1 | Contagion [Leon Kennedy]

Chapter Three

Chapter Three | Exploring the Station

LEON USED HIS KNIFE to skillfully cut up the tape on the box leading to the reception and opened it to pull the lever. The mechanism beeped loudly and the gate slowly began to rise up.

Stepping into the room, you grabbed some handgun ammo on the seats opposite the reception desk. There were blood splatters all over the floor and to the side of the kiosk, a big pool of it.

You followed the trail of blood from the floor until it led around the wooden wall divider and beneath the door.

From the corner of your eye, Leon's blond hair glimmered in the light, and you could feel him staring at you. You placed a hand on the doorknob and glanced at him.

"Ready?" you asked, your heart pounding, adrenaline, and fear coursing through you.

Leon nodded, and you slowly twisted the knob and cracked the door open. The west corridor was dark—the only source of light was the moonlight coming through the windows.

You held your gun in your dominant hand and your flashlight in your offhand, shining the light down the corridor.

Slumped over at the end of the corridor was an officer, and you could hear his radio going off.

Slowly, you walked down the hall, flashing the light at every corner in case of an attack. The atmosphere was so tense you needed a knife to slice through it. The sound of static from the officer's radio grew louder with each step you took.

"This is 73 — Bird — for rescue — heading east — River — Touchdown at R.P.D. — minutes. I repeat, touchdown —" the voice cut in and out of the static before stopping altogether.

        Curious, Leon crouched down to inspect the officer. One of his hands reached over to pull back the head, causing both of you to grimace.

        The officer's jaw was ripped apart.

The more his head was tilted back . . . the lower his jaw slid down his chest, exposing muscle and arteries.

Leon's nose scrunched in disgust. "Oh . . . Oh, what the fuck?"

What the fuck could have possibly done this?

Bile formed in the back of your throat, and you forced your mind elsewhere before you vomited the contents of your stomach.

The sound of a tin-can rolling from the far end of the hallway caught your attention. You and Leon warily exchanged glances.

Both of you turned the corner, weapons ready, and stopped dead in your tracks at a pair of hanging feet.

You shined your flashlight upwards and gasped, seeing an officer impaled on a pipe. Blood trailed down his arms to his fingertips, the crimson liquid dripping onto the floor in a steady pattern that sounded like rain.