People really like to imagine when true disaster strikes, they're well prepared, ready to help their friends and loved ones. Sitting on the sh!tter with your pants literally around your ankles was not, what Jack had envisioned. Okay, some crazy dude poking his head under the stall wasn't life threatening either, but it was definitely weird as hell.

"WHOA! What the fsck!? Get outta here you freak!" The bald guy shouted at the strange man. The resulting roar from the peeper sent shivers down Jack's spine, but, feeling cocky, he taunted his new acquaintance. "Hey fruitcake, how about a a little hike!?"

A swift kick from Jack's boot sent the man out of his sight for the moment and Jack went on to finish his business. "Man, that greasy ass egg sandwich from Speedway... " Laughter in the stall beside Jack didn't help his disposition any. "Hey, peter-puffer, YOU go eat one of those and see for yourself! It's like Napalm up your ass when it comes out!" The head suddenly popped back into view akin to a whack 'em gopher commonly found at an arcade, much to Jack's audible dismay.

"Man, I told you to take a hike... But, if you weren't so freakin' TOKED UP, you'd get the picture!" Again the snarling face received a size thirteen makeover and vanished from Jack's sight. "Jesus. WHAT are they puttin' in the dope these days?" His neighbor was now howling with laughter, fully realizing the situation.

Jack simply rolled his eyes and started to wipe. As he secured his belt, a nerve wracking scream rang out from the stall beside him. "Hey, WHAT THE FSCK are you doing!?" His heated question was met with a muffled growl. "ALRIGHT, THAT'S IT. I'm gonna BEAT the livin' Mother Mary outta your sorry ass!"

Jack was ready to throw down as he stepped up to the stainless steel stall door. His hand worked the lock while he scanned the right side of the bathroom for the freak. "Where are you, mother-" He jumped at the earsplitting howl before being thrown back into the stall by the crushing door. "Agh! You sonuva-" Jack's eyes met with the sight of the man from the right stall and he realized this wasn't a run-of-the-mill drug addict. "Y-you ripped his fscking throat out! What the hell is wrong with you!?"

Jack felt as his boots were being clawed at by the lunatic and he reflexively planted a sole in its face one again to free himself. He wasted no time in frantically hopping onto the toilet to avoid the flurry of scratching hands, but in his haste nearly fell over into the wall on his left. Jack's hand reached up to grab something, anything to help him not fall. Luckily for him, his hand clenched onto a steel grate overhead. Jack looked up and his mind put two and two together instantly.

With a good tugging the grate swung down to reveal a man-sized duct. Jack stretched his arms upwards and clenched onto the edge of the opening. With a grunt he threw both elbows inside while using the stall wall to boost himself up. He had only the cool breeze and the chilling screams echoing against the metal plating to greet him. It was also dark, which Jack had a solution for. A hot second later and a small flashlight cut through the dull black giving the bald dude what he needed to move forward.

"None of the White Box stuff, even?" John Amsel had asked this same question for several weekends now, with the same reply in the negative. When most of the Department carried their .357 P226's, John had to buy his own practice ammo, carrying a .45.

"No, sorry sir."

It wasn't too big a surprise, with the stockpiling people had involved themselves with. Even the Flint police had to drive out to a Walmart in the next city over, just to buy some ammo. The plain clothes officer sighed none the less. "You're sure? Could you check, really quick?"

The clerk was torn for a second, then ducked off behind the counter. As he returned, John smiled, his prediction true. While they couldn't explicitly tell their employees to deny that there was ammo around, they could leave their shelves empty to hang onto some. "What do you need?"

"Ah, two hundred of the .45 hollow points. Fifty twelve-gauge shells, double ought if you got em." Yeah, he had to stock up, too. He opened the boxes to be sure of the contents, then tossed them into his backpack. "Thanks, have a good one." With all the crowding there was, he was lucky to get anything at all. It'd be prudent to leave pretty soon, if that idiot would hurry up...

"Hey, the hell do you think you're doing?" Some kid was trying to pull the zipper on his pack. John flipped him around flashed his badge. "Should have tried someone else. You're coming with to the department."

Jack was powerhousing his way through the vents now after seeing how many people were skittering about on the ground floor. I'll say I was the janitor, yeah, that should work... Jack thought to himself, seeing the hard time the security folks were having with the crowds in the store. Literally moments after he devised his excuse for being in the vents, Jack felt the metal duct start to buckle from the weight.

"Sh!t, sh!t, sh!t!" he said with clear panic while he tried to back pedal. It was of no use, though, as the whole section of pipe he was in came crashing down on the ground below. Normally he'd be severely injured from such a fall, but several arguing people softened the landing a bit.

