Chapter 02: If you want to stay alive, learn the rules

Claire quickly removed everything blocking the entrance door. Multiple crates, IV stands, huge flower pots. It was clear Marvin had used everything within reach to secure this point of access.

"Wait a moment!" she shouted when she heard something heavy hit the doors.

Pushing one last crate to the side, she reached for the handle and pulled. She hadn't expected to be faced with the barrel of a gun immediately after.

"Who're you?" The youth's voice was cold. Not an ounce of emotion in it, but it was still warmer than the look in his eyes. It scared Claire a bit, and she knew he wouldn't hesitate to pull the trigger if he didn't like her answer.

Hands raised, palms open to show she wasn't armed, she gave her name. "Claire Redfield."

He took a step inside the precinct, and Claire instinctively took one back.

"Redfield? Any relation to that blockhead in STARS? Terry?"

"Chris." She corrected him and took another step back as he took one forward, closing the door behind him with his free hand. "I'm his sister."

"Is that so?" He still held her at gunpoint. "Not the greatest of times for a visit. Should have stayed with your parents studying bio-engineering."

"Our parents died years ago. It's only Chris and I, and I'm studying mechanical engineering." She frowned this time, then realized his intention. "Are you... checking if..."

"I am." Only then did he lower his gun and put it back in the holster at his hip. "Rick Wald."

No "Nice to meet you," no "Sorry about pointing a gun at your face." Just his name, and he immediately began to pile the junk behind the door to block it. To say Claire immediately took a dislike to the boy was an understatement.

"Was that really necessary?" She crossed her arms over her chest as she watched him work.

His answer was short. "Yes."

It didn't satisfy her curiosity one bit. "Why?"

"Because the world has turned to shit, and the most dangerous things out there are not the zombies. It's the humans. Zombies can be dealt with easily if they aren't too numerous. One human can think, and usually it's after themselves first. You wouldn't have been the first person to lie about their identity and pretend to be friendly before backstabbing someone."

Claire's frown turned into a scowl. She didn't like to think that people were that selfish, but then again she had met all sorts of people in her past year in college. With the threat around them, the panic and fear, she supposed some people would have acted like that.

Rick finished the barricade and turned around. "Is it only you?"

"No." She gave him a shake of the head. "There is an officer over there." She pointed behind her shoulder with her thumb. "Officer Branagh. He's the one who told me to open the door for you."

He nodded and began to walk in the direction she indicated. Claire followed in silence, not quite knowing what to think. The words she had heard Marvin say came to mind. They pushed her to give him a good look over.

Tactical vest, which was a bit too small for him, and overall under it, smeared in dark red liquid. There was no need for her to be a genius to know it was probably blood. The bag he was carrying on his back looked a bit heavy but not full. She wondered what was inside of it.

"Officer." Rick called out to Marvin while maintaining a few feet of distance. His eyes were focused on the stomach wound.

"Kid. I couldn't believe it when I saw you on camera... Glad you're alive."

"Thanks." That was the only answer Rick gave. To Claire it seemed like he was ready to act. His body was tense, and his knees were slightly bent.

"I'll be honest. We're in shit. The station is lost. This area... Ugh... This area is the only safe place in the building, and who knows for how long." Marvin explained. "With David not answering the radio... There are only the three of us left."

Claire corrected him right away. "Four." Both men turned to her. "I was with a guy... Leon Kennedy. We got separated, but I'm sure he's still out there. He seemed competent. We were supposed to meet here, but he had to take a detour."

Marvin grunted, but not in pain this time. "The rookie, huh? Shit luck that his first day was today."

Rick didn't care, however. He had more important things in mind. "We're trapped then. Outside is hell. Zombies everywhere, and they're all gathering here. Result of an explosion."

"Can we leave the way you came?" Claire was almost certain it was the tanker that had separated her and Leon.

"No." The dirty blonde shook his head. "I had to swing from a roof with a fire hose. Can't go back up."

"Well, there is hope. There may be information in here." Marvin lifted Elliot's notebook. "About a hidden passageway outside."

To Claire's surprise, Rick acknowledged it with a nod. "You believe it?"

"It's better than having nothing."

She felt like there was more to it and that he was hiding things, but she didn't press on. If their first interaction was any indication, he might pull a gun on her again.

Marvin waved the notebook slightly. "I'll do some reading. In the meantime... Why don't you help Claire reach the... STARS office?"

"Why?" Claire frowned again at Rick's blunt answer.

"She could use your help if she wants to... survive. You've been... out there for days, even weeks before everything turned to shit... And even before that..."

"Fine." Rick cut the officer off. "Let me organize my stuff first, and we're going."

He went to the side without sparing a look at Claire. His backpack was laid on the ground, and he began pulling things out of it. She turned to Marvin.

"No offense, but I don't trust him."

The wounded man chuckled. "Wald is an acquired taste. He's not bad. Just a kid who raised himself in the streets. He doesn't... Ugh... Trust easily, especially in these times. What he is, however, is loyal. For all the flaws he has, dishonesty and disloyalty are not among them."

"You seem to know him well." Claire noticed.

"Everyone in the precinct knew him somehow. We used to catch him every couple weeks."

She frowned again, this time looking at her soon-to-be companion. "So he's a criminal? Joy." Her eyes saw him line up construction tools. Hammers, screwdrivers, pliers. Why he would need all that was beyond her.

"Is stealing food to survive really a crime? I wonder." Marvin coughed a bit and moaned in pain. "Nothing expensive." He detailed a bit more when he got back Claire's focus. "A five-dollar meal at best. Honestly, it was so cheap... we usually paid for him. He was arrested and brought back here, but... he was a minor, and the owners were paid for the food... So we let him go."

