by Tim Waggoner
Doc—her hostage—turned his head slightly, as much as he could with a needle pressed against his neck, to address Alice.
“I’m trying to help you,” he said. “Please put it down, before Christian shoots the both of us.”
The tip of the syringe was already drawing blood, and a crimson bead rolled down Doc’s neck, leaving a red trail behind.
“What’s in this?” Alice demanded.
“Pure adrenaline. I was going to inject it into your left ventricle.”
She scowled. “Why?”
“We needed you awake,” Doc said.
Alice gazed at the band of survivors holding weapons on her. Any of them could’ve killed her while she was unconscious, but they hadn’t. And if they feared she was a great enough threat, someone would’ve taken a shot by now, and to hell with the risk to Doc. But none of them had. They obviously cared about Doc, and she realized that, despite her assessment of Christian and the blue-haired woman as being the leaders of the group, Doc was really in charge. Maybe he was telling the truth. Maybe they did need her.
“Same question—why?”
“There’s something coming. From the same direction that you came. Something big.”
A new voice cut off Doc then, a woman’s.
“What the hell is going on here?” the woman demanded.
The voice came from behind Alice, and she spun Doc around to face the newcomer, who stood in the open doorway of the building’s atrium. She was in her late thirties, with long straight red hair. She wore a maroon leather jacket over a light blue shirt, along with dark pants and boots. She carried a Beretta 9mm holstered at her side.
Alice knew this woman, and she was as shocked as she was pleased to see her.
It was Claire Redfield.
6
“Umbrella captured me at the Arcadia. I was in a helicopter headed for somewhere called the Hive…”
Alice and Claire stood on the roof of the building, which Claire called the Peak. Alice was using the binoculars the survivors had scavenged from her downed motorcycle to scan the horizon. She was searching for any sign of Isaacs’ Undead army, but so far she hadn’t seen anything. Her chest ached from where the telegraph pole had struck her, and she breathed shallowly to minimize the pain.
The women weren’t alone on the roof. A large group of survivors stood close by, watching Alice warily. Christian and the blue-haired woman—who was, appropriately enough, called Cobalt—stood nearby with Doc and several other members of his inner circle. Behind them was a small wheat field that had been planted on the rooftop. A windmill cobbled together from pieces of wreckage provided power for the community, and makeshift bridges granted access to the roofs of nearby buildings, atop which more survivors lived. These people had managed to create a functioning village, high up where the Undead and mutant monsters couldn’t get at them.
Claire went on while Alice continued searching the horizon.
“I think Umbrella planned on torturing me for information. I got loose, killed the pilot, we crashed here. Doc and the others pulled me from the wreck. I owe them my life.”
Alice lowered the binoculars and turned to Claire.
“What happened to Chris?” she asked.
Sadness crept into Claire’s voice. “I don’t know. We were separated during the battle. He’s out there somewhere…”
“I see it!” Michael shouted, interrupting Claire. He was African-American, with a shaved head, mustache and goatee. He had a distinct gravelly voice, and the weary, haunted look of a true survivor. Alice knew that look well. She’d seen it in enough reflective surfaces over the years. Michael was another member of Doc’s inner circle, and he’d been helping them search for Isaacs’ Undead parade of destruction, and it sounded as if he’d found it.
He pointed. “There! To the east!”
Alice raised her binoculars once more and turned to look in the direction Michael indicated. She saw a large cloud of dust in the distance, and it was getting closer by the minute.
“You know what it is?” Claire asked.
Still gazing through the binoculars, Alice nodded.
“Umbrella,” she said. “Doctor Isaacs.”
“I thought you killed him,” Claire said.
“I thought the same. He has an army of Undead with him. They’ll be here within hours.”
Claire looked shocked by Alice’s words, but she quickly got hold of herself.
“So what do we do?” she asked.
Before Alice could answer, Christian stepped forward and pointed his submachine gun directly at her.
“Why are we asking her?” he said. “She’s a stranger. We can’t trust her.”
Doc moved to Christian, reached out, and gently pushed the barrel of his gun away.
“Christian,” he said, “just because you think you should be in charge doesn’t make it so.”
Tension filled the air around the two men, like the slow build-up of energy before a thunderstorm breaks. Christian glared at Doc, and Alice wouldn’t have been surprised if Christian had trained his weapon on the older man. For his part, Doc’s face remained impassive, but anger burned in his eyes.
Michael stepped to Doc’s side and stood there protectively, looking intensely at Christian. Cobalt moved to Christian’s side and put a hand on his arm. Claire had told Alice that the two were lovers, but even if Claire hadn’t filled her in, Alice would’ve guessed by the way the woman touched him. The gesture was as much possessive as supportive.
“It’s okay,” Cobalt said, staring at Doc. “His time will come.”
Christian continued glaring at Doc a moment longer before turning abruptly and stalking off, Cobalt accompanying him. Michael and Doc exchanged glances, but neither man spoke. It was obvious to Alice that Christian was going to be a problem, and sooner rather than later. But she didn’t have time to worry about him now. She had a world to save.
