Chapter 03: Wrong Turn in Hell

The narrow corridor was poorly lit. Broken neon lamps, sometimes literally, hung on the ceiling. Spread papers lay everywhere on the ground, dirtied by the coming and going of people. Some had shoeprints on them made of actual dirt or simply dried blood. Neither Rick nor Claire said it aloud, but they shared the same thought. Something ugly had happened there.

Meat cleaver in his right hand, flashlight in his other, Rick walked forward on alert, trying not to make noise. A few feet ahead was a small intersection, and he didn't want to attract the attention of any possible zombie in the adjacent corridor, especially when he had no line of sight into it.

That was why he was almost glued to the opposite wall. For the distance and the better angle of view. Cleaver clenched and ready to swing, he signaled Claire to get close to the other wall. In case of a zombie coming out from the second corridor, its first target would be Rick as it would be the only one it could see, and it would allow his partner to make an ambush.

"Shit." He said when his posture relaxed a bit.

Claire noticed and moved away from the wall to have a look, mentally preparing herself for a gruesome sight. "What is it?"

"The way is blocked." The flashlight swayed in front of him to reveal piled-up lockers, desks, and chairs. Removing them to create a passage wasn't an option. It would take time, would make noise, and would leave them undefended. "It means we need to make a long detour."

He lit the way to the side. The original way. And fell in step immediately to the left again. The next intersection was another sharp angle to the right.

"How long?" Claire took back her place on the wall opposite to Rick.

"We'd have to cross the whole length of the precinct, so a few minutes. Hopefully." The last word was whispered even lower than the rest, but Claire didn't miss it. "Damn..."

The expletive came out of him involuntarily. No one could blame him when he was looking down at a dead police officer in uniform and with a bright yellow jacket. The one that reflected light to be sure to be seen.

Not losing his focus, he signaled Claire to watch the corpse while he checked the intersection.

"Clear." He said after straining his ears, trying to hear if there was any zombie beyond his line of sight. The only thing he found was another policeman hooked through the back of the head to a broken metal pipe up the ceiling. A gruesome sight.

Claire was already on one knee, checking on the yellow-jacket man hoping, although she knew it was vain, that he was still alive. She recoiled in disgust and shock. Most of the body's jaw was gone, as if ripped away, and the bit that was still there slid down in sounds of flesh and viscosity.

"Poor man."

"Don't pity him. That's Tallhart. The guy was a corrupt asshole."

Rick's sudden proximity to her and his whisper in her ear made her body jolt in fright.

"Don't do that!" She hissed.

He gave her a confused look. "Whispering?"

"That close out of nowhere!"

The only answer Claire got was a nod. If that was of acknowledgment or agreement was up to debate, but she was busier being shocked by Rick suddenly sinking with strength his cleaver into the officer's neck. The head was completely severed from the shoulder and rolled down onto the corpse's lap.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!"

"SHHHH!"

Rick suddenly was in panic, straightening up and turning around, ready for a fight. His eyes darted right and left, eyeing the opposite end of the corridor but also the fragile window on the left, leading outside.

Claire cursed herself for shouting and potentially getting them in immediate danger. Her defense was that Rick's action had been sudden, disrespectful, and disgusting. When he turned around, he looked at her with murder in his eyes.

"You want to survive? You're going to get that under control soon or you're on your own." He gritted his teeth.

Her protest was done in a more acceptable volume, but she was still scowling aggressively. "Then maybe don't do things like this! He's dead!"

"Exactly!" Rick shot back. "I don't want to have to worry about him rising up and ambushing us from behind while our attention is focused forward! You see a corpse? You knife it!"

His words left her speechless. It made sense, but she felt too proud to admit Rick had a point. A staring contest started between the two. After a dozen seconds, it was put to an end when the scratching sound of radio communication was heard. They both looked at the cop and noticed a walkie-talkie similar to Claire's.

"This is 73-Bird —— for rescue —— heading East ——River. —— Touchdown R.P.D. —— minutes. I repeat, touchdown ——"

The connection cut off then, and Claire tried to contact the pilot but to no avail.

"Don't count on it." Rick crouched down to dig through the cop's pocket, breaking Claire's line of thought. "Helicopters are loud and slow to take off. Zombies can get on or at least bite one of the passengers before anyone can fly away. It's a disaster waiting to happen, a death trap."

