Arbour covered the hallway as Alan pushed the elevator buttons in a
scramble. They had the luck of not having to wait for the elevator, but
neither of them knew how long it would be until the soldiers caught up.
How many of them had there been? Alan had seen at least eight, and there had to be more. Three questions pounded in his head; who were they, why were they carrying firepower like that, and why did they try to kill them?
The elevator doors hummed shut, sealing Sgt. Arbour and Alan in. At least, to a degree of safety. The elevator began to slide down the rails to the ground floor.
Arbour let his sidearm slip into his hip holster and breathed a sigh of relief. He kept as close to the side as he could, making sure nothing coming through the door could hit him. Alan hooked his 10A2 on to the front of his load-bearing Spectra-fiber vest, using the rings hanging from the front. It was a simple, often-used method of keeping a weapon close at hand while not letting any protruding parts of the gun snag on clothing or obstacles.
They had merely a minute to catch their breath. The elevator hit the floor 1 mark and beeped. Arbour halted the opening of the doors with the button. His face was haggard, his eyes rimmed with deep shadows. "Are you ready?"
Alan unhooked his 10A2, shouldering it and letting his finger stroke the trigger guard. He nodded an affirmation. Arbour put his ear to the door. "There must be at least... Jesus, 10 of them out there... we'll have to break their formation, and run. Don't shoot, just run. Got that?"
"Yes..."
"Go!" Arbour hit the button and the doors slid open, revealing a gruesome display. There were at least twenty of them staggering about like teenagers on an OD of acid. Several more were laying hunched over twitching bodies. The carpet was stained, etched with gore. Alan shivered, if only for a moment, then raced for his life.
Alan only glimpsed a few of their faces before he struggled for the door out of absolute terror. A woman stepped in front of Alan and he rushed past, arms outstretched. Her eyes were stained with blood, her teeth yellowed with bile, or some other vile substance she had coughed up. Her cheek was raw with a sore the size of Alan's palm. Her flesh seemed to be just hanging off of her bones, like a shroud.
But the smell was the worst. Her breath, her odor washed over him, and he gagged in the stench, pausing for a moment. Arbour yanked him towards the door by his vest.
"Don't stop, Constable!!"
The zombie mass behind them groaned horridly, several turning to pursue. But Alan and the Sgt. had already pushed the front doors wide and gone into the bloody streets.
Arbour leapt for the nearest police cruiser, yanking the driver's door open and fumbling for the keys. "Constable!! Get in!"
Endless mobs of the undead walked the streets around them. So many of them began to close in in them as Alan dove for the RPD unit. He slid over the hood and climbed into the passenger seat as Arbour gunned the engine.
"Yes!!" Arbour grinned, stepping on the gas.
Sparks flew from the hood as bullets tore into the metal and tracked across the side of the car. The front left tire hissed as air spewed outwards, a 9mm puncturing it cleanly. The car shifted on to the punched tire and tipped over. "Shit..." Arbour cussed in a tone of blatant conviction.
Alan pushed his door open once more and threw himself to the sidewalk. "Sergeant!!"
Arbour squeezed over the seat, laying low as more gunfire raked the vehicle. Glass shattered. Alan looked to the alley in front of them, wondering where they would end up if they made a run for it.
"Unnhh!!" Alan felt cold hands on his arm. His gaze flicked to the side and he recoiled almost as fast. A bloody-toothed zombie with a shag of gray hair and a torn shirt, drooling hungrily as it grasped at him.
"Fuck!!" Alan pulled his hand back and crawled away as fast as he could, putting a foot in it's forehead. There were more of them, Alan could see them coming. There were more gunshots hailing from somewhere behind them, but Alan could hear that they were aimed at the mobs of the undead, attacking the team.
In the midst of the panic, Alan caught a brainstorm. "Sergeant!! The train station!"
"What?!"
"The subway! We can get to the subway and make our way down the tunnels! Maybe we can hijack a train, or something..."
Arbour had no time to make the decision. "It's probably our only chance! Let's move!!"
The subway station was only half a block away. If they cut through this alley in front of them, they might be able to track their way through the station, underground...
