4: House Of Flying Rumours Saturday 1st August, 1998
"They're on drugs."
Amber's head jerked up. She'd been reading the last report in a disturbingly large stack of papers - every one a report of an attack by "wild animals" or "cannibals". Of course, she knew better now. Those were no ordinary animals, and those "cannibals" were, without a doubt, the zombies that Jill and the others had been talking about.
She was in the west office today, which made her feel a little better about things. The silence of the east office made her uncomfortable, and she always got the feeling that no matter how hard she worked, everyone else in the room was working harder. Here, at least, there was conversation, laughter and a more relaxed pace. There'd been a lot of gossip lately, though, most of it about the recent incident in the mountains.
"Yeah, I bet they're on blue herbs. Caught someone smoking those things downtown last month. Damn near got high myself and I only caught a whiff of it. The pollen's hallucinogenic. Messes you up for a good long while."
"You sure it wasn't something else? Post-traumatic stress disorder? Or, you know, mass hallucinations and stuff? Those can happen, you know. I saw something on the Discovery Channel - "
"Nah. Drugs for sure. Haven't you noticed how much Redfield and Valentine smoke? They must be putting something else in those cigarettes of theirs. I know Redfield rolls his own. Dunno about Valentine, but they went out for a while. Guess she picked the habit up off of him."
The two officers talking were Elliot Edward and another officer, Neil Carlsen. Amber looked down again hurriedly, in case they'd noticed her staring, but kept listening to their conversation as she picked up the report again and pretended to read.
"What about Burton? No way he's on drugs. He practically ran last year's anti-drugs campaign all by himself. He has a wife and kids and everything."
"Best way to cover up the fact that you have a problem, doing the whole "wholesome family man" image thing. Nobody would suspect."
"Vickers is acting real weird. Noticed how jumpy he is? Paranoid, too. Tap him on the shoulder, he'll run away screaming, and he'll be looking over his shoulder at you the rest of the day."
"Amphetamines. Must be. Hyper as anything. There's other drugs that make you real paranoid too, though I can't remember which ones."
"The rookie?"
"Who knows? She has medical training, though. Maybe she has access to some, you know, medicinal stuff. Opiates or something."
"Morphine?"
"God only knows."
Amber listened to their conversation, speechless. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Even if she hadn't known them all well enough to know that they would never even think about touching illegal substances, the STARS' official zero-tolerance stance of drugs was well known throughout the precinct. They'd kicked out a fellow member not long ago after they'd caught him smoking weed on his lunch break - hence Joseph's accelerated promotion to Alpha Team. They'd also been the firmest supporters of the police anti-drugs campaign and had spent a great deal of their own time and money promoting it during their off-hours.
And even if they had accidentally ingested blue herb pollen, it didn't explain the fact that what they'd said was consistent with the established facts of the incident and the other attacks in the area. No, the STARS were definitely telling the truth. Unfortunately, everyone else was refusing to believe them, preferring instead to pitch in with far-fetched theories of their own.
"Maybe they got high and killed their team-mates," suggested someone else.
"Maybe they never died at all and they're still lost out there, and the STARS are making all this bullshit up," pitched in another.
"Why would they do that?"
"Search me. Addicts do some crazy shit. Maybe they like being the centre of attention."
Amber slammed the report down on the desk.
"Now that's enough!" she yelled, standing up and glaring at the others. "I know the STARS and they would never do something like that! They don't murder people, they don't make up lies, and they most definitely aren't on drugs!"
"Well what do you think happened out there, Lieutenant?" said Carlsen belligerently, hands on hips. "Surely you don't believe their crazy stories?"
"Look, I don't know what happened out there," Amber snarled, feeling only a little guilty about this outright lie, "and I'm not going to speculate either. However, the facts of the matter remain that the STARS are not drug addicts, murderers or compulsive attention seekers! Now stop talking crap and get on with your work, Carlsen. I don't want to hear another word from you this afternoon. Edward, you should know better than to listen to stupid rumours. You get on with your work too."
Edward slunk back to his desk, shamefacedly, and sat down. A scowling Carlsen did the same, stopping only to give Amber a filthy look before he got back to work. Everybody else suddenly appeared to be very busy, looking down at their paperwork and scribbling hastily, occasionally giving a loud and deliberate cough.
"As for the rest of you," Amber said to the room in general, raising her voice, "don't think you'll get away with spreading rumours because I wasn't talking to you, because you won't. No more malicious gossip from any of you. You have much better things to do than gossip. Especially you, Fulham. You owe the Violent Crime Department three reports already! What the hell have you been doing for the past week?"
"Working hard," came the reply. "I need a goddamn secretary!"
"Secretaries are for people who already work too hard and need the extra pair of hands," she retorted. "Not compulsive slackers like you who spend all day on coffee breaks and doughnut runs. Now I want those reports filed by the end of the day or I'm telling the Chief you've been letting your work slide, big time."
The offending officer opened his mouth to protest.
"No, I'm not interested in lame excuses," said Amber, picking up the stack of reports from her desk and heading towards the door. "Just do it."
Just as she walked out of the room, Marvin Branagh popped his head out of the side office's door and looked around in bewilderment.
"What was that all about?" he said, perplexed.
"No idea," Carlsen said, with a shrug. "But I know she's always hanging out with Valentine. Maybe she's on drugs too…"
Amber, who had been taking deep breaths just outside the door in order to calm herself before she went upstairs, suppressed the urge to scream with frustration and stormed through the evidence room, slamming the door behind her so hard that a box of files fell off a shelf, scattering pages all over the floor.
"How dare they accuse us of taking drugs?" she hissed to herself, walking through the corridor. "How dare they?"
