Resident Evil – City of the Dead

by S. D. Perry

  "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have tried to leave without you, but I was afraid…"

  He could hear real sorrow in her voice, see it in her eyes, and felt his anger give a little. "Afraid of what?" "That you wouldn't make it. That you wouldn't make it, trying to keep both of us safe." "Ada, what are you talking about?" Leon moved to the bench, sitting down beside her. She looked down at her hands, speaking softly.

  "When I was looking for you, back in the sewers, I found a map," she said. "It showed what looked like some kind of an underground laboratory or factory and if the map was right, there's a tunnel that runs from there to somewhere outside of the city." She met his gaze again, honestly distressed. "Leon, I didn't think you were in any condition to make a trip like that, like this – and I was scared that if I brought you with me, if it was a dead end or some-thing attacked us…"

  Leon nodded slowly. She'd been trying to protect herself – and him."I'm sorry," she repeated. "I should have told you, I shouldn't have just left you there like that. After all

  you've done for me, I… I at least owed you the truth."

  The guilt and shame in her eyes wasn't something that could be faked. Leon reached for her hand, ready to tell her that he understood and that he didn't blame her…… when there was a resounding thump outside. The entire transport shook, just a slight tremble, but enough to make both of them tense. "Probably a rough spot in the track…" Leon said, and Ada nodded, gazing at him with an intensity that made him pleasantly uncomfortable, a warmth spreading through his entire body… BAM!… and Ada flew off the bench, thrown to the floor as a massive, curled thing slammed through the wall, crashing through the sheet metal of the vehicle's side as though it were made of paper. It was a fist, a fist with bone claws, each of them nearly a foot long, the claws dripping with…

  "Ada!"

  The giant hand withdrew, its bloody talons ripping new holes in the metal wall as Leon dropped to the floor, grabbing Ada's limp body, pulling her into the center of the transport. A terrible shriek pealed through the moving darkness outside and it was the same furious cry that they'd heard in the station, but louder, more violent and even less human than before. Leon held on to Ada with his one good arm, feeling the warm trickle of blood seeping out from her right side, feeling her dead weight against his heaving chest.

  "Ada, wake up! Ada!"

  Nothing. He lowered her gently to the floor, then pulled at the bloody hole in her dress, just above her hip. Blood was welling up from two deep punctures; there was no way to tell how bad, and he ripped at the fabric, tearing off" the bottom few inches of her short dress and pressing the wadded material against the wound…… and again the monster screamed, and the rage in its throaty howl was nothing to what Leon was feeling, staring down at Ada's still and closed face. He stretched her tight dress over the makeshift bandage, fixing it in place as best he could, then stood up and unstrapped the Remington.

  Ada had taken care of him, had protected him when he couldn't protect himself. Leon loaded the shotgun grimly, feeling no pain at all as he prepared to return the favor.

  When they reached what looked like the end of the line, it was Sherry who figured out where her mother must have gone. They'd walked into yet another open, shadowy room, but it only had the one door; there seemed to be no other way out of the cavernous chamber, unless Annette had jumped off the raised floor and trekked off through the unlit emptiness that surrounded them. They stood at the edge of the darkness, trying to see down into the shadows and having no luck. The room was set up almost like a loading dock: a railed platform ran from the door along the back wall, then ended abruptly, giving way to a seemingly endless void. Either Annette had climbed down and navi– gated some secret path through the dark, or Claire had been mistaken about which way she'd gone.

  So what now? Go back, or try to follow?

  She didn't want to do either one – although going back pretty much beat the crap out of the idea of walking into a pitch-black abyss. And Leon was probably still back there somewhere…

  "Could it be a train? Is this like a train station?"

  Sherry asked, and as soon as she said "train," Claire gave herself a solid mental kick in the ass. Platform, railings, about a thousand overhead "pipes."… Claire grinned at Sherry, shaking her head at her own stupidity; she was getting flaky, no doubt about it. "Yeah, I think it is," she said, "though you guessed it, not me. My brain must be on strike…"

  The small computer console on one side of the platform, the one she'd dismissed as unimportant, was probably the control board. Claire headed for it, Sherry following along and clutching absently at her gold locket as she described the noises she'd heard, down in the drainage well.

  "… and it was moving away, like a train would. It scared me pretty bad, too. It was loud."

  Sure enough, just beneath the small monitor screen on the standing console was a recall command code and a ten-key. Claire tapped in the code and hit "enter" – and the chamber was filled with the smooth hum of working machinery: the sound of a train. "You're one smart cookie, you know that?" Claire said, and Sherry practically beamed, her entire face crinkling with her sweet smile. Claire wrapped an arm around her shoulders and they walked back to the edge of the platform to wait. The tram's light appeared after a few seconds, the tiny circle of brightness getting bigger as they watched. After the trials they'd been through, Claire decided to be as fantastically optimistic about this new development as she could – primarily to keep from worrying about what horrible thing would prob– ably happen next. The train would lead out of the city, of course, and it would be well-stocked with food and water; it'd have showers and fresh, warm clothes -

  –nah, scratch that. A hot tub, and a couple of those thick terry robes, for after. And slippers.

