Wasteland Wanderer: Biohazard Chapter 03 (Early Preview) (Patreon)

Chapter 03: Calm Before The Storm

Raccoon Times Office

"So let me get this straight. You want to go where the riots are? Where the police are fighting?" The concerned voice belonged to Mullen, a young man with dark circles under his eyes.

Alyssa leaned forward. "That's right. Nothing this enticing happened in this town since the series of murders this past summer. This could make our career!".

Mullen ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah. Murders. This was a riot where more people got hurt. Alyssa, that's just crazy."

Alyssa rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on, Mullen! We need this. I swear this is a good one! You know that we need to build up our portfolio if we want to be part of the bigger networks. There's no better chance for us than this!"

Mullen shifted uneasily. "I still have a bad feeling about this... you know those people, Alyssa."

"No matter! That's just what the radios are saying. Words are words. The best way to know what's really happening is to see it ourselves, not just hear about it!"

Mullen hesitated. "But we'll get in trouble..."

Alyssa gave him a gentle punch on the arm. "Oh, stop worrying so much! I'm telling you, this is for the best! Just imagine the headlines we'll get!"

Mullen sighed. "Fine..."

Alyssa clapped her hands together. "Good! Now let's go! Grab your camera, Mullen, we're going to make history!"

Mullen groaned. He knew she wouldn't let it go, and maybe, just maybe, there was something to her optimism. He took a deep breath.

"Alright, Alyssa. But if we get arrested, I'm blaming you."

Alyssa just laughed. "Deal! Now hurry up, or we'll miss the action!"

Outside of the Raccoon City Football Stadium

The aftermath of the riot at Warren Stadium was still evident. The air smelled faintly of smoke, and police cars were parked in disarray, their lights still flashing red and blue, casting an eerie glow over the scene. Alyssa Ashcroft stood with her notebook in hand, her recorder ready, her eyes narrowing as she approached the line of police officers guarding the area.

Officer Aaron looked uncomfortable. He glanced over his shoulder, avoiding Alyssa's gaze. Alyssa knew the signs of a man trying not to talk. She had seen it enough in her line of work.

"Officer, can you tell me what happened here tonight?" Alyssa asked, her tone sharp and direct. She held her recorder up to his face, giving him little choice but to answer.

Officer Aaron cleared his throat. "Well, it appears an unruly fan lost control," he said, his voice measured, carefully avoiding details. "He started attacking people around him. Things escalated quickly."

Alyssa frowned. "Started attacking people? That sounds a bit extreme for just an unruly fan, don't you think? Was there something else going on here? Drugs maybe? Or something more?"

Officer Aaron shifted uncomfortably. "Look, ma'am, we're still investigating. It could have been drugs, could have been a mental health issue. We're not ready to make any statements on specifics just yet."

Alyssa pressed on. "Officer, multiple eyewitnesses reported bites and scratches. Signs of cannibalism like a few months ago. Are you sure there's nothing else going on?"

Officer Aaron clenched his jaw and shook his head. "Like I said, we're still looking into it. Right now, we can only confirm that an individual got out of control, and many were sent to the emergency room. It got out of hand fast."

Alyssa narrowed her eyes and scribbled a few notes in her book.

"Was there any response from the medical teams? Anyone hospitalized from... whatever happened here?"

Officer Aaron sighed, visibly annoyed. "We've got people receiving treatment, but I don't have those details. If you want medical information, you should talk to the hospital. Look, miss, that's all I can tell you for now."

Alyssa clenched her jaw. She knew when she was being stonewalled, but she also knew better than to push too hard right now. She forced a smile and nodded. "Thanks for your time, Officer."

Aaron nodded curtly, turning away. Alyssa watched him go, her mind already piecing together the inconsistencies in what she'd been told. This wasn't over. She would get to the bottom of it. In the meantime, she needed to compile as many of her notes as possible for her next report.

Raccoon City Warehouse, Late Afternoon

David pulled his truck into the parking lot. 

"Hey, David!" Bob called out. "Took you long enough! Do you know what time it is? I should be out of here by now!"

David stepped out. "Yeah, yeah, sorry, Bob..." He rubbed the back of his neck. "The last client was a real pain. There was nothing much I could do."

Bob shrugged, waving it off. "Eh, it's fine. Go on." He opened the gate, and David drove in.

Bob then picked up his radio. "Hey, Mark?"

"Yeah?" Mark asked.

"David's finally here. We're good to go. The night shift guys should be here in about twenty minutes."

"Ah, good," Mark replied. "Let's get out of here. Been hearing about these riots... best not to stick around."

Bob frowned slightly. "Yeah, I hear ya."

