by S. D. Perry
ALSO BY S.D. PERRY AND AVAILABLE FROM TITAN BOOKS
RESIDENT EVIL™
The Umbrella Conspiracy
Caliban Cove
City of the Dead
Nemesis
Code: Veronica
Zero Hour
RESIDENT EVIL™
UNDERWORLD
S.D. PERRY
TITAN BOOKS
RESIDENT EVIL: UNDERWORLD
Print edition ISBN: 9781781161807
E-book edition ISBN: 9781781161890
Published by Titan Books
A division of Titan Publishing Group Ltd
144 Southwark Street, London SE1 0UP
First edition October
2012 1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2012 by Capcom Co., Ltd. All rights reserved.
CAPCOM and RESIDENT EVIL are registered trademarks of Capcom Co., Ltd.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.
Printed and bound in the United States.
Did you enjoy this book? We love to hear from our readers. Please email us at [email protected] or write to us at Reader Feedback at the above address.
To receive advance information, news, competitions, and exclusive offers online, please sign up for the Titan newsletter on our website: www.titanbooks.com
FOR MY EDITOR, MARCO PALMIERI
Contents
Epigraph
Prologue
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Epilogue
About the Author
Also Available from Titan Books
“There are a thousand hacking at the branches of evil to one who is striking at the root.”
HENRY DAVID THOREAU
PROLOGUE
Associated Press, October 6, 1998
THOUSANDS KILLED AS FIRE SWEEPS THROUGH MOUNTAIN COMMUNITY, MYSTERIOUS ILLNESS MAY BE INVOLVED
NEW YORK, NY—The secluded mountain community of Raccoon City, PA, has officially been declared a disaster area by state and federal officials, as dedicated firefighters continue to wage war against the dying blazes and the death toll continues to rise. It is now estimated that over seven thousand people were killed by the explosive fires that raged through Raccoon in the early hours of Sunday, October 4. It is being called the worst U.S. disaster in terms of lives lost since the industrial age, and as national aid organizations and international press flock to the blockades surrounding the still burning ruins of the city, shocked friends and family of Raccoon citizens have been gathering, waiting for word in nearby Latham.
National Disaster Control (NDC) Director Terrence Chavez, coordinator for the combined efforts of the multiple firefighting and emergency teams, released a statement to the press last night stating that barring unforeseen complications, he expects the last of the flames to be extinguished before midweek—but that it may be months before the origin of the fire is determined, as well as whether or not arson was involved. Said Chavez, “The magnitude of the damage in terms of area alone is going to make finding the answers a great undertaking, but the answers are there. We will get to the bottom of this, whatever it takes.”
As of 6 A.M. today, seventy-eight survivors have been found, and their names and conditions withheld; they have been transported to an undisclosed federal facility for observation and/or treatment. Initial reports by HazMat teams suggest that an unknown illness may be responsible for the incredible number of victims, as infected citizens were unable to escape due to the possibly incapacitating sickness. There is the further suggestion that the disease may have induced violent psychosis in some of those infected. Members of private and federal disease-control centers have called for extending the quarantine boundaries, and although no official statement has been released, there have been several “leaked” descriptions of physical and biological abnormalities in many of the victims. Said one source, a worker for a federal assessment team, “Some of those people weren’t just burned or dead from smoke inhalation. I saw people who’d been killed by gunshot wounds or stabbings, [and] other forms of violence. I saw people who’d obviously been sick, dead, or dying long before the fire ever hit. The fire was bad—terrible—but it’s not the only disaster that occurred there, I’d bet money on it.”
Raccoon City was in the news earlier this year when a series of unusual murders rocked the community. These were apparently unmotivated slayings, of extreme violence, and several involved cannibalism; already, tentative connections are being made by local press near Raccoon between the eleven unsolved murders from last summer and the rumors of mass violence prior to the consuming flames.
Mr. Chavez refused to confirm or deny the rumors, saying only that investigations into the tragedy will be thorough…
Nationwide Today, A.M. Edition, October 10, 1998
RACCOON DEATH TOLL RISES AS SEARCH AND RESCUE TEAMS COMBINE EFFORTS
NEW YORK, NY—The official body count now stands at just under 4500, with the blackened ruins of Raccoon City still being combed for additional victims of the apocalypse that took place early last Sunday morning. As a nation’s mourning begins, over six hundred men and women are working to uncover the reasons behind the destruction of the once peaceful community. Local relief organizations, scientists, soldiers, federal agents, and corporate research teams have come together in a show of determination and purpose, pooling resources and accepting delegated responsibilities in order to get to the truth.
