RESIDENT EVIL
"Survivor Type"
David "Buck" Bowman stood silently, glaring out the window at the scenes of carnage below him on the streets of Raccoon City, seething with anger of the stupidity of those in charge. Things had gone to hell faster than anyone had ever thought possible, and now hundreds, if not thousands, of people were dying—being killed by monstrosities indirectly created by Umbrella, the very company that Buck worked for.
Recruited to join Umbrella's security forces fresh out of a four year stint in the Army, Buck had not been able to believe his luck at landing such a cushy job. He had served at various facilities, in different parts of the world, and everything had been fine until Raccoon. Security here had been tighter, more strict in the following of rules and regulations, and more tied to those running the city than any of his previous postings—and Buck was certain that it was those same men, Chief Irons in particular, that had helped to create the situation as it now was.
Not a one of the top security heads could be found, and even Irons had vanished, and rumor had it that Umbrella was sending in a Clean-up Unit before the government stepped in to investigate. If what he had heard was true, then Buck knew that anyone left in the city when the CU arrived was as good as dead. The sole purpose of Umbrella's CU teams was to insure that Umbrella was not able to be connected with any incident, and that ment absolutely no witnesses…whether they worked for Umbrella or not.
An Extraction Team was already within the facility, Buck had been one of the members of security to escort them to the labs, but he hadn't seen a single one of them since they went searching for Birkin. Buck himself had tried for the Extraction Team only six months ago, but he had failed to pass Umbrella's strict testing by two points, and had been passed up. If the members of the ET were in trouble, then Buck knew that there was some serious shit going on in the lower levels of the facility.
"We've got to get the hell out of here," shouted Faulk as he rushed into the room, nearly causing Buck to jump through the window.
"Jesus, you think you could scare me a little more?" growled Buck, spinning around to face his friend.
"Everybody's clearing out," said Faulk, opening his locker to gather his assigned weapons. "Murray just got confirmation that a CU team's on its way in. Umbrella issued evac orders for all employees."
"Get out or die," said Buck.
"Yep," replied Faulk, thinking it had been a question. "The train's already taken one load, and it should be back within an hour for anyone that's left."
The train was a sleek, well hidden means of transportation that was stationed deep below the Umbrella facility.
"We should have just enough time to get there before it leaves again," continued Faulk, slapping a clip into his machine gun.
"Have you looked outside lately?" asked Buck. "It's hell on earth out there, man. There's no way we could make it there in an hour."
"Don't see that we have much of a choice," replied Faulk, slipping on a back-pack filled with ammunition. "I'm going for it. So's Murray, and Trenton. We're meeting down in the lobby in five."
"Good luck," said Buck, walking over to his own locker.
"Good luck? Are you crazy? You can't stay here, Buck. Once the CU team's done, you can kiss Raccoon City goodbye."
"No shit, but I don't plan on being here that long. You know as well as I do that this shit started at the facility, and it'll probably have the highest concentration of those things. Thanks, but I'd rather take my chances above ground, where it's mostly just the zombies."
"Your funeral, man," said Faulk, shaking his head.
Buck didn't say anything else, he merely went about gathering his own equipment from his locker, and so Faulk left, anxious to meet up with the others.
After prepping his own sub-machine gun, Buck packed the rest of the ammo in his own back pack, except for two magazines for the SMG, which he tucked into his belt for quick access. Pausing for a moment, Buck decided to use his .44 to blast open one of the other lockers, taking the extra .44 Auto Mag, giving him two, and all of the extra ammo. He was also mildly surprised to find that the locker contained four grenades, and he wondered who the locker had belonged to that their status gave them grenades as part of their assigned weapons.
What does it matter? thought Buck. If they were still alive, they would've been back for this stuff a long time ago.
A figure lurched into the doorway, and Buck turned, bringing his SMG up to fire, and barely checked himself in time to keep from unleashing a burst into Faulk. The guard was leaning against the door frame, his eyes wide, and his breath coming in raspy gasps, and Buck wondered what in the hell was wrong with him.
He didn't have to wonder long.
Blood began trickling from Faulk's mouth as his eyes rolled upwards, his body falling forward with a wet, thipping sound. A long, thick, red strand could be seen sticking out of Faulk's head, the thipping sound being the strand sliding out of the dead man's skull as he fell. For the briefest of moments, Buck thought that the strand resembled an incredibly long tongue, and he instantly thought of the reports of things being called Lickers.
