Drake slid a new magazine into his gun. "So you've been screwed by Umbrella too huh? Seems like that makes everyone in Racoon City screwed by 'em." Drake and Malconin turned a corner and saw a group of about 30 zombies clawing at a building. The bastards were stupid, but not that stupid. He looked up and saw Paul sitting on a fire escape. "Well, this needs to be fixed." Drake held the trigger down and emptied his magazine into the zombies head. "Hey Paul. Need some help bud?"
Malconin unloaded seven or eight shots himself and seven zombies dropped under his fire. Between himself, Drake, the kid and the person Drake had called paul, the 30 odd zombies were blown apart in no time.
"Just how many of these bastards are there?" Malconin asked as Paul began to descend the fire escape. "How many of you guys are there alive?"
"As for the buggers... how many dead people are there in this city? Now, lets say they each bit three people minimum. Do the math, and you have a small view of the number we're facing." Drake was taken about at the thought himself. He reloaded his gun and rolled his head, cracking his neck. "Well, lets get on our way back shall we?"
"Shit," Malconin said. "That's not exactly the thing a man likes to hear at the moment."
The pain chose that moment to sear its way up his arm again and he yelled out dropping to his knees. His eyes widened as his skin along the arm seemed to almost bubble. The pain intensified, but he clamped down on the scream that tried to rip forth.
What the hell is happening to me? he thought as the pain began to subside. What have they done to me?
Drakes mind instantly raced back to Berina. She had been experimented with. Maybe this was another case like her. "Ok, lets get back, and when we do, our leader may have some answers for you."
((OOC: I got to get to bed, Senior year is kicking my arse, and i was up all night watching the election. Don't get to far without me.))
Malconin nodded. "I hope you are right, Drake. Well, then, lead the way and I'll gladly follow. Anything for some relative safety from these living dead." He spat on a corpse near his feet and shifted the duffle bags into a comfortable position before they all headed off towards his new companions base.
Malconin's mind wondered as he walked with the three back to their camp. He would stay with them only long enough to rest, he decided, and then he would continue his search for his wife. He needed answers from her and was determined to have them bfore the pain got worse.
If I do find her, he thought, would she even remember me? He slapped the thought from his mind. She was his wife, she thought him dead, of course she would remember something.
He glanced at the group. At least he was in good company. The two older men could obviously handle their weapons easy enough, and the kid was competent enough. He looked at the young man, he seemed worried as he trailed slightly behind the group. Given the situation, malconin could understand why, and thought nothing else of it.