Resident Evil – City of the Dead

by S. D. Perry

  Six or seven shots left, get the eyes…

  Claire stepped quickly out of the shadows and raised Irons's gun, squeezing the trigger, backing toward the stairs. Bam-bam-bam…… and X was positioning itself for another attack, the bullets smashing into its melted face, two of them ricocheting from the matter of its skull as it aligned to her position… bam-bam… She was at the stairs, sidling up a step, the rounds useless, Mr. X starting its lurching run. It would be on her before she could turn, before she could get up the steps.

  – I'll die – but at least I'll hurt it first -

  Mr. X took one – two powerful strides, halving the distance between them as Claire aimed, determined to make the last shots count. She would die, and her only regret was for Sherry, her only wish that she would be able to incapacitate the nightmare X before it killed her.

  She fired, and the monster's left eye exploded, a burst of inky fluid splattering its wretched, inhuman face.

  Yes!

  Mr. X veered to its right, not stopping but not coming straight at her anymore – it would still hit the base of the stairs -too close! – she had to try for the other eye and she had about two seconds left… Claire aimed, found her mark, and…… click!…… there were no bullets left, and the monster was slamming into the base of the steps, the smell of roasted meat washing over her as it raised its giant hand up, and its giant, terrible body was all she could see. Claire rolled down the concrete stairs, hunching herself into a ball and screamed as Mr. X's ragged clawed fingers raked across her left thigh, and a distant voice told her that they had three minutes left.

  THIRTY-ONE

  He'd gone the wrong way. twists and turns in the cold and empty hall had led him to a storage room – a dead end.

  "There are now three minutes until detonation."

  Leon turned back the way he'd come, and with what felt like the very last of his strength, forced himself into a stumbling run. He was too exhausted to feel disappointed, to worry about his impending death, to wish that things were different; it took all of his energy just to keep moving. He'd make it or he wouldn't; either way, he didn't think he'd be surprised.

  Claire hit the floor at the base of the stairs and leapt to her feet, blood running down her leg in a hot pulse of stinging pain. She staggered away, nothing broken, but she knew her clawed leg was just the begin-ning of what it would do to her, a prelude to the real pain. Mr. X was still bent over the railing of the steps, but as she stumbled away, back toward the broken gate of the platform, the monster pushed itself off. It turned its immense body in her direction, the open blackness of its empty eye socket drooling out some dark and ichorous liquid. It would compensate for its altered senses, she was sure – it would compensate, realign, run at her again – and would slaughter her like the merciless machine it was, there was nothing she could do to stop it.

  At least I'll die in the explosion…

  Claire tripped on the metal bars of the gate, barely catching herself, blood pattering to the ground as she staggered another step, please let it be quick… "Here! Use this!"

  Claire spun, saw that Mr. X was positioning itself for its killing strike – and saw the silhouette high above, on the walkway over the train. A woman's voice, a woman's shape, the shadowed figure throwing something -

  –who -

  –that clattered across the concrete, landing be-tween her and Mr. X. It was metal, it was silver, she'd seen them in movies, it was a machine gun and Claire ran for it. Another final hope, another chance, however slim, that she and Sherry would survive. She reached the weapon, dropped, saw X pushing itself toward her, the thunder of its steps shaking the ground and she scooped up the heavy gun, kicking against the floor and rolling onto her back, her shaking hand finding the trigger, her body moving to accommodate the weapon. Stock on the ground, arms twisted around the cold metal, aiming -

  – please please -

  The monster was only a step away when the spray of bullets crashed out of the gun, a clattering, rattling string of tiny explosions that shook Claire's entire body and whammed into the gut of the beast, the sheer force of so many rounds stopping it in mid– stride and pushing it back.

  – tattatattatatta -

  She felt the vibrating metal trying to shake itself free of her grip, so she held it tighter, the butt of the weapon tapping against the floor at a manic pace. The bullets were still pounding into the creature's abdo– men, so fast and so many that she couldn't hear her own gasping cries of fury and pain and exaltation…… and Mr. X was trying to move forward, but a strange thing was happening, a strange and beautiful thing. Its gut was being shredded by the endless stream of rounds, its midsection gaining depth and texture, black fluids coursing down its lower half from the ragged, growing wound. X's mouth was open, an empty hole like its eye socket – and like the socket, thick liquid was pouring out, obscuring its pitiless face.

