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Ocean Snow — Doug Johnson
Here we go, thought Oakburn Police Chief Bill Johnson. He had no real desire to go in the kitchen. A barrage of gibberish was spewing from some freaked out meth head in there and it put the sour taste of dread in his mouth. No, he has no real desire to go in there... but it was his job to go in there.
"Clear!" someone shouted from the second floor, jolting Johnson's muscles into action. He crouched and lumbered into the kitchen, clumsily ducking the table leg that Cecil swung at his face.
Johnson ducked behind his shield and blitzed Cecil, bulldozing him into a corner. Cecil slid on the broken glass and went down hard, grabbing the shield and pulling Johnson down right on top of him. He snaked his arm around the shield and clawed at Johnson's helmet.
Cecil knew this was no human. He could smell it. He wanted to rip its face off and expose whatever was hiding inside.
It had to die.
"Clear!" someone shouted from the second floor, jolting Johnson's muscles into action. He crouched and lumbered into the kitchen, clumsily ducking the table leg that Cecil swung at his face.
Johnson ducked behind his shield and blitzed Cecil, bulldozing him into a corner. Cecil slid on the broken glass and went down hard, grabbing the shield and pulling Johnson down right on top of him. He snaked his arm around the shield and clawed at Johnson's helmet.
Cecil knew this was no human. He could smell it. He wanted to rip its face off and expose whatever was hiding inside.
It had to die.
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