Author's Note: Resident Evil is a trademark of Capcom. I do not claim to own the characters or the series in any way. Although I haven't played any of the games, I've done some research before attempting RE fanfic: I've watched my cousins play the game, reviewed character bios and storylines on the Internet, and read the excellent Resident Evil novels by S.D. Perry.

The following story occurs during RE2 and is told from the point of view of the dying cop that Leon encounters in the Raccoon City Police Department.

Hope you like it!

Resident Evil, the Untold Stories: Roy Allison

I am a cop.

It's a good, pure, coherent thought. I cling to it fiercely, grit my teeth against the throbbing pain, and clamp my hand a little harder over the wound. The blood still oozes out of my midsection, trickling out of me at an agonizingly slow pace.

It won't be long before my sanity follows.

My name is Roy Allison.

There. There's another coherent thought. I combine the two sentences.

I am a cop. My name is Roy Allison.

I feel dizzy, sick. The room is spinning. I lean my head back against the bloodstained wall and close my eyes for a minute. When the nausea passes, I open my eyes and stare down at the gun in my hands.

I'm going to die. I already know that. The only question is, how? The fast and easy way, by swallowing a bullet from my own gun? Or the slow, horrific way, by becoming one of…them?

Almost against my will, my gaze shifts to the rotting bodies on the floor. Pools of blood, coils of intestine…blank, soulless eyes. They came after me, tearing at my flesh with their hands and teeth. The first two died pretty quickly, but their buddy kept coming, sinking its teeth into my side, seeking out my liver. I shot him twice at point-blank range, right in the heart…but he didn't die until I'd pumped two more rounds into his head.

The worst part is that he used to be my partner.

When it was over, he was finally lying on the ground, dead…and I was badly hurt and infected with this…this virus. I push this out of my mind and try to think of something else…anything else…anything at all.

Redfield was right.

I add this thought to my collection, thinking back to when Chris Redfield visited the RPD--Raccoon Police Department--for the last time. He was with the other S.T.A.R.S., Barry and Jill, and he was in a hurry…picked up a few things from his desk, shoved them into a duffel bag, and said something about leaving for Europe. When I asked him why, he put a hand on my shoulder and said, "Umbrella, Roy. I can't tell you any more than that. Something weird is going on and you should leave."

Yes sir. Redfield was right…

I hear footsteps in the hallway. Automatically, I cock my gun and hold it ready. I'm acting purely on instinct…because part of me wonders why I should even bother. If it's another one of those things, why not let it finish me off?…

And then a tall young kid--not a zombie--comes through the doorway. I blink, because I'm so surprised. A normal, healthy human being…a rare commodity in this town. He's wearing a blue RPD uniform and has slightly reddish brown hair, and he's holding what looks like a Magnum in his hands.

Cop.

I can still recognize one of my own kind. I suppose that's a good sign.

The kid takes in the scene, quickly and professionally. When he sees that I'm the only one in the room, he comes over and kneels down beside me, his eyes full of concern.

My throat is dry and raspy, but I have to ask. "Who are you?"

"I'm the new rookie, Kennedy," he replies. "Who are you?"

My brain shifts into automatic. I've been practicing for just this moment. "I'm a cop," I whisper. "My name is Roy Allison."

"What happened here?" he asks. His voice is shocked and bewildered. I can only imagine what he's been through on his way to the RPD.

I struggle to keep it together, to tell him the story. "About two months ago…S.T.A.R.S….Spencer estate, in the woods. Umbrella was…doing experiments. Redfield was right." I know this is all coming out like gibberish, but there's so little time…and my head hurts so much…

"All right, just stay calm," he says. I don't know if he's understood anything I've said, but his voice is reassuring. "Everything will be all right. I'm going to get you out of here."

Saved. Thank you, God.

I feel a sudden, bounding rush of hope. Tears spring to my eyes. Maybe it's not as bad as I think. Maybe there's still time. There must be an antidote in this godforsaken town, or one last doctor who knows how to make one. There must be. I can get better…go home…see Myra and the kids…

…and then I snap out of my semi-dream state. Who am I kidding? I'm bleeding out. And even if he could stop the bleeding, I'm infected. I've seen what this bug does to people. Already I'm going blind from the fever. It's only a matter of time before my brain turns to jelly…only a few short hours before I become one of those…things.

I shudder involuntarily. The kid sees me, misunderstands. "Let's see if we can find a blanket for you," he says, looking around the room.

This isn't right. He shouldn't be wasting his time on me, not when there might be other people who need him. Uninfected people. People who actually have a chance. I close my eyes. This is the hardest thing I'll ever do, but even through the fever, I know I'm right.

"No," I say. I'm trying to make my voice strong and firm. It comes out as a pathetic croak. "Don't worry about me. You have to try and rescue the survivors…"

I can see the indecision on his face. "But you're hurt," he said, "and you need a doctor--you need help."

I shake my head. "Go."

He's hesitating. I can't have that. With my remaining strength, I raise my gun and point it at him. "Just go!" I yell.

My vision is starting to blur. I can hardly see the rest of the kid's face anymore, but his eyes are still burning into mine like idealistic blue lasers. God, he's young. He can't be more than 25. I try to remember what I was like at that age. It's no use. The virus has taken over my body; now it's stealing little bits of my mind.

The kid--Kennedy--gets reluctantly to his feet. "Okay," he says slowly. "But I'll be back to help you. I promise."

I try one last time to get my message across. "Redfield was right," I whisper.

But the kid's already gone.

I hope that he finds the survivors in time. I hope there are still survivors for him to find. I lean my head back against the wall, close my eyes, and return to the task of preserving my sanity.

I am a cop. My name is Roy Allison.

God, I'm tired. I just want this to be over. One way or another, it has to end. The darkness closes in a bit more. I struggle against it.

I am a cop. My name is…

My last coherent thought is of the kid, Kennedy. I know things will be very different between us when we meet again. It makes me sad.

I hope he makes it.

I am a

I am a

I am…