NDC Director Terrence Chavez, the official head of the effort, has been joined by top researchers from disease-control centers all around the world, national security agents from several federal branches, and a privately funded team of microbiologists from Umbrella, Inc., the pharmaceutical company, which is investigating the possibility that there may be a connection between their chemical lab on the outskirts of the city and the strange infection now being called “Raccoon syndrome.”
Initial studies of this illness have been vague and inconclusive, says Umbrella team leader Dr. Ellis Benjamin, “but we’re convinced that the citizens of Raccoon were infected with something, either accidentally or intentionally. All we know at this point is that it doesn’t seem to have been airborne, and that the final result was rapid cellular disintegration and death; we still don’t know if it was bacterial or viral, or what the symptoms were, but we won’t rest until we’ve exhausted all of our resources. Whatever the findings, and whether or not Umbrella materials were a part of it, we’re committed to seeing this through to the end. It’s the least we can do, considering how much our company owes the people of Raccoon.” The Umbrella chem
ical plant and administration facilities in Raccoon City provided nearly a thousand local jobs.
The 142 survivors are still being held in quarantine for observation and questioning at an undisclosed location. While their identities are still being protected, the FBI has released a statement listing medical conditions. Seventeen survivors suffered minor injuries but are in stable condition, seventy-nine are still on a critical list following surgical procedures, and forty-six of the survivors, while not injured, have suffered some major mental or emotional breakdown. There is no confirmation as to whether or not any are infected with the syndrome, but the statement did include a reference to survivor’s stories that verified the existence of the infection.
Gen. Martin Goldmann, overseer of military operations in the ravaged city, is hopeful that all of those still missing will be found within the next seven days. “We’ve already got four hundred people out there working twenty-four/seven, searching for survivors and running identification checks—and I just got word that another two hundred will be coming in on Monday…”
Fort Worth Bugler, October 18, 1998
POSSIBLE CONSPIRACY BY CITY EMPLOYEES IN RACCOON TRAGEDY
FORT WORTH, TX—New evidence uncovered by cleanup crews in Raccoon City, PA, indicates that the “Raccoon syndrome,” the disease responsible for the majority of the 7200 deaths that have occurred in Raccoon as of this writing, may have been unleashed upon the unsuspecting populace by Raccoon Police Chief Brian Irons and several members of the Special Tactics and Rescue Service (S.T.A.R.S.).
At a press conference, held early yesterday evening by FBI spokesman Patrick Weeks, NDC Director Terrence Chavez, and Dr. Robert Heiner—called in by Umbrella team leader Dr. Ellis Benjamin—Weeks revealed that there is strong circumstantial evidence that the disaster in Raccoon was the result of a terrorist act that went horribly wrong. The subsequent fires that have nearly wiped out the small city may have been an attempt by Irons or one of his accomplices to cover up the disastrous effects of the spill.
According to Weeks, several documents were found in the wreckage of the RPD building that implicate Irons as the ringleader of a conspiracy to take hostage the Umbrella chemical plant on the outskirts of the city. Allegedly, Irons was furious with city officials over the suspension of the S.T.A.R.S. in late July for their mishandling of a multiple murder investigation—the now well-documented cannibal slayings that took the lives of eleven people early last summer. The Raccoon S.T.A.R.S. were suspended after a helicopter crash in the last week of July that claimed the lives of six team members. The five surviving S.T.A.R.S. members were suspended without pay after evidence suggested drug or alcohol abuse in connection to the crash— and while Irons publicly advocated the suspension of his elite squad, the documents found indicate that Irons meant to threaten Mayor Devlin Harris and several City Council members with a spill of extremely volatile and dangerous chemicals unless certain financial demands were met. Weeks went on to say that Irons had a history of emotional instability, and that the documents—correspondence between Irons and an accomplice—revealed a plan by Irons to extort ransom from Raccoon and then flee the country. The accomplice is named only as “C.R.,” but there are also references to “J.V.,” “B.B,” and “R.C.”—all initials for four of the five suspended S.T.A.R.S.
Said Terrence Chavez, “Assuming these documents are accurate, Irons and his crew had planned to storm the Umbrella plant at the end of September, which would correspond exactly to the timeline described by Dr. Heiner for the Raccoon syndrome to achieve full amplification. We’re currently operating under the assumption that the takeover did take place, and that an unexpected accident occurred with cataclysmic results. At this time, we don’t know if Mr. Irons or any of the S.T.A.R.S. are still alive, but they are wanted for questioning. We’ve released a national APB and all of our international airports and border patrols have been alerted. We urge anyone with information relating to this case to come forward.”
Dr. Heiner, a renowned microbiologist as well as an associate member of Umbrella’s Biohazardous Materials Division, stated that the exact mix of chemicals released in Raccoon may never be known. “It’s obvious that Irons and his people didn’t know what they were handling—and with Umbrella continuously developing new variations of enzyme syntheses, bacterial growth mediums, and viral repressors, the lethal compound was almost certainly an accidental aggregation. With the possible combinations of materials numbering in the millions, the odds of duplicating the Raccoon syndrome mix are astronomical.”
