Wasteland Wanderer: Biohazard Chapter 04 (Early Preview) (Patreon)

Chapter 04: Hell Breaks Loose

Bob sat slouched in his usual spot in the bar. Unfortunately, he wasn’t looking so hot compared to earlier that day. His face was pale, with beads of sweat trickling down his forehead.

Mark tried getting him a Sprite, but Bob waved it off. "I'll be fine. I can eat later. Just need to sleep it off.”

Mark wasn’t sure what was wrong, but he figured Bob might feel better soon, right?

#

The Courier fiddled with his Pip-Boy as he took another sip from his drink.

“Ooh. What’s that?”

He looked up to see the waitress looking at him curiously. 

“Is that one of those PDAs I’ve seen on TV? Never seen one on the wrist before.”

“Something like that.” He chuckled. “It’s a custom model.”

“Fancy.”

“If you think this is fancy, I have a gold-plated one in the trunk of my car.”

She giggled. “Sure you do. And I have the Hope Diamond in my jewelry box.”

The Courier lingered on the waitress for a moment. “Sorry for not asking earlier, but what’s your name?” He flashed an easy smile. [Lady Killer Perk Active]

Cindy felt a warmth creep up her neck, but managed to cover it. “Cindy. Cindy Lennox.” She tilted her head slightly. “And you? Got a name, mysterious stranger?”

He gave her a slight nod of appreciation. “Nah, that’s more of a title to someone I know. For those close to me, they go by my nickname, Six.”

“Six?” Cindy raised an eyebrow. “Is that short for something, or…?”

“You could say that,” he chuckled softly.

“Well, Six.” Cindy grabbed a bottle from the shelf behind her. “If you’re staying in town for a little bit longer, maybe we can get to know each other better.” She started pouring another drink for herself.

The Courier smirked. “For a sweet thing like yourself, I might have to take up that offer.”

Kevin caught the exchange and rolled his eyes, muttering, “Oh, for crying out loud.” He turned back to his drink. He recognized the look on Cindy’s face. Seen it a hundred times when someone smooth rolled into town.

The Courier glanced briefly at Kevin, a knowing smirk touching his lips, before turning his attention back to Cindy. He raised his glass slightly. “To good company, then.”

Cindy couldn’t stop the wider smile that spread across her face. “Cheers, Six,” she murmured, lightly touching the rim of her glass.

#

Kevin nursed his drink and occasionally glanced at the Courier after Cindy left him to continue her shift. His initial impression was that he was one of those who took the idea of a home militia too seriously. Kevin wasn’t one to criticise people exercising their Second Amendment rights within reason.

As the Courier shifted slightly in his seat, Kevin’s eyes caught sight of a patch on the man’s riot armor. Squinting, he could make out the insignia of the Salt Lake City SWAT stitched onto the gear. Kevin blinked, surprised. What was their SWAT officer doing here in Raccoon City, of all places?

Curiosity chewed at him. Kevin finally put his glass down with a soft click and turned on his stool. "I couldn’t help but notice your department." He nodded towards the letters. "That's a hell of a long way from home."

The Courier glanced down at his vest. He didn’t seem particularly surprised that Kevin had noticed. “I’ve been wandering around the West Coast for a while.” He took another sip of his scotch before continuing.”Got ways to go before my end destination.” In truth, this vest was one of the few gifts from Joshua. 

Kevin raised an eyebrow. “Wandering? You say that like you’re taking your time getting there.”

“You could call it a temporary reassignment across the country. I wasn’t given much of a start date. More of a benefit for my service.” The Courier gave a faint smile. “I’ve been on my own for a while now.”

Kevin eyed the revolver in its holster on the Courier’s hip. “Well, let the RCPD handle any issues while you're here. No need to unnecessarily escalate things while you’re not on duty.”

The Courier shrugged. “In fairness, most of my confrontations weren’t even my fault, but sure. 

An Hour Later

At this point, people were getting settled in. A man absentmindedly stirred his drink at the counter while Cindy cleared empty plates nearby. Another regular was slumped over a table by the window, pencil in hand, tapping the crossword puzzle on the back of a torn-up newspaper.

The old TV mounted above the liquor bottles started airing the local news for the night, the Raccoon News Network. "There was a disruption earlier at today's football match between the Raccoon Sharks and the Old Court Thunders. Apparently, the game was interrupted when an unruly fan got out of control and sparked a riot. The number of injured is not yet known, but more than 50 broke the line before the cops could take control of the scene..."

A brief flicker of concern crossed Jack’s face as he glanced at the TV, wiping down a glass. 

A few stools away, the Courier recognized the report instantly. He’d been near the stadium, heard the commotion, but hadn't grasped its scale. He scanned the room – nobody else seemed particularly bothered. Just another Tuesday in Raccoon City, he thought grimly. With all the disappearances and weird deaths lately, maybe a stadium riot just didn’t register anymore.

A guy in a stained work uniform nearby proved his point, leaning back and stretching dramatically. “Another brawl at a Sharks game? Guess the old-timers couldn’t handle a bad call,” he scoffed, getting a dry chuckle from his neighbor.

At the counter, Kevin took another sip of his beer, paying little mind to the report. Behind him, Cindy balanced a tray of glasses when, suddenly, a rat darted across the floor in front of her. Startled, she gasped and accidentally dropped one.

