Furry-Within

When the tones went off at 0530, Lucas Cahill immediately felt that something was off.

"Attention Cheboygan Fire, Engine 1, Medic 1, Rescue 1.  West State St. and North Main St. on vehicle accident.  Repeat, Cheboygan Fire Engine 1, Medic 1, Rescue 1.  West State St. and North Main St., vehicle accident.  Respond on 3 Alpha."  The dispatcher read off the call like it was no big deal, something that the Pennsylvania-born firefighter could never understand.

He rolled off of the cot that had been set up in the day room, not bothering to throw his duty boots on as he walked into the bunkroom.  It was set in a half-circle, with the firefighters' rooms set up around the brass fire pole that was in the center.  He opened the thin metal gate and locked the spring so that it would stay open for the rest of the responding crews.  He slid down the pole, jogging off to the rear driver's-side seat that he was assigned to.  His turnout gear, much like over half of the staff on duty, was from a different department.  He worked for Newtown Square Fire Company in Delaware County, Pennsylvania.  Once the "green flu" was starting to float around, densely-populated areas began to get more and more calls for sick people and general bizarre behavior.  As a result, less-busy fire departments around started to ship staff around to offer a bit of mutual aid.

He jumped into his boots, pulling his pants up with them.  His jacket was hanging on the open rear door of the Engine, which he grabbed as he climbed in.  Once again, he was the first in the truck.  As he put his turnout coat on, he couldn't help but notice the difference in response times between the firefighters that were staffed here.  There was another firefighter, a male snow leopard from the East Coast, who had worked for City of Maine Division of Fire for a few years.  He was the second one on board, and as the driver, was anxious to get moving.  The third firefighter behind the Lieutenant who rode shotgun was a male otter from Iowa, and was the third one to respond.  Finally the Lieutenant showed up, an aging Great Dane who'd worked for Cheboygan Fire for roughly 12 years.  Once he'd hauled himself into the shotgun seat of the Engine, the heavy diesel engine started and the truck began to roll.  The Medic and Rescue were out shortly after they were, and soon enough the sirens and flashing red lights filled the early morning air.

"Cheboygan Fire, Engine 1 responding," he heard the Lieutenant say into the radio.

"Engine 1 responding 0533," the dispatcher replied.  The crew in the truck all had headsets on that was connected to the radio so that it both protected their hearing and kept them informed of the call.  Lucas noted that the dispatcher sounded a bit agitated, which was odd given how he'd sounded bored not even five minutes earlier.  The retriever thought nothing of it, however.  He was tired but wired up for the call-- vehicle accidents on main roads were always good ones.  Considering it was rush hour made things even better, since it was probably some poor sap in a hurry slamming into someone else.

When they turned on to North Main, Lucas slid his arms through the straps of the SCBA pack that was embedded in the back of his seat.  He tightened the straps that held it in place, then buckled the straps across his chest and abdomen.  His air mask went on after that, and once it was secured in place behind his head, he put his hood up and helmet on.  As soon as the Engine came to a stop, the four-man crew got out.  Lucas threw his gloves on and went around the side to grab a Halligan bar from the side compartment.  He tossed another one to the second firefighter as the Lieutenant surveyed the scene.  "No gas leak or fire reported, no need for any hoses," he said over the radio.  As a precaution (and mostly out of habit), Lucas kept his mask and helmet on just in case.  He turned the knob on the air tank, hearing the bell ring as the regulator was charged.  He left that disconnected for the moment to save air.  Once he got around the Engine, he finally got a look at the wreck.

A charter bus had gone off the road after flattening what looked like a 4-seat sedan.  The make was indiscernible, since the car was completely destroyed underneath the bus.  It was laying on the driver's side, having overturned after running up on the curb and crashing into the light at the corner.  Overall, a relatively complicated scene that would ensure they all got a bit of overtime pay.  There was a single police cruiser parked on the opposite side of the road.  Lucas wasn't quite sure if the officer was around or not-- he definitely didn't see one around.  Considering that this was a nasty crash, he was surprised there weren't two or three on the scene.

"Hey...shouldn't the Rescue and Medic be here by now?"

The question came from the Iowan otter, and he was busy looking down the road they'd traveled down.  Lucas turned to look as well, and it wasn't until then that he noticed the eerie silence.  Their sirens had stopped, and there was no sounds of the engines.