Number One cursed as he pulled the trigger on his MP5, throwing a three- round burst into it's face. The grisly visage of the carrier caved in as the rounds bore into the skull and flesh, spitting blood from entry and exit wounds. He watched in vain as the RPD bastards
squeaked off into the alley. Unable to reach them, the team had been swarmed as they crossed through the lobby of the building. The danger was minimal, however. The UBCF could fight off the carrier's advances, but they had to get out of the open as fast as possible. There were more than human virus carriers in the city... One was somewhat anxious to avoid them.
Number Eight shouted from the sidewalk ahead, firing his weapon into a crowd of carriers. "One!! Should we pursue them?"
One put a boot heel into a crawling host's head, crushing it's head as it tried to stand. "We have a job to do, Eight. Most of the people in this city will be dead within twenty-four hours, but we still need to observe the situation and make sure nobody gets in
or out."
"If these guys managed to make it past that roadblock situation, how can we guarantee they won't escape the city? Is it a chance we can take?" Eight had to spit his words out as fast as possible, they couldn't sit and chat in the middle of an infested street.
One stressed over it, not sure what to do. Umbrella had no shortage of mercenary, gun-toting manpower, but they couldn't be putting operatives into the hotzone every ten minutes. They had to monitor the carriers, observe behavioral features, physical effects in the environment... but it was a chance they couldn't take. "We'll follow. We need to
contact the mobile HQ and give them our status... but that can wait. Move!!" One and his team charged to the other side of the street and into the musty alleyway. Gunshots ricocheted off of bricks and sidewalk as the UBCF put in their last shots and went into pursuit once more.
Alan barred the zombie across the chest with the flat of his MP510A2 and kicked low, his foot connecting with the decomposed sinew of it's knee. The knee broke, it was certain. But the thing was unfazed, it's hands always clenching, rapacious for warm, living flesh. They were mindless, all of them. How did the city become this cesspool of psychotic monsters that used to be human?
They had made their way through the alley and into the street ahead, running for the subway station. They could see the white lights of the station leaking out into the night air, like a beacon to safety. The entrance led straight into the tunnels, all you had to
do was go down a few flights of stairs, past the ticket office, and then you'd be right at the boarding platform.
If they could make it that far.
How many of them had there been? Alan had seen at least eight, and there had to be more. Three questions pounded in his head; who were they, why were they carrying firepower like that, and why did they try to kill them?
The elevator doors hummed shut, sealing Sgt. Arbour and Alan in. At least, to a degree of safety. The elevator began to slide down the rails to the ground floor.
Arbour let his sidearm slip into his hip holster and breathed a sigh of relief. He kept as close to the side as he could, making sure nothing coming through the door could hit him. Alan hooked his 10A2 on to the front of his load-bearing Spectra-fiber vest, using the rings hanging from the front. It was a simple, often-used method of keeping a weapon close at hand while not letting any protruding parts of the gun snag on clothing or obstacles.
They had merely a minute to catch their breath. The elevator hit the floor 1 mark and beeped. Arbour halted the opening of the doors with the button. His face was haggard, his eyes rimmed with deep shadows. "Are you ready?"
Alan unhooked his 10A2, shouldering it and letting his finger stroke the trigger guard. He nodded an affirmation. Arbour put his ear to the door. "There must be at least... Jesus, 10 of them out there... we'll have to break their formation, and run. Don't shoot, just run. Got that?"
"Yes..."
"Go!" Arbour hit the button and the doors slid open, revealing a gruesome display. There were at least twenty of them staggering about like teenagers on an OD of acid. Several more were laying hunched over twitching bodies. The carpet was stained, etched with gore. Alan shivered, if only for a moment, then raced for his life.
Alan only glimpsed a few of their faces before he struggled for the door out of absolute terror. A woman stepped in front of Alan and he rushed past, arms outstretched. Her eyes were stained with blood, her teeth yellowed with bile, or some other vile substance she had coughed up. Her cheek was raw with a sore the size of Alan's palm. Her flesh seemed to be just hanging off of her bones, like a shroud.
But the smell was the worst. Her breath, her odor washed over him, and he gagged in the stench, pausing for a moment. Arbour yanked him towards the door by his vest.