She stamped up the stairs, much harder than was necessary, and passed through the upstairs corridor.
The statue had always been there, and she'd barely given it a glance. This time, probably for the first time since her arrival, she turned to look at it.
The RPD building had once been the town's art museum, but some years ago the curator had been arrested on suspicion of fraud - not to mention some very shady dealings with a criminal gang responsible for several art thefts from notable museums and art galleries in the Balkans, the former East Germany, and three former Soviet republics. Most of the art had been confiscated and returned to its rightful owners when the Raccoon City Municipal Art Museum shut down, and the rest had been bought up at a knockdown price by the Chief, a well-known patron of the arts. Shortly afterwards, the RPD had moved from its old headquarters in Ashford Street into this larger and much more impressive building, and the rest was history.
A few remnants of the building's past remained, though, and this statue was one of them. Amber shuddered. It was a horrible-looking thing - a stone statue of some fierce-looking ancient war god, holding up his arm in the air. Enclosed within the statue's fist was a large and brilliant ruby. It was a beautiful object and looked entirely out of place in the hand of this unpleasant statue.
She shook herself. Now was not the time to be an art critic. She carried on through the door at the end of the corridor and into what everybody called the "STARS corridor". This corridor was sorely in need of redecoration; the walls had once been white but were now grey and stained, and the bare floorboards were badly scuffed. The anger was draining away now, and Amber felt much calmer as she knocked on the door of the STARS office.
"Hey guys, it's me, Amber. I brought you the reports," she called.
The door opened to reveal Rebecca, dressed in her STARS medic uniform. She still looked sad, but she seemed to brighten at the sight of Amber.
"Hey, Amber. Come on in," she said, holding the door open wide.
Amber stepped into the STARS office and was surprised to discover that the place was completely empty.
"Yeah, it's just me at the moment," said Rebecca, noticing Amber's look of surprise. "The others are talking to the Chief again in his office. They said I could stay here if I wanted. I don't like hearing people argue."
"How's it going?" said Amber.
"Not good," Rebecca admitted, sitting down in her chair. "This is the third time in a week they've been to see him. Every time they come back in a bad mood. Chris throws things a lot. Barry gets angry, in a quiet kind of way, and Brad looks all nervous and scared. Jill never says much afterwards, but I can tell she's mad too."
"How do you feel, Rebecca?" said Amber, pulling up a chair from the communications station and sitting beside Rebecca's desk.
"Sad," said Rebecca, looking down at her desk. "Just really, really sad. I tried to save Richard but Chris and Jill said he died anyway. I never got to say goodbye to the others. I miss them. And I saw what happened to Edward on the train, and - "
Amber frowned.
"What train?" she said. "The others never mentioned a train…"
"Oh," said Rebecca, and suddenly she looked guilty. "Never mind. It doesn't matter."
"Rebecca, if Edward died on this train, then it does matter," Amber persisted, as gently as possible. "Come on, honey. Whatever it is, you can tell me about it. You told the others what happened, didn't you?"
Rebecca nodded her head.
"I - I told them that Kevin and Edward were killed, and that I got separated from the others. I found Enrico and he told me to head to the mansion, and he and the others would meet me there, but - but they never did."
"Rebecca, I know that isn't the whole story," said Amber patiently. "I've had years of practice interviewing people and I can tell when they're lying, or holding something back. Whatever happened to you between the Bravos' helicopter going down and you arriving at the mansion, you have to tell us about it. This could be really important, Rebecca. This could help the STARS a whole lot, and it might make people believe them."
"It won't," said Rebecca sullenly. "It won't help. I've heard what they've been saying about us in the precinct. They're calling us liars, saying we're making it up or that we're on drugs, and they've been calling us names and stuff… they don't believe us, Amber. Whatever I say, it won't make any difference. They'll just accuse me of making up an even bigger story so I can look important. Nobody will believe me."
"I will," said Amber, taking the younger girl's hand in hers and holding it tightly. Rebecca managed a weak smile.
"You will? Really?"
"Of course I will," Amber assured her. "But you have to tell me everything, okay?"
"Okay," said Rebecca. "Hold on, let me get something from my bag."
She turned to the First Aid bag hanging on the wall by her desk. Rummaging in it for a moment, Rebecca carefully brought out an untidy sheaf of papers and other items and placed them on her desk.
"What are those?" said Amber in astonishment, leaning forward to look.
"My evidence," said Rebecca. "I haven't shown this to anybody yet. I was going to," she added fiercely, a deeper blush of colour flooding her pale cheeks. "But I wanted to make sure that the Chief believed the others before I went to him with this. I didn't want anyone to think I was doing this because I'm a rookie and I want to get some more attention on the side."
"All right," said Amber. "I guess that makes sense."
"When our helicopter went down, we scouted around the area for a little while, to see if we could find anything for our investigation. We found an overturned military truck with a lot of dead soldiers around it. Everything was covered in this weird kind of slime, and we found some documents in the vehicle. Apparently the truck had been carrying a convicted ex-Marine, Second Lieutenant Billy Coen, to a military base on the other side of the mountains. The file said that he'd killed twenty-three people and that he was being sentenced to death. There was no sign of the guy anywhere, and that made everybody jumpy."
"With a war criminal on the loose in the woods, in the dark, who wouldn't be?" said Amber.
"Exactly," said Rebecca. "Then we came across a set of train tracks, and there was a train sitting on them, with all the lights on. I went to investigate and then I saw - "
She broke off suddenly, and looked away.
"What? What did you see, Rebecca?" said Amber.