"You're right," the Lieutenant replied, grabbing his radio.  "Engine 1 to Rescue and Medic 1, respond."

There was only heavy silence on the radio, and Lucas felt his stomach starting to knot.  Something was wrong.  There was no mayday from either of them, there was no response, and there was no sign that they were even there.  The Engine had left a good few seconds before the other two trucks, and had lost them once they'd gone around the first corner.  Where were they?

"Repeat, Engine 1 to Rescue and Medic 1, respond."  Again, there was nothing.  The Lieutenant switched channels back to the dispatch channel.  "Engine 1 to dispatch, respond."

While the Engine crew waited for the Lieutenant to get a response from someone, a low, fierce growl emanated from the inside of the bus as the door slowly opened.  A zombie dressed in what looked like a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants crawled out like a predator stalking its prey.  It snarled again as it spotted the four firefighters, and with a loud blood-curdling shriek, launched itself into the air with an amazing speed.  The sound caught all of their attention, and the monster slammed into the snow leopard, pinning him to the ground.  The leopard screamed in pain and fear as its claws shredded the heavy turnout coat and the flesh beneath.  "Goddammit, get this...thing off!"  Even through the SCBA mask, the desperate cry for help was clear.  Lucas could see blood splattering the inside of the mask as the leopard coughed it up, his flailing coming to a rapid halt.

Lucas gripped his Halligan and swung it like a baseball bat, the hook on the end plunging into the back of the monster's head.  It collapsed almost instantly with a weak snarl before slumping over.  He wrenched the tool out of its head and threw his helmet and mask off.  He knelt down next to the fallen leopard and frantically searched for a pulse at his carotid artery in the neck.  Nothing, the firefighter was dead.

It wasn't until then that the remaining crew turned around and got a better look at the overturned bus.  Other creatures were crawling out, monstrosities much like the first one screaming and snarling like animals.  They all slowly backed away towards the stopped Engine.  Lucas could feel his heart thudding in his chest as he stared, horrified, at what was emerging before them.  There was another, much more furious, cry from their right.  A massive monster with one gigantic arm barreled towards them like a furious bull.  Lucas stumbled backwards, nearly tripping over the dead leopard on the way.  The Lieutenant wasn't quite as lucky, and with a surprised cry as the monster tackled him, he was carried over the guardrail and into the distance down the road.  The noise seemed to attract the attention of the rest of the group.  Combined with the still-flashing lights and idling Engine, the horde charged for the two remaining firefighters.

Two quickly became one as there was a coughing cry from somewhere off in the distance.  The otter yelped as a thick tongue wrapped around his torso, which turned to a pleading scream as he tried to grab something as he was dragged away.  Half of the horde seemed to follow the otter, and the other half turned on Lucas.  Keeping a hold of his Halligan for dear life, he turned and bolted for the police cruiser that was parked across the street.  Running in turnout gear was difficult for him before, but now that he'd seen the other three firefighters killed in the blink of an eye, it wasn't even a slight problem.  He managed to put enough distance between himself and the horde to try the driver's side door.  Finding it locked, he smashed the window out with the hook of the Halligan, reached in to unlock the door, then climbed in.  Luckily for him, the key was still in the ignition.  Once the powerful V8 engine came to life, he put the cruiser in gear and punched the accelerator.  The white-and-blue Ford Police Interceptor's tires screamed as it left the curb, leaving a cloud of blue smoke in its wake.  He unzipped his coat and yanked his gloves off with his teeth before fumbling for the radio handset.

"Mayday, mayday, this is Firefighter Lucas Cahill with Cheboygan Fire mutual aid, respond!"  As predicted, there was nothing on the radio but a steady hiss of static.  With a curse, he slammed the handset against the dashboard and put both of his paws on the wheel.  He checked the rearview mirror to see if he was being followed.  With a slight sigh of relief, he kept his eyes on the road ahead.  What the hell was he going to do now?  He had no idea where to even start looking for safety.  He slowed to a stop about a mile or two down North Main, taking a moment to let all of the most recent events sink in.  He would have to figure out a plan of action:  collect food, water, weapons, clothing, and other supplies.

The thought of weaponry caused him to look between the two front seats, and what he saw brought a smile to his face.  It was a Remington 870 police-model pump-action shotgun, and there were at least two boxes of shells in the small compartment underneath it.  As he felt the spring breeze flow through the broken driver's window, the radio released a short burst of static before a message came up.