"Don't stop, Constable!!"
The zombie mass behind them groaned horridly, several turning to pursue. But Alan and the Sgt. had already pushed the front doors wide and gone into the bloody streets.
Arbour leapt for the nearest police cruiser, yanking the driver's door open and fumbling for the keys. "Constable!! Get in!"
Endless mobs of the undead walked the streets around them. So many of them began to close in in them as Alan dove for the RPD unit. He slid over the hood and climbed into the passenger seat as Arbour gunned the engine.
"Yes!!" Arbour grinned, stepping on the gas.
Sparks flew from the hood as bullets tore into the metal and tracked across the side of the car. The front left tire hissed as air spewed outwards, a 9mm puncturing it cleanly. The car shifted on to the punched tire and tipped over. "Shit..." Arbour cussed in a tone of blatant conviction.
Alan pushed his door open once more and threw himself to the sidewalk. "Sergeant!!"
Arbour squeezed over the seat, laying low as more gunfire raked the vehicle. Glass shattered. Alan looked to the alley in front of them, wondering where they would end up if they made a run for it.
"Unnhh!!" Alan felt cold hands on his arm. His gaze flicked to the side and he recoiled almost as fast. A bloody-toothed zombie with a shag of gray hair and a torn shirt, drooling hungrily as it grasped at him.
"Fuck!!" Alan pulled his hand back and crawled away as fast as he could, putting a foot in it's forehead. There were more of them, Alan could see them coming. There were more gunshots hailing from somewhere behind them, but Alan could hear that they were aimed at the mobs of the undead, attacking the team.
In the midst of the panic, Alan caught a brainstorm. "Sergeant!! The train station!"
"What?!"
"The subway! We can get to the subway and make our way down the tunnels! Maybe we can hijack a train, or something..."
Arbour had no time to make the decision. "It's probably our only chance! Let's move!!"
The subway station was only half a block away. If they cut through this alley in front of them, they might be able to track their way through the station, underground...
Number One cursed as he pulled the trigger on his MP5, throwing a three- round burst into it's face. The grisly visage of the carrier caved in as the rounds bore into the skull and flesh, spitting blood from entry and exit wounds. He watched in vain as the RPD bastards
squeaked off into the alley. Unable to reach them, the team had been swarmed as they crossed through the lobby of the building. The danger was minimal, however. The UBCF could fight off the carrier's advances, but they had to get out of the open as fast as possible. There were more than human virus carriers in the city... One was somewhat anxious to avoid them.
Number Eight shouted from the sidewalk ahead, firing his weapon into a crowd of carriers. "One!! Should we pursue them?"
One put a boot heel into a crawling host's head, crushing it's head as it tried to stand. "We have a job to do, Eight. Most of the people in this city will be dead within twenty-four hours, but we still need to observe the situation and make sure nobody gets in
or out."
"If these guys managed to make it past that roadblock situation, how can we guarantee they won't escape the city? Is it a chance we can take?" Eight had to spit his words out as fast as possible, they couldn't sit and chat in the middle of an infested street.
One stressed over it, not sure what to do. Umbrella had no shortage of mercenary, gun-toting manpower, but they couldn't be putting operatives into the hotzone every ten minutes. They had to monitor the carriers, observe behavioral features, physical effects in the environment... but it was a chance they couldn't take. "We'll follow. We need to
contact the mobile HQ and give them our status... but that can wait. Move!!" One and his team charged to the other side of the street and into the musty alleyway. Gunshots ricocheted off of bricks and sidewalk as the UBCF put in their last shots and went into pursuit once more.
Alan barred the zombie across the chest with the flat of his MP510A2 and kicked low, his foot connecting with the decomposed sinew of it's knee. The knee broke, it was certain. But the thing was unfazed, it's hands always clenching, rapacious for warm, living flesh. They were mindless, all of them. How did the city become this cesspool of psychotic monsters that used to be human?
They had made their way through the alley and into the street ahead, running for the subway station. They could see the white lights of the station leaking out into the night air, like a beacon to safety. The entrance led straight into the tunnels, all you had to
do was go down a few flights of stairs, past the ticket office, and then you'd be right at the boarding platform.
If they could make it that far.