day. Either way, he'd never find out, as that was the one time they apparently stole from the wrong people. Sean and Tommy were dead by 6 that morning, both shot dead along with their families in bed, and David and Julie's house was blown sky high by noon. Not really fair considering it wasn't even David's name on the lease, and even less fair considering Julie had never committed a crime in her life, let alone the baby inside her. The cheesy, antique door knocker had landed right next to David's head on the sidewalk as other debris rained down upon and around him. Heavier than it looked, if it landed a little closer, it may have just taken David out of his misery, and most days he wish it had.


In the movies or TV, he would've gone into hiding, gotten his bearings, scraped together a few contacts, gotten stocked up, loaded to the teeth with weaponry, and go after the goons that killed his friends, girlfriend, and unborn baby, but this wasn't the movies. Or TV. Instead, he'd gotten the hell out of town, leaving behind his handicapped brother to possibly be capped just for knowing him. Luckily, the goons hadn't been that lowdown, or they just didn't know he had a brother, but he was left alone. Still, David had practically left him to the wolves all to save his own ass. It haunted him daily, as did Julie, as did Sean and Tommy, as did the baby he never even got to see via sonogram, but the one thing that haunted him far and above all else was that bright light that hot morning when the house went up. He saw the light before he even had time to register what had happened, was blinded by it. It was like the sun itself had exploded, and as far as he knew at that moment, it had. More often than not, he was awoken at least once a night, remembering the bright, blinding light that ruined his life forever.


So bright.


The morning light had become pre-afternoon light, and the hollow tree that David had sought refuge in could no longer protect his closed lids from the brightness outside. He opened his eyes and looked straight out into green and brown forestry ahead. He made a mental self-inventory, slightly moving his extremities to ensure nothing was broken. He wasn't sure how much of what he remembered from the night before had actually happened, and for the moment, wasn't exactly sure why he'd decided to spend the night in a hollow tree in the forest, but he thought nothing of it. His arms, legs, and neck were fine, if not a tad stiff, but sleeping in a tree would do that. He moved to shimmy forward out of the makeshift shelter, and the pain in his ribs returned from the night before, along with all of the memories as well. The job, Mickey, Michelle, Jim, the kid in the road, the van, the dog.


The Devil.


David sat back against the tree behind him as a chill ran through him, partly from the pain of his cracked ribs, but mostly from the thought of what he'd seen the night before. The reason he'd hid inside of this tree and had stayed there.He knew he hadn't actually seen The Devil the night before, but that was the first thing that came to mind involuntarily, as if the thought hadn't actually been his own. Whatever (“Whoever” he mentally corrected himself) he saw, he'd only caught a glimpse of from his hiding spot. Just the leg, the foot actually, as the leg was concealed under a long, leather trenchcoat, but the foot alone was all he needed to see. He'd heard it before he'd seen it. Large, plodding, and somehow, foreboding, like the oncoming footsteps of the executioner as you're strapped in the guillotine. Or like The Devil's footsteps. Either way, it wasn't just the fact that this person was big, but the feeling that ran through David as he heard it approaching. He may have even felt it before he could hear the footsteps, but he wasn't sure. David had been in some sticky situations in his past life, and he'd never turned tail and run before. Until last night. Christ.


David took a deep breath and clenched his teeth, fighting through the pain until he was out in the sun, breeze, and fresh air. He lay on his back, attempting to find a position that didn't send a searing pain through his mid-section, but he couldn't. The thought crossed his mind that whatever (whoever) he'd seen the night before was still out here looking for him, but he knew he was safe. He wasn't sure how, but he knew. The sun was out, the birds were singing, and the breeze made the day pleasant instead of uncomfortably warm. Too nice of a day for The Devil to take a stroll in.


Sitting up brought tears to David's eyes, but he managed, then actually managed to stand. He felt horrible, but he knew he wasn't far from the city. He started to walk in the direction he'd been headed in the night before, towards the city in the trail of The Devil.

April 7, 2012 at 12:13 AM Flag Quote & Reply

Morning Son
Posts: 67

Sorry for the formatting issues. :(

April 7, 2012 at 12:27 AM Flag Quote & Reply

Posts: 222

More! MORE!!! MOOOOORE!!!!!

