Disclaimer: Resident Evil and the character Billy Coen are copyrighted by Capcom. The author of this work is making no profit from this fan-fiction story and is not challenging the status of the copyright holders.

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Instead of making me walk, he's apparently going to yoink a car. It shouldn't be too hard around here. The walking dead apparently don't think to take their keys with them when they get out to shamble around. He makes sure it's completely empty before waving me over, though.

It's in reasonably good shape, all things considered, and he starts it up so we can get moving. He doesn't have to say a word, I just take my role as navigator as we cruise along. There are zombies attracted to where we are by the sound of the car, but instead of stopping, he just mows them down.

Damn, but that's pretty unnerving, too.

The short ride is abruptly ended about a half of a block away from the police station. Yet another wreck, similar to the one that I witnessed earlier tonight, and we're out of the car. He's walking, I'm gimping, and we're both going in the same direction. I can see lights flickering on and off in some of the windows of the station.

"Just to warn you, Billy," I tell him as we get closer to the doors, "once we get inside, I have no idea what's where."

He nods and turns to look at me, probably appraising how I'm getting along. "We're probably going to find a shitload of 'em inside. Think you're up for that?"

"Humor me a question, Billy. Technically, they're already dead, right?" If he knows what's really going on, then he should know the answer to that.

Billy nods. "They're dead." He doesn't have to say anything more. I don't want an explanation yet, just confirmation.

"Then it's *not* going to be a problem." I tell him firmly, looking him right in the eyes. I have a problem with hurting living people. If they're already dead, then my religious views won't be inhibiting me from acting in the manner he hopes I will.

Besides, my desire to live will forever outweigh anyone or anything's desire to see me dead. It's fact. Otherwise, I would have been dead, oh... an hour ago.

I keep telling myself these things because if I don't, I'll totally freak out.

We get inside the police station and he's already putting that big gun to use. Again, it's pretty damn effective, but I'm not looking at the results. I'm too busy *trying* to get off a headshot with the gun I've got. He's got one shot kills and I'm taking six or seven bullets just to get lucky.

I said I sucked and I meant it. But, at least he's there to cover for my inadequacies.

Before we go anywhere, he's checking the policemen's bodies over and taking their spare clips. I shove about six of them into my jacket, the other three are going into my backpack. Thank the gods there's lots of room in there. Of course, if it gets too heavy, I'm passing it over to the extremely dangerous packhorse.

We take the stairs down, which is giving me new definitions of agony, and he opens fire almost as soon as we're out of the stairwell. I follow him into the hall and see a whole fucking HERD of zombies coming up on his back.

"Billy!" I don't want the protective hot guy to get eaten, damn it! My number's up if he does... He hears me start firing and whips around, putting down the first three to give us breathing space. Then, I'm pretty much on my own at his back to take down the rest because he's returning to his original targets.

That's fine. Or so I tell myself. It's not really, but if I don't try to bolster my diminishing spirits, I'm done for.

Once we get the hallway clear, we're scouting around and looking for where they keep the heavier weapons. Nice solid door there and it hasn't been picked too clean, if his grunt of approval is any indication when we step inside. We get in and he shuts the door behind us so we've got a bit of breathing room.

I park my ass down on the floor to give my ankle a rest while he starts sifting through what's there. Man, oh man, but I'm thinking I could use a couple of shots of whiskey right now. Hell, at this point, I'd welcome a bottle of Everclear – straight up, no frills.

He finds more bullets for his gun and sets those aside before he returns to his searching. I dig up a cigarette, watching him, and thinking. There's been this thought running through my head and I've finally put the pieces together.

I've known military boys during the course of my life - one of them in the biblical sense. I had a good friend who was Navy. For a short time, I was seeing an Air Force guy. I got treated to a VERY nice night by an Army JAG friend who was shipping out to Central America a few days later.