Jack clambered out of the piping only to see some of the patrons staring at him and the vent. "What? I'm the fsckin' janitor. Are any of you gonna help me put this damned pipe back where it's supposed to go?" The shoppers turned away and returned to their last minute shopping, albeit slightly calmer. "I didn't fsckin' think so!" Jack fumed with conviction even an established actor would've been impressed with.

"Sir, you're either going to have to calm down, or come with me." Jack turned around to see his cop-friend standing there with some punkish kid beside him. Sudden screams at the other end of the store caused John to glare at Jack questioningly, who nodded in response.

"Hey, man, I ain't fsckin' staying around here." John produced his baton, causing the kid to bolt off down a nearby aisle. The cop collapsed the bludgeon as quickly as he had produced it, glancing around at the rising state of panic. Jack scratched his head. "John, what the hell is going on?"

"Not a clue." He started off towards the entrance, waving Jack behind him.

"What do you mean you don't have a clue?" He stared after his friend and shook his head. "Well, I'll catch up with you here in a hot sec." Jack opened up the pockets on his 5.11 cargoes and began stuffing random munchies and drinks into the myriad of pockets on them. After he grabbed everything he could cram, Jack ran back to the DIY section in hopes of finding a weapon of some kind. Not too long after he walked down the tool aisle he spotted a sledge that would do nicely. Jack grinned and marched back the front of Wally World. "Time to go Viking on some punkasses!"

"That's... impressive" From the people crowding the register, it was impossible to even see the sliding doors out front. People were attacking each other to get in, and to get out. They weren't even trying to steal anything, and they weren't protesting anything. John started to back away. His badge was a job, but he wasn't blindly bound to it.

Jack's slow march was now a full charge as he barreled down the aisles, his hammer poised to strike down the first idiot that got in his way. He slowed down when he reached the front of the store, seeing the throng of fighting shoppers near the entrance. Jack then spotted John, who was backing away from the situation totally empty handed.

"What the hell are you doing? Pop some bastards and show em who's boss!"

"And sic the crowd on me? Learn to think, baldie!" The officer continued to backpedal, glancing worriedly at the crowd.

"Oh, you did NOT just call me that, donut-muncher." The noise of the argument grabbed some attention, for some of the rioters broke off, full sprint. Remembering the fsck in the bathroom, he braced for the first one, catching the guy in the side of the ribs mid-sprint. "Back the fsck off!" The enraged target bounced back to his feet, only to have his knee smashed by a second swing from the sledgehammer. "Yeah, yeah, you like tha-" Almost instantly, four other rioters dove onto the wounded person, ripping out chunks of his flesh. Jack paled mid sentence and turned tail.

John was waiting at the first aisle, shoving over a shelf to block their pursuers. He fell in behind Jack, pounding towards the rear of the store. "Try to find the shipping pallets, we can climb up there!"

"So we can starve up there?!" Jack absentmindedly weaved around a toppled rack of movies, cursing. "Assho!e! Let's take one of the trucks, we need to get outta here... If you wanna know what took me so long, one of those assho!es ate the-"

"Fsck up and keep running!"

Defense? Maybe? Shooting five people in the face was something John would tend to call an enraged shooting, but it almost made sense in this case. "Do you have that door yet?" He hissed and sighted the pistol as another one darted out of cover.

Jack gave up on cutting the lock, jamming the bolt cutters back into his pocket. "Well, no sh!t." He picked up the sledge, smashing the lock with the first swing. "Okay, we're good!" He pulled the heavy door open, piling through the doorway with John behind him. "Lock it!" John reached out to slam the bolt closed, realizing the hammer had bent it beyond use. They scampered away from it as fists pounded on the other side. "John... those things can't open doors."

"Better for us. Let's try to find a key for one of these trucks." They had thankfully ended up in a rather large truck garage. John shuddered at the possible consequences if they had just ended up outside. "John, look around on the trucks, like behind the side view mirrors and in the fire extinguisher compartments."

"You sure you aren't just pulling this out of your ass?" John grunted.

"Trust me, I was a truck driver for a few years, I know how this stuff works."

The Officer produced a cigar. "Sure. You never could keep a job. Or a girl."

"Well," Jack sighed. "At least I have a positive outlook and refuse to give up."

"Of course. You'd have taken one look at your life and committed suicide otherwise."

"Clipped to the engine lines. Incredible... You ready?" John stood by the garage door, his right hand on his holstered sidearm.

Jack opened the driver-side door and hopped in. "Man, it's been awhile... " After completing the ridiculous start-up procedures, he then plugged in his iPod into the truck's main radio. Finnish Industrial metal blared over the speakers as he put the big rig into gear. John activated the electronic opener, and Jack smoothly pulled the big machine into the rear lot. He glanced in the mirrors to see John shutting the door behind the rig, before running up to the passenger side.