"A zombie," said Rebecca, trembling. "I didn't know what it was at first, I thought it was just a regular guy who'd been killed, but then he got up and tried to eat me. The train was full of dead people, Amber. They were sitting in their seats, they'd been eaten, and one guy still had his Walkman playing local radio, so it couldn't have happened too long ago. There were some more zombies too, and I made my way through the train looking for someone who might be alive, but everybody was dead… then I found him."
Rebecca was shaking uncontrollably now. Amber watched sympathetically, not knowing if the younger girl was nervous, shivering in terror at what she was remembering, or about to burst into tears.
"Found who?" she said.
"Billy Coen," Rebecca whispered.
"Oh my God," gasped Amber. "What happened? He didn't hurt you, did he?"
"No, he didn't," said Rebecca shakily. "I thought he was going to, but then he said we ought to co-operate if we were going to survive. He said he'd help me but I was scared of him and I didn't want him anywhere near me, so I said I could manage on my own. But then we had to start working together because the train started moving somehow and I was all alone, and the train was full of zombies and - and leeches, weird leeches and this monster which looked like a person but turned into some kind of zombie, only a different one, it was green and looked kind of like a plant and exploded with leeches and stuff when you killed it, and then Billy saved me from the monster and killed the giant scorpion and - "
"Slow down, Rebecca," Amber ordered. "You're not making any sense. Who started the train?"
"I don't know," said Rebecca, pausing for breath. "But we heard this weird singing outside, like a guy singing opera in a really high-pitched voice. I guess it must have been him. Anyway, Billy saved me from the leech zombie, and when I got trapped in another part of the train he rescued me again."
"What about Edward? You said he was on the train," said Amber. "What happened to him?"
"I found him in a corridor. He'd been bitten by zombie dogs and he was really hurt and - and then he died," said Rebecca, and she swallowed hard. "I liked Edward. He was so nice to me. They all were. I miss them..."
"I know you do, Rebecca," said Amber. "We all do. So what happened then? How did you get off the train?"
"It ran out of control," said Rebecca. "Billy and I tried to stop it with the emergency brakes, but it crashed into an underground train depot and it burst into flames. Billy and I were thrown clear, we got out of the place and into a sewer tunnel, and then we found a ladder and climbed up into - you're not going to believe this, Amber, but it led right up into the hall of this creepy old mansion."
"The Spencer mansion?" said Amber. "Is that how you got there?"
"No," said Rebecca, shaking her head. "This was a different place. It must have been abandoned for a long time, because everything was covered in dust. It was some sort of management training facility for Umbrella, and there was a big portrait at the top of the stairs of this horrible old man. His name was Dr Marcus and he founded the facility. We couldn't get out through the front doors of the mansion, they were locked, so Billy and I had to search the mansion for a way to open them. It was full of zombies and all sorts of other monsters, including more of those leech zombies I told you about. We managed to unlock the front doors, but the road had fallen into the gorge, so we had to go back inside and look for another way out…"
Amber listened, fascinated by the young rookie's tale. It seemed as though she'd had an even more difficult time than the other STARS members. Her travels with the dangerous convict had led her into the jaws of death again and again, through the mansion and the sinister chapel that served it, and then underground to Dr Marcus' terrifying labs - it turned out that the man had been the original creator of the T-Virus. Particularly interesting had been an episode where Rebecca had been grabbed by a giant mutant centipede, but after hearing the tales from the Spencer mansion, giant mutant animals seemed positively normal. It was the other aspect of this incident that intrigued her.
"Billy Coen saved you? But why?"
"I don't really know, but he killed the centipede and he made sure I was okay," said Rebecca. "And he saved me from the leech zombie, and the centipede, and the rabid monkey thing that tried to attack me, and the time when I fell through the hole in the floor in the underground tunnels. He could have left me to die, but he didn't."
"I don't understand," said Amber, shaking her head slowly. "If he was a fugitive, then why did he save you? Why would he do something like that?"
"Maybe because we were working together. Maybe he needed me," said Rebecca, going red again. "We worked well together and I saved his life once, too."
"Rebecca, he murdered twenty-three people. Why did you save his life?"
"Because he was my friend. He saved my life. And I don't think he was guilty. He told me what happened to him out in Africa, when he was fighting against some rebel forces in a civil war, and how he and his unit were ordered to kill a whole village of people even though they knew they had nothing to do with the rebels."
"And did he?" said Amber.
"He made it sound like he did, but… but he saved me, Amber," said Rebecca faintly. "I don't think a murderer would take pity on somebody like me. Not a rookie cop who threatened to turn him in. He saved my life so many times, and he always made sure I was all right if we'd been attacked by something."
"He must have cared about you a lot," said Amber, still puzzled by this. "So what happened in the end?"
Rebecca told her at length about how they'd successfully killed the reanimated Dr Marcus, who had been assassinated by his two protégés a decade earlier but whose body had been slowly mutated by T-Virus-infected leeches until he regenerated fully and became some kind of leech monster. With the help of Billy, they'd destroyed the inhuman Dr Marcus for good and escaped into the forest.
"… and then, in the end, I let him go," said Rebecca meekly. "Amber, I couldn't kill him or turn him in, not after all we'd been through together. I know my head said that he'd been convicted and everything, but my heart told me he was a good guy. I don't believe he murdered anybody. I don't believe he was capable of something like that. He was so kind, Amber. He helped me so much, and he looked after me, and…"
Amber was faintly appalled that a rookie cop could have let a dangerous escaped convict go. Yet, as Rebecca timidly continued the explanation of how she got to the Spencer mansion, it stole over Amber that the STARS were being condemned throughout the RPD as liars, drug addicts, possibly even deranged killers, even though there was no way in hell that they could possibly have done anything wrong. Was it possible that the man had been wrongly convicted, especially when the ending of his tale of his adventures in Africa had been so ambiguous?