Buck back peddled as far as he could, his back thudding against the thick safety glass of the seventh story window, and kept watch on the open doorway. It darted into the room faster than Buck would have thought possible, a red and black shape that grotesquely looked like a human that had been turned inside out, and Buck fought down the bile rising at the back of his throat to bring his SMG up.
Ducking to the left as the Licker's tongue shot out at him, Buck unleashed a volley of rounds into it as he heard the window behind crack with the force of the thing's tongue. The Licker dropped to the floor with a wet thud, thrashing about wildly for a few moments before finally becoming still, thick puddles of blood forming around its corpse.
"Crazy bastards," muttered Buck, thinking of the scientists within Umbrella. "What in the hell did they think they were doing?"
Checking the hallway, and its ceiling, to make sure the way was clear, Buck trotted down the hallway to the elevators, desperate to escape the city before the CU team arrived. Pressing the call button, Buck continued looking up and down the hallway, scanning for any new intruders.
When the doors finally slid open, Buck rushed into the elevator, yelling out in terror as he nearly stepped into an empty void. The SMG tumbled down the shaft, Buck having to let go of it to grab a hold of the side of the door frame, and he was barely able to keep himself from dropping down the shaft after it. Pulling himself back into the hallway, Buck starred at the open doors, wondering what in the hell had trigger them to open with no elevator car there.
A thick log of yellow and black dropped down from up in the shaft, and Buck quickly realized that it was a leg—just one of eight. The giant spider climbed down around the side of the shaft, examining Buck with its multitude of eyes, and the human felt a wave of revulsion ripple through him.
Pulling the two .44s, Buck fired off a succession of shots, the spider emitting an eerie screech as it dropped down the shaft. Peering down the shaft, Buck saw that it was still alive, having fallen into its web, and that it was not alone—there were dozens of tinier versions of it, all of them swarming up the shaft.
Buck pulled the pin on one of the grenades, counted to six, and then dropped it down the shaft, throwing himself to the ground. The explosion rocked the hallway, and flames and bits of pulp flew from the open doors of the shaft. Crawling over to look down the shaft, Buck smiled as he saw that the monsters were dead, but then he cursed as he realized that the blast had definitely taken out both elevators.
* * *
When Buck finally reached the underground garage, he was sweating heavily, the air hot and thick since the air conditioning was out, and he paused for a moment to catch his breath. The stairs had been mostly clear, much to his relief, only littered with the scattered remains of two people that had been something's meal.
Peering out through the small square of glass set into the door, Buck swore as he saw three Lickers scurrying about the ceiling of the garage. Thinking that he would have to go around and enter the garage from the street level, Buck cursed again as he looked to the far end of the garage and saw that the metal door was down. The door could only be opened from the inside, which ment he would have to brave the Lickers, and Buck doubted he could take all three of them before one of them got to him.
Mulling over his options, already having decided that using another grenade was out of the question—too much chance of setting off the gas tanks of the multitude of vehicles—Buck thought he might have to escape on foot until he could find a vehicle that he could hot wire, or one that had the keys in it.
The stairwell was suddenly filled with the banging of one of the metal doors slamming open, and the sound was quickly followed by the sporadic burp of machine gun fire. Buck had his guns at the ready when Murray came charging down the steps, a panicked look on his face as he kept looking over his shoulder for signs of pursuit.
"Buck!" cried Murray, spotting the security guard. "Those damn things are everywhere! They swarmed Trenton in the lobby, and they almost got me!"
"Zombies?"
"Yeah! Dozens of them!" cried Murray, his voice high with panic. "And Faulk never showed up."
"He's in the garage," said Buck, a plan coming to mind. "I was just on my way up to get you two."
"In the garage? But we were…."
"He didn't know that there was a Personnel Carrier here," interrupted Buck, not wanting to give the man time to think. "We can get over to the main facility in armored comfort."
"Oh. Great," said Murray, relieved to not have to face any more creatures.
"Let's go," said Buck, opening the door and motioning for Murray to go first.
Murray was half way into the garage when he froze, his gaze rising to the three Lickers on the ceiling, scurrying towards him excitedly. Murray's cry of surprise turned to one of shock as he was roughly shoved from behind to go sprawling onto the floor.
Rolling over, a look of betrayed surprise on his face, Murray glared at Buck, who was looking back at him from the other side of the door. The Lickers fell onto Murray in a frenzy, and began tearing into him, their shrieks of delight rivaling his screams of pain and terror.