"Attention, this is a message from the Civil Emergency and Defense Agency.  Proceed to the National Guard Armory on 610 Cuyler Street for immediate evacuation."

The message repeated on a constant recording, though to Lucas it might as well have been music.  He put the "borrowed" police cruiser in gear, set the Halligan in the passenger's seat, and set off towards the Armory.  Even on the way there, he could only sit and hope that this was all just a nightmare, and he would wake up on his cot in the day room just like every morning.

Little did he know that he, along with three other unlucky bastards, would find himself thrown into a terrifying fight for survival against what was previously dismissed as a fantasy.

"Nothing but short runs today Miranda." Samuel advised as he handed her the route sheet one paw lifting to his mouth to conceal his humor.

She rolled her eyes and donned a scornful expression, biting back the acidic words threatening to drip from her lips. The fisher extended a paw, wrapped her fingers around the smooth plastic and pulled it towards her.

"Thanks." She replied, though nothing in her voice denoted the least bit of gratitude. Her eyes lowered and scanned briefly over the location of her stops, all 13 of them, and from the addresses they were scattered all over the city. "Are you serious?!" She protested, her eyes showing a fire that normally wasn't present.

"Oh, and I've gotcha another present." The old badger chuckled openly as he delivered his next bit of news. "The owners nephew, Geoffrey, is gonna be joining you. You get to play trainer today."

If she didn't need the money that they paid her, Miranda would have quit on the spot, but instead she tried her powers of reasoning. "I'm not the training type, Sam."

He shrugged, turned his back to her and spoke loud enough that she could hear, "You are today!" then walked back inside to his chains of banality, his coffee mug that said, 'Don't like it? Tough shit, I'm the Boss!' his newspaper and his boring, drab, colorless office.
She groaned, tucked the clipboard under her arm and followed behind him, pausing at his door to further plead. "What about Charlie? Or hell even Fred?"

"Fred already left, and Charlie's not answering his cell." He sighed a bit weary running a paw over his thinning hair. "Besides Miranda, I ain't asking for your liver." He raised his mug and took a swallow of the bitter black contents. "Just one day."

She gave her head a small shake and found herself resigned to the task given. "Fine," she agreed, but not without exception, "but he gets no special treatment from me."

"Agreed, now let me read my paper."  He snapped the paper open and shut out her existence.

She pushed off the frame of the door she had been leaning against and moved down the hall. Miranda popped her head into the break room and yelled at the only face she didn't recognize. "You Geoffrey?" The young, lanky, blond sitting quietly by himself nodded his head and replied "Uh, huh" She noticed the wires coming from his ears and running into the pocket of his shirt. She smirked and shook her head at the feline. "I'm Miranda, you're with me, let's go." She paused for a second then further instructed. "And take those off." She gestured with her finger to the small bright red buds in his ears.

"Ok... can you hold on the coffee's almost done?" He scrambled out of his chair and started making his way to the pot brewing on the counter.

"Now, Geoffrey!" She snapped then started to walk away. She wasn't going to coddle him; he was going to be treated just like everyone else. Without waiting to see if the cougar was following her Miranda proceeded straight to the end of the hall and veered right, she weaved past the desks and through the door out to the depot.

As usual Stan and Jack had finished loading the truck, and verified the count, and per their normal routine, they now leaned, with an arm against the back of the vehicle, enjoying the last half of their cigarettes. Miranda coughed and waved at the air, giving them both a menacing scowl. "Take that someplace else."

Jack just nodded and handed her the count, then moved to the left of the dock to join Stan. "It's all there, just needs your initials."

"Thanks guys" She grabbed his paperwork and slipped it on top of the route sheet, scribbled her initials in the appropriate places, and then moved to the front of the truck. "When you're done, get in and lock up, I'm starting the pre-trip checks."

They nodded in unison, Jack taking a drawn out drag off his cigarette, while Stan flicked the long gray ash off his.

Miranda slipped her paw around the door handle then yanked it open. To her surprise a body was already behind the wheel. She cast her gaze upward and stared at the feline, who was oblivious of his transgression. "What?" He asked, his shoulder lifted in a shrug.

"That's my seat." Her answer was sharp and short, much like the fisher herself. "Besides, we need to do checks." She handed the clipboard to the feline and waited for him to move.