  – tattatattatat -

  Claire held on, directing the hail, watching the creature try to stand against the pulsing, crashing spray. Watching it bleed. Watching as it seemed to condense, its massive body crumpling, its torso sink– ing down. The bullets still flying, Mr. X raised its arms and split in two. Claire took her finger off the trigger as X's upper body toppled to the cement, a wet slap of heavy meat, and its legs collapsed, falling to one side, more strange blood gushing from both halves. Pools of shiny black grew around the massive pieces of its broken body, forming stinking puddles. The creature was dead and even if it wasn't, it didn't matter anymore. Unless it could pull itself across the floor as fast as she could run, her battle with the terrible mystery that had been Mr. X was finally through -

  –hell with all that, no time, MOVE!

  Claire was on her feet in a second, ignoring the squelch of blood in her boot and the pain that had caused it, her gaze searching the upper platform for her unknown savior. No one was there, and she didn't know if another minute had ticked by, the warning lost in the gunfire. "Hey!" Claire shouted, backing toward the subway car. "We have to go, now!" No answer, no sound but the ringing in her ears and the echo of her trembling words. If she wanted to save Sherry… Claire turned and ran. * * *

  "… two minutes until…"

  Leon pushed himself to go faster, the twining tunnel a blur of gray that spun past his aching, breathless perception. He'd lost all track of the turns and twists of the corridor and was rapidly losing hope, a voice in the back of his mind telling him that maybe it would be best to stop, to sit and rest and then he heard it, and that tiny, despairing whisper was obliterated by the sound. The sound of heavy machinery stirring to life, somewhere up ahead. Not far ahead.

  Train!

  Faster, legs distant, rubbery, lungs working, heart pounding – one way or another, it was almost over.

  THIRTY-TWO

  Claire burst into the train, holding a giant rifle and with one leg covered in blood, barely pausing to hit the controls to the door before running for the engineer's booth. Sherry knew that they were in trouble, that it was going to be close, so she didn't waste time asking questions; she followed, relieved beyond measure that Claire was okay but keeping it to herself.

  Okay, she's okay and we're going now…

  A small, tinny version of the intercom voice and alarms blared out of the tiny room's control board.

  "There are two minutes until detonation."

  Claire had dropped the oddly shaped rifle and was hitting buttons, throwing switches, her attention fixed on the console. A giant mechanical hum suddenly enveloped them, a growing, whining rumble that made Claire grit her teeth; Sherry couldn't tell if it was a smile, but she smiled as she felt the train lurch and start to move, taking them away from the platform. Claire turned, saw Sherry standing behind her, and tried to smile. Claire rested one hand on Sherry's shoulder, but didn't say anything – so Sherry didn't either, waiting to see what would happen. The train started to go faster, sliding past dimly lit halls and platforms, the tunnel in front of them dark and empty. Sherry let the warmth
of Claire's hand remind her that they were friends, that whatever happened, Claire was her friend…… and she saw a man, a policeman, stumble into view ahead on the left, and then the train was gliding past him, his eyes wide and searching and desperate in his dirty face.

  "Claire!"

  "I see him…"

  Claire turned and ran out of the booth, her foot-steps clattering through the metal train car, sprinting to the door. She hit the control and the door slid open, the booming, grinding sounds of the subway billowing into the closed space. "Leon!" she screamed. "Hurry!" She jerked back suddenly, a wall sliding by, and spun around looking as desperate as the man -