And don't worry about the format. There are a few words without a space between them which made reading a bit difficult (especially since English is not my native language) but if I find the time this weekend I'll fix that.

Hm, I still haven't played Outbreak yet but at this point I believe I'd be disappointed if the characters in the game are not portrayed as detailed and alive as in your story.


When you're good at something, never do it for free ...

April 7, 2012 at 2:07 AM Flag Quote & Reply

Morning Son
Posts: 67

I noticed the format was screwed up when I posted it, so I went back and edited it, but by the time I was done, the 10 minute window had expired. If you could do something about it at some point, you'd become my German best friend.

Speaking of, if you wouldn't have said something yourself, I never would have guessed English wasn't your native language. You don't even make the tiny mistakes that usually give away a foreign language speaker.

April 7, 2012 at 11:37 AM Flag Quote & Reply

Posts: 222

I'm on it right now. Let's see what I can do ...

Then you haven't read much from me yet. And you should hear me talk. Not good, I can assure you. But thanks anyway for that compliment. :-)


When you're good at something, never do it for free ...

April 8, 2012 at 8:13 AM Flag Quote & Reply

Morning Son
Posts: 67

Thanks for the corrections! It's really irritating to sort out,and I'm not quite sure why it does that.

And I'm sure you're just being modest. English is pretty tough to figure out, and even native speakers never quite get the hang of it.

April 8, 2012 at 11:14 AM Flag Quote & Reply

Morning Son
Posts: 67

“Congratulations! We're gonna miss you around here.”

“Thanks! You too. Well, it's not like I'm really going anywhere.” Kevin stared back at his red-eyed, unshaven reflection and pretended not to listen to the conversation behind him.

Barely making it to the station on time, he hadn't had time to shower, and he could smell the alcohol seeping through his pores. It was never a good sign when you were well-aware of your own body odor. Anybody would be able to tell what he'd been up to the night before with one look at him (or one whiff of him), but being hungover wasn't a crime. He had shown up on time after all, just not much more than that. He fumbled around with the things in his locker, trying to look busy until the room cleared and he could have a moment to himself. He kept a flask of Jameson's well-concealed on the top shelf wrapped up in a few pair of (clean) Hane's briefs still in their package, and he could definitely go for a little hair of the dog. Hearing the congratulatory cop behind him say his goodbyes and wander off, Kevin looked into the mirror in his locker door to see if he was finally alone in the room. He managed to catch the tail end of the watchful eye the woman behind had been giving him. Now she readjusted the weight of the box she was holding, containing the contents of her now empty locker, and looked around the otherwise vacant locker room, as if searching for something she may have been forgetting, though there was clearly nothing. “Do I be an asshole, or do I act gracious in defeat for once?” thought Kevin.


“Hey, Jill.” Kevin dropped his keys into his locker and turned to face the petite brunette. “Today's the day, huh?” Jill seemed surprised he'd spoken at first.

“Yeah. Today's the day. Just taking one last good look around before I head upstairs.” “Yeah. We're gonna miss you down here.”

“Well, I'm not really going anywhere. Just a few flight of stairs away.” Was she just reciting rehearsed lines, or did she really believe she was still going to be one of them after today? It was hard to tell. “Yeah. Yeah.” Kevin tried to think of something else to say, and his eyes fell onto the box in her arms overflowing with all kinds of things. “Got enough junk in there, Valentine?” Jill laughed a little, politely.

“I know, right? Luckily, I've got a whole desk to keep this stuff in now.” A subtle dig? He didn't think so. Just what happened sometimes in the interactions between the royalty and the peasants. Still...

“Well, ain't you fancy now?”

“No. I'm still a slob. My desk will probably be just as messy as my locker was.” It was Kevin's turn to chuckle politely now. Well, this was going nowhere. Better do something.

“Jill, I just wanted to's been-” “Jill! Jill, you about ready?” The muscle-bound goon that was Chris Redfield rounded the corner into the locker room, and saw the two standing there.

“Hey, what's up, man?” Chris addressed Kevin.


“You got everything together?” He spoke to Jill.

“I think so. Just saying goodbye to everyone.”

“Well, they're waiting on ya upstairs.”

“Oh, I'm sorry. I'm ready then.”