"Jack, this thing got a ham radio?"

"Yeah, here." Jack reached over to the radio, turned it down, then handed John the mike from a bracket to the left of the radio. John turned the radio to channel 9, which was fairly devoid of chatter.

"Korbey... Hey, wake up..."

Korbin flopped over, grumbling. Svetlana kept pushing him.

"Hey, Baby, wake up..."

Korbin slowly opened his eyes. A scream resounded outside his apartment. His eyes shot open and he groped under his pillow for the Glock 17. Still drowsy and buck naked, Korbin walked over to the door and looked out the peep hole. A man was viciously attacked a woman in the hallway. He opened the door and put two hollow points in the man's back.

"Korbin!!!", Svetlana yelled. "What the fsck did you just do?!"

"Lana, he was stabbing her to death." Korbin yawned. "He fscking deserved it." He sniffled, rubbed his ears and asked the woman, "Hey, lady? You okay?"

The woman pushed her assailant off of her. "You just shot a man! What the hell is wrong with you?!" She started fumbling for her cell phone and punched in a certain three-digit number.

Korbin grinned. Svetlana was standing behind him with her arms crossed. "Korbey, you said you'd give up how you were before for me!"

"Yeah, that was before women were being attacked outside my door. But, y'know, I gave up drugs. Does that mean nothing to you?!"

The woman in the hall said, "What the... My cell phone isn't working!"

Korbin thought, Well that saves my ass a whole hell of a lot of trouble. At least from the cops. He looked back to the lady and said, "You're welcome for saving your life, b!tch. Hope your hand doesn't fall off, it looks hurt." With that, he shut the door and went over to his dresser and pulled out some clothes. Svetlana went to the door while Korbin pulled on jeans, a black tee shirt, and black boots. Glancing at the bed, he opted to jam the Glock in the back of his waistband. Svetlana gasped, grabbing Korbin's shoulder and pointing at the door.

"Korbin... Korbey, that guy is still moving...."

He looked over his shoulder at the door and heard a shuffle behind it. "Move away Lana, I think he's coming back for seconds."

She complied and retreated into the bathroom. He moved over to the door and took aim towards the entrance. At first scraping sounded from the door, but it abruptly changed to pounding, then a full on wailing on the door. Korbin shot through the door four times.

"Gotcha, bastard..." Korbin moved to open the door when a hand burst through, reaching for his face. He backed off imediately. Korbin shot the remaining rounds in his magazine into the arm, which only reacted slightly from each shot. "Holy fsck, what the hell are you?! Lana, stay in there and lock the door!"

She looked at him, obviously frightened. "Just don't let your self get hurt!"

Korbin jumped over the bed and flipped it to barricade the doorway. He tore loose papers off his table, revealing a small lock box that he kept unlocked. He swept the loaded magazines into his pockets, and reloaded the pistol with another. Korbin proceeded to pull the bed down and clambered over to reach the door, the arm still flailing. As he reached for the lock, the crazed man put his other arm and his head through the door. "See how you like this, motherfscker." Korbin shot the freak until his gun flicked empty, seventeen rounds later.

"Lana!" Korbin shouted, deafened from the gunfire. He staggered away from the scene, before vomiting all over the floor.

Svetlana peered out the door at Korbin, who was doubled over his pile of puke. He choked out an earnest, "Fsck me!"

She gasped, staring at the mess. "Oh my, are you okay?!"

He staggered to his feet and reloaded the gun again. "Yeah... no... I think...?" He kept the Glock squared over the door. "I swear, if he fscking moves..."

"I think you killed it..." Svetlana said, hugging him rather tightly.

Officer Kimbal and O'Donell had been dispatched to the scene of a supposed shooting. Upon arriving, they had booked it up two flights of stairs to get to a grisly scene. A man had been slammed through a doorway, sprawled half and half on each side, his guts spilling down from the sharp splinters. He'd be lacerated by dozens of bullets, as the brass casings covering the floor testified. Kimbal began moving past the body as O'Donell was calling for back up.

Kimbal heard a shuffle and saw a man sitting with his back to the door and was holding his head. She stepped on a casing and he quickly looked behind him. Officer Kimbal had her gun trained on his head.

"Woah, woah, woah! This isn't what it looks like!"

"You sicko! Hands behind your head, stand up, slowly! How the HELL could you do that to someone?!" She moved closer to cuff him when a muffled yelp was heard from the hallway. Kimbal quickly glanced behind her. "O'Donell? You okay back there...?" Officer Kimbal backed slowly away from the perp, and glanced out the door, seeing a shuffling woman advancing towards O'Donell.

"Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you to--" O'Donell howled as the woman bit into his shoulder. His response was a quick knee to the stomach and wrenching motion sending the biter to the floor. He reached for his stun gun, and slammed it into the woman, setting her in spasms as he crawled away, gasping.

