Lee woke to the constant dripping of water from the bathroom faucet. Blinking groggily, he slowly pulled himself off the floor, staring in drunken bewilderment at Chad's smartphone-illuminated face floating in the darkness of the bathroom.

"You feelin' alright, buddy?" Chad said at last, parting his gaze from the phone screen to meet Lee's confused stare.

"What the hell happened? Did you put fuckin' roofies in my Heineken?"

"I was hoping you'd tell [i]me[/i] what happened." Chad said, scooching in closer. "You went to the bathroom right when the power went out. I went to check on you and found you on the floor. I mean, I could see you were breathing but even then, I was starting to get worried because it's been more than an hour."

"So you just... left me on the fucking floor?"

"I wasn't sure if you had a spinal injury so I didn't want to risk moving you around."

"What are you talking about, Chad? If you were so worried, why didn't you just call an ambulance like a normal human being?"

"First of all, dude, if you think someone might have fucked their neck or back up, you're not supposed to drag them around because it might pinch your spinal cord and make shit worse. That's what they taught me back when I was a lifeguard. Second of all, I can't call an ambulance because cell service is down."

"That's probably because you have T-Mobile," Lee surmised. "You can't even take a call in my apartment with that shit."

"You've got Verizon and your phone doesn't have service either. Nobody's phone was working at the bar."

Lee reached for his phone back from Chad and checked it himself. He tried calling Chad's number, then the front desk number at work, then his mom's number. Endless dial tones each time. He tried opening up the Safari app and was instantly met with a blank screen. No service whatsoever.

"What the hell's going on, dude?" Asked Lee. "Last thing I remember, I heard some emergency message come on over the Spotify music earlier. Is there some sort of disaster going on? Did the nuclear plant go full Chernobyl or some shit?"

"That message was the weirdest thing ever," Chad recalled. "It cut out halfway through because the power went out, but it was talking about a 'biological hazard' or something. It said you're supposed to stay inside and avoid human contact. I mean, shit dude, maybe the Snake Falls plant really did have a meltdown."

"What did everyone else at the bar do?"

"I think just about everyone else went home to wait this thing out. Obviously I wasn't going anywhere until I was sure you were okay. The bartenders are closing up early, but I think we're the only ones still here besides them."

"Let's bounce then," Lee decided, finally getting back onto his feet. "Uber's probably not going to be running right now, but we can walk back to the apartment in about 45 minutes."

"45 minutes might be a long time to be outside if there's anthrax or some shit out in the air."

"That's true, but we don't really know how long this thing might last. If it's going to be more than a few hours, we're gonna need food and water. This bar doesn't have shit for food and warm PBRs are not going keep us very hydrated."

"You've got a point," Chad agreed. "Let's get out of here."

Ever the germaphobe, Lee wedged his elbow into the bathroom door handle and opened it up without once touching it with his hands.

"There needs to be a law that bathroom doors have to open out, not [i]in[/i]," Lee complained as he stepped into the comparative light of the bar. "After you've gone and washed your hands all you do is just recontaminate them and undo everything as soon as you touch that germ-infested door handle."

"Typical Lee," Chad sighed. "Raccoon City's been Chernobyl'd and you're worried about germs on a bathroom door. And that's after you've been laying on the pissed-on bathroom floor for over an hour!"

"Listen, just because we're having a power outage doesn't mean I can't have my pet peeves. You don't see me bitching at you right now about how pineapple has no business anywhere near a pizza."

The bar was dark - even darker than before the power outage when a few strands of Christmas lights strung up over the bar and liquor cabinets behind it were the only illumination. Even with those light strands out, the streetlights just outside the front windows provided just enough light for Lee and Chad to negotiate the bar. Behind the counter, one of the bartenders used the flashlight on his phone to provide some light as he loaded the last of the mugs and shot glasses into a small dishwasher under the bar, ready to be washed the next morning when the power came back on and this strange event had concluded. 

"Biohazard apocalpyse ain't gonna stop you from milkin' the clock, huh?" Chad teased the lone bartender as he and Lee made for the door.

"Buddy, I get paid like $2 an hour not counting tips," the bartender retorted as he kicked the dishwasher shut with the back of his heel. "Do you see a lot of generously-tipping patrons in here right now? I'm basically volunteering."

"Hey, if the anthrax outbreak or whatever is happening gets to you before you leave, I'll tell you're next of kin you died doing what you loved."

"This is definitely not what I love. If that were the case, I'd be-"

The bartender was cut off by the front door being thrown violently open, to the point of nearly shattering the sheet of tempered glass that comprised the door. Standing in the threshold was a bedraggled man clad in a hole-riddled sweater and filthy, frayed jeans. A spotty beard of long, dirty whiskers radiated from his face at odd angles. His whole body heaved with every breath as he stared with wide and wild eyes at the bartender. Spittles of frothy saliva dripped from an open mouth, but even more shocking was perhaps the two bloody gashes on his left arm. Tacky, coagulated blood oozed out from around two large tears in the sleeve of his jacket.