  –Leon – had. After another second she turned back and closed the door. "Did he make it?" Sherry asked, realizing that Claire couldn't possibly know, even as the words came out of her mouth. Claire came to her and put an arm around her, as the train kept going faster and her face knotted with worry…… and the voice in the intercom told them they had one minute left…… and the door in the back of the car opened. In stumbled Leon, his arm wrapped with a shredded, stained bandage, his hair matted with dark, dried goo,

  his eyes bright and blue in the mask of dirt. "Full throttle!" he shouted; Claire nodded, and Leon blew out a heavy breath. He staggered toward them, the train shifting back and forth, speeding now, rocketing through the tunnel. He put his arm around Claire, and Claire hugged him tightly. "Ada?" Claire whispered. "Ann… the scientist?"Leon shook his head, and Sherry saw that he might cry. "No. I didn't – no."… thirty seconds until detonation. Twenty-nine… twenty-eight…"

  The woman's voice kept counting down, the num– bers seeming to come twice as fast as they should, and Sherry buried her face in Claire's warm side, thinking about her mom. Mom and Dad. She hoped that they'd gotten out, that they were safe somewhere, but they're probably not. They're probably dead. Sherry could hear Claire's heart pounding, and she hugged her friend tighter, thinking that she would think about it later.

  "… five. Four. Three. Two. One. Sequence com-plete. Detonation."

  For a second, there was no sound at all. The alarms had finally stopped, and the clattering movement of the racing train was all there was to hear and then there was an explosion, a muffled sound, a shoomp sound that kept going, growing, becoming huge. Sherry closed her eyes and the train rocked sud– denly, horribly, and they were all thrown to the metal floor as bright, burning light flickered through the window, as the sounds of a car crash blasted all around them, heavy thumps raining over the roof and the train kept going. It kept going, and the light went away, and they weren't dead. The blinding flash dissipated, faded, and Leon felt the tension leaking out of his body. He rolled onto his side, and saw Claire sitting up, reaching for the hand of the young girl next to her. "Okay?" Claire asked the girl, and the child nod-ded. Both of them turned to him, their faces express– ing what he felt – shock, exhaustion, disbelief, hope. "Leon Kennedy, this is Sherry Birkin," Claire said, saying the words carefully, the slightest accent on "Birkin." He got the message even without the inten– sity of her gaze, nodding his understanding before smiling at the girl. "Sherry, this is Leon," Claire continued. "I met him when I had just gotten to Raccoon."

  Sherry returned his smile, a weary, too-adult smile that seemed out of place; she was too young to smile like that.

  One more rotten deed to lay at Umbrella's door, innocence stolen from a child…

  For a few seconds, they just sat there on the floor, staring at one another, smiles fading all around. Leon hardly dared to hope that it was really over, that they were leaving the terror behind. Again, he saw his feelings mirrored in front of him, in Sherry's worried brow and Claire's tired gray eyes…… and when they heard the distant squeal of metal coming from somewhere at the back of the train, he didn't see any surprise. A rending, tearing screech followed by a heavy, somehow stealthy thump and then nothing.

  Should've known it isn't over… "Zombie?" Sherry whispered, the word almost lost in the gently clattering sound of the speeding train. "I don't know, sweetie," Claire said softly, and for the first time, Leon noticed that her left leg was ripped to shit, blood oozing from several ragged scratches; he'd been too amazed at his, at their narrow escape to see it before. "How about I go take a look?" Leon said, taking his cue from Claire, keeping his voice mild and even; no point in scaring Sherry any worse. He stood up, nodding toward Claire's leg.

  "Sherry, why don't you stay here with Claire, keep an eye on that leg? I'll see if I can find some bandages while I'm checking things out; don't let her move, okay?"

  Sherry nodded, her small face intent with purpose that again was too old for her years. "Got it." "I'll be back in a minute," he said, and turned toward the back of the swaying train, praying that it was nothing at all and knowing better, as he reached for the Remington and went to see. Leon opened the door, the sounds of the rolling train amplified for a second before it closed behind him. Claire couldn't see him enter the next car from her position on the floor, and wished she'd been in shape to go with him; if there was something else on the train, Sherry wasn't safe, none of them were -

  – don't think like that, it's nothing. It's over -

  –like it was over with Mr. X? "What should I do?" Sherry asked, pulling Claire away from the disheartening thoughts. "Direct pres-sure, right?" Claire nodded. "Yeah, except we're both pretty grimy, and I think it's starting to clot. Let's see if Leon comes back with something clean…"

  She trailed off, her thoughts going back to Mr. X.