It certainly sounded more convincing than the alternative - that a vicious, cold-blooded psychopath would rescue a young and helpless female rookie cop on several occasions, knowing full well that she was going to turn him in. Rebecca was a sweet and trusting girl, but she wasn't stupid or gullible, and she doubted that a known criminal could have lied convincingly enough to persuade Rebecca that he was misunderstood and should be let go.
"I never saw him again," finished Rebecca. "I don't know where he is right now, but when I got back, I told the authorities he was dead and I showed them the dog-tag he gave me. They wanted to know where the body was but I said he'd been eaten by wild animals and that I'd only found a patch of blood and his dog-tag."
"Rebecca," said Amber gravely. "If he's found and captured, you could go to jail for withholding information from the authorities. Or, worse, if he really is a murderer and you let him go, he could kill somebody again. What you did could have terrible consequences. You do know that, don't you?"
Rebecca nodded silently, her cheeks burning.
"I know, Amber," she whispered. "But Billy wasn't a murderer. I really, truly, honestly don't believe he was. And I know you must think he talked me into letting him go, but that's not true. He never asked me to do anything like that. I think he was expecting me to turn him in all along - he looked so surprised when I let him go. I don't care what anybody says, Amber, Billy can't have killed those people. It wouldn't make any sense. I only knew him for a little while, I know, but the guy who helped me through that mansion couldn't have murdered anybody. Not him. Not Billy."
Something in the girl's voice struck Amber.
"Rebecca," said Amber slowly, "did you like this guy?"
"Well, yes," said Rebecca, shyly. "He was nice. And he was always there for me when I needed him. I guess when it came right down to it, he was my friend."
"No, what I meant was, did you like him?"
Rebecca blushed even more furiously.
"I - "
The door burst open. Rebecca jumped, then grabbed the evidence that she'd collected from the other mansion and shoved it hastily into her desk drawer as the STARS walked in, their faces red with rage. Amber and Rebecca stood up, intending to ask what had happened, but saw the looks on their friends' faces and wisely decided to keep quiet.
"Son of a bitch!" Chris was yelling. "That son of a bitch! That f- "
Jill's hand slapped over Chris' mouth, cutting the word short.
"Watch your language, Christopher Redfield!" she snapped. "Don't you use words like that in front of Rebecca! You'll set her a bad example!"
"Don't you tell me what to do! What are you, my mother?" Chris yelled back, wrenching her hand away from his face.
"You rude and ignorant - " Jill began, prodding him in the chest.
"Hey! Cut it out!" Barry bellowed. "This is not the time for arguments!"
"No, you're wrong! It's the perfect time for arguments!" yelled Brad. "The Chief doesn't believe us! Nobody does! All over the precinct, they're talking about us! They think we're lying, or worse! I even heard someone say we were crack addicts and we murdered our team-mates because they found out about our secret drug-dealing business!"
"Yeah, and they wouldn't have found out about the outcome of the mission if you hadn't opened your big mouth!" Chris said angrily. "What did you have to go and tell everyone over the radio for? Now everyone thinks we're on hard drugs because of your mindless babbling, you fucking idiot!"
"Don't you swear at me, you arrogant jerk!" yelled Brad. "Just because you're sexually frustrated - "
"I am not sexually frustrated!" Chris snarled.
"Yeah, right! You're just on an ego trip! You think you're better than everyone else because you're Chris Redfield!" Brad yelled. "No wonder Jill left y - "
Chris swung back his arm and brought it around again; there was a horrible sound as his fist connected with Brad's jaw. Brad went flying backwards across the room and collided heavily with Wesker's desk. Jill gasped and rushed to help the dazed Brad as Barry fought to restrain Chris.
Amber felt a sudden pressure on her arm and looked down. A white-faced Rebecca was clinging, terrified, to her arm.
"I'll kill him!" bawled Chris, struggling to break free of Barry's firm grasp. "Let me go! I'm going to kill that cowardly, spineless little bitch! Let me go!"
"No, Chris," said Barry through gritted teeth, still fighting to keep the enraged Chris in check. "Don't you dare! You've done enough damage today! Don't be an idiot and beat up one of our few remaining friends in some stupid childish squabble! That's the last thing we need! Just calm down!"
"Brad, are you all right?" said Jill anxiously.
"No, I'm not, your ex-boyfriend's trying to kill me over a bruise to his big ego!" said Brad indignantly.
"Chris, no!"
Chris suddenly broke free and rushed towards Brad with an incoherent cry of rage. Brad panicked and pulled out his gun, aiming it at Chris -
"No! Stop it!"
The scream had come from Rebecca's corner of the room. Barry and Jill jumped, and Brad lowered his gun in amazement. Even Chris stopped in his tracks and turned to look at the petite rookie, who was sobbing hysterically.
"Stop it!" she wailed. "Please stop it! Please…"
"There, there, Rebecca," said Amber gently, putting her arms around the younger girl. "It's all right, honey. It's all right."
"That's it," said Brad, getting to his feet and heading for the door. "I've had enough! I quit!"
"What? Brad, you can't!" gasped Jill, grabbing him by the arm. "Not now! We need you!"
"No way! I'm not sticking around to be everybody's scapegoat!" yelled Brad, pulling away his arm. "Bad enough I'm being talked about behind my back by every idiot who works here, but being beaten up by one of my own team-mates just because he's pissed-off with the Chief? Forget it! I'm leaving!"
"Brad, they'll only talk about us even more if you leave!" Jill cried, grabbing him again. "They'll say you resigned in disgrace because the Chief found out you were helping Barry to deal crack to the downtown kids, or that you've been making me and Rebecca work in a strip club to help fund your last spell in rehab! Or something! You know what people here are like! They'll make up even more stupid rumours to explain your sudden disappearance!"