"Fucking tweakers," the bartender mumbled under his breath. "Hey, we're closed!"

The wounded vagrant gave a gurgling snarl and stumbled over toward the bar at a brisk pace.

"We're closed, asshole! Take a hike!"

The vagrant was not dissuaded and awkwardly crawled over the counter. The bartender approached the quivering intruder as he crawled over the bar and fell onto the floor and gave him a swift kick across the jaw. To his astonishment, the vagrant did not collapse into an unconscious heap, but only gave an agitated snarl. The vagrant seized the bartender by the leg and with a vicelike grip, pulled the leg to his open mouth and bit down.

"AUGGH FUCK!" Screamed the bartender. "HE JUST FUCKING BIT ME!"

The bartender flew into a frenzied rage against the attacker, stomping with all his might against the vagrant clawing at him on the floor. No matter how hard he kicked, the vagrant did not stop or even flinch. With another yank on the bartender's leg, the bartender was pulled down onto the floor. From behind the bar counter, furious shouting quickly transitioned into terrified screaming.

Lee was paralyzed with fear, though as soon the bartender was dragged down to the floor, Chad had grabbed one of the empty Heineken bottles from their table and bounded over to the bar counter. Gripping the bottle by the handle, he slammed the bottle down against the edge of the counter. Tiny shards of green glass plinked upon the surface of the bar counter and the floor as a very jagged half of the bottle was left firmy planted in Chad's fist. He vaulted over the bar and witnessed the bartender and his attacker struggling against one another upon the non-slip rubber floormat drenched in blood. The vagrant growled savagely as he tore ribbons of bloody flesh out of the bartender's thigh; the bartender's screaming was now reduced to pathetic whimpering as he tried fruitlessly to claw away.

Chad planted the jagged end of the broken Heineken bottle into the shoulder of the savage vagrant. Even as the glass shards drove through the man's flesh and splintered against the shoulderblades, the vagrant was not deterred from consuming the bartender's leg - who by now had passed out from blood loss or traumatic shock. Now was Chad's turn to be paralyzed with fear, slowly backing away from the horrific display of cannibalism that he was unable to stop.

A loud burst diverted Chad and Lee's attention from the dying bartender to the front of the bar. One of the front windows exploded in a cascade of shattered glass. Silhouetted in the somehow-still-functional streetlights were another two intruders. Lee recognized one of thm as one of the bearded hipsters he had seen seated at the bar an hour earlier; the other was a 50-something Vietnamese woman with nearly a quarter of the skin of her face torn off. They stood in amidst the crinkling crystals of tempered glass shards, watching with jerky head motions as the shards continued to pop and clink on the ground. Gradually, their eyes focused on Chad and Lee.

"Run!" Chad screamed.

Chad vaulted over the bar counter and followed Lee as he made his way toward the back of the bar, brushing past the bathrooms toward a rear exit: a metal emergency exit door with a pushbar. The new assailants could be heard snarling and growling as they set off after them. Lee slammed into the pushbar of the door and threw it open; propping it open just long enough for Chad to exit before slamming the door shut into the bloodied faces of their cannibal pursuers. Lee felt two heavy thuds on the other side as he braced the door shut.

Chad and Lee found themselves in in a narrow alley behind the bar; just wide enough for a box truck to drive through. A few municipal streetlights that had managed to stay on in spite of the power outage illuminated the alley in a yellow-orange glow that cast long, dark shadows behind the dumpsters, empty pallets, and other refuse laying in the alley. There were no other murderous cannibals back here, but that was only true so long as Chad and Lee held the door shut. The attackers on the other side of the bar's emergency exit door slammed and clawed against their combined weight. Even while pressing furiously against it, the door creaked open ever so slightly with each slam against it. Bloody fingers reached out ravenously from behind the door. A third growling voice could be heard just inside, and soon a fourth joined the chorus of bloodthirst.

"I can't hold it much longer!" Lee exclaimed. Hands and soon entire arms were reaching out from behind the door. Lee took a glance around the alley, and he took note of a nearby pallet laying against the back of the bar. Without warning, Lee left Chad to hold the bar's rear door shut as he ran over to the pallet.

"Where the hell are you going?!" 

Lee pulled the pallet up onto its side and pushed it over to the door, wedging it right under the handle and propping it up against the pavement. Lee nudged Chad away from the door, leaving the pallet to wedge the door shut even as the attackers shoved against it.

"That shit's not gonna hold them, dude!" Chad exclaimed. Even now, the flimsy balsam wood of the pallet was flexing and cracking against the combined force of the murderous throng inside the bar.

"Not for long, it isn't," Lee agreed, starting down the alley and beckoning for Chad to follow. "So let's get the fuck out of here."