“Here, let me help you.” Chris stepped into the room and took the box Jill had been struggling to hold with ease and stepped back out of the room without another word, disappearing into sunny lobby beyond.

“Bye. I'll see you around.” Jill followed Chris out into the lobby.

“Yeah, see ya.” said Kevin. When she'd gotten a good distance away from the room, Kevin fell back against his locker and exhaled. He took the flask down from the top shelf and drank from it, no longer caring who was around. Swallowing a long gulp, he twisted the cap back on and closed the locker. When he did he was met face-to-face with a dumb grin.

“Shit! Why do you always sneak up like that?”

“Hey, man. It's cool. Be cool.” The red headed man spoke with a thick, Southern accent and set down a box of his own belongings. He settled his fingers but not his thumbs down into the pockets of his jeans, like a cowboy might. Forest Speyer was on his way upstairs as well.

“What?” Kevin finally asked as Forest continued watching him.

“Well?” Forest asked with a sly grin.

“Well, what?”

“Well, did ya?” Kevin scratched his dry scalp irritably.

“Could you be a little more specific?”

“Valentine, man.”

“Shut up.” Forest began guffawing and leaned up against the locker for support.

“C'mon, man. Don't be like that.”

“Like you didn't see what just happened?”

“No, man, I musta missed it.” Kevin narrowed his eyes and shook his head.

“Aw, c'mon, I'm just messing with ya. Yeah, I heard it. Wasn't much to hear I must say.”

“Yeah, well, it would've turned out different if meathead wouldn't have turned up.”

“Ol' Redfield? C'mon, now, don't be like that. Ol' Redfield's alright.”

“He's a dick.” Forest began guffawing again, this time using Kevin for support, as if he was on the verge of collapse.

“Look, man, you didn't answer my question. So...did ya?” Kevin spread his arms out and shrugged.

“Did I what?” “Seriously now. You gonna make me say it? You know she's about. I don't care, man, I'll go ask her then.”

“Are you asking me if Jill Valentine and myself... Fucked.”

“Made love. I was gonna say made love. Whatever, man. Did ya, or didn't ya?” Kevin opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. Forest started to laugh again.

“Man, say no more. At ease, soldier. Can't say you didn't try.”

“What? I didn't even tell you yet.”

“Yeah, you didn't have to. At any rate, you know the bet, you know the wager, so let's see some of that green stuff, and I ain't talkin' moss, brother.”

“'re a shitty friend, you know that. Kicking a man while he's down.” Forest guffawed yet again. “Here I am, hungover, heartbroken, and now you're taking money from me.”

“Heartbroken?! Hang on, now. Heartbroken? The bet was to fuck her before she joined S.T.A.R.S., not to marry her, buddy. Now hand over the scratch, me and President Jackson got to get reacquainted.” “You're gonna have to settle for four Lincolns.”

“Shit, that's alright by me.” “Look, I don't know. I don't need some stupid bet to wanna fuck her. She's got a name straight out of a porno for Christ's sakes. We just really...connected this past year.” “Oh, please!” bellowed Forest as he took the money from Kevin.

“Yeah! We connected. In fact, if we hadn't connected, I would've closed the deal a loooong time ago. Way before your stupid bet.”

“So that's why you couldn't seal the deal? You didn't wanna ruin your chance at true love?”

“...yeah.” Forest began laughing yet again. He was going to have an aneurism at this rate. “Shut up. You've got your money. Leave me the hell alone. Go buy a Skynyrd record.”

“I've already got 'em all.”

“Yeah, I bet.”

“Kevin, it's okay. You don't have to have sex with every woman that works here.” said a female voice behind them. Jan, a heavy set, middle-aged cop approached them from the back of the room. Apparently, she'd been there all along.

“Who says I have to have sex with every woman that works here?”

“Well, everybody. You've got quite the reputation around the station.”

“Oh, yeah. What are they saying?” asked Kevin, interested now.

“That you're a whore.” Forest erupted in laughter. If the previous outbursts were just tremors, this was a full blown earthquake.

“Shut up! I'm a whore? Gimme a break. I've slept with like, what, two women that have ever worked here?”

“What about that receptionist a few months back?"

“What about her? Nothing happened.”