"Then at least I won't be around to listen to them!" Brad shouted back, dragging Jill after him as he tried to reach the door.
"But the rest of us will!" said Jill, clinging to Brad's arm for grim death. "Come on, Brad, now is not the time to leave over a dumb argument! Don't abandon us when we need you the most! Do you really want Umbrella to reduce us to this and get away with it? If you leave, you're helping them win! Is that what you want?"
Brad stopped, and turned around to face the others. Greeted with Jill's pleading look, Rebecca's soft whimpering and the alarm in Barry and Amber's faces, he gave in.
"You're right," he said hopelessly. "I can't go. Not now. But I'm warning you, if Chris ever lays a finger on me again, then I'm leaving for good! I don't care if people do make up rumours about it, I'm not going to be pushed around any more!"
"You won't be," said Jill, with a dark look at Chris. "Because Chris is going to say sorry. Aren't you, Chris?"
Chris looked at Brad. There was a moment of internal struggle as he wrestled with pride, his better nature, and the threat of unspecified but almost certainly painful retribution from Jill if he refused to capitulate. Humility and the fear of incurring his ex-girlfriend's wrath soon won through.
"Sorry, Brad," he said, grudgingly offering a hand in apology.
"Sorry, Chris," said Brad, shaking Chris' hand. "I don't really think you're an arrogant jerk."
"And I don't really think you're a cowardly, spineless little bitch."
"You don't?"
"Well, you are kind of a scaredy-cat, but if Jill thinks I'm not sorry she'll probably hospitalise me," said Chris, dropping his voice so that the others wouldn't hear, and Brad grinned.
"Yeah. I know. They didn't call me Chickenheart at the academy for nothing," he admitted. "But that doesn't stop us being friends, right?"
"Nah," said Chris, shaking his head. "I can put up with you getting scared every now and then if you can put up with me being a jerk sometimes. Sorry about your face. Hope you aren't hurt too bad."
"Just bruised, I think," said Brad, nursing his swollen jaw. "It'll heal."
"I have something for that," said Rebecca, who'd stopped crying and was now rummaging in her First Aid bag again. She brought out a tiny bottle, went over to Brad and tipped two even tinier white pills into the palm of his hand.
"What is it?" said Brad, staring down at his palm.
"Arnica. It's a homeopathic remedy," Rebecca told him. "It'll help the bruising. I know some people don't believe in homeopathy but my mother swears by it, and she's a doctor too. Say what you like, but it's always worked for me. It certainly won't do you any harm."
"Thanks, Rebecca," said Brad, tipping the two miniscule white pills into his mouth.
"Don't swallow them, let them dissolve first," advised Rebecca. "And don't eat or drink anything for at least fifteen minutes, or it won't work properly."
"Okay."
"I take it the meeting didn't go well," Amber said in an undertone.
"That's the understatement of the year," said Jill wearily. "He won't listen to us. I don't know if it's because he doesn't believe us or not, but he's refusing even in principle to conduct an investigation. You'd think he'd at least want to get to the bottom of what happened, wouldn't you? I don't know, Amber… something weird's going on around here. Very weird. I think the Chief's hiding something."
"What could he be hiding?" said Amber.
"I don't know, but we're going to find out," said Jill. "This investigation has to be conducted. If we don't, Umbrella could do something even worse. I can't let that happen."
"Oh," said Amber, suddenly remembering the purpose of her visit. "Jill, I brought you guys the reports on the attacks. They're on Rebecca's desk."
"Thanks, Amber," said Jill. "That's really great. I'll get to work on those right away. Oh, can you take this downstairs for me? It's for Ballistics - they wanted to know why my Beretta was missing several bullets when I checked it in for maintenance yesterday. Tell them that they're still buried in your mirror frame and offer to have them come over and check, will you? Maybe then they'll get off my ass about it. I know it's important to them, but it's not half as important to me as this investigation. If you could take care of it for me, that would be a big help."
"Sure," said Amber, taking the report. "I'll run it downstairs for you now."
"Sorry to keep you waiting here so long," said Jill. "I know everybody's busy downstairs."
"Don't worry about it. Rebecca looked like she needed the company, and I had nothing better to do anyway," said Amber. "I'll go and sort this out."
"Thanks."
Amber hurried out of the STARS office and along the corridor. She was halfway downstairs when she bumped into Kevin Ryman.
"There you are!" he cried. "Jeez, Amber, where've you been? We've been looking all over for you! Come on, hurry, there's a fight in progress on Limetree and Havant!"
"What?" said Amber, all thoughts of Jill's ballistics report forgotten. "Where's everybody else?"
"Downstairs watching the freak show, some woman's come in covered in blood and screaming about her husband being killed by a bunch of downtown bums. Marvin and Rita are handling her and everybody else in the west office has been sent out to look for the perpetrators. They've cleaned out half of the east office too, and Alan's whining about it like a little bitch because there's nobody to help his lazy ass out with the paperwork."
"What about Jodie?" said Amber, hastening her progress downstairs and quickening her pace to keep up with Kevin.
"Interviewing a bunch of new candidates for the force," called Kevin, who was halfway through the door of the evidence room. "We can't drag her out too!"
"So we're hiring again?" said Amber, entering the evidence room.
"Apparently so," said Kevin, who was already on his way out.
"We could use the help," said Amber, running through the empty west office and grabbing a bulletproof vest from one of the lockers.
"Damn right we need the help. More attacks every day," said Kevin, who already had his own vest on. He turned to help Amber with hers. "Is that report in your hand important?"
