QUEENS' BURROW: PART 1

He saw the police car and ambulance over the side. Helping some poor soul who got hit. Their car front has been dented in from impact. Blood splattered the hood and glass.

The driver, clearly disturbed by these events talked with the police officer about what happened. The body hit was put on a stretcher.

He felt unease. It was nighttime, the rural areas weren't kind to those driving. Anything can walk into the road to be rammed into. No designated lights to lighten up the area.

He tried to play it cool, it wasn't his problem, and he was a bit under the speed limit so he thought it is fine to just match it and move on. The night crafted the trees around him as menacing.

No chance, the police officer partner tag him to slow and stop. He did, gave his license, and yadda, yadda, yadda.

Told him he broke the move over law, had to be fined and brought in. He nodded and did what was asked, seeing anything else will make his situation worse.

He woke up to blinding light and cold air. Letting a gasp, he sat up to wipe the junk out of his eyes and looks around the place.

"Where?" He uttered, mouth felt dry and lightheaded as he searched his surroundings. He is in a cell, Spartan-like with only the bed and toilet for his basic needs. The memories rushed back to him.

He whispered to himself. "Right, the accident, what happened next?" The smell of smoke, fire, and faint screams draw his attention to the jail bar window. He peered outside and cursed as he bore witness to his horror raccoon city burning.

Down under the prison buildings burns hot red as the fires burst from windows and doors. Smoke drifted up to the black sky. What few people he could see dashed screamed from building tops for help. S.OS signs, flashing lights, even throwing rope across buildings to cross over. Others hauling ass in vehicles from the area, running from people.

Despair and angry echo across the part of the city he's in. He didn't notice he was breathing hard until he let go of the bars and felt the cool floor underneath him.

"I got to get out of here!" He got to his feet to rush at the jail doors, shaking, banging, and screaming for the guards to let him out. He'll wear the handcuffs and all other inmate procedures, just as long as he is far from here.

Something awful happened while he was asleep and he wanted no part in the continued destruction. He kept shouting, looking around the place until he spots one to his right.

He didn't look well. His uniform is torn and stained red. Cut marks peppered his face, at his neck and side are bite marks.

"What the hell is happening here!?" Lamont rushed over to the downed man, screaming to him. If the guard was dead it would make escaping this prison much harder. He can reach him, be able to pull him over but if he got no keys he's fucked. Lamont will have to rely on another guard to enter his cell.

If anyone was coming for him.

He reached toward him and kicked his shoulder a bit, not wanting to get any blood on his skin. That woke him up, yet it is a strange manner.

He snarled. Now Lamont understands anyone looking like that must feels like shit, yet it wasn't the in a way he expected. He sounds animalistic. His movements as he scrambled up are rigid and wobbly. Whatever he felt in that moment vanished as the guard turned to him.

He really didn't look good. His face is pale, eyes bloodshot with sweat absolutely pouring down his face.

"Shit, you're still here! I thought we emptied out all the cells and transferred the jail mates. Stand back, I'll get you out." He fidgets to get the key in for a few seconds before the door opens and Lamont steps out.

"Thank you. What's happening to the city." The guard immediately fell down, breathing heavy and clutching his side.

A bang is heard to Lamont right as thumps slammed into the door, no sounds surprisingly. The guard chuckled and caught Lamont's attention as he gestured to the door.

"Don't worry, those freaks can't get through the door." He chuckled some before pain on his side flared up and he ground his back against the wall.

In a raspy voice, he informed the bewildered inmate.

"Listen there not much time and the situation outside is getting worse. Down this hallway is a set of stairs leading to the underground parking garage.

"Y-You'll need to take these and find a police car, not much left down there. Take it and get the hell out of this city!" He rose and pushed the key chain in his hand, and fell back down.

Lamont's expression was of worry. What is happening in the city to let an inmate, minor felony but still, just take a police car and leave the city.

"Down, the hallway, stairs, and police car right. How-! What the hell are you doing!" He rushed to point the gun away from the guard's mouth. Tears are welling up in his eyes as he explains the situation to him.

"Listen man I will not go down like the others. They got scratches and bite marks on them. At first, they were okay, got bandaged up and sent to the infirmary but a few hours later I walk my way into a room and an officer is on their hand and knees. Ripping and biting into the other officer's ribs."

He gestures to his bite marks, biting back a scream of terror. Fear infested his body as he spoke more.

"I-I am not allowing myself to die and return as a shambling corpse! No"

He tried to bring his gun up, but let it fall again. He curled to his side and let out a weaker gasp, crying.

"B-B-But I also, don't want to kill myself." He looked to Lamont now.

"Can you please?" He turned the handle of the gun to him, gesturing to where he wanted to shoot him, in the heart.

"Jesus Christ!" What more needed to be said.

Lamont found himself in a frightening situation. He marched towards it, gripping the weapon it felt awfully heavy in his hands. He pointed at is the guard's chest.

"Thank you. You're doing the right thing." He rested again the wall, wiping his eyes and breathing evenly, well as much as he can. His time among the living drawing short.

'Kill him? Am I really doing this? I always thought of myself as being strong if it came to me or someone else being dead. Just.' He gazed to the guard, lifting his hands up in to do a prayer, the words faint and low coming from his now stained lips.

'Just...not like this.'

"Hey!" The guard open his eyes, still bloodshot just not as intense, his face was relaxed in resignation.

"What's your name?" He wanted to now. Just something to remember the man who selflessly gave his life for him. The guard was surprised, maybe for reasons Lamont is thinking, could be for others completely unrelated. Whatever it is it allowed giving off one last chuckle.

"Cayden. Cayden Joshua Prince." Those were the last words to come out of his mouth. He closed his eyes as Lamont lined up his shot, straight to his heart.

He pulled the trigger releasing one bang that resounded in the room.

Lamont ran down the hallway flashlight pointed ahead with the gun at the reader. He has 7 rounds left, with one more clip. The rounds were regular, each shot able to punch a fist-sized hole on a person, Cayden torn chest is proof of that.

"Stop thinking about it." He **** himself to shove the somber thought to the side. It was working his hand was still shaky as he continued to run.

It was the right choice. No doubt about that. From the little info Cayden off-handily told him, the town was experiencing a zombie outbreak. True end of the world shit happening, well it looks like it. He hope this was contained to just the city or country. It was the right choice. Leaving him alive to die would be needlessly cruel. Even worse, if he need to backtrack his way to the cell he would need to kill his corpse.

He mentally chides himself, thinking about that again when he should be focusing on looking for the door. He swung the flashlight right then left, and right again as he found it.

'Just need to reach the car and get the hell out of this-?'

He didn't finish his thought as the door was slashed open and burst forward along with the thing.

It was horrific. There crouch before him was a humanoid. It didn't look like a zombie. Well, the ones he knows of. It had no skin, just exposed meat and a brain, looking swollen. No visible eyes but sharp claws and on its, her since she has breast and puffy lips.

She looks deadly and hunger by how saliva drips from her lips. He ready his guns to shoot his way out.

The creature stalked forward, tongue licking its lips to conquer her new prey.