"Ok." Geoffrey slid out of the seat, without argument, and took the offered item; he moved around to the front of the truck. Miranda climbed into the cab and jumped behind the wheel, she snapped her belt on and started checking levels. She gave him a nod, which he returned with an upturned thumb as they began testing all of the lights and switches.

When he circled around to the back of the truck she heard the rear door slam and the interior bolt drop. She slid the key into the ignition, pushed down on the clutch and brake while shifting into gear, and then turned the engine over. It roared into life, just like a diesel would, loud and obnoxious. She let up off the brake, slowly pushed down on the gas, while easing up on the clutch, then shifted into first gear. Stick shifts were such a bitch but that was all the company would own. The truck moved forward about 15 feet before she lifted the blinker first up, and then down. To make sure they both worked. The boss was a stickler for detail, and wanted all of his equipment to function right. She shifted into reverse to make sure that the back up lights glowed and siren sounded.

When she saw his thumb go up again, her palm landed on the horn. "Let's go." She shifted her feet on the pedal and gave the truck some gas. The feline barely had a chance to pull the belt across his chest before the doors locked and the truck lurched forward towards the street.

"Hey, ummm..." He dropped the clipboard down between the two seats and spoke. "Do you think we could hit a drive thru or something? I'm hungry and sure could use some coffee."

She cast a brief glance his direction then turned the wheel to head west on Black River Road. She gave the motor more gas and shifted up a gear or two. As much as she wanted to flat out refuse his request, she was in dire need of caffeine as well. "We can grab something at our first stop. It's that convenience store on Lafayette."  She saw his arm moving towards the radio and extended one of her own, her paw met his on the dial. "Not a wise choice, driver picks the music." She waved his paw away from the knob dismissively; he pulled his arms back and crossed them over his chest.

Miranda turned her wrist over; the thin black watch present there displayed 05:13 as the current time. She was right on schedule. A bit uncomfortable, she pushed at the top of her vest and willed it to stop crawling up. If the damn thing hadn't been issued to her she probably would have taken it off. But policy was policy and it hadn't changed for the 9 years that she had worked for the company and she didn't see it changing any time soon. Finally it shifted and settled into place.

The job itself wasn't difficult; it primarily consisted of driving. It was the clients that she didn't care for. They always tried to engage her in small talk, inquire about her well being, or ask her opinion on world affairs. But Miranda was the solitary sort and liked to keep her private life, private. She valued her solitude so much that she had moved out near Orchard Road right by the state park. It was quiet and peaceful out there and best of all, no neighbors within miles to bother her.

She let the miles slip by silently as she drove west; the early morning sun was just creeping over the horizon, casting crisp yellow ribbons across the sky. Her foot eased up on the gas as the truck rounded the end of Black River Road and headed north on Lafayette St. This early there was no traffic, but Miranda knew in less than 3 hours the streets of Cheboygan would be nearly impassible. The long rows of trees and flat fields gave way to outcroppings of small buildings and houses. She noticed no lights on as she passed and assumed the occupants were still sleeping somewhere deep inside.

The intercom squawked and came to life; Jack's gravelly voice was on the other end. "Hey, I need to pee something fierce." Jack advised, "When we get there, pop the auto release so I can jump out." She pushed the small black button and responded. "No problem, Jack, E.T.A in 5 minutes."

It was 05:29 when the truck arrived at the Gas and Go on Lafayette St., a small convenience store just outside the edge of town. Miranda was a bit surprised to see the parking lot in front of the store about half full, but this was a good location for a business, as long as you didn't have to deliver.

She spun the wheel and made a hard right, pulling in between the two gas pumps. Before she could even shift into reverse she heard the metal bolt in the rear drop and Stan's knuckles tap on the glass. Miranda reached under the dash and pressed the round plastic button. The release clicked, making a sharp metallic sound, the door opened, Jack and Stan jumped out.

She waited for a moment, staring at the vacant cars connected to the gas pumps, and allowed them to move from behind the truck. 'Weird,' she thought, 'the car on the left looks just like Charlie's.' She forgot about the car when Geoffrey grabbed the release for his door and slithered out to join the guys, giving the door a hard slam before running off.  Miranda sighed, shifted the truck into reverse and backed up to the front door, her ears laid down flat to her skull avoiding the awful tone of the gear. She didn't plan on being inside for very long so she didn't even bother to shut the engine off and take the key.