"Harry?! Are you okay?! Did she get you-FSCKI" She screamed as the man in the door started jerking violently. Three shots rang out behind her, two striking the already torn up man in his chest, the last one landing in his head. One hand was curled like a fist in the wall, with deep furrows that looked cut out by axes.

She turned around slowly and saw the perp's gun smoking. She stuttered weakly, "Th-thanks..." She then backed away from the corpse towards Officer O'Donell. The perp walked to the door, asking, "Is your buddy good? Sounded like that thing on the floor bit him... You may want to cap it."

O'Donell spoke up this time, "You want us to just kill her?"

Korbin's response was less than cordial. "I don't think these things are people anymore... that motherfscker," he gestured at the limp form in the door. "Tried to kill her, and bit her on the hand before he..." Korbin left out some details, instead skipping to later. "Smashed into our room. Shot him with two full clips."

Svetlana appeared behind him and clung to his shoulder. She asked, "Is everything okay? What's going on?" She directed this at the cops.

Just then on the cops' radios reports of other biting and bloody assaults were popping up like wild fire.

Korbin walked over to the spasming woman. "That can't be good." He shot the woman in the head. The Officers just watched, horrified.

Svetlana sighed. "Korbin... What the hell is going on...? Why are these people attacking everyone?"

He looked back at her then checked his ammo. "I really have no damn clue.... Did this bastard really rip some of my wall out?!" He saw the clawed hand buried in the wall. "Uh... Officers... you may want to see this..."

Kimbal and O'Donell looked at each other. "What is it?", O'Donell asked, gingerly dabbing at his bite.

Korbin poked the body in his door with the muzzle of his gun a few times before attempting to pull its arm from the wall. He planted his foot on the wall and yanked it loose, revealing long, sharp claws that had grown there in the few hours since he'd "killed" it the first time. "Those weren't there when it attacked me the first time." The Officers were dumbfounded.

Kimbal had to rub her eye's before she believed what she saw. "This isn't happening...."

O'Donell stood and hefted his partner up as well. "I think we better come to terms with now, before we see another one." He patted Kimbal on the shoulder. "Don't want to let those claws near me, no siree."

Korbin walked out to them and offered his hand. "Korbin Helringer. This is Lana, my girlfriend."

O'Donell aswered for both the police strongly shaking Korbin's hand, despite his injury, "I'm Harry O'Donell, this is my partner, Kelly Kimbal."

"Well nice to meet you. Let's get the fsck outa here, alright?" Everyone nodded.

Kimbal shuddered. "I want my shotgun..."

Korbin, Lana, Kimbal and O'Donell were going down to ground level. Just before the door to the foyer, O'Donell dropped to one knee and produced a small automatic from a ankle holster. He handed it to Lana. "You'll probably need this, from what I've seen. It's better than nothing."

She looked at Korbin with a terrified look in her eyes. "You've never shot a gun before?." Lana shook her head. "It's simple, you line up the notch here with the post here and you squeeze the trigger." She nodded and looked at the gun, noting it looked similar to what Korbin and Kimbal carried..

O'Donell looked at her and said, "Its only got ten shots, so make 'em count." Lana stared at the weapon and nodded solemnly.

"Okay," Korbin said as he checked his mag. "I want you to hug the walls behind me, and follow my steps exactly." The two Police Officers nodded. Kimbal took to the right of the door, O'Donell the left. Korbin was several steps back from the door way, covering it head-on.

Kimbal opened the door and peered through it, then she slowly opened the door, "cutting pie" into the room. She spotted a shuffling person in the center of the room, she looked back and motioned "eyes on one". She pushed the door open silently and the three on the door quietly entered the room. O'Donell nearly tripped over a corpse before catching himself. The one freak in the room turned a little much and it's arms flailed until it saw the people. Kimbal shot it in the chest, then in the head while it staggered.

The double doors to the outside were barricaded and thuds were heard from within. A bloody arm smashed through a nearby window, slashing itself on the sharp shards as it flailed around. O'Donell looked at the others and said, "Back up?!" They all nodded and begin to trot back up the stairs, at the top, they closed doors and moved barricades out of the way as they continued up to the seventh floor, the floor just before the roof.

"Svetlana... I--uh, you..." Korbin stuttered a bit more before saying, "Get on the roof and don't come down until we come to get you."

She smirked and swiftly replied, "I don't think so. These things will kill us both the same, so I'll stay here to make sure they can't get to you." Korbin looked at her intently before roughly kissing her. "Don't die!"

Pounding could be heard a floor down. O'Donell muttered, "Damn , these guys move fast... what the hell is going on?"

Arc 2: "Which floor, buddy?"