Billy, my stoic savior, is like them but not. I know he's got to be military; it's in his walk, his stance, the way he holds and fires the gun. That only leaves one option left – Marines.

Oh, joy... Just frigging lovely. I get saddled with a guy who's idea of a romantic movie is Full Metal Jacket. Well, at least when it comes to our situation, I know I'm in good hands. You can't get much better than a Marine when you need major ass-kicking done.

He probably thinks I'm the most pathetic piece of shit right now. I'm sure he's considered putting a bullet in my head at least once. It'd save him time, trouble, and effort. Frankly, I'm amazed at his patience.

At least I know I'm good at patching up wounds. The way our luck is running, we'll be seeing plenty of those. If he gets hurt, at least I can tend to it.

There's a silence between us at the moment. I light up the cigarette just to give my hands something to do. The curse of being a writer, I suppose... I hate having idle hands. Many a napkin has been shredded to tiny bits because of it.

Billy looks over at the sound of my lighter and I flip him a smoke before he even asks. He's reloading that huge gun of his with what he's found so far... not that I blame him. As many times as that gun's saved my fat ass already, I think I'm falling in love with it.

"So... How is it you know what's going on?" I'm daring the question now. This is, I think, need to know information. Anything that might keep me from ending up like those things outside the room is going to be helpful.

He takes a long, thoughtful pull from the cigarette and shrugs. "Went through it before." Okay, looks like I need to take a more direct approach on getting the answer I *need* out of him.

"Mind filling me in? I'd like to know so I have a better chance on survival." There, that's a pretty direct question if I do say so myself.

"Ever heard of a place called Raccoon City?" It takes me a few, but I do recall hearing something about a place under that name. If I remember correctly, and I'm not one to pay attention to news, it got nuked or something.

Oh, shit.

"You mean... That's what happened..." I'm NOT liking the sound of this already. Not one single bit. Getting out of town just became even more imperative. If Raccoon got "sanitized" because of this, then that might very well be the same fate for this little 'burg.

"Yeah." Billy turns around, flicking his ashes onto the floor, and leans back against the cabinet he's been working out of. "All that shit you saw outside is the result of viral research. Umbrella's got some side operations and, both here and in Raccoon, it got loose."

"Oh, my God... You're telling me this is because of a fucking virus?!" My head thunks back against the wall and my eyes close. Dear gods... a virus... that means it was some stroke of luck or my bad living that kept me from contracting it. If what he's telling me is true, and I've no reason to disbelieve him at the moment, then I quite likely should be out there with the masses.

I swallow and I know my voice must sound very small when I speak again. "You... you don't think... they'll do the same here... do you?"

Obviously he didn't think about that possibility, because he starts a moment and looks back at me seriously. "I don't know."

Suddenly, I want to be moving again. "I don't think I want to hang around to find out the hard way." Obviously, he agrees with me, because he's searching again.

So, now I'm helping him check the lockers and racks, but I'm coming up with jack and shit. I hear him give a low whistle and turn my head to see him pulling out something big. "Hello, honey... I think I can find a use for you."

I've seen one of those before. Mr. Terminator himself had one. I know what that bad boy is – grenade launcher. "Oooo... big gun. Gimme... Big gun."

He gives me a look, half bemused and half unhappy. I get the feeling he doesn't want to put that baby in the hands of someone like me. Well, screw that. If it'll keep my fat ass alive, I'll become the biggest expert on it anyone's ever seen.

"Do you even know what I've got?" Oh, fuck you, Mr. Marine. Anyone who's a fan of action movies knows what you've got.

"Billy, oh Billy, apple of my eye... if you don't give me that fucking grenade launcher, I'll throw a hissy fit to rival the most evil of two-year-olds."

"Now give me a *good* reason, and I'll think about it." I don't see the look on his face, but I can imagine it. It's probably a mixture of amusement and concern.

So, I offer up a good enough reason. "Easy... you've got the gun that explodes heads. At least with THAT, I don't have to be precise. I can just aim in the right direction and fire."

