Resident Evil and all of it's characters, locations, etc. belong to Capcom.
Jack, the "J" in J's Bar, strained to listen. He closed the door to the roof behind him, cutting off the sounds of distant gunfire and screaming. He could've sworn he'd heard a gunshot in the wine room. Which meant people. As far as he knew, once someone came back, activities like wielding guns became well beyond their intelligence range. From what he'd seen, once someone came back, all they were good for was killing. Killing and eating. Standing alone in the stairwell, he couldn't hear anything below him now. A single gunshot wouldn't be enough to take one down, not from what he'd seen. He wasn't sure if they could be killed at all really, but surely they must? Maybe someone had made it into the wine room, pursued by a group of them, drank a bottle of imported rum, and offed themselves? A scenario that was likely happening all over the city, and would be happening for weeks to come. Jack had been born ten years to the day after "War of the Worlds" had been originally broadcast, sending millions into a panic, and in some cases, resulting in these panicked individuals taking their own lives. If they thought well done radio theater was scary, what would these people do when they found the horror and bloodshed taking place on their very own street? Their very own doorstep? It was a simple equation. Thousands would die in Raccoon City, many by their own hand. And nationally? Worldwide? Millions. Likely billions. For the majority of the world, this was the end. But not for Jack. He'd been preparing for this day half of his adult life. He'd always had a feeling in the back of his mind, and as the years wore on, a feeling in the front of his mind even, that he would be around to witness the end. Honestly, he'd always looked forward to it in a way. It was sure to be a grand spectacle, a day written about and speculated on by mankind since he'd walked the earth, and a day that would, ultimately, be witnessed by so few. Based on these first few hours alone, he hadn't been disappointed. From the roof, he'd witnessed a mob of the things chase down a young woman in a red dress, a beautiful blonde, overtake her, and literally tear her apart. Within forty five minutes, what was left of the woman, a head, half a face, one arm, and a torso, was back in action, crawling around on the pavement below, managing to somehow catch a small dog, a half starving mutt, and return the favor.
What goes around...
The tiny dog would surely be down there now, running around looking for it's first victim, only there was nothing left but it's bare skeleton. Literally. There was absolutely no meat left. These things should've scared Jack, but really, they didn't. He surely didn't find them pleasant, he wasn't that sick, but he'd mentally prepared himself for this for years now, or something akin to this anyway. He'd seen things in his life, his past life as a fireman anyway, that he'd never forget. Children, babies, infants, burned, cut, torn, decapitated. Ashes. He'd never forget these things, but they'd served him in a way. They'd hardened him. Prepared him for this day. Judgment day.
The mechanism that opened the shutter to the wine room began to whir. That was fine, Jack figured. Nine times out of ten, the damn thing wouldn't open, and he'd have to call the electrician down the street. As if on cue, the whirring stopped.
"Oh...SHIT!" said someone. A man's voice.
Jack smiled. He'd said the same thing plenty of times before. Another voice now, another man. That was especially troubling. Too much testosterone in a survival situation was how people got shot or stabbed. People that shouldn't. There was a commotion outside the shutter, and soon the mechanism started up again. How the hell? The sound of the shutter rising was capped off with a sharp gasp. Jack smiled again. Things were definitely looking good. All the trouble, time, effort, and money he'd spent over the years preparing. It was all finally paying off. The huge brick wall prop he'd bought years ago for this very purpose. He knew it'd work. At first look and touch, it may as well have been a real brick wall. Enough to keep anyone on the run looking for a quick place to hide moving elsewhere. At first touch, it wasn't so soft or rubbery that the illusion was shattered instantly, and most importantly of all, it was heavy. Not as heavy as a real brick wall of course, but Jack had rigged several chairs and 2x4's behind it, setting it all up in the narrow stairwell so the fake brick wall wouldn't so much as budge if anyone were to try to get through. As if they would. Suddenly, there was a tremendous bang, almost like a gunshot but not, that shook the stairs beneath Jack's feet. Soon after someone began kicking or punching at the faux-brick wall with tremendous force. Jack waited with bated breath, but the wall held. The illusion held. He then heard a woman sobbing uncontrollably then. This piqued Jack's interest. Finding a woman was all a part of the plan he'd laid out. He'd learned in life that a man was wise to take a woman when she presented herself to him. There were times in life when a woman's company could seem like the rarest treasure in all the world. This situation was no different. He'd need to develop some sort of party eventually. Strength in numbers, he knew that. But eventually, when things stabilized, when immediate danger subsided, he would make sure he was on his own again. Supplies would surely be scarce, and he would not be willing to share. Not with just anyone. He was not afraid of death. That wasn't why he went to such great lengths to insure his own safety. He'd done so in order to preserve his own legacy. He'd had a son a long time ago, but he'd died a long time ago as well. Jack wouldn't leave this earth without leaving behind offspring. A legacy. He'd need a woman to do so. He'd make sure there were enough supplies for himself and his mate, and their eventual child. But no more than that. And if the mate of his choosing refused to co-operate? He'd just have to take matters into his own hands. He was no rapist. He wasn't just out to get his rocks off. He was simply seeking to bring new life into this world.
"What do we do? What the HELL do we do?" said the first man.
A pause.
"Here. Help me!" said the second man. The leader.