She said nothing about how disturbed she was by him looting a dead person. When considering the circumstances, she inwardly agreed that beggars couldn't be choosers.

"You saw that happen before." It was a statement. The way he had spoken didn't leave any doubts.

Instead of saying "yes," he nodded. "It ended with the helicopter spinning on itself and crashing into a building before it exploded. Lots of noise, lots of dead. Barely escaped with my life."

He picked the service gun of the officer and put it behind his shoulder, into his bag without even looking. There was one magazine with a few bullets at the belt, and he removed them. The magazine ended up in the bag, the bullets he presented to Claire, who took them with a small "thank you." Two went into her small revolver, the third went into her jeans' pocket.

"Why keep the gun and the empty mag?" Claire got on her feet.

"A few reasons. One, cleaning firearms is difficult without the utensils for it, and you don't find them at every corner. Two, because you might be out of bullets but still with enemies on your path. Throwing the gun or the empty magazine can hurt or distract."

"But if you do that, you don't have any weapon or anything to put your reserve ammo in." She nodded in understanding.

"I'm also a bit of a hoarder. I prefer to have things even if I never have the opportunity to use them than not having them when I do."

"I can get behind this. Although, I'm a bit limited in space." She turned sideways to show him her R.P.D. pouch.

"They're R.P.D. standard. I'm sure we'll find more for... SHIT!"

Rick was palpating the pockets of the officer hooked on the ceiling. Too hard, as the hook went straight through the top of the corpse's head, which fell right on top of Rick. Thankfully, he had the reflex to push it to the side.

"My god..." Claire's heart lurched into her throat. "Who could have done this?"

Rick had recovered, however, and was back at finding things on the dead body. "More like, what?" Unfortunately for him, there was nothing to salvage.

"What do you mean?" His words got Claire curious.

"Zombies are the most common danger in the city right now, but maybe not the only ones. How do you think they came to be but by a biological virus? And viruses mutate. This..." He pointed at the cop. "Can't be done by zombies. They push down, they don't lift up."

"A virus? Is that why you think Umbrella Pharmaceuticals is involved?"

He gave her a look. "And how do you know that?"

"Marvin said you didn't like them, and I... maybe it's a bit of a stretch, but..."

"No, you're right. It's a story for somewhere safer. Not a corridor with more holes than Swiss cheese."

Rick removed his bag from his back and put it down. He pulled up the planks with one hand and with the other zipped open a lateral pocket to take a box of nails. Claire had to admit, he was very prepared. Taking the wood from his hand, she put the planks up the window without Rick having to ask her for help. Swiftly he hammered nails into the wood and the wall until the hole was blocked.

Returning the hammer to his belt, he then put back the bag on his shoulders.

"You're really good at handling a hammer." Claire remarked.

"How can you tell?" Rick didn't waste time by walking forward.

"Mechanical engineering student, remember? I had to use one or two a few times, but I mostly saw carpenters hammering away. They're in the same building."

"Makes sense... I wouldn't say I'm an expert, but I am practiced."

Before Claire could formulate an answer, a zombie appeared at the end of the corridor. It was hitting on the window and making lots of noise.

"Run!" Rick hissed to her.

He began to take great strides to cross the few dozen feet separating them from the undead, with Claire in tow. The window unfortunately broke, and the corpse slouched down into the station.

Rick acted lightning fast. He put a foot on the zombie's torso and stuck his meat cleaver to the neck. It took two hits to completely decapitate it.

"Hurry!" He whispered loudly, putting down his bag.

Understanding immediately what he wanted them to do, she put the planks against the opening, and he hammered nails, making sure the way was shut for good. Her heart, already racing from the run and the zombie getting in, raced even more when another tried to grab her through the gaps in the wood.

Rick pulled her away, not like she was in any danger from the corpse outside, but the noise would attract more. "We should go."

They turned to the right, and Claire saw a double door. She almost jumped out of her wits when four undead screeched and moaned loudly from behind partially destroyed windows. Quickly she raised her gun and assessed the situation.

"They'll hold." She thought.