"It's Officer Valentine's ballistics report," Amber replied, as Kevin took it roughly from her hand and looked through it. "I promised her I'd take care of it for her."
"Not important right now," Kevin said, shoving it back into her hands.
"But I promised Jill - "
"Never mind Jill, we need to hurry! Come on, or those kids will have beaten each other to death before we get there!"
"Kids?" repeated Amber, tucking the report as carefully into her back pocket as she could while trying to keep up with Kevin. She noticed some spots of blood on the floor of the foyer as she left the room, but nobody was in sight except the secretaries - the show was clearly over. "What kids? What's going on?"
"Bunch of uptown brats mixing it up with one of the downtown skater gangs," Kevin said, throwing the main doors open and running out into the yard. "Stupid kids! Can't they see we have enough on our plate already? It's complete anarchy out there today! We've been running around all afternoon like our asses are on fire!"
"Shouldn't we be taking a patrol car?" said Amber as they hurried through the precinct gates. "Limetree and Havant's quite a walk - it'll all be over before we can get there!"
"I parked mine right by the bookstore, the parking lot's full again," panted Kevin, pointing to a nearby police car. "Quick, get in! I'm driving!"
"Okay…"
"Don't you "okay" me, my driving's fine! At least I'll get us there fast!"
"A hundred and fifty miles an hour, through three sets of red lights and then right into a tree?"
"Don't be stupid! There aren't any trees downtown!"
"Well that's comforting…"
"Come on!"
xxxxxxxxxx
After a truly terrifying ride through the streets, at what Kevin claimed was fifty miles per hour but seemed more like a hundred and fifty to the shellshocked Amber, the patrol car screeched to a halt in the middle of Limetree and Havant.
"Ah, shit. Looks like we got here too late."
There were bodies lying all over the street, every single one dressed in shabby street clothes. It appeared as though the uptown kids had won this fight. She counted fifteen people, five of them girls, all of the participants in their mid-to-late teens and all of them supine.
"Oh, those poor kids," said Amber, scrambling out of the car and hurrying to the nearest prone figure. "Are you all right, miss? What happened?"
The victim, a bruised-looking girl with dyed blonde hair, fake gold jewellery and scarlet fingernails, groaned and slumped back wordlessly onto the sidewalk.
"What a mess," commented Kevin, nudging an unconscious dark-haired boy. His spectacles were broken and there was a nasty bruise already colouring his right eye. Another, much shorter boy with blond hair was lying next to him, blood seeping from a cut on his forehead. His baseball cap had tumbled from his head and lay a few inches away from where he'd fallen.
"Hey, honey. Can you move?" said Amber, kneeling next to a frizzy-haired girl in shorts and a Billabong t-shirt. Her face and arms were badly bruised, but she was one of the few kids still conscious after the fight.
"Bastards," moaned the girl, who turned out to have a strong Australian accent. "Bastards, every bloody one of them. Look what they did to my mates…"
"Who did this to you?" said Amber, shocked at the extent of the girl's injuries.
"Doesn't matter," said Kevin, as he helped a groaning kid with spiky dyed-red hair and punk-rock clothes to his feet. "Whoever they were, they're long gone…"
"No they're not," said the girl, pointing to the mouth of a nearby alley. "They're hiding over there. Come on, you scum!" she yelled suddenly, and Amber almost dropped her in surprise. "You want some more? Come and get it, you mazzas!"
"Now that's enough of that, young lady. You've been in enough trouble today already," Amber scolded her. "Kevin, go check out that alley, will you?"
"I'm on it," Kevin grunted, dropping a Latina girl with dreadlocks back down onto the sidewalk and striding over to the alley. Two blond-haired boys, one with a black eye and a cut lip, immediately rushed out and ran down the street as Kevin emerged from the mouth of the alley with a third boy in tow. This one was also blond-haired, but taller and more muscular than the others, and he was wearing a Raccoon City High football shirt over his jeans.
Amber groaned at the sight of him. Typical uptown jock, always picking fights with the downtown kids to prove how tough he was. So tough, he and his friends would pick on a gang of scrawny downtown skater kids, a third of whom were girls…
"Let me go! Hey, buddy, let go of me already, will you? You can't just haul me around like this! I pay your wages!" the boy yelled as Kevin dragged him across the street by his arm and hauled him in front of Amber.
"Good afternoon, sir, I'm Lieutenant Bernstein of the Raccoon Police Department. This is my colleague, Officer Ryman. We've been called in to investigate an incident in this area. One of the residents reported a fight about ten minutes ago and we're trying to find out what happened. Could you tell us your name, please?"
"Phil Barrett," the boy replied sulkily. Kevin immediately wrote this down in his notebook.
"And can you tell us what happened here, Phil?" said Amber, for the look of the thing. She already knew what had happened, of course - any half-assed idiot could figure it out for themselves - but it would be interesting to see what the boy had to say for himself.
"Well," said the boy, composing himself. "We were on our way home from school when this lousy punk jumped us and told us to give him money. I told him no and then he called his friends over. They all started threatening us and pushing us around, so Jamie pushed him away, and then the rest of them started attacking us. We managed to fight them all off eventually, but then we heard sirens and we thought we'd get in trouble, so we hid in the alleyway… and then, well, you guys got us. Look, we're really sorry, we didn't mean to cause any problems. If you ask me, it's these downtown rats. They ought to be locked up."
"All right, Phil," said Amber, smiling sweetly to disguise her impatience with the boy. "We'll see what we can do about this situation. Now go straight home and stay well away from the downtown kids in future."
The boy grinned.
"Thanks, Officer… uh…"
"Bernstein," Amber reminded him.
