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When you spend just half an hour with someone, you can learn a lot just by watching the blood slowly drain from their body.

Of these two dead cops, I could see one had been shot a few more times in the chest. He probably died first. Donny, the poor kid, was too disgusted to even sift through their pockets, so I did it for both of us. It was while I was wiping the crimson rain away from the guys wallet that the power went out. For a moment, I thought it was just stumbling under all this rain but it never turned back on. I could hear Donny groan loudly as he crawled into the front of the abandoned cop car. I joined him, pocketing the wallets of my new, blood-soaked friends on the ground.

It was so dark, I couldn't even see my hand in front of my face or Donny, seated beside me.

He was fumbling with the radio in the darkness while rain pattered on the windscreen. I wasn't surprised when his calls were answered with static. "Fuck. We're on our own, Arman" growled Donny, after giving the radio an angry thump. I only shrugged and started to light another soggy cigarette. "We're gonna wait around here for back-up. They know we're here" I finally answered, the cigarette clenched between my teeth. The damn thing wouldn't light, no matter how long I kept it up to the flame.

Donny sighed loudly again and stared into the inky blackness outside his window. "Well, what the hell are we doin' know, huh, Arman? Standin' around, waitin' for back-up that won't come? Any ol' scum off the streets could stumble down here with a shooter and fill us with lead!" whined Donny. "Jesus Christ, Donny, would you shut the hell up?" I snapped, concentrating on my cigarette. The damn thing wasn't just soggy - it was soaking. The pounding in my head, which seem to have subsided, was starting come back with this dumb kid's yapping. "I told ya, we're gonna wait here for back-up. No one is crazy enough to attack an abandoned pair of cops in the middle of a freakin' black out! Now, just calm down and gimme a smoke that'll actually light!" I told him, good and straight, clutching my temple in pain.

Donny and I had been working together for 6 months by that time - I kinda liked the kid but god, he really knew how to tap dance on my nerves. I have to admit, at the time, I was kinda nervous too. I knew in this climate we weren't looking at back-up for another couple of hours. But in my hung-over state, I was more content to just waiting around in a warm, dry car than go driving around Santa Somabra with Donny in pitch-darkness.

"No cell signal" murmured Donny again, checking his phone as I finally got a smoke lit properly. We sat in silence for a long time, listening to the hum of the rain. It could of been 10 minutes - it could of been an hour. Whatever it was, it was long enough to start noticing things out there other than rain. The occasional patter of feet on wet sidewalk, the hums of the dead street lamps and the occasional howl in the distance. Donny
 got put on the edge when he started hearing howls.

He always hated werewolves. Well, which officer of the SSPD didn't?

"You don't think they're sendin' a huntin' pack in, d'ya?!" he whispered in the darkness, wildly fidgeting in his seat. He was searching for the cool feel of a gun in his hand. It made everyone feel safer. I was starting to get pretty scared at that point - I could handle orcs or zombies. But werewolves? Dirty, horrible fuckin' beasts. But I was the older half of the partnership - I had to keep the kid calm.

"You gotta gun with ya?" I replied, extinguishing the end of my third cigarette with my cold, damp fingers. "Nope! I left in the other goddamned car!" he said, his voice rising from fear. "Relax, kid. They might not even come this way. Besides, what kind of a cop car doesn't have guns in it?" To prove my point, I pulled open the glove compartment.

And a fucking hand fell out.

We both jumped out of skins as this fucking hand flopped to floor of the car. Donny was first out the car and I was moments behind him, jumping around in the rain, fearing this disembodied hand was still on me. "Jesus fuckin' Christ!" cried Donny. "What the fuck is goin' on in this town?" "I dunno, kid!" I exclaimed back at him, unsure what the fuck had just happened. We both stuck our heads in the car again and by the light of my Zippo, we saw the hand. It lay motionless where my feet had been moments before. It was slick with blood and rain. It looked like it'd been put there kinda recently, as rot hadn't begun setting in. It at least looked human but that usually didn't mean jackshit in Santa Somabra.

