My first turn 2/2 06:18 AM June 24th 2012 Since I know the area well and the psycho, apparently, has echolocation, we manage to get to one of the back entrances of the airport without encountering any infected. Like many of the hard-to-get-to entrances of the buildings, this one is also locked by me most of the time. On the way, I, however, hear gunfire from the direction where the plane landed and people shouting. Unfortunately I keep hearing it for far too long – meaning that they’ve managed to attract even more of the infected here and – more importantly – inside the buildings which I had – with painstaking effort – managed to make free of the infected. Why didn’t these fools have any plans to distract the infected, I think to myself, as we enter quietly into the corridor behind the door. I’ve locked all the doors in the corridor also to make myself somewhat safe routes inside the building. “The aero plane from Scotland is going to touchdown in five minutes.” the psycho informs as we walk quietly along the corridor. I had forgotten all about “the plane from Scotland”. I begin to turn to him, when the lights in the corridor go out. They’ve gotten to the emergency generator, I think to myself, which means that the electronically locked door at the end of this corridor was just unlocked. I immediately turn to the direction of the other end of the corridor. When my eyes get adjusted to the sudden darkness, I can see a small sliver of illumination where the door has opened. Of course, it’s a precautionary system that all the electronically locked doors bounce open if the power is lost. I creep as quietly as possible to the door and keep peeking through the gap between the door and the frame. I see few people running past the door, firing their guns at the infected chasing them, and I come to think that some of them might look for shelter in the corridor – not knowing where the door leads. I decide to make anyone who comes this way a safe haven into one of the storage rooms along the corridor. I pick the “cleaning closet” – the storage room where all the cleaning supplies for the airport were kept, because there is a lot of bleach in the room. I move quickly and as quietly as possible: I get into the room with my keys, take a gallon size canister of bleach and pour it all over the corridor and then I leave the door ajar with the key on the inside. Realizing I’ve prepared the entire corridor I open almost all of the doors.06:22 AM June 24th 2012 Then I creep back to the door and, steeling myself for anything I might find on the other side, I push the door open with my gun and step into corridor beyond. Again, my heart is pounding in my ears as we make our way to the more “public” areas of the South Terminal. Knowing the airport well, I choose a route that takes me undetected close to the arrivals area where the people from the plane are most likely to seek safety.06:23 AM June 24th 2012 I hear a distant crash from the outside and realize I’ve forgotten about the “plane from Scotland” again. I also realize that the crash might work in my favor: it will attract some of the infected outside to investigate it. I do remember that the psycho had told me that I’d want to meet the person on that plane, but before I start to wonder, what this person could have to offer I’d want so much, I stop myself by reminding myself that he’s crazy.06:31 AM June 24th 2012 Taking the long route, we finally make it to the food court where I spot a five year old girl. For a moment I’m glad: they’ve brought living children to England – we might have a future! Then I notice the slouching movement of the infected in her stride and I become depressed like never before. At the same time I make note that she’s moving towards something with interest. I shift my gaze and see a young man – really young, more a boy than a man. As I watch he begins to vomit violently which makes me wary, because sometimes those that are infected vomit right before they lose control, but, when he’s done vomiting, he seems to pick something from the ground quite calmly, so I deduce he hasn’t lost control yet, at least. Then I see movement from the corner of my eye and remember the infected girl. The boy sees her at the same time, but I guess he doesn’t see her getting ready to launch at him. The adrenalin rush I get, when she jumps, is one of those marvelous that give you almost inhuman focus. Within that split second it takes for her to cross the distance between them, I realize that the boy’s life depends on me acting – right now! And I realize I have to shoot and I have to make it in one shot, otherwise I need to kill the both of them. Then I realize I’ve already fired my gun and there’s a hole in the girls head and she’s falling to the ground – dead. Realizing all that, I return to normal perception of things and look at the boy who look likes he’s about to faint. However, he must be made of sturdier stuff than he looks, since he begins to look around to see what had happened. He notices me and points his gun which I hadn’t noticed at me. I instinctively point my gun at him. However, neither of us fire. And as the moment stretches, I realize he’s not going to shoot, so I put my hands up, holding my gun by the barrel and handle – clearly not keeping a finger on the trigger. “Wow there, kid. Don’t shoot me: I’m one of the good guys.” I tell him, smiling, but then I remember I have my cowl and goggles on, so he doesn’t see my face at all. I lower my hand slightly in friendly gesture and tell him “I’m a cop. I’m going to take my badge out and throw it you. Is that okay?” He nods and I take the badge from my belt and throw it across the room to him. He picks it up, dropping the teddy he had picked up earlier. As he looks at the badge, I ask him “I’m going to take my goggles off my eyes and open my cowl a bit so you can see my face. Also, I’d like to come closer so you can see me properly. Is that okay?” He nods again so I show him my face and start to approach him. “As you can see, my name is John Dalson. What’s yours?” I ask him when I’m close enough to estimate his age somewhere between eighteen and nineteen. “I… I’m Renton.” he replies slowly, sighing deeply from relief. The relief I’ve seen so many times before when people believe they’ve been saved. I’d like to tell him that that’s the case, but I remember that right behind me is the most dangerous serial killer in the whole of human history, and suddenly I feel like telling the kid to run. However, I keep talking “Look, kid, could you give me the gun?” I ask, pointing to his nine mill. “As long as you’re with me, I promise I’m not going to let anything harm you.” I see he wouldn’t want to give up his gun, but I don’t feel safe having a teenager waving a gun around, so I look around and spot one of the ballistic shields that one of the ARV guys had brought. “If you want to you can have that ballistic shield to protect yourself. It really is effective in stopping those things…” I point to the girl “…long enough so you can call to me for help. So what you say, will you give me the gun?”Sorry.