“I have to make it to the Hive,” Alice said to Claire. She glanced at the survivors gathered on the roof. Some of them looked like they could handle themselves well enough in a fight, but most of them didn’t. “And you need to get these people out of here.”
Claire shook her head. “Can’t be done. We have children here… newborns. The injured, the elderly. What chance do they have on the road?”
“Better than they have here,” Alice said.
Alice looked at the children. She had no memories of childhood, no real memories of any kind before the T-virus outbreak. She knew nothing of the sort of life these people led. Staying in one place, having each other to rely on, working together as a community to build something. All she knew was fighting and killing, blood and death. She’d become a killing machine, a living weapon, but what purpose did a weapon serve once the war was over? If she did somehow manage to release the antivirus and destroy the Undead, could she ever have a life like this? A life of peace with others who she cared for and who cared for her in turn? She’d lived a solitary existence for so long that she didn’t know. But she sure as hell wanted to give it a try.
Doc had overheard the two women talking, and he stepped forward to join them. Alice would’ve preferred to continue speaking to Claire alone, but the man was the leader here—for the moment, at least—and because of that he deserved to be included in making whatever plans might affect his people.
“This building is secure,” Doc insisted.
“From the Undead perhaps,” Alice said. “But Isaacs has armored vehicles. Rocket launchers, heavy ordnance. They’re going to tear this place wide open.”
“Alice,” Claire began. She leaned close to Alice then and continued in a much softer voice. “I owe these people my life. We need to protect them. We should make a stand.”
Alice looked at Claire for a long moment before checking her watch.
05:27:38
If she died defending the residents of the Peak from Isaacs’ horde, who would go into the Hive to find the antivirus? Who would save the world—save Becky? Seeing the children o
n the rooftop had started her thinking about the girl again, not that she’d ever really stopped since meeting her. And even if somehow humanity survived Umbrella’s attempt to destroy it, if Alice was dead, who would take care of Becky?
She sighed. “Damn it, Claire, I can’t—”
Alice broke off, suddenly seized by a coughing fit. She doubled over in pain, overcome by a wave of weakness. She thought she might pass out, and she might’ve, except she’d lost consciousness too many times lately, and she was determined to remain awake, no matter what it took.
Doc took hold of her shoulders to steady her, and Alice was in too much pain to shrug him off.
“What is it?” Claire asked, alarmed.
“We need to get her to the medical bay,” Doc said.
Together, Doc and Claire escorted Alice toward the entrance to the Peak’s stairs, and Alice—every breath fiery agony—let them.
* * *
Doc and Claire helped Alice sit on a gurney in a room that could only charitably be called a “medical bay.” It was more like a cramped space filled with a hodgepodge of scavenged junk that, if you squinted and weren’t too picky about your definition of sterile, more or less resembled primitive medical equipment. There was a dirty glass window set into one of the walls, and Christian and Cobalt watched from the other side.
Wincing in pain, Alice peeled off her top to reveal a badly bruised torso. Doc gave her a quick examination, and then said, “I need to get those ribs strapped up.”
“What happened to you?” Claire asked Alice, but Doc answered.
“She was hit by one of the traps on the outer perimeter,” he said. He then turned to Alice. “They were intended for the Undead. There aren’t many of them left in the city, but it’s better not to let the ones still around get too close to where we live. Even with us living so high off the ground, they can sense our presence if they get close enough. And if one gets wind of us—”
“More come,” Alice finished.
Doc nodded. He then began using silver duct tape to bind Alice’s chest.
“Medically speaking, you’re not supposed to wrap broken ribs,” he said. “Oh, doctors used to do it, but then they learned it increased the risk of lung infection and pneumonia because the wrap forces patients to breath shallowly. The preferred method of treatment is to apply ice after the initial injury, take anti-inflammatories, and avoid moving your torso. The ribs should then heal themselves in one to two months.”
“But you don’t have ice or anti-inflammatories,” Alice said. She gritted her teeth against the pain while Doc worked.
“And you don’t have a couple months to rest. Not with what’s coming. So wrapping will have to do.”
Alice glanced over at the window and saw Christian watching her. He scowled, lips tightening. His hands remained at his sides, but she noticed he held his submachine gun, as if he was ready to start firing at her once she finally confirmed his suspicion that she was a threat.
“Your friend’s quite the charmer,” Alice said to Doc. “What’s his story?”
“When the world went to hell, people dealt with it in different ways,” Doc said. “Some turned to religion. Others, like Christian and his group, tried to become as savage as what they feared. And in Christian’s case, it’s taken its toll.”
Claire glanced at Christian, then she walked over to the window and lowered the blinds, blocking him and Cobalt out.
“How about you?” Alice said to Doc. “How do you deal with it?”
“Me? I just drink.”
Claire laughed as she rejoined them at the gurney. Doc glanced at her, smiling, and Alice felt an unmistakable energy pass between them.
Doc returned to his work then and finished wrapping Alice’s ribs.
“That should do it.” He reached for a container of alcohol and wetted a cotton ball. He then used it to sterilize the inside of Alice’s right elbow, and when he was finished, he tossed the ball aside. He picked up a syringe that was resting on a folded cloth atop a metal stand next to the gurney.
