It was a tiny town, and every acre of it was crawling with zombies. Otacon steered the pickup truck down North Street at top speed, crossing from one end of it to the other, and everywhere he looked, an undead army had seemingly spilt out of all the cracks and corners of Doyleton. His neatly pencilled town map now bore only an ironic resemblance to reality, but it remained clear in Otacon's memory as he headed for the Black Rock Inn. He took the turn into Germaine Street too fast, scattering zombies as the truck skidded, and slammed the brakes in time to avoid hitting a pale-faced but determined young patient. Their eyes met through the grime-splattered window of the truck. He lifted his hand in an uncertain wave. She ran.
It was crowded here, and not just with zombies. Patients weaved in and out of the clusters of monsters, some fighting, some fleeing, some trying to do both. Otacon was aware of activity going on in all the buildings around him — doors kicked down, looting, people running in and out — and realized that finding Fox from here would be next-to-impossible. That is, if Fox was even still here, and never mind Snake, who could be anywhere at this point.
On-site procurement, Otacon reminded himself, pushing up his glasses. Snake could make a weapon out of anything, but if he was aiming for greater firepower, there was the sheriff's office halfway down Main Street. It was a possibility, and the only one he had right now. Otacon checked out the windows for a way through: Black Rock on his right, pet store on his left, pandemonium ahead.
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It was a tiny town, and every acre of it was crawling with zombies. Otacon steered the pickup truck down North Street at top speed, crossing from one end of it to the other, and everywhere he looked, an undead army had seemingly spilt out of all the cracks and corners of Doyleton. His neatly pencilled town map now bore only an ironic resemblance to reality, but it remained clear in Otacon's memory as he headed for the Black Rock Inn. He took the turn into Germaine Street too fast, scattering zombies as the truck skidded, and slammed the brakes in time to avoid hitting a pale-faced but determined young patient. Their eyes met through the grime-splattered window of the truck. He lifted his hand in an uncertain wave. She ran.
It was crowded here, and not just with zombies. Patients weaved in and out of the clusters of monsters, some fighting, some fleeing, some trying to do both. Otacon was aware of activity going on in all the buildings around him — doors kicked down, looting, people running in and out — and realized that finding Fox from here would be next-to-impossible. That is, if Fox was even still here, and never mind Snake, who could be anywhere at this point.
On-site procurement, Otacon reminded himself, pushing up his glasses. Snake could make a weapon out of anything, but if he was aiming for greater firepower, there was the sheriff's office halfway down Main Street. It was a possibility, and the only one he had right now. Otacon checked out the windows for a way through: Black Rock on his right, pet store on his left, pandemonium ahead.