Police Station

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Just breath, Alina. You can do this. Marvin told me to stay where I was nearly a few hours ago but never returned. Where the hell was he? I stayed put underneath the desk at the front of the main hall after hearing zombie groans nearby. There was more than one in the area, which made it worse because if I needed an escape route, both were blocked. Also, any slight noise alerted them meaning I couldn't move at all.

All I thought about were my parents. Thank God, they lived in New York and not Racoon City anymore. I imagined how panicked both were, wondering if I was even alive. I wanted to call them and tell them I was alive, but all the phones died in the station. Marvin told me if he could find a way to contact them inside the station, he would tell them I was fine but with him not returning, I wondered if he was even alive to begin with.

I took out a small photograph of my parents and me in Central Park on New Year's Eve last year. That was the last time I saw them before having to return to Racoon City from holidays. I loved my job, and even though I worked there for about two years, my experience had been wonderful. Still, there were times when I missed my family. I tucked the photo in my jacket's pocket to keep it safe.

"Hello? Is anybody here?" a voice called out. I lifted my head from my knees. Someone came in at last. Was it over? Was I saved? I crawled from underneath the front desk and into the view of a police officer. He aimed his gun at me, firing past my head.

I ducked, hiding underneath the desk again. Shit. What now? "Please, don't shoot me! I'm not infected!" I begged him.

"Come out slowly," the officer said in a soft yet domineering tone. I stood up slowly as he said, my hands up in the air. The police officer was in his early twenties, and I did not recognize him at all. "Are you hurt?"

Shaking my head, I replied, "No."

"Who are you? And why are you here?"

He didn't know. Did he work here in the police station or was he lying to me? "My name is Alina. I worked here as a receptionist." I lowered my arms, and crossed them, without trying to look intimidating. The last thing I wanted was to piss off the man with the gun. "What about you? What's your name?"

"Leon Kennedy."

My eyes widened as I remembered hearing the name repeatedly throughout my time here, especially in the last few weeks. "Leon Kennedy? You're the recruit everyone here kept talking about." It was all I ever heard – even Chief Irons spoke about him and his record in a good light. And Chief Irons never talked about anyone like that.

He nodded. "It was supposed to be my first day last week but... I received an odd message telling me not to come in." Leon brushed his hand through his light blonde hair. "What exactly happened here?"

"You don't... You never heard?" Where to even begin? Even as a receptionist, the amount of talk officers did when they thought I wouldn't hear was incredible. The worst part was how I experienced it for myself, watching as the infected tore the living apart. "It's some sort of virus that infects people. Turns them into zombies."

Leon looked back to the front doors. "So that's what they were."

"They are still out there? I thought it would have died down by now."

"Was chased by a few of those things outside." He finally put away his pistol into the holster on his pants. "Is anyone alive other than you?"

"Marvin Branagh is here. But he left an hour ago and told me to hide."

There was a camera set up on a monitor opposite the reception desk. He clicked on the recording, watching as a tall, muscular infected with a hat walked slowly toward the camera. The infected man was not like other zombies, it was stronger and could tear multiple people apart with its bare hands. I unfortunately witnessed that when multiple cops tried shooting it down. Marvin called him Tyrant. With one swoop, punched the cam, turning off the recording. "Something tells me, he's not a cop," Leon said, closing the monitor.

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