He seems to like that answer far better than my demand. "Better reason than threatening me."

"Yeah, well, forgive my need for levity." I take another drag from my cigarette, watching him, mentally demanding that he give me the fucking thing RIGHT NOW. "Besides, I may not know how to use a handgun, but I have fired a rifle before... and done pretty god-damn good at that. So, if I can get my hands on a shotgun, I should do okay."

"We'll find you one, then. Shouldn't be too hard." This isn't giving me the big gun any faster, damn it.

So, I go for the gold. If I'm reasonable, he seems willing to let me get my way. "In the meantime, gimme the big gun."

"Yeah, yeah..." He hands it over, along with the grenade rounds and I'm just thinking 'YES, thank you, Goddess!'

"Come to mama, baby... You and I are about to be really, really, REALLY good friends." He decides to get in a shot at me, which is all well and good considering how many I'll probably get him with before the night's over. "Would you like some time alone with that?" My, oh, my... the Marine has a sense of humor of his own!

"Nah, that's okay. I refrain from having sex with anything that does not have a penis of its own... Masturbation, on the other hand, is perfectly viable," I counter as I'm slinging the launcher over my shoulder. I hear him make a sound akin to a snort and glance up.

"Okay, that's it, I'm outta here." Awwww... does he have a threshold? He's military, damn it... he should appreciate dirty jokes better than that!

"Oh, like hell. We're not done here, as I recall."

"No, we're not," Billy says back. "Do me a favor; open that launcher and let me see the ammo."

I comply with no argument. The tone of his voice sounds off. He gives out a sigh of relief when he sees the red-banded grenade I show him.

"What, did you think it was going to have a rubber chicken or something?"

He can't make a come back to that, because we're interrupted by an explosion outside. I watch Billy climb up and take a look out through the barred window. "Fuck! Honeymoon's over, we gotta get movin'."

"Lemme guess... we just lost our car?" Please don't let me be right... please don't let me be right.

"Yup... and our way back out unless you know of another exit."

Fuck.

I take a moment and think. If memory serves me correctly... "The parking garage."

Billy looks over at me, hopping down from the cabinet he'd been standing on. "What about it?"

"I think the parking garage is accessed from here. Just one problem." And it's the problem *I* don't like a single iota.

"That being?"

"Electronic gate topped with barbed wire. No other doors or nothing."

His response is deadpan. "Joy." Obviously, he likes the idea about as much as I do... which isn't a whole hell of a lot.

"Trust me, I'm not looking forward to it, either. At least you can climb over it... I'm screwed." I punctuate this by lifting my left leg... the one attached to the ankle that is currently throbbing.

"Nope... just means you have to go first." Ha... ha ha... that was a joke, right?

Actually, I do understand what he means. There's no way I'd get over that fence on my own right now. If my ankle was fine, I would probably be able to do it, but... "Courtesy of a boost from you?" He nods. "Billy, as much as you're lugging my fat ass around, I'm surprised your back hasn't given out yet."

"I'm not," he says after a moment, grinning. "Just wait until things calm down. Then you'll get to see a Marine at his most pathetic." Well, not only does that confirm what I was thinking a little while ago, but it's also showing that we're finding some kind of middle ground. He's starting to relax a little bit with me – this is good... we're making progress.

"It can't be any worse than any other man I've ever seen at his most pathetic... at least I'll have a reason to baby you," I pop back as I'm letting a little bit of a laugh come through. It's true, though, because if I survive this nightmare, I'll have a damn good reason to put up with anything he might decide to put me through.

I'm not worried about that part. He seems like a decent kind of guy, so I don't think he'll turn into super asshole on me. Not that I'm any big expert on men. I've got a pretty shitty track record so far.

So, if we're going to do this, I decide it's high time to put one of those painkillers I lifted from the drug store to use. It just takes a minute to get it down, with the help of the bottled water, and I should be doing much better in a little bit.

