I took everyone to the snack room. The god damn vending machine stopped working. The only things out were stale donuts and cold coffee, but they didn't seem to mind; It's probably the only time you can call that crap "comfort" food. I told them that I had to go back out on patrol and that, if they chose to, they could spend the night at the station (though I doubted that they had any other place to go) I show them around the complex then leave them in the willing hands of Claire. "You're coming back right?" Richard asks. I look at them as they watch me go, "If you guys need anything, just have Claire here radio me and I'll be right back, ok?" With that, I finally was on my way back to check on the situation of the red-headed girl. Pulling out of the garage, I can see that the streets have now changed, as if following suit to the dilution of my thoughts. I pick up the radio and call George, hoping he's still at the crime scene. "George, what's the situation on that girl...". A static hum reverberates through the silent void, replacing what should be an answer."...George, you there..?" Out of the blue, he answers. "...Hello?!..Hello?!..Pete?!..Get your ass over here now! We need backup bad!" I turn on the siren and push down the gas, counting the blocks as they pass by. I call him again, "George!..What's going down, talk to me!" I can hear gunshots as I near the scene. He answers just in time to sync a shotgun blast through the radio. "It's fucked up, Pete! We were wrong, it isn't a drug! ...That girl you found, she had rabies or some shit! She attacked a few of the residents and now they started attacking us! They're pouring out of the building like rats and we can't find an ambulance to...." His voice cuts off as I picture his hand leaving the radio and returning to the trigger.
Reaching the scene, I can see a few casualties just laying on the pavement, near the steps leading up to the front doorway of the building. I grab my shotgun and head to where the other officers are positioned. They don't even twitch as they fire upon the incoming residents. Even the women and children are shown no mercy. I spot George and I take my position near him. He shouts through the cracking of gunfire.
The first thing he tells me, "Don't go near the bitten ones, Pete!...They always turn!..."
"Turn?..into what?" I ask, half-knowing the answer.
"We got some more!!!" An officer behind me screams.
We all begin firing on a man exiting the building, shredding him apart right then and there on the doorstep. One of the officers, Jason, approaches him.
"Jesus Christ...it's Fuller! We shot Fuller!"
George and I approach to confirm our fears. The other officer bends over to get a closer look.
"Geez, look at his face..." Fullers complexion has turned pale and his blue eyes have managed to morph into the darkest shade of black. I turn to the other officers, "We gotta go in, see if there are any survivors left." George and I enter the building, accompanied by three other officers: Mitchell, Jones, and Bev. Two others, Jason and Lin, remain outside by the cruisers. As we enter the building, a foul odor resembling rancid garbage suffocates our noses. We start to proceed cautiously into the lobby. "That bitch is still in here.", Bev whispers. I turn to her, "You mean you guys haven't found her yet?" She shakes her head, "That was Swat's job. They went in, these motherfuckers came out." I see her eyes abruptly shift up, looking at something on the staircase to the second floor. "Wait, look!" she says. I quickly turn around and can see the eerie silhouette of what looks to be an old woman. She just stands there, looking down at us. "Mrs.?..." Mitchell calls out as he points his gun at her. "....Mrs. are you ok?..." He calls out again but still, she does not respond. Suddenly, she explodes, running down the stairs towards us. As the light nears her face, we can start to see a terrifying, crazed expression. She's become one of them. We fire on her. After the barrage, she falls, face first onto the stairs, dead; her momentum causing her to slide down the rest of the way. "My god...we gotta do this quick. Bev and Jones, you two cover the stair case. Mitchell, Pete, and I will sweep the first floor." George commands. We continue searching through the building, clearing all the rooms one by one. Half-filled luggage cases and toppled furniture litter the rooms.
"Seems like some people wised up and tried to keep these fuckers out." says Jones.
"Yeah...tried." I say, stepping over a severed arm.