Rick tapped her on her shoulder, and she immediately turned around. Not to aim at him, thinking he was a zombie, but because she was ready to continue. Giving him the go-ahead with a nod, she prepared herself to fire if an undead was right behind it.

There wasn't. All that was was a giant mess. Most of the room was cluttered to the left up to the center with desks and chairs disorganized and piled up, leaving only the right side open to reach the other end. A quick scan of her eyes told her there was no danger around, but she remembered Rick's advice.

Claire took a few steps to the right to not be in the way of the door opening and looked down at the ground. With the messy state of the room, it would be easy not to pay attention to a crawling one.

It proved the right thing to do as she saw feet and a bit of legs between the clutter and the podium standing in front of a board. She whispered Rick's name loudly, catching his attention. With her hand she signaled to the downed corpse and with her head its location.

He nodded and got to the balls of his feet, stretching himself up to try to have a better look at his target from his position on the left. In one swift move he rolled over the table and dropped down onto the corpse, sinking his cleaver right onto the cervicals. A now familiar moan, typical of the undead, broke the silence, and Claire praised herself for having put to good use what she had to quickly learn. After one more hit from Rick, the moans stopped.

"Well done. As a reward, you get the box of 9mm over there."

Claire's mouth opened soundlessly. His tone had been cold, factual, but the delivery didn't sound as it usually did. It sounded like...

‘A joke? Did he make a joke?’

The tone of his voice aside, she didn't think the boy with her could joke. Not when he had been so focused and serious. Not when he had shown that survival was more important than anything. Her comfort, the respect for the dead... Not like she disagreed with his methods, it was more like disagreeing with... his personality.

‘Then again, I met him less than an hour ago. Not the best first impression too.’

Chasing away those thoughts, Claire walked to the position he was just before he dealt with the zombie. A quick look, and she found the bullet box. Checking it, she found nine of them inside. Not a bad find. She added the one single bullet in her pocket to it and put the box in her pouch.

"Found anything else?" She turned around to see what her partner was doing. He was writing something on what looked like a plan on the board.

"A map of the first floor for you."

Joining him on the other side of the room, giving a side glance to the downed zombie, she stood by his side. Already he had scribbled on the map. The blocked way they had encountered earlier was delimited by diagonal lines, which she understood. Vertical rectangles to the side of what she recognized as the long corridor they went through were the windows, and she was proven right when he barred two. The two they had barricaded.

"This is where we are." Rick tapped his finger onto a room. "I'm sure you already figured that out." Claire gave him a nod. "We need to go here." His finger now tapped on a room named "West Office."

"Why? Isn't the STARS office on the 2nd floor? Why not take the stairs here." She pointed at said stairs.

"Because there is probably no direct access to the office from this side."

Rick pulled the plan away from the board and picked up chalk to draw something. Quickly Claire realized it was another plan, probably of the second floor.

"Not entirely accurate, but the part that matters is." He muttered to himself before speaking louder. "This..." He pointed at a right-angled corridor. "Is a wide space leading directly to our destination, which is here. It's wide, too wide. Perfect for zombies to overrun someone. Had it been me, I would have blocked that space."

Claire turned her head to look at him with a curious brow raised. "But you don't know if that's the case."

"No, I don't, but..." Rick picked up the map again. "If it is, the only way to the STARS office is through the library, which..." He paused there, trying to find the correct thing to say. "The only way is through a door locked. Did you have a look around the Hall? Noticed the door with a big green club on it?"

"Yes. What about it?"

"It needs a special key to open it, and the library needs it too."

That confused Claire. "There isn't a master key?"

"No." Rick shook his head. "Anyway, since the key to open the library is the same, it is also needed for the West Office. If the corridor upstairs isn't blocked? Great. If it is, we'd have to backtrack down to the West Office to find that key as the odds are high there is one there."

"And if we find one, we can directly go through the library. It would take a bit more time, but it would be less of a loss and most importantly less dangerous." Claire finished his reasoning.

Rick marked the map with a club between the Reception Hall and the West Office and a second right where the cop had been hooked. Claire realized she hadn't paid attention enough because she didn't remember seeing the door there. To be fair, she was busy looking at the windows on the opposite side at the time.

"Besides, the West Office may have ammunition, weapons, or a pouch for you. It's worth a look."

Claire couldn't argue with that.