"Yeah, thanks, Officer Bernstein. Can I go now?"
"Sure. Go right ahead."
"Rotten little punk," growled Amber, as the boy disappeared into the distance. "You know, Kevin, I am so sick of these uptown kids thinking that they can get away with murder just because Mommy and Daddy have lots and lots of money and can buy them out of trouble! I swear, I'm going to call his parents and haul him and his friends downtown, see what Mommy and Daddy have to say about their little darlings facing assault charges, maybe a couple of counts of ABH."
"Nobody cares much about a bunch of kids picking fights, Amber," said Kevin. "Not right now, anyway. Everybody's too wound up about these attacks."
"But they should," said Amber angrily. "It's not fair! Look at these poor kids - what did they do to deserve this? This only happened to them because of the stupid class war we've got going on in the city! Where's it going to end?"
Kevin shook his head.
"You take this way too seriously, Amb. Come on, don't you remember all the fights we used to get into with the rich kids when we were young?"
"Yeah, of course I do," said Amber. "But that was different. It was practically a game back then. This is no game, this is damn near murder. Look at these kids! Did we ever leave the uptown kids like this?"
"No," said Kevin, pausing to survey the scene. "No, we never did anything like this."
"Exactly," said Amber. "And now I'm going to find out what really happened. Hey, kid! Yeah, you!"
By now nearly all of the downtown kids had come round, picked themselves up off the street and wandered home. Only one remained now: a blond-haired boy, about sixteen, dressed in torn jeans and a faded heavy metal t-shirt. A lumberjack shirt was tied loosely around his waist, and there was a broken skateboard lying next to him. Blood was gushing from his nose. Although awake, he'd been badly beaten - so much for the self-defence claim, thought Amber crossly - and he was struggling to get up.
"Yeah?" he said, pressing his hands to his nose.
"I'm Lieutenant Bernstein and this is Officer Ryman," said Amber, pointing to herself and Kevin. "We're from the police department. Could you come with us, please?"
"Oh, man," the boy groaned. "I dint do nothin'! I been arrested twice already an' I dint do nothin' then either! Why you people always gotta pick on me? It be those uptown kids from my school, they got it in for me 'cause I ain't rich like them! Why can you no just leave me alone for once?"
"Calm down, kid," said Kevin, helping the boy to his feet. "We just want to get to the bottom of this so we can log the incident, maybe get a few statements if necessary. We're pretty sure we know what happened here, but we'd like to be sure."
"Hey, I gotta be home in an hour, my aunt gonna kill me if I come home late," the boy protested, wiping the blood from his face.
"It's okay, we'll call your aunt," Kevin reassured him.
"No!" the boy exclaimed. "Dunt call my aunt!"
"Well, okay then," said Kevin, slightly nonplussed by this. "Just come with us. This probably won't take an hour anyway."
xxxxxxxxxx
Twenty minutes had passed, and now Amber found herself sitting on one of the cold, hard chairs in the RPD's interrogation room. Its décor was deliberately plain, to keep suspects from being distracted by their surroundings, and the room contained very little furniture. There was a bookcase that was mostly empty, a plain metal table and a couple of chairs and, of course, the two-way mirror that stood between this room and the room next door.
Kevin was standing in the corner, slouching against the wall and keeping a casual eye on proceedings. The boy was sitting in the chair on the other side of the table, fiddling with a torn fingernail to avoid looking Amber straight in the eye.
"All right," said Amber, to break the silence. "Let's start with your name."
The boy looked up, bright blue eyes narrowing behind his long fringe of blond hair.
"You oughta know," he muttered. "I been dragged in here plenty of times. Maybe you people oughta print it on the forms ready so you dunt need to fill it in every time I get busted for doin' nothin'."
Amber sighed. It had been a long day and it was getting even longer. She wasn't in the mood for guessing games.
"Kid, I don't know who you are or why you've been dragged here before," she said, gathering together the last shreds of her patience. "I pride myself on knowing all the downtown kids, especially the skaters, but I've never seen you before. Are you new in town?"
The boy nodded.
"Yeah. I move here in June. Been livin' in Tijuana for the last ten years with my aunt. I live on West an' 16th, above the record store."
"Oh, Sid Ziegler's place," said Amber, nodding.
"You know it?" said the boy curiously.
"Yeah, my little brother works there," said Amber. "Don't know if you know him. His name's Jason, he's a couple of years older than you."
"I think I see him around once," said the boy, after a moment. "Dint say nothin' to him though. My English ain't so good. Dunt like strikin' up conversation with new people if I dunt have to."
"Well, in this case, you have to," said Amber, not unkindly. "So, your name is…?"
"Jack Carpenter," the boy replied.
"So I take it you're with the Street Rats," said Amber, picking up one of the files that she'd grabbed en route to the interrogation room.
"How you know?" said the boy suspiciously.
"I told you, I know all the downtown kids," said Amber, flicking open the file marked Street Rats, The. "I've lived in downtown my whole life and I used to hang round with the skaters when I was a kid. Most of my friends were in the PriMadonnas. I couldn't skate, though."
She took out a piece of paper. Listed on it were the names of all known Street Rat members, past and present. Her eyes ran smoothly down the list of names:
Antonio Alvarez Marco Alvarez Madeleine "Maddy" Baker Joaquìn Carpenter y Jemez Alena Charlton Raphael Delmonico Ritchie Hale Columbine LeFleur Eduardo Lopez Almond Nicholls Romeo Pagliuca (expelled) Valerio Schiaparelli Roland Schultz Mitchell "Mitch" Taylor Tiffany Ward Bruce Wayne-Robinson (aka "Batman")
"Whatever happened to Romeo, anyway?" she said, raising an eyebrow. "It says here that he was expelled."