"Unit 12 to base, Unit 12 to base. We're at our first stop."
"Clear Miranda. You're making good time." The cheery voice of the robin on the other end replied.
The fisher didn't bother to respond, it wasn't necessary until they departed.

Something was off, she could almost smell it in the air or maybe she was just being pessimistic again and looking for problems that didn't exist. She shrugged it off, dropped the mic and hopped out of the cab. As soon as her boots hit concrete she was all business. One paw moved down her right side, it shifted the holster on her hip, and then pulled her gig line straight. But as she rounded the back of that truck her world flipped upside down. She felt her paw move down, unsnap the leather restraint holding her gun in place, and remove it from the holster.

The large picture windows on the front of the store were like televisions, each one tuned to the same horrific movie but showing a different scene. She looked through the one on her far left. Jack's body laid in a crumbled bloody mess, just outside the entrance to the bathroom, his gun a few feet away. By the puddle of faint yellow on the white tile she assumed he never made it. There was a gaping hole in his chest, and another near his neck that blood still pulsed from. Stan had fallen back, or been pushed into a rack of magazines close by.  Two creatures were desperately slashing at his throat and abdomen, tearing at his arms, trying to rip him to pieces. At the back of the store, near the coffee, she saw Geoffrey. The look of sheer terror on his face compelled her to stare as the bloated, grotesquely misshapen being closed in on him. He hurled a coffee pot, a can of creamer, and anything else he could get his paws on to slow the creatures advance.

Something inside of her brain snapped, it shook her out of the self-induced trance she was in. She lifted the gun, aimed at the blob and fired off a couple rounds. The bullets hit the thing in the head and upper torso, it exploded in a disgusting sea of putrid green slime that splattered everything within 12 feet of where it was standing. Geoffrey was stunned, green goo dripping down his uniform, he started screaming, "I can't fucking see," and began violently wiping at his eyes. He only caught glimpses of the creatures that began tearing him apart, his arms swung wildly as abject screams filled the air.

Miranda was only two feet away from the door when she saw the horde of zombie like creatures close on the feline. They seemed to materialize out of nowhere as if drawn by some alluring scent or sound, which of the two it was, the fisher could not be certain. She lifted her side arm and shot at the crowd of malignant beings, while making a dash for the truck. When the clip registered empty in a fit of anger she hurled it towards an oncoming zombie, then dashed up into the drivers seat and hauled ass away from the store.

"Unit 12 to base, Unit 12 to base" She shrieked into the mic, between panted breaths.
There was no answer, only static. She tried 2 more times to reach the base unit before giving up and tossing the mic on the dash.

Her finger found the radio and turned it on, but no music played to soothe her nerves or erase the images from her mind, only a monotone voice that seemed to be on a never ending loop. "Attention, this is a message from the Civil Emergency and Defense Agency.  Proceed to the National Guard Armory on 610 Cuyler Street for immediate evacuation."

Just up ahead she saw the entrance to Calvary Cemetery. She took a sharp left and pulled into the lot, slammed the vehicle in park and jumped out. Her eyes quickly scanned the terrain as she ran to the rear of the truck and yanked open the back door. Miranda climbed up and grabbed Jack's auto shotgun off the wall. She found the shells in a green metal box on the floor. She crammed 10 shots in the gun, filled the pouches on her waist then slammed the lid shut and tucked it under her arm. She paused at the back window and looked out; brown eyes swerved left, and then dodged right. Nothing. Her paw found the handle of the door and turned it, her shoulder pushed it open. Still nothing. She hopped out of the truck, shut the door and ran back to the cab. She yanked the door open, tossed the shotgun and ammo box into the passenger seat, then scurried into her own, and slammed the door.

Quickly she fumbled at the locks until the pins dropped in place with a soft metallic thump. She reached down and grabbed the clipboard, ripped off the first few sheets and pulled out the map. The radio was still playing so she waited until the address was repeated then plotted her course of action. She would continue north on Lafayette St. till it intersected with Lincoln Ave, at which point she'd turn left and head west. A few miles up on the right would be Cuyler St. and near the north end of that block, the Armory. Perhaps she would get some answers there.

Miranda reached behind her, grabbed the seat belt, swung it across her waist, and then secured it in place. Movement in the side mirror caught her attention. Something was moving fast at the truck, something big, and ugly. It wailed, a shriek that gave her frozen nerves impetus to flee. She tromped down on the gas, slammed the vehicle into gear and sped out of the parking lot and north onto Lafayette St.