#

After a few more hours of work, Mark and Bob were finally off duty. Due to scheduling, both of them had to skip lunch that day. Bob seemed to take it the hardest. Now, they were really in the mood for some grub.

"So, Mark," Bob began. They made their way down the quiet street. "I've been meaning to ask you something."

"Yeah?"

"About our time in the Marines, do you ever miss it? Living off the VA and working security aint what I expected to be doing after all these years."

Mark sighed. "I used to ask myself the same question when I got sent back, but things changed, you know. I got a family to look after now. They need me."

Bob nodded slowly. "Yeah... I did too…”

Mark nodded. It’s been years since Bob’s wife passed. Things didn’t go great when his daughter ended up in an accident in her 30s.

Bob seemed to stare out into the distance.

Mark shook Bob’s shoulder. "Enough of that. I ain’t going anywhere. C'mon, let's get moving. I think J's Bar is the closest place we can get to."

Bob perked up. "Sure. Let's grab a drink and get something to eat."

Mayor Warren's Office

"So let me get this straight. Your damn man-eating, brainless-guy virus is OUT in MY TOWN?!" Mayor Warren paced back and forth with a phone gripped tightly in his hand.

"Mayor Warren, remain calm. We're simply informing you of the situation. There appears to be a virus leak, possibly spreading into the city's water reservoir. It is likely the outbreak started at the NEST laboratory."

Warren's face fell. "Wha… Shit... Should've known..."

"We understand the gravity of the situation. We need you to carry out the following tasks immediately."

Warren swallowed, his hand trembling slightly. "Alright then..."

"First, call Chief Irons and instruct him to quarantine the affected areas or the entire city if needed. Next, contact the United States Government and the CDC. They may already be aware of the T-Virus. Make sure to avoid any contact with infected hosts, and warn against drinking contaminated water. Any exposure, such as bites or drinking contaminated water, will result in infection within a maximum of two hours."

"R-right..." Warren stammered.

"It is advised you evacuate immediately. Destroy or hide any evidence implicating our organization in any illegal activities. Failure to comply will lead to serious consequences."

Warren went pale. "Okay, okay, got it. I'll... I'll send some people and deal with the evidence. I'll contact the government now."

"Very well. We will explore options for dealing with the situation." The call abruptly ended.

Warren let out a shaky breath. "Right, right... now to Irons..."

RING RING

Chief Irons answered almost immediately. "I expected you to call."

Warren sighed. "Irons, I'm aware there's a... 'hazardous spill' going on in the city."

"This is a secure line, Warren. Listen up. I didn't need you to call for me to get moving. I've already ordered quarantine in the affected zones."

Warren's lips twisted. "Right, right... So much for that, huh? I've seen the news, Irons. Your boys aren't doing too well down there."

"Cut the damn sarcasm, Warren, and be grateful I haven't let those cannibal freaks overrun the entire city!"

Warren stayed silent.

Irons' tone seemed pained. "I love this town, Warren. It's mine as much as it's yours."

Warren said nothing.

"Let me guess. The corporation boys called you, right?"

"Yes, yes. They want the quarantine, the whole city if needed. But you and I both know your men aren't ready for something like this. They just keep coming!"

Irons let out a bitter laugh. "No shit."

"And of course, they want their tracks covered. Destroying evidence, tying up loose ends. You saw that coming, didn't you?"

"Yeah. I sent a team to clean up Umbrella's mess."

"Jesus, Irons, why are you…"

"Shut the hell up, Warren!"

Warren's face twisted in anger. "Hey! Don't you dare talk to me like that!"

"They did it! Those bastards at Umbrella had the audacity to do this—ruining my beautiful town!"

Warren's expression hardened. "Remember, Irons, I'm the one who runs this place. You're just here to protect it."

"All of this... it's YOUR FAULT! If you hadn't dragged me into this…"

"Oh, grow up, Irons! Be thankful I brought you in! Without me, Umbrella would've replaced you with someone with more guts and brains ages ago!"

"What did you just say to me?!"

"You know what? You can have this damn town for yourself! I'm getting out of here!"

"WHAT?! WARREN! IF I FALL, YOU FALL TOO!"

"And what are you going to do about it, huh? This city's going down, and I'm the captain who's getting off this sinking ship. Good luck, Irons."

The line went dead.

Irons slammed the phone down on his desk. "GOD DAMMIT!"

Alley Behind a Deli

A homeless man was trying to sleep, using a filled trash bag as a pillow. The cold night air was making it impossible to sleep. He shivered and wrapped his thin coat tighter around himself. It wasn't comfortable, but it was all he had to stay warm.

