April 14th, 2016
Washington D.C.
First Police District

—

Samantha heard of the sounds as if she were standing far away. Someone was breathing. Not the normal breathing, but hurried, panicked, desperate gulps of air, as if the person was going to drown if they couldn’t keep the abnormal rhythm going. There were sounds of sirens in the backgrounds interspaced with the screams of people. Gunshots echoed around, an ambient-like noise that swelled into the already fortissimo discord. 

Feeling a strong grip on her shoulder, Samantha’s trancelike state was shattered, as she went for her gun. The standard issued sidearm that had been given to all special agents had served her well today. 

“Take it easy!” A man outfitted in police S.W.A.T gear shook his head. “Take it easy. We don’t want to draw any more of those things here.”

When her mind was able to process again, she leaned back against the office wall. She could feel Joseph’s, an officer that was aiding her with an assignment, gaze. The Bureau had sent her to assess one of the crazies. From what she’d just witness, these people — these things — weren’t human by any means. The basic human psychology, with respect to emotional triggers that many criminals she had worked with possessed, was vacant in this suspect. Hell, it was vacant on his face.

The folder she had been given labeled his psych as a severe case of dementia and an affinity for biting. That’s how the first doctor went who was in ICU. This was all a week ago. The parameters within the initial report had all changed. Samantha had an inkling of what was going on here, and she’d diagnosis herself as crazy if it hadn’t been for the fact she put a bullet in the man’s leg and he kept coming. Only a shot to the brain put him down. 

“Agent Walker,” Joseph said. “We’ve got to move. Radio’s squeakin’ about a quarantine zone. That’s where we’re going.”

“He kept coming after I shot him in the leg.”

Joseph frowned as he looked at the corpse lying before them. “From the noise outside, I don’t think you’re the only one whose killed someone. The radio’s been buzzing with news similar to this. Jesus, fucking zombies,” he said. “I thought the news was spitting the same old bullshit like always. The misses thought the same.”

Taking a steadying breath, Samantha stood up as she checked the chamber of her firearm. The weapon was hot. “Looks like there were right this time,” she said. “You head back to your department. I need to get the the bureau. They’ll want a first hand account on … this.”

An explosion thundered as the office windows imploded in. Samantha was rocked off her feet. Her chest constricted as she covered her head, shards of glass showering from above. The acrid smell of burnt metal and gasoline wafted over her.

Joseph was no better off. He grunted as he heaved a wooden office desk off and away from him. “Agent! You alright?” 

Samantha heard a high pitched ring in her ear. She heard herself say she was as she staggered over to the window and looked out. Down below, dozens of shambling figures moved with the unison of seasoned dance partners as flashes from rifle muzzles sent projectiles tearing into their unfeeling flesh. It was surreal. All of it. Just the past week, Samantha had been watching a zombie flick with her friend. She remembered joking about it and how it could never happen. Today proved her wrong indeed. 

Joseph looked out the window. Since he manned his post, which was weeks ago, radio chatter was his only window into understanding what was going on. It had mostly come from district two. Officers were going on about how these [i]crazies[/i] were eating people. Dragging them onto the ground and taking a big, wide chomp. Narcotics was to blame in the beginning. Now, he wasn’t so sure. Even worse, where was Lauren? He hadn’t been able to reach her all day.

Grabbing Samantha’s hand, he dragged her away from the window. “We’ve got to go, Walker,” he said. “I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but I ain’t staying around to find out.”