Billy takes the extra bullets for the gun he's using and shoves them down into the side pocket of my backpack. I'm okay with that, really. The more ammunition we've got, the better. Next to go into the pack are a few upended boxes of shotgun shells. I'm really liking that idea – I just can't wait to get the shotgun to use 'em with. Then, he takes the excess rounds for the handgun I've got and puts them in the other side pocket. For ease of packing, I rip open the boxes and just dump the bullets in. There, three times as much room in one fell swoop.

Back out into the hall we go, which is thankfully still fairly clear. It takes a bit of searching, and a few more spent bullets, before we find the door we need. It's conveniently labeled "Garage." Gee, how nice of them to make our lives just a little easier.

Unfortunately, I hadn't counted on another possibility. It's locked.

Damn it.

I'm taking watch while he's screwing around with it, trying to get it open for us. No problem. It's not like the headless zombies are going to make a move against us. I'm splitting my attention between the hall in front of me and him, listening with a little amusement at some of his imaginative swearing.

At first, I didn't realize something was wrong. In that moment, my attention was focused on the guy close to me. A soft sound, much like hissing, filters down the hall and my eyes shoot that way. It takes a few seconds for me to realize that whatever it is, it's not on the floor. I drag my eyes up.

It's on the ceiling.

Oh, fuck...

The... thing... I don't know how else to describe it... is clinging to the ceiling with really big fucking claws. The sheer hideousness is what gets to me. It's got no eyes, for one; it looks like you can actually *see* its brain, for two; and there's NO skin...

I'm struck speechless by the horror of it. I want to tell Billy, to warn him... but I can't even get my mouth to work right. I step back, scared shitless. Maybe I squeaked or something, because I hear Billy's voice.

"What?" He's still fumbling with the lock and hasn't seen this monstrosity yet.

I'm still incapable of speech. All my words are lodging in my throat... the warnings, the questions, the shocked cry I wanna make. Since I haven't said anything, Billy isn't looking up from what he's doing, but god-damn... I really need him to turn around.

A few more steps back and I'm against the wall, my heart pounding in my throat. Finally, I make a recognizable sound that gets Billy's attention. He looks at me with a small frown. "What is it?"

I've got NO idea what this thing is... how do you answer a question like that? "... I... don't know." Whatever it is, it's got a very long, very wicked looking tongue that it's flashing at me. If it weren't so horrific, I'd almost call it obscene.

"What do you mean you don't fucking..." As he asks, Billy's started turning around. Finally, he's seen it! "Christ on a fucking cross!" His hand cannon comes out and he takes aim on the thing.

Then, the unthinkable happens. That tongue slashes out like a whip. Instead of getting tagged by it, I feel Billy's strong hand shove me to the side where I collide briefly with a desk before going down. I don't see what happens then, but I hear that big gun go off and a wet thud on the floor. Then, I hear inhuman shrieking.

That's enough to pull my gaze to it and I watch its death throes, purely horrified. From the corner of my eye, I see Billy getting up off the floor and walking over to it, nudging the thing with the toe of his boot. If that thing isn't really dead...

"W-What... was that?" My voice is very small, almost meek in the silence around us.

"One of Umbrella's fucking toys... Fast little fuckers, and deadly." Just in case it's not completely dead, he's got the gun trained on it. Pleaseohplease let it be dead...

I still can't bring my eyes away from it. It's almost like seeing a train wreck. You know you shouldn't be looking, but you can't help yourself. I hear an exasperated sound from Billy.

"Why the hell didn't you say something the first time I asked?! Fucking goddamned hell...." He pauses in his verbal admonishing of me to angrily shake his head before continuing. "If it had decided to lunge from the get-go, you'd be dead. Period."