With the Lickers intent on their meal, it was an easy matter for Buck to yank open the door and empty all of his rounds into their backs, the .44 slugs making short order of them. After reloading his guns, Buck crept into the garage and knelt over Murray's body to retrieve the dead man's SMG to replace his lost one, and then continued on towards his jeep.
Pulling up to the garage door, Buck jumped out of his jeep and jogged to the guard station, intent on opening the door and returning to his vehicle as fast as possible. The guard station was empty, but blood was smeared every where, and Buck looked about nervously to make sure he was alone. Slamming his palm against the door button, Buck smiled as he heard the rumble of the heavy door opening, and he ran out of the guard station to collide with a zombie in a blue uniform.
Both man and zombie tumbled to the ground, Buck's SMG going sliding across the floor, and the zombie groaned with hunger as Buck scrambled back from it. As the zombie slowly got back to its feet, Buck pulled one of the .44s and started firing at it, the shots having little affect as the creature lumbered towards him.
Buck raised the weapon slightly, intending to take a head shot, and was overcome with terror as the weapon clicked empty. He tossed the gun aside and went for the second one, but the zombie was already upon him, dropping down on him like a dead weight.
The zombie's teeth snapped at Buck's face as Buck struggled to keep the creature from biting him, its putrid breath making the man very glad he hadn't eaten anything for a while. Finally rolling the creature off of him, Buck pulled his combat knife from its sheath and drove it into the zombie's skull, ending its existence.
Slipping the knife back into its sheath, Buck retrieved his weapons and ran back to his jeep, crying out in surprise as he saw a swarm of zombies stumbling awkwardly down the concrete entrance ramp. Buck raised the SMG and opened fire on the zombies, the powerful slugs quickly decimating the once human monsters.
More zombies could be seen shuffling about on the street, their attention drawn to the sounds of gunfire, and Buck leapt into his jeep, desperate to get out in the open before he was overwhelmed by their sheer numbers.
Reaching out to pull his door closed, Buck screamed out in pain as something tore into his wrist, and he looked over to see Murray tearing into his flesh, blood spraying everywhere. Buck pressed his .44 against the side of Murray's head and pulled the trigger, splattering the door of his jeep with blood, flesh, and grey matter.
Buck didn't know everything behind the turn of events in Raccoon City, but he knew that it involved a virus, and that a virus was spread through contact with infected beings. Risking the advancement of the zombies, Buck pulled his combat knife out and, with one swift swing, cut into his arm, just above where the zombie Murray had bitten him. Despite the pain, despite his mind screaming "what are you doing?" at him, Buck raised the knife again, and his second cut severed his hand, and part of his forearm, from him.
Cussing and screaming, his body racked with pain, Buck climbed back into his jeep and closed the door, pressing the stump of his arm against him to staunch the flow of blood.
"You will not pass out!" screamed Buck, slapping himself.
His senses clearing somewhat, though still in agony, Buck fished about under the driver's seat, finally pulling out the road emergency kit that he kept there. Slamming the little plastic box on the floor board to pop it open, Buck scooped up one of the spilt flares, and smacked the end of it against his leg to activate the self-igniter.
"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh…" screamed Buck, holding the flare to the sliced appendage, sealing the wound shut.
Buck's mind was spinning as he opened his door enough to drop the flare to the ground, his vision of the garage fading in and out as his mind threatened to shut down, and he yelled at himself again to stay with it. Trying to fight of the affects of shock, his eyes burning with sweat, Buck threw the jeep into drive and roared out of the garage, running down what zombies were in his way.
The jeep nearly turned over as Buck whipped the wheel around to avoid hitting two smashed cars, and a strong sense of vertigo swept over him as he fought to stay awake. Finally straightening his course, Buck raced down the street, biting his lip to keep from screaming out in pain.
* * *
How he managed to stay on the road, Buck didn't know. He was certain that he had blacked out a few times, but they must have been for very short durations, as he was suddenly aware that it was nearly dark, and he was speeding towards the highway, and freedom from this nightmare.
Buck knew that he was running a fever, he was sweating madly, even in the cool weather of the evening, and he wondered it maybe he hadn't been able take his hand before the virus had set in. Shaking off that thought, certain that he would be okay, he concentrated on the road instead.
"What the hell?" wondered Buck, the motor dying.
He looked down at the gauges and let out a near hysterical laugh as he saw that he was out of gas. He was on the outskirts of Raccoon, and he could see no zombies staggering about, but that didn't mean that he was safe. There had been many reports of zombies in the surrounding forest, way before things had gone to hell, and forest was what now surrounded him.