“I walked in on you two screwing in the dark room on Christmas Eve. It was hard to look her in the face after that.”

“It was hard for me to look her in the face before that.” said Forest. “Why do you think we were doing it in the dark room?”

“She quit because you stopped calling her. She was good too. A lot more reliable than the old bag out there now. I'm surprised you haven't tried to screw her yet.”

“What? She's like 80.”

“Yeah. Who says thats stopping you?” Jan and Forest both guffawed at that one, high fiving one another.

“Okay! Okay! Y'know what? I really don't need this shit. I'm hungover as I'm sure you can see.”

“And smell.” “And smell. I just lost my last twenty bucks, and my daily eye candy is gone, never to return.”

“C'mon, Kevin, don't feel too bad.” A new voice, a man's. “Everybody knows Jill's banging Redfield. You never had a chance.” Work boots approached them from the back where Jan had been, and Dean rounded the corner to join them. Kevin craned his neck around the corner to see if anyone else was back there.

“Is there a hidden trap door in here somewhere that I don't know about?”

“Look, man, if it's any consolation, I came on to her months ago, and she flatout denied me. She only likes those muscle heads like Redfield. She's a total size queen.”

“So because she turned you down, no one else could possibly stand a chance, huh?” asked Forest.

“Hey, I'm not a bad looking guy. I do alright for myself. I'm just telling you what I know. Redfield's banging Jill. Hard.”

“Okay, can you stop saying that?” said Kevin.

“Fine. But why else do you think she got promoted to S.T.A.R.S., and we're still helping old ladies cross the street? I had to help the new receptionist on the way into work today.”

“Look, I could be in S.T.A.R.S. If I really wanted to, and Forest, if you say something about me screwing Chris Redfield, I swear to God...”

“You really think you're S.T.A.R.S. Material, Kevin?” asked Jan.

“S.T.A.R.S. Material? Please. Glorified goddamn detectives. I've done my time on the street. I know what's what. I'm missing, what, a few dozen hours of some rinky dink university courses? No thanks.”

“Yeah, well...I've got it on good authority that Jill lets Redfield stick it in the backdoor.” said Dean. Kevin exhaled and immediately threw open his locker, removing the flask.

“See this? This is my only friend in this goddamn station.” “What the hell is this?! This isn't a social gathering people!” Marvin. Kevin quickly stuffed the flask behind the pack of Hane's and slammed the locker shut. Forest picked up his box of clutter and exited the room. Marvin rounded the corner.

“Ryman!” He gave Kevin the once over. “Hell. You look like shit, son.” Jan and Dean dispersed as well.

“Yeah, well...” Marvin evidently caught a whiff of Kevin. “Take a shower before you hit the streets, will ya?” Marvin made his way out of the locker room. Kevin was relieved to be alone at last, and just before he turned to open his locker, Forest walked by the open locker room door holding his box of junk in one hand, and waving the four green bills in the other. Grinning widely all the while. Kevin couldn't help but grin himself. Forest's face on the memorial placard in the RPD's break room grinned goofily at Kevin even now. Kevin stubbed out the finished cigarette and took a sip of lukewarm coffee. He looked at the picture of Forest all dressed up in his graduation uniform as long as he could, and finally had to look away.

He needed a drink. The city was going to hell outside, and he was lucky enough to be hidden away here. Somehow he didn't feel so lucky. He'd been given his orders, but sometimes, orders are given for the sole purpose to be broken. Well, maybe not, but Kevin did sometimes anyway. Something was happening in Raccoon that the sleepy city had never had to contend with before. Cannibal killings. Gruesome scenes straight out of a horror movie. Now, riots in the street. When someone with authority, especially someone you respect gives you orders, you feel compelled to follow them. However, Kevin had seen what he'd seen. Marvin hadn't. These cannibal killings were thought to have been perpetrated by a few individuals, but now it seemed like half the damn city was in on the act. The city of the damned. It was all too much. He was no coward, but heading back into that nightmare was the last thing Kevin wanted to do. If his orders were to hang around and drink coffee, he was happy to do so. He thought of Alyssa, and got up from the table, exiting the tiny, stale-aired room.

April 14, 2012 at 1:02 AM Flag Quote & Reply

You must login to post.