[b]Parris City, Downtown – 9:01 PM[/b]

The darkness struck the city in the hours since the initial chaos, and the nightfall finally brought a numbness to the frantic violence and chaos of the hours before. St. Albert’s Catholic Church settled in downtown Parris City looked as if the only place of sanctuary to any on-looking survivors from the adjacent Dakowski Park as the sight of the wreckage of a bread truck within the front glass of a restaurant two blocks down illuminated the darkness with the fire that still softly lingered from only an hour prior. Several church pews and various debris had been used to make a makeshift barricade in front of the large wooden doors of the chapel. At least the stone walls of the church kept the incessant groaning of the recently dead outside quiet enough for some to get some rest. There were men and women gathered around the area from different walks of life, obviously due to their clothes. Businessmen, students, nurses, even a woman dressed fairly provocatively for a church. Leaned against a wall was a man whose head was bandaged from one of the survivors in the area: Henry Moore.

The man had been mistaken as an undead earlier; covered in blood and barreling into the church, of course someone smacked him with some sort of stick. And when he didn't get up and start groaning well; it was obvious he wasn't one of the undead. Still, it had been some time and he was still unconscious; that never bode well. One of the survivors, Peter Simpson, was getting anxious and generally impatient. “Just when the hell is the government going to evacuate us! I thought they had special...trained soldiers or something to protect us!”

“Sir, just calm down;” Richard Levitski, the lone police officer amongst the survivors held his hand out apologetically. “The government probably has people on their way now. It just takes time.”

William Robens shuffled his hands in his pockets as he looked over the former sales clerk with an expression of apathy before moving his eyes back to the streets through a small crack in the barricade. The survivors in St. Albert’s was growing in number and that meant a higher chance of being discovered by the infected things outside that were roaming the downtown streets looking for a good meal and the twenty-nine year old former high school teacher found his chances for survival becoming very thin. A cigarette was pressed firmly in-between his lips, but it wasn’t lit at the exact moment. He wasn’t exactly sure if the infected relied on smell or anything. 

“Please do scream louder so the infected can hear you, I really do wish to die.” He spat, albeit in a dry monotone with a sense of condescension as his eyes remained peeking through one of the barricaded windows, not even making contact with the person he was speaking to.

“Don't you talk like that to me, punk!” Peter Simpson's face was turning red in anger, but William didn't care to react or even move for that matter. This of course, caused the officer to step between the two. “Both of you, relax. We need to keep calm and quiet right now until we hear something from the government.”

The officer's radio had been silent for hours now; with no indication if anyone else was alive out there. How much time did they have, holed up in this church? What if the infected broke in? Where could they go? Hell, was the Police Station still safe? Why hadn't he heard anything from any other officers? All these thoughts were going through their minds as the sound of a helicopter broke the argument. 

“See?” Peter stated, excited that it was all over. “They're here! We're safe!”

William rolled his eyes, “The helicopter doesn’t sound very close.” A slight breath left William as he crossed his arms, “Looks like it’s going across the river.” He noted as he believed he saw it moving away from this part of downtown and westward.

The officer did his best to stare out the stained glass window and nodded. “They're probably looking for survivors there.”

“Well what about us?" Peter interrupted, confused and angry. "Why aren't they getting us?”

William sighed, shrugging as he caught a mumbling to his left—the sales clerk was finally stirring awake, “Hey, looks like the head trauma patient is coming to.”

---

[b]Parris City, Above the Datski River – 9:06 PM[/b]

“We’re passing over Dakowski Park.” The voice of Tyrone Gibson, the co-pilot for the incoming BSAA helicopter stated loudly over the sound of the whirling helicopter blades. Parris City had been hoping for the arrival of the BSAA, but these guys had not been sent for survivor recovery – rather team investigation, which confused a few members of this particular team of agents.

“Remember, we’re here to reconvene with Alpha Team—they’ve been silent for too long and the situation here has gotten really bad.”

“What about survivors, sir?” The female member of the team, Chéris Allard, inquired as her mind raced to the people of the city.

“That’s Delta’s job, little lady, we need to keep our sight on Alpha Team.” Alex Paulson smiled at the rookie, hefting his BSAA issued G36C assault rifle over his shoulder. He was the Bravo Team leader for this operation; his first time leading one as well. He'd been the point man for Alpha Team for a year, and now they finally moved him to the big leagues. Everything was looking good outside of Alpha Team’s apparent failure and that Bravo Team had been basically assigned to be their support squad, but to Alex Paulson it felt more like “clean up” duty. Eventually, the helicopter touched down in a clearing, and Alex hopped out the door, followed by Tyrone, Marcus, Riley and the Rookie. 

“Alright ladies,” he said, hefting the rifle up and scanning the area. “Check your surroundings here, we don't know who decided to take a nice walk in the park and ended up some monster's snack, alright? Let's get this job done!”

“Alpha Team’s last known location was at Burton Memorial Hospital, sir.” Chéris Allard stated, recalling the information relevant to their mission.

“The hospital? Really?” Riley Alcowski groaned.

“High vantage point and a workable helipad. It's basics 101.” Paulson took point, leading them through the forest. 

“But...depending on how many patients were infected, they could've been overrun. We can't overlook that.” Paulson added to his previous statement as he speculated how things could have turned for them. Historically with infections like this, Hospitals had turned problematic quickly and had been viral epicenters—Raccoon City was a good example of such.

“What our plan of approach, commander?” Marcus Eisenberg inquired as he trailed behind Tyrone Gibson.

"We stay off the main streets. A direct approach is suicide. The City Arboretum is where Delta is headed, and we'll make our way there too. There's maintenance passage into the sewers, and it's a straight shot to the hospital basement floors from there." 

Ultimately after crossing the Datski River, they arrived at a large metal fence which separated the park from the sidewalk of the streets. They could already see fires down the road, and the visages of the undead beyond. “It looks like the mouth of hell down there.” Paulson muttered under his breath whilst Riley simply nodded in reply.

“The Aboretum is in the opposite direction at least, at the edge of the park.” Chéris stated matter-of-factly.

“Right, let’s go.”