They slowly approached the station with caution, eyes glued to the building to spot any movement. Adam held a hand across his stomach with discomfort, wincing as he positioned himself awkwardly.
"I don't think we should approach them," Brie slowed to a stop and dragged her eyes away from the windows. "What if it's dangerous?" She insisted, seeing that Adam hadn't stopped.
"Either way, we're screwed if we don't find help." Adam huffed and limped forward. He paused as he watched a shadow move past the window. With a glance, it seemed to be a grown man pacing back and forth.
Adam stormed forward, holding a knife down at his waist, ready to strike if anything jumped out. He reached the door, tapping on it three times with his knuckle.
"Hello? We're survivors looking for help." He called out, not too loud but enough to be heard. A rustle came from the inside, then Adam got impatient and tried the door handle. It jammed, obviously. Any sane person would have their doors locked right now.
"We saw you through the window..." Adam tried again, then turned back to Brie with pursed lips. Melissa tiptoed up to the window and gave it a small knock.
"Mister? Are you home?" She leaned onto her toes and peeped into the room, looking around for the man they spotted before. "I see him! He's in a different room further back." She knocked slightly louder, watching as the man finally returned and stared into the window.
He had wide, annoyed eyes that glinted anger and a stern, unmoving face. He had short, black hair that didn't need to be tamed and wore a police uniform. A pistol sat comfortably in his pocket, which he held his hand over protectively.
With a very Scottish accent, he called out. "Hold on! I'm coming."
They stood, waiting. Locks slid, the door shook and finally, it opened with ease. There stood the man with a cigarette in his mouth.
"Can I help you?" He inhaled sharply, then let out a puff of smoke. Brie tried to hide her uncomfortable face and nodded.
"We need a place to stay... protection." She managed to smile softly and noticed that when the man looked down at Melissa his whole aura seemed to shift. She thought to herself. Maybe he lost a daughter? Melissa must remind him of the past.
"I'm a wee short on supplies, but I'm no monster." He stepped aside, inviting them in. This man seemed to be in his early 30s. He had a short, stubble beard that was well-kept and large muscles were visible through his white t-shirt. His face was slightly wrinkled yet he still managed to look young. He was tall, yet relaxed as he gazed at them with curiosity.
"Thank you." Melissa chirped as she walked in first, looking around into the well-lit reception. The police station was arguably clean and clearly hadn't been raided yet, which was surprising. An empty desk and computer were sat at one end of the room and Brie caught her reflection from a mirror nailed into the wall. She looked terrible.
Her hair was knotted and matt with blood. She was dirty, bags sat under her eyes and her clothes were starting to rip in uncomfortable places...
She continued to walk, unable to look anymore.
"My name is John. John Porter." The man who greeted them rumbled, leading them further into the building. It smelled of fresh laundry as they treaded through the hallway and into a larger room. It was a meeting room, with 3 blue settees, covered in cushions, and an office table with at least 8 chairs surrounding it.
"I'm Brie, this is Melissa and my brother Adam." Brie pointed as she introduced everyone. "Melissa isn't related to us, we met a week or so ago when the whole panic started. Her parents are... gone."
John nodded in understanding, gazing down sadly at Mel. She let her head fall, pushing her chin to her chest in embarrassment.
"So, John," Adam began. "How have you kept the place so clean despite the pandemic?" He had a hand pressed against his stomach to avoid wincing in pain. John chuckled deeply.
"I have had nothing to do, sitting around waiting for god knows to save humanity. So I tidied the place and picked up new hobbies." He pointed over at the wall. A painting hung. It was of a landscape, bright and colourful. Flowers bloomed and the sun glittered throughout a meadow.
"Where did you get supplies from? Surely the police station didn't have paint suppl-" Adam asked more questions, but was cut off by John.
"I made a few trips back home and decided to stay here. Why, you ask? Those walkers," He paused to shudder violently. "Those walkers still have a brain. They look at a home as a possible meal, but if they look at the police station, it's associated badly because we have weapons." He explained, pulling his gun out from his pocket and twirling it fashionably.
"By the way..." He continued on, peering at Adam with deep suspicion. "You aren't infected, are you?" He pointed his gun down at Adam's arm, which was hiding a poorly stitched wound.
Brie quickly jumped in. "He was injured while we were fighting and I stitched up his wound. He has been completely fine on the way here, so I assumed he was lucky." She shrunk back as John's eyes bore into hers. He frowned, then nodded with satisfaction.
"If anything happens, my gun is always on me and I don't hesitate." John spat out his warning with anger. Adam nodded.
"Yes, sir. I completely understand." He lowered his head, side-eyeing Brie to copy. She quickly nodded too and smiled at John. Of course. Adam was giving him respect. They needed to gain trust for survival, and John seemed accustomed to a leadership role, so they must fit his standards.
"There are showers in the toilets, just down the hall we walked through earlier. You can sleep on the settees and I'll be on lookout tonight. It was nice meeting you, but you all look exhausted." John's friendly gaze returned and he turned onto his heels and walked away. Before he left their sight, he called out. "I'll bring some clean clothes. Just a moment!"
After a few moments of silence, Melissa let her energy burst out, skipping forward towards the toilets. "Me first!" She giggled and disappeared to take a shower.