Alice eyed the syringe suspiciously as Doc picked it up. “What’s that?”
“The specialty of the house,” Doc said. “Give it a few minutes and it’ll have you on your feet again.”
He moved to inject her, but Alice grabbed his hand before he could.
“Last time, you tried to stab me in the heart. Why should I trust you?”
Doc smiled. “Because of my charming bedside manner, of course.”
Alice let go of his hand, and he slid the needle into the soft flesh of her inner elbow and injected the contents into a vein. She assumed the drug was some sort of stimulant, and it might have been her imagination, but she thought she could already feel it beginning to work.
Michael entered the room then, a worried expression on his face.
“Doc, you need to get out there,” he said. “People are scared and Christian’s not helping. You need to let everyone know what’s happening.”
Doc sighed. He turned to Claire.
“I’ve got to go. Your friend’s going to be okay.”
“Thank you,” Claire said. She placed her hand on Doc’s arm, and Alice once more felt the electricity between them.
Doc left the room with Michael, closing the door behind them.
Claire gave Alice a slightly embarrassed smile. “You know, he and I…”
Alice smiled. “I noticed.”
She was happy for Claire, she really was, but she was more than a little jealous, too. Given the sort of life she’d led, she’d never had time to make a romantic connection with anyone. She’d long ago accepted that such a relationship wasn’t in the cards for her. But seeing Claire with Doc made her feel regret for a life she’d never know.
She checked the countdown on her watch then, and Claire said, “What’s in the Hive? What’s so important to you?”
Alice slipped her top back on as she answered. The tape made moving a bit awkward, but her ribs hurt less, and that’s all she cared about right now. “Umbrella developed a cure. An airborne antivirus. It’ll destroy anything infected with the T-virus in a matter of seconds.”
Claire’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Who told you this?”
Alice hesitated a second before answering. “The Red Queen.”
“And you believed her? The psychotic computer bitch does nothing but lie. There could be no cure. Just a trap… which you’re going to walk right into.”
Wouldn’t be the first time, Alice thought. Aloud, she said, “You’re right, of course. But… what if she’s telling the truth? What if we could end this?”
Claire looked thoughtful. “It destroys anything infected with the T-virus?”
“That’s right.”
“Then what about you?”
Alice didn’t reply.
“They infected you with the T-virus,” Claire said. “You release this antivirus, it’s going to kill you.”
“This has to end. Whatever it takes.”
“Alice…” Claire reached out and put a hand on Alice’s arm.
“You know I’m right.”
Claire looked Alice in the eye, and although she didn’t say anything, Alice knew her friend understood. Whatever happened in the Hive, Alice wasn’t coming back.
“All right,” Claire said. “We stop Isaacs here. We save these people. Then we go into the Hive together.”
Alice glanced at her watch. Five hours left.
She considered Claire’s words. She knew she shouldn’t let anything distract her from her mission, but she couldn’t help thinking of the survivor settlement on top of the skyscrapers. Most of these people weren’t warriors. Who was going to protect them from Isaacs and his Undead army? She had returned to Raccoon City to save what was left of the human race—only five thousand people the Red Queen had said, including those above them right now. What was the point of finding and releasing the antivirus if she didn’t try to save everyone she could?
“We don’t have long.”
; Alice pulled herself off the gurney. The movement hurt, but not as much as it would’ve before Doc had wrapped her ribs and given her an armful of go juice.
“So let’s get to it.”
* * *
Alice and Claire stood outside the Peak’s main entrance, near where her abandoned motorcycle lay in the street. Doc, Michael, and Christian were with them. The telegraph pole which struck her hung nearby. She turned to Doc.
“We should get that reset.”
“We’re on it,” Michael said. He tried to pull Christian along with him to go take care of the job, but the man refused to budge, so Doc went with him.
Alice turned to Claire. “What else do they have for defense?”
“Not too many firearms. But they have a big supply of gasoline.”
Claire had brought a distinctive-looking triple-barreled shotgun from the group’s meager armory. She now held it out to Alice.
“Here. You need a weapon.”
Alice took it and looked it over. She held it up and aimed it toward the street, making sure her index finger didn’t touch the trigger. The gun felt good in her hand. She liked the heft of it, and who didn’t love a third barrel?
“Nice,” she said, impressed.
“It’s called a Hydra,” Claire said. “And don’t get too excited. You only have six shells.” She handed Alice the ammunition.
With so few shells, Alice knew she’d have to choose her shots carefully and make sure each one counted.
Christian scowled. “Now we’re giving her a gun.”
Michael and Doc were struggling to reset the pole trap by themselves. “A little help?” Michael called out, but Christian didn’t move. He kept his gaze focused on Alice, submachine gun ready at his side.
“You can let your guard down if you want,” Christian said, speaking to Michael and Doc without taking his eyes off Alice. “I don’t intend to.”
Alice began loading the shells into the Hydra, turning to Claire while she did so. She lowered her voice.
“When I rode in here, there was someone watching me. They could have called out or fired a shot… warned me of the trap. But they didn’t.”
