Miguel stared at his brother for a moment as a loud buzzing sound became all he could hear. The children. They were home, and alone.<br/><br/>Forgetting everything else, Miguel raced for the door; at the periphery of his vision he saw something stumbling towards him, and a moment later the thing that was once a good man named Wesley was barreling into him from the side, knocking him off his feet. The small of his back ached where the hard floor collided with it, but the black-veined monstrosity that landed on him was a more pressing matter. Then again, nothing was more pressing than what Julian had just told him.<br/><br/>With a roar Miguel threw Not-Wesley off of him; he was in the corner between the front desk and the wall, and the walking corpse was between him and the door. At best it was blocking his way, and at worst it was going to kill him. Even as it rose sloppily back to its feet, gurgling threateningly, he got up and wordlessly seized the gun from where Ken had dropped it on the desk.<br/><br/>It was madness, how could he do it? How could he take a life? Just then, the image of his two kids swam to the front of his mind, and something in him hardened. "You're not stopping me," he said simply, and then he leveled the gun out, aimed directly at Not-Wesley's head.<br/><br/>The buzzing in his ears was getting louder, but Miguel heard the shot, followed by the heavy sound of something hitting the floor. He stepped over the huddled mass, tucking the weapon into his waistband as he pushed through the front door to discover a scene of complete chaos. But he didn't turn back - that wasn't an option. He ran forward into the madness, his keys already in hand.<br/><br/><br/><br/>Julian wasted absolutely no time staying on Miguel's heels, ready to get one of their towing rigs ready and take off at the soonest possible moment. He took a moment to look down at Wesley's body. Finally stilled, and as far as he could tell, not about to get back up again. Pausing, he then glanced towards Amanda. He wanted to apologize, to say something about how he wished they could have found Wes sooner, but honestly, he couldn't even think of how to say anything about something like this. His eyes fell back to Wesley, and with clenched teeth, he let out a heavy breath. Just as he turned to leave the building and follow Miguel, he came face to face with the mayhem outside.<br/><br/>A bus, swaying down the road in an uneven path, careened at just the right angle to line up with the front of the shop. The driver was dead, slumped onto the wheel, blood pouring from a gaping wound in his neck. Parts of him were torn asunder as well. An ear was gone, and the bones of his left eye socket had collapsed and destroyed the organ it held, crushed against a now slightly dented steering wheel. Someone, apparently afflicted with the same condition as Wesley due to their enormous, pulsating black veins, was tearing into him, much fresher blood staining his mouth, face, and hands.<br/><br/>From the glimpse Julian caught, other passengers in the bus were in similar predicaments. Those who looked more like bloated corpses than living people cannibalized those who had not managed to escape the carnage, and a few living people tried to keep one of the pale beings at bay while attempting to unjam the emergency escape door in the back. All the effort was too little, too late, as the bus slammed into the front of the building. Glass shattered immediately, and parts of the wall around the glass doors and windows were knocked loose and send flying through the room. Julian took a chunk of wall to the torso, which threw him completely off-balance, but out of the bus's path.<br/><br/>Ken was not as lucky. The bus tore through the front desk as if it was made of cheap paper, and he was directly in its path as it finally came to a halt against the stronger garage wall. A cloud of concrete dust kicked up on impact, and bits of the ceiling began to fall in, though the tiles were mercifully light. Jullian thrashed to toss away bits of rubble, and as he stood, noticed some of those horrible things crawling out of the bus' broken windows. He also saw Ken, pinned to the wall and completely motionless, his upper body splayed across the hood and leaking bodily fluids.<br/><br/>He attempted to vocalize something, but as the eyes of the crawling things turned towards him, he silently scooted himself backwards across the floor, breaths quick and panicked. Some of them began to stand, and one who did immediately fell back over. A broken leg, split in half at the shin, collapsed with a sickening crunch of bone and the squelch of flesh being rended, the knee hitting the ground with a heavy thud, followed by the rest of the body. It made him want to vomit. Instinctively, he grabbed a chunk of concrete knocked from the wall and pelted it at one of the things, succeeding only in knocking one in the chest and drawing a sound from it. A long, rattling groan, like someone was forcing air through the rigid throat of a drying body.<br/><br/><br/><br/>Miguel's feet left the ground and he flew forward as the bus crashed into the garage; he pushed himself up with a groan, finding his footing even as the chaos of the area seemed to center on what used to be his place of business. There were sirens flashing, visible in every direction, but they all seemed too few and far between as smoke clouds rose, fires raged and people screamed for help that wouldn't be coming to them. There weren't enough emergency personnel in Redfield - probably not in the whole damn state, to handle what was happening.<br/><br/>He glanced back at the bus that had so violently invaded the De Santa garage's personal space and saw something that swayed him from his purpose. Fuel, leaking very quickly from the bus, and a spreading fire alarmingly close by, engulfing the area near the rear bumper. It was outside the building, technically, meaning the people inside wouldn't know about it. The people inside a building that no longer had an exit.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">I'm not going to tell my kids I lost their damn uncle</span>, he thought with a silent snarl as he scanned the front of the wrecked garage. A moment later he spotted something that gave him hope - a cavity had been opened, a couple of yards to the left of where the front door used to be, but rather high up.<br/><br/>Miguel raced to his truck and started the engine up without closing the door, mindful of a collective roaring sound coming from eastward down the road. A glance in that direction showed him a large crowd of people approaching, still far, but not far enough given the bizarre way they were moving.<br/><br/>He drove the truck right up to the building and hopped out, jumping on top and peering inside. The sight that greeted him prompted a dry heave, but he fought the urge to vomit as he spotted his brother and the others. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the approaching horde drawing closer, though now he could hear it more clearly than ever.<br/><br/>"Quick! The bus is gonna fucking blow!" he shouted, reaching down. He hoisted one person, then another, and then several more - it seemed to him that their numbers were fewer than they should've been, but there was no time to dwell on that. They needed to get the fuck out of there.