"Hey Danny."

*the bat scowled at his computer monitor and reaches up, smacking the side of the CPU that sit below it. Shaking his head at the lack of proper programs at his disposal. The wisps of smoke leaving his snout and nose would be pulled towards the window he had picked out for such a reason. The box fan that had been placed in the window would push most of the smoke out. And it was quite relaxing to enjoy a breeze here, in most part because of the summer months that they were in now. His eyes narrowed as his fingers worked quickly to tap out the next paragraph. He plucked the thing from his lips and set it in the ash tray*

"Danny~"

*he winced a bit as he looked to the paper, going back to the article he was changing so it didn't sound like some overinformed snob was  talking about a convention of comic books. He liked them yes, but he didn't think that the life story of a character should be used to make filler. Much less the hero's shoe size, that hero's thoughts on key issues, or when the last time he got laid*

"Danny!" *he whips around in his chair and looks to the voice, tempted to blurt out but taking a breath before he did. Answering the person calmy as he reached over to the ash tray and flicked off some of the ash from the cherry* "Yeah..."

*the casual dressed Bat was looking at a young intern, a wiry feline who was dressed way too yuppy for his taste. One who had gone to college for reporting and considered themselves the next dear Abby with the hard hitting answers to life's questions. Over opinionated and somewhat cocky* "How is the edit of my report doing?" *he folded his arms in front of him and looked at the older Bat with a patronizing gaze*

*he could have sworn that he was trying to take his job, or get him fired some how. But he took a drag from the cigarette, and let the smoke leave him. The calming motion would keep himself from snapping at the male* "I'm almost done with it. But honestly you can't ask that most of the readers would be interested in knowing what this..." *the bat motioned to the comic book the intern had set on his desk earlier* "...guy's relationship with his dog or what ever it is."

*he pretty much knew what would happen next, and it would continue for ten minuets. The feline detailing the hero's struggles, and how his dog had helped him emotionally through it. It all sounded like some cheap family movie that come in droves through out the year. When the feline finished, the bat finally put out that cigarette and pulled another from a pack he had in his shirt pocket* "If were done here I can finish editing this piece." *he honestly didn't know what the feline was thinking in the first place, even when this stuff that there was some sort of new disease breaking out in the towns nearby*

*the day had gone on with little fanfare as the bat would shift to his own personal research. He had been doing it since he had a source that says he has pictures of the infection. Though he didn't get any when he asked for them. He had almost let it pass off as a silly story till he heard about a news report about a town that had been quarantined. He never caught the name of it, and found himself on a ghost hunting mission when he scoured the net. A few places had some information about it, but most of it was somehow kept rather quiet. He found it as odd as it was exciting to know that there could be a government cover-up. Maybe an alien visitor landed and exposed the people to some otherworldly virus? The thought made him terrified, but thrilled him*

*he reaches to his pack again, ready to pull out another cigarette till he realized he was out with that pack. Pulling the box from his shirt he tossed it to the garbage, reaching into his drawer.  He grabs another pack from the carton he had in there. He packs it a few times against an open palm and opens it. He looks at the open drawer, then reaches in to pull out an old photo. At the age of 35, he was already reminiscing like he was much older. He smiles to himself, then puts the picture back. Closing the drawer with a soft click*

"JESUS CHRIST! AHHH-" *someone yelled out from the other room, a crash being heard as the bat looks up. He steps up from his seat and heads over to the small crowd that was forming at the top of the stairs. At the bottom of the stairs there was someone who looked like they had fallen over the banister. Groaning as a pool of blood spilled out from his mouth* "Oh no what happened?" *a female Spotted leopard says as she heads down the stairs first. The bat looking on as he thinks the male just fell over the edge out of carelessness. When the leopard reached the bottom of the stairs, there was a chuckle heard. It was loud. Everyone looked around to one another, wondering who was chuckling. It grew louder as the leopard was suddenly tackled by something that jumped in from one of the lower offices. She screams as the thing that had jumped onto her back suddenly lurched back and straightened her out. A menacing grin on its face, eyes wide and wild as it looked upstairs. That chuckle grew into a menacing almost insane sort of laughter as it looked to be walking her backwards into that office. Her screams grew louder as the bat watched in horror*