  Nice, but she'd settle for anything that didn't in– clude monsters or crazy people. She glanced at Sher– ry, and noticed that she was still rubbing her locket. "So what's in there?" she asked, wanting to make Sherry smile again. "You got a picture of your boy-friend, or what?" "Inside? Oh, it's not a locket," Sherry said, and Claire was pleased to see a faint blush rise in her cheeks. "My mom gave it to me, it's a good-luck charm and I don't have a boyfriend. Boys my age are totally immature." Claire grinned. "Get used to it, sweetie. As far as I can tell, some of them never grow out of it."

  The train was close enough now for them to see its shape, a single car about twenty or twenty-five feet long riding smoothly along its overhead track. "Where do you think it goes?" Sherry asked, and before Claire could answer, the door to the platform exploded. The hatch blew inward, torn off its hinges in a squeal of metal and clanging to the floor and Claire grabbed Sherry, pulling her close as the towering Mr. X stepped into the room, bending low and sideways to squeeze through the opening, his soulless gaze turning toward them at once. "Get behind me!" Claire shouted, pulling Irons's handgun, risking a glance back at the approaching train. Ten seconds, they needed ten seconds, but X took a giant step toward them, and she knew they didn't have them. His bland, terrible face, expressionless, his giant hands already rising, still twenty feet away but only four steps in his massive stride… "Get on the train when it stops!" Claire screamed, and pulled the trigger. Four, five, six shots, beating into his chest. The seventh hit one dead-white cheek, but Mr. X didn't blink, didn't bleed – and didn't stop. Another mighty step, the black, smoking pit in his face a testament to his inhumanity. Claire lowered her aim, legs, knees… Bam-bam-bam!… and he paused as the rounds smashed into him, at least one a direct hit to his left knee, the black eyes fixed on her, marking her…

  "… here, come on!"

  Sherry was pulling at her vest, screaming, and Claire backed away, squeezing the trigger again. Two more rounds hit him in the gut…… and then she was on the train, and Sherry had found the control for the door. It whooshed shut, Mr. X framed in the tiny window, not coming forward anymore but still not falling. Not dying. "Follow me!" Claire shouted, spotting the board of blinking lights to her right, kno
wing that the door wouldn't hold for a second if the giant, terrible creature started walking again. She ran for the control board with Sherry at her side, thanking God that the designer had been user-friendly as the red "go" button snapped down be– neath her shaking hand…… and the train was moving, sliding away from the platform, away from the indestructible un-man and into the black.

  Annette sat in the staff bunk room on level four, waiting for the mainframe to respond to the power-up and debating whether or not to initiate the P-Epsilon sequence. Once the fail-safe system was triggered, all of the connecting corridor doors would unlock, and those doors that were electronically powered would open. The creatures that had been trapped these last days would be free to roam, and most of them would be hungry…

  … hungry and hot, bleeding pure virus from their clotted flesh…

  She didn't want to run into any unpleasantness upon her departure, but as the first lines of code spilled across the screen, she decided against running the sequence. The P-Epsilon gas was an experiment anyway, something a couple of the microbiologist techs had worked up to appease the Umbrella damage-control staff. If it worked, it would knock out the Re3s and all of the human carriers that had been infected by the initial airborne – the first wave – en– suring her a safer trip to the escape transport tunnel; but the spies were coming, and Annette didn't want to make things easy for them. She'd heard the lift being recalled as she'd stumbled her way to the synthesis lab – which was fine, great, they'd be just in time for the finale, and she wanted them fighting for their lives as she sped away from the facility, away from the brilliant explosion that would consume the multibillion-dollar facility…

  … and it'll burn, it'll all burn and I'll be free of this nightmare. Endgame and I win. Umbrella loses, once and for all, the sneaking, murdering animal bas-tards…

  She felt good, awake and aware and in very little pain; she'd meant to go straight to the nearest com-puter outlet upon her return to activate the fail-safe even before collecting the sample, but she'd barely been able to see straight as she'd stumbled off the lift; she'd been afraid of forgetting something – or worse, of falling and being unable to get up again. A trip to the meds locker in the synthesis lab had fixed all that; already, the terrible pain was a distant memory, along with the bizarre, deluded thought processes that had made it so hard to concentrate. When her little cocktail shot wore off, she'd pay for the temporary reprieve, but for the next couple of hours, at least, she was as good – she was better – than new.

  Epinephrine, endorphin, amphetamine, oh my!