Mark shot an annoyed glance before his attention snapped back to Bob. He was still out of it for some reason. Mark absently rubbed his own shoulder. “Aren’t you eating anything?” He leaned closer, but Bob didn’t respond. Mark started nudging him gently. “Hey, Bob, where’s your mind at?”

Bob slowly lifted his head, his eyes bleary. “…What?”

Across the bar, a new person stumbled through the front door. To Will, he looked like any other drunk. However, his clothes were dirty, stained with something that looked like oil or… blood?

Will, the bar’s cook and part-time bartender, was collecting a glass nearby and frowned at the sight. “Huh…? What a weird customer…” he said aloud.

Hearing the comment, the Courier, Kevin, and Mark turned their heads toward the door, watching as the stranger swayed in.

“Who is this guy?” Mark muttered.

Before he could get an answer, Bob suddenly slipped off his seat, hitting the floor with a thud.

“Dammit!” Mark yelped, scrambling over. He dropped to his knees beside Bob. “Hey, are you alright?” He shook him gently, but Bob was unresponsive.

While he wasn’t a doctor, Kevin was still trained in basic first aid. He slid off his stool and knelt opposite Mark, ignoring the strange newcomer for the moment. Fingers pressed against Bob's neck, then briefly checked his airway. “He’s still alive and breathing, but it’s weak. Help me sit him up.”

Mark nodded quickly, moving to help support Bob's back.

Meanwhile, Will stepped out from behind the bar to get rid of the creepy guy. He liked to think he was a nice enough guy to the homeless and drunks that came into his bar, but he still had a responsibility to his customers to keep the bar orderly. The stranger just standing there at the doorway was going to scare customers. “Hey, pal, what do you think you’re doing?”

The stranger turned to Will’s direction. 

The bartender didn’t notice it before, but he now noticed his face looked wrong. His eyes were gray, and there were open wounds still leaking blood. 

Before Will could even stumble back, the stranger lunged, jaws aiming straight for Will's throat.

[V.A.T.S Activated] 

For one man in the bar, the world seemed to freeze.

BANG!

The deafening gunshot. The stranger crumpled to the floor. The back of the man’s skull burst in a shower of red and gray.

Mark knocked his chair over as he stared at the scene in horror. “What the hell…?”

Jack dropped the bottle he’d been holding, shattering it.

The other patrons now stood frozen, eyes wide with shock. 

Trained reflexes kicked in as Kevin leapt up from Bob, drawing his gun and aiming it at the shooter. “Drop your weapon!” he ordered.

The other patrons started scrambling for cover in case of another gunshot. Will stared at the corpse on the floor. He stammered, “W-Why did you do that? You just killed him!”

The Courier stood unfazed, his pistol still in hand, though lowered now. “You should be thanking me. He was a feral. Would’ve chomped down on your neck.”

Will instinctively clutched his throat, a shiver running through him as he remembered the stranger’s sudden aggression. Kevin stepped closer to the Courier, keeping his gun leveled. “I won’t ask again. Drop your weapon!”

The Courier didn’t move, instead glancing toward the window beside them. “Are you sure about that?”

Kevin hesitated, then followed the Courier’s gaze. His eyes widened in horror. Outside, more figures staggered toward the bar and pressed their faces against the glass.

It was chaos. They could hear many screams up and down the road. Sirens blared. People were running, stumbling over one another, desperately trying to flee. Among them, others like the “drunk” man were lunging at anything living with savage hunger. 

Mark backed up, his hands shaking as he looked between Bob and the carnage at the bar. “What… what the hell is going on?”

Alyssa and Jim gasped, shrinking away from the windows as they watched the mob of the undead outside. They attacked people on the street.

“They’ve all gone crazy,” Alyssa whispered.

“We gotta get away from them!” Jim shouted, panic overtaking him.

Without waiting, the Courier grabbed Will and dragged him back. When Will was safely behind him, he quickly locked the door. The lunatics outside were still scratching and clawing to get in.

Suddenly, a scream came from the restroom.

Kevin shot a look at the Courier, then at the door, before lowering his gun. He took a risk by trusting the stranger. “Secure the front!” he ordered, already moving toward the back.

The Courier was already on it. Hearing the door shudder under the weight of the infected outside, he quickly pushed a nearby barrel table against it, motioning for the others to help. Mark, reluctantly leaving Bob’s side, hurried over, grabbing a second barrel to reinforce the barricade.

Kevin reached the women’s restroom, where he found a terrified woman in a green dress backed against the wall, eyes fixed on an air vent. A decayed hand was reaching out, clawing at the air. Wasting no time, Kevin fired a shot, hitting the arm and causing it to jerk back. The woman screamed, but Kevin grabbed her, pulling her back toward the others.

When he returned, he found Mark trying to support Bob, who was slightly more lucid.

Kevin grabbed his radio to call for support. “RPD dispatch, this is 153. I’m trapped in North Garden with several civilians. One of us is injured and immobilized. Please advise.”

Static crackled in response, and Kevin cursed, glancing at the Courier, who was now reinforcing the barricade with whatever he could find. The monsters outside pounded against the glass, cracks forming. It wouldn’t hold for much longer.

Mark, breathing heavily as he supported Bob, looked at Kevin, his voice trembling. “What the hell’s going on out there?”

Kevin huffed as he reloaded his gun. “I don’t know… but whatever it is, we need to get out of here.”

The Courier, finishing the makeshift barricade, turned to the group. “Then we’d better be ready to fight. This place won’t hold for long.”