  There was something nagging at her but she was a little dizzy from the blood she'd lost…

  … G-Virus. It wanted the G-Virus before. Why had Mr. X come to the subway platform? Why had it been trying to get inside the train, unless…

  Claire struggled to get up, fighting her swimming head and the throbbing pain in her leg. "Hey, don't move," Sherry said, a look of deep distress in her eyes. "Leon said to stay still!" She might have been able to overcome her physical problems, but seeing Sherry on the edge of panic was too much; if there was some G-Virus creature on board, if that was why Mr. X had come, Leon would have to face it alone. She couldn't leave Sherry. If Leon didn't come back, she'd have to figure out how to detach their train car, or stop the train so they could get off before the creature could get to them… Claire shut the thoughts off, forcing a smile for Sherry. "Yes ma'am. I just wanted to make sure he got through the second car…"

  She could see the relief sweep across Sherry's face.

  "Oh. Well, forget it, I'm taking care of you now, and I say you stay still."

  Claire nodded absently, hoping that she was wrong, hoping that Leon would be back any second -

  – Bam! Bam! Bam! The thunder of the Remington was loud and clear. Sherry grabbed her hand as two more shots blasted the hope from Claire's fuzzy mind, as the train sped through the dark.

  The second car was clear, the same wide-open space that Leon had entered the train by, all dusty steel and not much else. Whoever had designed the escape vehicle had obviously figured the Umbrella employ– ees would have to be packed in like sardines.

  Just us three, though – and our stowaway…

  There was nothing to see, but Leon moved slowly nonetheless, carefully scanning the shadowy corners and steeling himself for whatever was in the last car. Whatever it was, it couldn't be as bad as the thing that had jumped him in the cargo room, the Birkin-thing, if that was what it was. The thought that the creature had anything at all to do with Claire's young friend was deeply unsettling, even obscene. A monster and a madwoman, both destroyed, both parents of the little girl… He reached the back of the dim and rocking train car and peered through the door, pushing all other thoughts aside as he tried to make out anything at all in the last car. Darkness, and nothing else.

  Hell. Maybe there wasn't anything to see, but he had to look. He felt his heart start to pound fresh adrenaline through his body, felt his weariness fall away. Noth– ing, it was surely nothing, but it felt bad. Wrong.


  Last thing, very last thing…

  He took a deep breath and opened the door, step-ping into the loud, whipping breeze of the outside, holding on to the rail. The rattle of the train drowned out the thumping of his heart as he moved to the last car, opened the door, and stepped into darkness. Immediately, he raised the shotgun, all of his senses telling him to run as the door slid shut behind him. He reached back, slapping for a light switch. Dark-ness, but there was a powerful smell like bleach or chlorine, and there was the soft sound of wetness, of movement… A single bare bulb flickered on in the middle of the car as he found a button, and he thought for just a second that he'd lost his mind. A thing. A creature that wasn't even vaguely hu– manoid, except for a strange, pulsing tumor protrud– ing from one side, a slick orb that looked very much like an eye.

  Birkin.

  The creature was a giant, stretching blob of dark, slimy matter, spanning the width of the car; Leon couldn't tell how tall it was. The Birkin-thing had thick streamers extended out, tentacles of wet and elastic goo attached to every part of the space in front of it – the ceiling, walls, and floor. And as Leon watched, the alien beast pulled itself forward, the dark limbs contracting, bringing the mass of the body a few feet ahead of where it had been. Not crazy. He was seeing it, seeing the brackish, moving colors of black and green and purple in its tentacles as it stretched out again, the viscous materi– al latching to the metal of the car somehow, dragging the blob a few more feet ahead. The body itself was nothing so much as a gaping maw, a wet cave that still had teeth…… and that would reach him pretty soon if he didn't snap out of his disgusted stupor. Leon aimed into the giant hole of its mouth and pulled the trigger, pumping in another round, firing, pumping, firing…… and then the shotgun was empty, and the giant semi-liquid thing was still moving steadily forward. He didn't know how to kill it, didn't know if the rounds had even damaged it. His mind raced for an answer, for a solution that would end the terrible life