  Annette knew she was high, that she shouldn't overestimate her abilities, but why shouldn't she feel happy? She grinned at the small computer in front of her and started to tap in the codes, her fingers flying over the keys, feeling like her teeth would crack as the synthetic adrenaline pounded through her dilated veins. She'd made it back to the lab, William had come back, and the sample, the very last viable G– Virus sample in the facility, was tucked into her pocket. She'd hidden it in one of the fuse cases before she'd gone looking for William, and picked it up on the way to the staff room…

  … 76E, 43L, 17A, fail-safe time… 20, vocal warning/power cut, 10, personal authorization,…Birkin…

  … and that was it. Annette couldn't stop grinning, didn't want to stop as she lightly stroked the "enter" key, the triumph a hot and liquid joy spinning through her numb and tattered flesh. One touch, and there was nothing on earth that could stop it. In ten minutes, the taped warnings would start to run, and the transport lift would shut down, cutting the facility off from the surface; in fifteen, the audio would begin the countdown – five minutes to reach the minimum safe distance by train, another five and… Boom. Twenty minutes before the explosion. More than enough time to get to the tunnel and power up the train, no matter what is loosed; enough time to speed away from the ticking dock, beneath the city streets, through the isolated foothills at the outskirts of Rac-coon. Enough time to get to the end of the track, walk out into the private plot of land, turn around and see Umbrella lose it all. As the clock ticked to zero, the plastique fail-safe charges in the laboratory's central power core would be activated. Even if all but one of the twelve explo-sive packets failed, that one blast would be enough to set off the secondary charges that were built into the walls themselves; Umbrella's fail-safe system had been designed to take it all down. The lab would become an inferno, blasting up into the dead city, visible for miles and she'd be there to see it, to know that she'd done what she could to make things right.

  This is for you, William…

  The thought was bittersweet… for some time, they hadn't enjoyed their relationship as husband and wife. William was so brilliant, so devoted to the work, that the pleasures of synthesis and development had taken the place of the perks of married life. She had come to recognize his genius, to learn the joy of supporting him without the nuisance of relationship struggles, but now, her finger resting on the end to it all, she found herself suddenly wishing very much that there had been more between them in the last few years, more than her adoration for his incredible gifts, his appreciation of her assistance…

  This is our last kiss, my love. This is my contribution to the work, my final loving act for what we shared.

  Yes, that was right, that was the feeling. Annette pressed the key, her heart singing, and saw the locked code flash across the monitor in glowing green. "I respectfully tender my resignation," she said softly, and started to laugh.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  The dark slid past the moving platform, metal darkness bathed in murky orange light, and whatever had punched through the wall of the transport was gone. Leon had edged his way around the enclosed room twice, and seen nothing at all, heard nothing but the smooth hum of the working motors. When the creature finally howled from the shadows atop the roof, and Leon snapped the shotgun up, what he saw actually made him freeze. In the second it took him to really see it, his vengeful fury blew away like so much dust, replaced by an absolute bone-chilling awe.

  Holy shit…

  The thing was still shrieking, its head thrown back, the brutal, gurgling scream like the voice of hell in the moving dark. It had been a man, once – arms and legs, shreds of clothing still hanging from its hulking body – but everything human about it had changed, was still changing as it bellowed its rage into the cold black, and Leon could only stare. Its body was swollen and rippling with strange muscles, the bare chest puffed and bloated with its endless scream. Its right arm was six inches longer than the left, the stained bone claws jutting from the pulsing hand. And the bulbous moving tumor in its right bicep looked like nothing so much as an eyeball the size of a dinner plate, jerking wetly from side to side as if searching…… and the scream was changing, too, getting deep– er, rougher, the shaggy face falling forward and melting into its chest. Like hot wax, like a movie effect, the creature's head flowed into its upper body, disappearing smoothly into the inflamed and greedy skin…… and at the same time, another face was forming, growing, rising up from the back of its neck with a horrible snapping sound, like fingers being broken. Slitted eyes cracked open, a bony red hole of a mouth forming, taking up the furious cry with a new voice…… and Leon squeezed the trigger in denial, a denial of the monster's unholy existence. Boom! The shot hit its chest, and a thick, purplish blood sprayed out, cutting off the creature's scream, but that was all it did. The monster's new face angled toward Leon, the domed head tilting…… and it hopped down onto the platform, landing in a half-crouch on legs as big around as Leon's chest. It took one jumping, crooked step forward and was close enough for Leon to smell the strange, chemical musk that poured from its glistening skin and see that the wound on its chest had stopped bleeding, that the strange flesh was eating the tiny holes. The creature raised its mighty claw and Leon stumbled backwards, pumping another round and firing as the talons came down… shhink!… and sparks flew up from the metal rail as the shot blasted into the creature's stomach, more purplish flu
id spattering from its body. The almost point-blank range of the heavy round barely fazed the towering monster. It took another step, and Leon backed away, pumping another roun…… and he tripped on the steps that led up to the transport room, tripped and fell on his ass, the round going high over the creature's bullet-shaped head. One more step and it would be on him -

  – I'm dead -

  –except it didn't take the step. Instead, it turned toward the railing, its bizarre head tilting, the pits of its rudimentary nostrils flaring…… and silently, almost gracefully, it leapt over the edge of the platform, out into the passing darkness. For a moment, Leon didn't move. He couldn't, he was too busy trying to understand that the monster hadn't killed him. It had smelled or sensed some– thing, it had broken off the attack that it most certainly would have won and had jumped off the moving transport.