Suddenly, another great crash. Plaster, wood splintering. Glass breaking. By god, they were tipping over the shelves! All that wine. All that rum. Every kind of alcohol imaginable. Ruined. He looked through a grate into the room below, and saw the carnage. Three men, a well dressed middle-aged man, a large, black security guard, and a young, white cop did the same to the adjacent shelf. Bottles and bottles rained down and shattered. They'd wreck the entire room if he didn't stop them! He rushed down the steps and began to undo the 2x4's holding the chairs in place in front of the fake wall. He'd done a good job and was having trouble dislodging even the first board. Sweat began pouring down his face as he grew even more frantic. He heard another shelf hit the stone floor.
"Stop! STOP!" he shouted. No one seemed to hear.
He struggled with the 2x4 again, and finally managed to break it free. He moved the chair it was holding in place aside, and moved to the next board. Behind him, the grate he'd been peering through slammed inwards, and a moment later was sent flying into the stairwell. Someone was crawling through. The woman. She was through now, but in the dim light he didn't recognize her until she'd turned to face him. It was Cindy! Comely, sweet Cindy. He'd had his eye on her since the very first day she'd come into the bar looking for a job. He wasn't even hiring at the time, but he immediately gave her an application he'd had lying behind the counter. A week later, he fired the college kid he'd had waiting tables for simply confusing a medium-well steak order with a well. All so he could hire Cindy. He quite liked Cindy.
"Jack!" she yelled. She came racing down the stairs to him. Embraced him. Here was his chance. To hell with strength in numbers. Cindy was able. She was young. Together they could survive. Protect each other. Weather the storm. And then...
Another crash broke Jack out of his revery.
"Cindy! W-we have to help your friends. Here! Help me move this out of the way."
She joined him in moving the fake wall aside. As soon as it was out of the way, Jack saw the kid, the cop, throwing an ignited Zippo lighter onto the pile of broken wood, glass, and leaking alcohol.
"NOOOO!"
But he was too late. The pile ignited with a huge start, and the flames danced so high they licked the ceiling. Stepping into the room, he saw what they'd been running from. Saw the reason they'd built this makeshift bonfire. A horde had broken into the wine room. What looked like hundreds of them, with even more cramming themselves in by the moment. The three men turned to Jack in surprise, noticing the now unblocked stairwell behind him. All three made for the exit, the cop grabbing Jack who was still transfixed by the size of the mob advancing even through the flames, and on the flames themselves. Years of collecting, buying, searching. Up in flames. The supplies he'd hidden away in the walk- in humidor. All gone.
"C'mon, let's go!" said the cop.
Goddamn him.
Jack followed him and the rest up the stairs and out onto the roof. They stepped over the young couple he'd dispatched of earlier. The couple that were both clearly infected. He could tell. The fear in their eyes. They knew. And they knew he knew. A helicopter flew over the rooftops to the east. Half a mile away. The cop noticed Jack's flare gun lying on the ground, and picked it up, shooting it into the air. Almost immediately, the helicopter started towards them. The large window behind them shattered, and smoke and flames flew into the night air. Everyone ducked and covered their heads until the flames slightly subsided.
"You goddamned idiot!" yelled Jack.
The cop stopped waving in the rapidly approaching chopper, and turned.
"Excuse me?" he said.
Jack advanced on him and grabbed him by the neck, intending to choke the dipshit to death.
"You ignite thousands and thousands of dollars of my goddamn property! You burn my bar to the goddamn ground! I'll kill you!"
"Jack! Jack, stop!" yelled Cindy.
Jack let go. The cop backed away quickly, holding his throat, unholstering his gun, a .45, and pointing it at Jack.
"You wanna shoot me? Go ahead, cop. Shoot the man whose building you just destroyed!"
The cop took more ragged breaths before lowering the gun. He looked up at the helicopter that was descending upon them. An R.P.D. Chopper. Great. More cops.
The giant blaze coming out of the skylight prevented the chopper from landing, and whoever was inside opted to drop a rope ladder instead.
"Cindy! You're up first!" said the cop.
Cindy began to climb the unsteady ladder up to the helicopter some seven feet above. Jack said a silent prayer for her safety. He watched her behind wiggle as she made the ascent. A policeman was waiting for her at the top of the ladder and took her hand when she reached the top, safely helping her into the helicopter. Jack wondered if there was room for them all inside. The cop turned to him then.
"You next." said the cop flatly.
Jack made his way to the ladder, returning the cop's glare the entire time. He climbed the ladder evenly, taking his time. Slow and steady wins the race. The same officer grabbed his hand and helped him inside. He sat down directly next to Cindy, immediately putting an arm around her. With a clear view of down below, Jack watched the well-dressed man ascend the ladder next. He sat across from Jack and Cindy once he'd reached the top. On the roof, the cop was telling the black security guard to head up next. The black man seemed hesitant. Maybe uncertain of climbing the ladder due to his size. Saying something and waving him on, the cop placed a hand on the ladder, steadying it. Then, the roof caved in. The intense fire and heat doing it's damage and destroying the ceiling's support. Jack had seen it plenty of times as a firefighter. The black man fell quickly into the flames below. Straight down. One second he was there, and the next he was not. The cop managed to hold onto the ladder and then reached out with the other hand, to the black security guard. Even though he was gone. Engulfed in fire. Taken away by flame. Jack held back a smile. It was one less he'd have to eliminate in the end.