I know that... believe me. The hole it put in the wall where I'd been standing is evidence enough. "What do you want from me, Billy?!" My hands hit the floor on each side of me with twin slaps against the linoleum. "Dragons, I know those... myths and legends, I know those, too... this b-rate horror shit, I'm fucking lost!"

"Anything would have been better than no warning whatsoever. Jesus..."

I'm not looking at him. I'm finally starting to crack and it's showing. I can feel the burning of tears behind my eyelids... tears of frustration, fear, and just about any other unhappy emotion you can name. "It wasn't a zombie, damn it! You didn't say there were more than zombies out here! I've never SEEN something like that before!"

"And you hadn't seen a god-damned zombie before tonight, either. The weirder it is, the sooner I need to fucking know about it!" There's still anger in his voice, and I can't blame him, really... I'd almost gotten us both killed.

"If I'm that much of a god-damn bother, you should have let it kill me..." Yet again, my mouth runneth before my brain catches it. The tears are starting to spill over and I'm trying to wipe my eyes clear.

I hear him sigh just before I curl up my legs to my chest and start rocking a bit. This is all too fucked up. I could handle seeing the zombies... as many zombie movies as they've got out there... no problem.

Nothing had prepared me for that tongue-flicking thing, though.

"Aw, shit..." I hear him flip the safety on the gun he's got before he tucks it in his belt. Then, he kneels down next to me, looking at me, trying to get me to look at him again. "I'm sorry..." His voice is a lot softer than it had been, apologetic. It just makes me want to cry even more.

"... it's not the same... those are... were... people out there... that... whatever it is... I've never... never seen anything... anything like that... not even in a nightmare..." I'm rambling and tripping over my words, but I think I'm getting my point across. I hope I'm getting my point across.

"I know... I know." I hear him whisper, his voice still that same gentle tone. "... and I shouldn't have snapped like I did... I was way outta line..."

"... I'm not... not like you... I don't have... any special training... I can't just... just blink and know what to do..." I know I sound pretty god-damn pathetic right now, but I feel even worse, believe me.

"It's not always that easy for me, either, believe it or not..." Billy admits; probably his way of trying to make me feel a little less pathetic.

"... I don't wanna... don't wanna be like them... soulless..."

"You won't be... I won't let it happen..." His voice is a soft, gentle reassurance. One that I'm desperately craving right now.

I look at him, through the tears, my voice trembling worse than the rest of me. "... and what if... what if I fuck up like that again? I'll deserve it..."

He shakes his head, his voice firm when he answers. "Nobody deserves that."

"Nobody but the bastards who started it..." I whisper back; and that was the single catalyst I needed to start pulling myself together. The reminder that someone deserved to die for what they'd done to this town. Not that I'm going to be the one to make it happen, because I sure as shit don't want to stick around any longer than necessary.

"And you aren't them," Billy says, still whispering while I'm wiping my eyes clear of the tears. "Like I said, I'm not gonna let it happen to you."

"Protecting me's just gonna get you killed, Billy... I don't want that to happen..." Damn it... I need to really pull myself together. I'm bad, yeah, but I'm not usually this pathetic.

Billy responds to my words softly, but just as firmly as before. "I haven't brought you this far to abandon you now. You said you were sticking with me. You're going to follow through."

"... because the safest place in town is this five-foot bubble around you." I remember saying something like that earlier, when he was telling me he was getting me the hell out of the place.

"Exactly. Now take a deep breath, smoke a cigarette, and we'll get moving again, okay?"

Mutely, I nod and follow his orders, giving him a cigarette while taking one out for myself. We both strike up our lighters about the same time and then I watch as he goes back to working on the door. Finally, and with a growl of frustration, he pulls out his gun and shoots the latching mechanism.

Yet again, brute force works where guile won't.

We step out into the parking area and Billy stops, causing me to bump into him since I'm not quite capable of halting my forward momentum so immediately. He doesn't move or speak for several minutes and I dare a peek from behind him to see bodies littering the underground garage. His reaction to this gives me an ominous feeling.