"...run..." *he said to himself, stepping away from the crowd before he made a move to his desk. He didn't know what it was that attacked her, but he was sure as hell not going to be the next victim. A pair of security guards, having been awakened by the screams. They looked up to the others and told them to step back into the room, both putting there paws on holstered pistols. They took cautious steps towards the room as the bat went to his desk. He grabbed the picture and a few more packs of smokes. He heard more screams as his eyes frantically went over the items in his drawer. He didn't find a thing that would help him right now. But packing a few packs of smokes into one pocket with a lighter he figured the best thing right now would be to get out of here. He went to the fire escape, planning on taking it down to the ground level*

*he changed his plans when a hoard of what he could best describe as something he didn't feel like running into. He moved back to his desk, looking back to a desk of a co-worker. He didn't even see as the crowd suddenly ran away from the door, the din of screams did half as half a dozen of the people ran back into the room, the others all somewhat having fallen and writhing within a pool of what looked to be a pool of boiling anti-freeze* "Shit! RUN!" *he finally yelled to the  others. He heard gunshots downstairs now from the two guards. They began to scramble just as he heard something with a menacing chuckle coming up the stairs. A thought came across his mind, or an old memory at least.
He ran to a desk, pulling out a bottle of his co-worker's 'coffee'. Which was a bottle of moonshine the guy had been drinking. He had known it was here even when the guy did his best to keep it a secret. He grabbed a piece of paper and wadded it up into a long roll. He stuck it in the neck of the bottle and approached the door. A gurgling shriek came from the doorway that opened up to the top of the stairs, rounding the corner he saw something that had a pear shaped body, thin arms, and a head that stuck up like a giraffes. But its mouth was wide open, and it was drooling something that smelled terrible. Almost burning the inside of his nose. He took a glance at the downstairs doorway, seeing the mob that he saw running up to the building had began to break it open with bare hands and whatever maddening determination they had*

*he moved quickly to stop the coming threat. Putting his shoulder down he ran towards the gurgling monster, it squealed out at him as he pushed his shoulder into it. He was surprised how easy it was to make the thing lose balance. It teetered backwards and fell down the stairs, knocking back the crowd of infected with it. He took less then a moment to light the paper on fire and throw it at the crowd. It struck the ground and brought forth a fireball that engulfed the many. Clawing and raking the fire they charged forward, but fell soon afterward. He didn't stay long as he looks to the rest of the ones that were alive, six in total* "Take the fire escape!" *he looked downstairs and found that the fire had died down. He didn't know where the security guards went, but he went down to find them. He took the stairs over the charred bodies slowly. His ears flicking as he could hear his heart beating quickly. Eyes looking for a sign of life, or movement from that creature that rode the snow leopard's back earlier. He rounds the corner and looks into the room. Finding the leopard and two officers, claw marks all over them. One officer looked to be the second victim of the riding creature, the other was the third. Though he found the creature had fallen as well, its bullet riddled body crumpled on the floor. He could hear the others talking and making there way down the fire escape. He heard something on the roof, coughing and hacking. He didn't go up to find out*

*kneeling by the officers he takes a 9mm pistol from one of them. He looks it over real quick, and pulls back the slide. The clip was empty. He searched both of there bodies and pulled off the other clips they had. He looked to the other officer, and decided that if the first gun were to break he could use the other one. He went upstairs and grabbed his bag. It was mostly empty after the weekend. Stuffing it with the clips he had found, and grabbing another bottle from that desk and some paper. He donned the backpack and headed out of the building via the fire escape. He looked around for anyone else that had escaped. He didn't see anyone, except the feline that had berated him earlier on the comic book. He was on the ground in his own pool of blood. Seems something else had gotten to him. He went over to the feline, he was tempted to lean down and check for a pulse. But with the amount of blood, and the fact that something had pounded a dent into his head, he didn't think he was alive. He gulped and went to his car, feeling guilty about leaving the body there. But he was sure it wasn't safe to be here. He got into his car and looked to the streets. A usually busy intersection was now deathly still. A few cars seemed to have stopped mid way through. He wouldn't be able to pass through it with his car. He decided to drive the next town over. Hoping to find more life there then he did here. Reaching into the front of his pocket he pulled another cigarette and held it between his lips. He heard that same coughing and looked up to see what looked to be a Gene Simmons from hell. He floored it as he barreled towards it, a heavy thud and the thing flew clear over his small car. He pulled out his lighter and lit the end of the cigarette*

*unknown to him though, he was driving to the same town that another three were heading towards*