"What the hell..." murmured Donny. "Why do a pair of cops have a hand in their glove compartment?" Before I could make any clever jokes, we heard a noise within the car. A groan. "Jesus Christ" I grumbled, pulling my head out the car and staring at the boot. Donny did the same, his hands nervously patting his pockets for a gun. "Right, kid, these cops were crooked. No straight cop has a hand in the glove compartment and groans in his trunk. My guess is, they picked up a guy for some mobster and got into some trouble while waiting around here. Go grab a gun from your car, I'll be here".

Donny did as he was told without question. The rain was subsiding a bit and I could still hear the occasional howl. But it was getting further away. The silence was broken again by a loud groan from the trunk of the cop car. There was a light banging on the roof of the trunk, as if the person inside was asking to be let out. Donny returned, flashing his gun in the darkness towards Arman. Arman nodded and the pair walked towards the trunk, boots sloshing in the wet sidewalk.

Arman pulled a powerful torch from his pocket and did a silent countdown with his fingers as Donny clicked the safety of his gun. The trunk door was lifted quickly and Arman's torch illuminated the entire trunk. The smell of sweat, dampness and death wafted out of the trunk as the zombie within blinked in the light of the powerful torch. "Get outta the fuckin' car!" barked Donny, flicking his gun. The zombie groaned and touched its face groggily. "Where are we..." it murmured. "Get outta the car!" repeated Donny. 

This was one of the stranger zombies I'd ever seen. Parts of body possessed the usual Zombie characteristics - brown rotten flesh, eyes hanging out of its head, clumps of hair gone. But part's it looked unnaturally human. The skin around his neck and bottom of its face was pink, almost human-like. At least it was sentient.

The zombie seemed to notice the gun and held both hands up. "Don't shoot, please" it pleaded, seeming to wake up. "Get out!" repeated Donny for the third time. "Okay, okay" he murmured, stepping out of the car and towering above us. I noticed what he was wearing - a raggedy looking suit, with a moth-bitten jacket and a tie covered in burn marks. But it was his hands that confused me - one looked almost perfectly human, while the other...it wasn't there.

"Sweet jesus..." I murmured as Donny handcuffed it's wrists together. Donny said the usual arrest speech as I checked his pockets. The zombie didn't say anything or even move. He was twice the size of both of us but he was also skeletally thin - his clothes just seemed to hang off of him. His pockets were empty. As Donny bundled him into the back seat of the cop car, I couldn't stop thinking about his hand. "Hey, Donny" I grabbed the kid by the shoulder. "Did'ya see his hands?" Donny nodded. "Weirdest lookin' zombie I've ever seen. You think that's his hand in the front seat?" "Probably" I replied. 

"What the hell do we do now?" asked Donny before he jumped into the front seat. "We've got two dead cops, a dead guy under arrest and no godda-" His rant was interrupted by an ear-splitting howl from above. It sent chills down my spine as I squinted towards the sound of it in the darkness. It was the night of the wolf. We'd forgotten about those howls for only five minutes but that was a costly five minutes.

First rule of being a cop in SSPD: Don't ignore the howls and hope they'll go away. 'Cause they won't.

"Donny. We're going to get in this car and we're going to drive away as fast as fucking possible, making as little noise as fucking possible, you got it?" I muttered in the darkness. I didn't see or hear his reply but I saw him dive into the front seat of his car, locking it as soon as I took my place beside him. I glanced behind me to see the zombie looking calmly out the window.

"This yours, pal?" I asked, holding up the hand. "Oh, so that's where that went" sneered the zombie. "Well, you'd better strap in, you sarkly little dirt-eater" I smirked back. As soon as my seatbelt clicked, Donny floored it and we pulled away from the street.

The cops had left their radio on and their keys in the ignition.

They'd broken rule two.