Knowing he didn't have much of a choice, Buck climbed out of the jeep and started hiking up the road, certain that there was a gas station just a mile or so a head. He would steal a car from there or, failing that, at least get some gas and return for the jeep. Either way, he would escape this nightmare, he swore that to himself.
* * *
Buck could make out the lighted sign of the gas station in the distance, and he almost let himself relax a little—almost. A snapping sound in the woods to his right belayed that thought, and Buck peered into the woods, hefting the SMG as best he could.
A man in coveralls came thrashing out of the woods, yelling for help, and froze as he saw Buck standing before him, holding the SMG. The man looked like the stereo-typical mechanic, and Buck figured that he must be the guy that owned the garage up a head, but he wondered what he was doing in the woods at night.
"I'm human! I'm human!" cried the man, throwing his arms up into the air.
"So am I," said Buck. "What in the hell are you doing out here?"
"I was looking for my boy," said the man, glancing back over his shoulder.
Faint snarling sounds could be heard, mixed with the baying of dogs.
"What the hell is that?" asked Buck.
"Dogs," said the man. "Hell dogs from the looks of them."
"What?"
"They got my boy," said the man, his voice trembling. "They…they…ate…him."
"Come on," said Buck, trotting towards the gas station.
The man fell in along side him.
"That your place a head?" asked Buck.
"Yeah," replied the man, his breath short and ragged.
The baying was getting louder. Closer.
"You got a ride?"
Buck thought he could see dark shapes in the woods, shadowing them as they ran along the road.
"No," answered the man. "Had a tow truck, but it's back in the woods. Them dogs wouldn't let me get back to it."
It was definitely the dogs, baying and barking madly, and Buck wondered how long until they attacked.
"But…don't worry," huffed the man. "A gas…tanker…should be…here…shortly…with a load."
The pack of dogs burst from the woods, seven of them in total, and Buck knew that they were more creatures of the virus, their deformed bodies looking ravished and partially stripped.
"Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God," started the man, over and over.
Buck didn't hesitate in the least, he simply reached over and pushed the man towards the dogs, hoping that the same trick would work with them that had worked with the zombies.
To an extent, it did.
Five of the dogs leapt at the man, tearing into him and gulping down bloody chunks hungrily. Buck ignored the man's screams, concentrating instead on the other two dogs, which were charging him. The SMG brought down one of the things, but the weapon was too powerful for Buck to properly aim with one hand, and he had to drop it in favor of going for one of the .44s.
The second dog leapt at Buck, who barely ducked in time to avoid it, and landed in the road, quickly recovering for a second attack. Buck's .44 boomed as he emptied two slugs into it, the powerful shots blowing its head apart in a spray of fur and blood.
Pain lanced through Buck's leg as one of the other dogs had quit tearing into the man and had attacked Buck, latching onto his leg. Buck nearly went down, but managed to stay standing, and he twisted around to fire off one shot point-blank into its head, felling it.
The other dogs continued chomping away at the man, and Buck dropped half of them before the remaining two broke and ran back to the woods. Hobbling about on his good foot, Buck fumbled with the gun, emptying its spent rounds, and managed to insert a fresh speed-loader before the dogs returned.
Buck was able to waste the last two dogs, but it had taken all of his rounds, and he had to struggle with reloading the gun yet again. When he had the .44 loaded, he started off for the gas station, half hopping, half stumbling, and prayed to God that the virus wasn't transferable from an animal to a human. He knew that a lot of diseases weren't, but then he also knew that a lot of them were, like rabies, and he continued to pray, thinking that he was a survivor.
* * *
When he finally reached the gas station, Buck was glad that it was unlocked, and he stumbled in to let himself plop down into a chair behind the counter. Catching his breath, feeling his body on fire with fever, Buck thought about how hungry he felt, and he looked over at the few bagged snacks hanging on the wall.
Thinking about the snack food made him slightly nauseous, and Buck briefly wondered if there was something else here he could eat. The pain, which should have been great, seemed to be getting duller, like it was fading, and Buck was finding it harder and harder to think.
The roar of a semi braking suddenly buffetted his dull senses, and Buck found himself staring blankly out through the hazy window at the tanker pulling in front of the station.
Numbly, almost as if he were no longer himself, Buck watched the driver climb out of the truck and head towards the station. Buck lightly licked his lips in anticipation of the man approaching, and he now knew what he was hungry for….
WELCOME TO THE WORLD OF SURVIVAL HORROR…