The S.T.A.R.S. national director wasn’t available for comment, but Lida Willis, regional spokesperson for the organization, has gone on record as saying that they “are shocked and saddened” by the disaster, and would devote every available agent to the search for the missing S.T.A.R.S. team members, as well as for any contacts they might still have within the network.
Ironically, the documents were found by one of Umbrella’s search teams…
ONE
“Go, GO, GO!” David shouted, and John Andrews hit the gas, whipping the minivan around a tight corner as gunfire thundered through the cold Maine night.
John had spotted the two unmarked black sedans only a moment before, which had barely given the team enough time to arm themselves. Whoever was on their ass—Umbrella or the S.T.A.R.S. or the local cops—it didn’t matter, it was all Umbrella—
“Get us lost, John!” David called, somehow managing to sound cool and controlled even as bullets riddled the back of the van. It was the accent—he always sounds like that, and where the hell’s Falworth?
John felt scattered, his thoughts racing and jumbled; he kicked ass on a mission, but sneak attacks bit the bone—
—right on Falworth and head for the strip—Christ, ten more minutes and we would’ve been gone—
It had been too long since John had been in combat, and never in the midst of a car chase. He was good, but it was a minivan—
Bam bam bam!
Someone in the back of the van was returning fire, shooting out of the open back window. The nine-millimeter explosions in the tight space were as loud as the voice of an irate God, pounding at John’s ears and making it even harder to focus.
Ten more goddamn minutes.
Ten minutes from the airstrip, where the chartered flight would be waiting. It was like a bad joke—weeks of hiding, waiting, not taking any risks, and then getting tagged on the way out of the damn country.
John hung on to the wheel as they shot down 6th Street, the van too heavy to outmaneuver the sedans. Even without five people and a shitload of artillery, the bulky, boxy knockoff mini wasn’t exactly a power-house. David had bought it because it was so nondescript, so unlikely to be noticed, and they were paying for it—if they managed to shake their pursuers, it’d be a small miracle. Their only chance was to try to find traffic, play some dodge. It was dangerous, but so was getting run off the road and shot to death.
“Clip!” Leon shouted, and John shot a look in the rearview, saw that the young cop was crouched at the back window next to David. They’d taken out the back seats for the trip to the airstrip, all the more room for weapons—but that also meant no seatbelts; take a corner too fast and bodies would be flying—
Bam! Bam! Two more blasts from the sedan assholes, maybe from a .38. John gave the shuddering van a little more pedal as Leon returned fire with a Browning nine-millimeter. Leon Kennedy was their best shot, David probably had him trying to draw bead on the tires—
—best shot next to me, anyway, and how the hell am I going to get us lost in Exeter, Maine, at eleven o’clock on a weeknight? There is no traffic—
One of the women tossed Leon a mag, John didn’t have time to see which one as he jerked the wheel right, heading for downtown. With a smoking squeal of rubber on asphalt, the mini teetered around the corner of Falworth, heading east. The airstrip was west, but John didn’t figure that anyone in the van was worrying much about getting to the plane on time.
&nbs
p; First things first, gotta ditch Umbrella’s hired goons. Doubt there’s room on the charter for all of us—
John saw red and blue light in the mirror, saw that at least one of the sedans had put a flasher on the roof. Maybe they were cops, which would really suck. Umbrella’s job of spin control had been thorough— thanks to them, every cop in the country probably believed that their small team was at least partly responsible for what had happened to Raccoon. The S.T.A.R.S. were being played, too—some of the higher-ups had sold out, but the agents in the trenches probably had no idea that their organization had become a puppet of the pharmaceutical company—
—which makes it a hell of a lot harder to shoot back.
No one on their makeshift team wanted innocents to get hurt; being misled by Umbrella wasn’t a crime, and if the sedan teams were cops—
“No antennae, no warning, not cops!” Leon called, and John had time to feel about a second’s worth of relief before he saw the barricades looming in front of them, the roadwork sign propped next to the blocked street. He saw the white circle of a man’s face above an orange vest, the man holding a sign that said “Slow,” the man dropping the sign and diving for cover—
—and it would’ve been funny except they were doing eighty and had maybe three seconds before they hit.
* * *
“Hang on!” John screamed, and Claire pushed her legs against the van wall, saw David grab hold of Rebecca, Leon snatching at the handle—
—and the van was screeching, jerking, and bucking like a wild horse, spinning sideways—
—and Claire actually felt open space beneath the right side of the van as her body was compressed to the left, the back of her neck crunching painfully against the tire well.
—oh hell—