Suddenly, Tramp felt a sharp pain in his leg. His eyes shot open as he let out a yelp, quickly sitting up. He looked down and saw a rat biting him. Tramp kicked and struggled to his feet. The rat wasn't fast enough, and Tramp stomped it dead. He breathed hard, looking down at his leg throbbing in pain.

"Ah, great...!" Tramp winced at the blood. "I need to take care of this..."

He looked around, trying to find something to clean the wound. Options were limited in the alley. He grumbled, knowing he had to find something before it festered.

Sadly, it was already too late.

Meanwhile

Following his resupply and that strange warning from the brunette, the Courier took the liberty of exploring the town for a bit. As far as he could tell, everything seemed normal. When he asked about the rumors of murders, there was debate that it was cannibals or wild animalsIt got annoying to the point that the Courier found somewhere to park so he could relax and get a drink.

Stepping out, he spotted a place called Jack's Bar and walked toward it. "Good a place as any."

#

The Bar had its usual crowd. Classic rock played from the old nostalgic jukebox. For now, it seemed like just another quiet evening in Raccoon City.

Officer Kevin Ryman sat at the bar with a half-full glass of bourbon. He glanced up as Cindy walked past, giving her a friendly wink.

"Another round, Kev?" Cindy asked.

Kevin shrugged. "Why not? It's been a hell of a week. Might as well."

Cindy reached behind the bar and refilled his glass. "Don't let Chief catch you slacking,"

Kevin chuckled. "I'll be fine. Chief's not exactly looking for me here."

Nearby, Mark Wilkins, a security guard, nursed a beer alongside his close friend Bob. The two came in after their shift. For some reason, Bob seemed to be out of it.

Alyssa Ashcroft tapped away on her laptop at one of the window seats, working on her latest story for the Daily Raccoon.

David King, a plumber, sat towards the back of the bar. He took a shot of whiskey and sighed before setting the glass down.

Across the room, Jim Chapman was hunched over a small table near a window, chewing on the end of his pencil as he worked on a crossword puzzle.

The door to the women's restroom swung shut behind Yoko Suzuki. She had slipped into the bar quietly and headed straight to the restroom. She stood in front of the mirror with scissors. She trimmed a few strands, trying something different.

George Hamilton was tired after a long shift at the hospital. There had been an influx of new patients, yet he still smiled at those who greeted him. The patrons at Jack's often sought his medical advice whenever he came by.

The door to Jack's Bar creaked open, and a figure immediately drew every pair of eyes in the room. The usual patrons turned to take in the newcomer. It was a man clad in a duster emblazoned with a United States flag design reminiscent of the colonial version. His face was concealed by a helmet that had clearly seen battle. Some thought he was a former military man.

The Courier strode inside. He did not attempt to blend in, and the contrast between his rugged look and the relatively normal patrons of the bar was striking. Conversations died down, and more than a few people exchanged wary glances.

Kevin Ryman was the first to notice the body armor underneath and the Big Iron on his hip. His easy-going posture stiffened, and his hand instinctively went to the holster on his hip and over his gun. His eyes narrowed as he watched the stranger. He wasn't sure if this guy would cause trouble.

The Courier, however, was unfazed by the attention. He briefly took in their faces as he approached the counter. He pulled out a stool and sat down like he were just any one else.

Cindy Lennox hesitated before approaching. "What can I get you?"

The Courier reached up and unbuckled his helmet. He removed it, revealing tanned skin, dark brown hair, and warm brown eyes. He gave her a small smile. "A shot of scotch."

Cindy blinked, momentarily surprised by the contrast. She nodded and turned to fetch the drink. "Coming right up."

Still watching the scene unfold from a few seats down, Kevin scoffed as he eased his hand away from his holster. He picked up his drink and took a sip, muttering under his breath. 'Another drifter with a flair for the dramatic…'

As Cindy placed the shot of scotch in front of the Courier, she couldn't help but glance at him again. "Not from around here, are you?"

The Courier picked up the glass and sipped before giving her a small shrug. "Just passing through."

Cindy smiled politely. "Well, welcome to Jack's Bar. It's a little quieter than most places, but you picked a good night for it."

The Courier nodded, appreciating her tone. He noticed Kevin's scrutinizing gaze, but paid it no mind.

Kevin sighed, shaking his head as he returned to his drink. 'At least he's not causing trouble,' he muttered to himself before taking another sip. 'Yet.'

The Courier leaned back slightly in his seat. He could feel the eyes on him, but he was used to it. It wasn't the first time and wouldn't be the last. For now, though, all he wanted was to finish his drink.

In the calm before the storm, Jack's Bar returned to its usual hum of activity. The Courier sat at the counter while the city outside began spiraling into the chaos none of them knew was coming.