"Did no one try to... CPS? An orphanage?"

"No, he ran from them like hell. Claimed they were Umbrella's stooges." Marvin shrugged and immediately regretted it as the pain flared. "He's not a fan of the company." He added from the curious look on her face. "Never said why."

"Catch."

Claire turned right in time to see the tactical vest Rick was wearing flying right to her face. She caught it in time before it hit her.

"What the... You could warn!"

Rick didn't care about her displeasure. "I did." Instead he put a handyman belt around his waist and buckled it. It was full of the tools Claire had seen him pull from his bag. The vest had been replaced by a thick sweater made of wool. She honestly found the way he was dressed, his outfit, ridiculous. Everything was mismatched, and not just the colors.

Claire wanted nothing more than to verbally tear him a new one, but time was wasting. Calming herself down, she looked at the vest. Holding it between her legs, she removed the red leather one she was wearing and put her new acquisition on. It fit perfectly, to her pleasure.

"Now what?"

His answer was swift. "Now I fill you in on the horror waiting for us and how to take them down." He began to walk down the stairs toward the shutter of the West Wing. Claire nodded to Marvin and followed her new partner.

"A bullet to the head does the job. Although I'm low on bullets." She told him.

"First mistake. A gunshot makes lots of noise and gives up your location to all the zombies lurking nearby. Use your gun only if you have to." He drew a meat cleaver from his back and sliced the yellow tape keeping the power box next to the shutter closed.

Silently, Claire admitted that his advice made sense. "How do you deal with them then?"

"The zombies have poor eyesight. Play on it, but stay vigilant. It's better to ignore them or distract them than to engage them. If you can't..." He showed her his cleaver. "Aim for the cervicals. The head itself is more complicated. The skull is thick, and to reach the brain the best way is the nostrils, the eyes, or the ears. Small targets, so it's not worth it. The cervicals, however, will disconnect their brain from everything under the neck. They might still move their mouth and growl, so be careful."

He pulled down the lever inside the power box, and the shutter began to rise.

Claire asked the question she had in mind. "That's why you're using a cleaver? More weight?"

"Yes, but also it's sturdier. A knife breaks more easily." He signaled her to follow him into what looked like the reception and a waiting room. On the left were multiple leather benches, and on the right were a few booths. Behind their windows were multiple lockers, shelves, and desks. If Claire had to bet, it was the cops' office.

"Be careful of your surroundings, especially the floor. Many crawl and come out from under tables, cars... Most often than not that's how you get bit, and nothing good comes out of that."

Rick looked around, searching for something. His eyes landed on a bench, and he walked to it. After leaning down, he straightened up with a small box of ammo in hand. From the brand, Claire recognized it as 9mm.

"What happens if you get bit?"

"You're infected, and you'll soon turn into one of them. Depending on where you got bit and how good your immune system is, it can be within minutes or hours, perhaps a couple days. Scratches work too if they are deep enough."

"Hence the tactical vest?" She realized why he had been wearing it. It was thick, sturdy, and would protect from scratches and perhaps bites.

"Yeah." He counted nine bullets in his hand and drew his handgun.

Claire cursed herself when she saw the magazine had been completely empty and she had never been in danger when he had held her at gunpoint.

"Now. The zombies are slow most of the time, but if they are... excited in any way, they can display a sudden burst of speed."

"I've noticed." She remembered vividly, less than a quarter hour earlier, when one zombie had suddenly caught up to her while she was crawling under the broken shutter.

"They're also rather strong because they don't feel pain."

Claire tilted her head to the side in confusion. "How is that related?"

"Pain is a limiter. It's a signal that tells you 'don't do that, you're going to hurt yourself.' Without this limiter, your strength is... well, not limited anymore. That's why sometimes, when you're in danger or doing difficult physical exercises, you find yourself being able to do things you couldn't in normal times. A shelf too heavy for you that you suddenly can lift on your own, for example. Usually the result is a cramp or a torn muscle."

"So, if I follow, they don't feel pain, so don't feel their muscles tear from the effort?"

"That's about it."

"Okay, got it." She nodded. "Not taking the fight to them in close quarters. Avoiding them makes more sense now."

"Lastly, be careful of doors. They might be mostly mindless and don't know how to turn handles, but their enhanced strength allows them to break doors. If the door is locked, it will take a few hits. If it's not, one is enough." Rick spotted a small flower pot in the corner of the room and went to pick it up.

"Not standing too close then. Alright." Claire saw him pull on the green herb and dust off the dirt. With his cleaver he cut the root, then put the stem and leaves inside his backpack. "Why did you do that?"

"Those green herbs are commonplace in the region. They are good antiseptics if applied on a wound and decrease the time needed for it to close up by a bit. If you're hungry, you can also eat them."

"Keep an eye out for them then?"

"Them and red herbs. Those ones... they're useless alone, but they multiply the effect of the green ones. There is a third type: blue. Those ones are an all-around antidote but are very rare."

Next to the herb was a few planks of wood held together by yellow duct tape. Rick put them in his bag without thinking.

"What's that for?"

"Blocking windows." He replied. "If zombies can break down doors, you can be sure they can break down glass."

Claire felt as stupid as her comment to that was. "Huh."

"However, with some walls to... stop them from putting all their weight into it, they would have more difficulty breaking those planks instead of a door."

With seemingly nothing else to salvage in the waiting room, Rick led the way behind the wooden panels used for announcements. A door was at the corner, and before he opened it, he stopped. Hand on the handle, he gave a look at Claire to see if she was ready.

Both hands on her gun, aiming at the ground, body tense, the only thought he had was that she wasn't.

Slowly he pushed the handle down and pushed open the door slowly and stepped inside the corridor extending beyond it.