"Yeah," said the kid, suddenly looking angry. "Serve him right too, the pinche pendejo. He try to set me up for some petty crime of his an' los verdes come after me for it. We throw him out for it 'cause we dint want that dirty no-good traitor around no more."
"Your name's not on here, Jack. The only name listed that matches even partially is Joaquìn Carpenter y Jemez. Is that you?"
"Yeah. Everybody call me Jack for short."
Amber breathed out slowly. This certainly cleared up the confusion. She replaced the piece of paper and took out another; this one was the boy's official police record. True to what he'd told her, he'd been arrested twice for minor offences and released both times without charge. He had also been brought in on a few other occasions, along with several of his skater friends, to be cautioned for trivial offences. She'd expected to see this; it was one of the occupational hazards of being with a gang of downtown skaters. The Chief hated the skaters and was always having them hauled up for this, that and the other - and many other officers saw them as easy targets to prop up their arrest statistics for the year.
Not her or Kevin, though. They'd both grown up in downtown and knew only too well what life was like there. While skaters couldn't expect automatic sympathy, they at least got a fair hearing, which was more than most other people were prepared to give them. She'd heard somewhere that skaters being brought in after an incident routinely begged to be allowed to talk to Officer Ryman and Officer Bernstein. This both pleased and saddened her - though it was touching to see that she and Kevin were held in such high esteem, even by the rougher downtown kids, it seemed unfair that the kids couldn't expect fair treatment from anyone but her or Kevin.
She checked through the boy's details again. There was a mugshot of him, looking defiant but a little scared too as he looked straight ahead at the camera.
"Name, Joaquìn Alejandro Carpenter y Jemez… date of birth, August 5th 1982... place of birth, San Francisco, CA. Address, vital stats, yada yada… yep, everything seems to be in order," she said, scribbling down the details on a form. "Okay, Jack. So can you tell me what happened this afternoon?"
Jack embarked on a full and lively description of the afternoon's events. It differed quite considerably from that of the uptown boy that she'd spoken to earlier. It transpired that, far from having pestered Phil Barrett and his two uptown friends for money, Jack had been deliberately tripped up by one of the boys while skating and then attacked - quite viciously, by the sound of it. Jack's friends had come to his rescue, only to be beaten up themselves by the three boys. Amber and Kevin had turned up just in time to miss everything that had happened.
"Jack, if that's true, then you're legally entitled to press charges against these boys," said Amber, concerned.
"No way," said Jack, looking alarmed. "Those guys be in my class at school, they gonna come after me 'gain if I do somethin' like that. An' me an' my aunt no can afford to sue 'em anyway. Dunt even wanna try. Just let it go."
"Are you sure, Jack? We can provide you with legal advice if - " Amber began, but Kevin shook his head.
"No, don't," he mouthed. "No point."
"You're sure?" said Amber, and Jack nodded.
"Yeah. Dunt want no more trouble. My aunt gonna yell at me for gettin' in another fight as it is," he said awkwardly, running a hand through his hair.
"All right, then. If you want to get yourself cleaned up, there are washrooms on this floor. Officer Ryman will show you where they are. Are you going to be okay getting home, Jack? You've been pretty badly beaten up. I have a friend here who has medical training, if you'd like her to check you over."
"Nah, nothin' broken. Just bruised," said Jack. "Can I go now?"
"Of course," said Amber. "Kevin, can you escort Mr Carpenter out?"
"Nah, dunt bother, I know the way," said Jack, getting up and heading for the door. Kevin watched him leave as Amber tidied away the files, and said:
"Man, what a day. First that scene with the woman whose husband got attacked, and then a fight just to make my day complete. I can't wait till the end of my shift. I'm exhausted. Want to come down to J's with me after work, Amb?"
"No, I can't," said Amber, cringing with embarrassment at the mere mention of the place. "I'm working double overtime today. Besides, I don't want to see that bitch of a waitress again for a good long time."
"What's wrong with her? I like Cindy," said Kevin, who looked slightly hurt. "She's a nice girl. Very sweet, very friendly."
"Yeah, she's friendly all right," said Amber, smirking. "That's because you have testicles. That means she'll be as friendly as you want her to be."
Kevin raised an eyebrow.
"Don't tell me you're jealous, Amber?"
"Hardly," Amber said mildly, picking up the last of the files. "If you think that a bunch of embarrassing diseases are a fair exchange for a good time with Cindy Lennox, then that's your problem. Don't say I didn't warn you."
Kevin laughed.
"I know perfectly well that you hate her, Amber. The feeling's mutual, from what Will tells me. But as far as I'm concerned, she can lay my table any time."
"Men," said Amber, rolling her eyes, and walked out of the room.
"Where are you going?" Kevin called after her.
"I need to file these reports," Amber called back. "I'll catch you later."
But as she left the corridor and passed the east office, she became aware of a growing background noise, a murmur which became a wall of sound as she opened the door to the foyer.
There were police officers everywhere, loudly discussing the incident involving the woman whose husband had been killed earlier:
"Man, what a mess. Did you see him? I'm not gonna be able to sleep for weeks."
"I nearly puked when I saw his head had come off. I haven't seen anything like it in all the years I've worked here. I know the panhandlers downtown can get nasty if you don't give 'em any change, but this… I can't believe it. In broad daylight, too. What the hell's happening to this town?"
"No sign of the perpetrators. Nothing at all, but Marvin says they've still got another unit out there looking. They'll probably be out all night. Downtown's full of drunk, smelly bums and they all look the same. They might never find out which ones did it."
Raised above these conversations was another voice, its tone loud and pugnacious. It belonged to an attractive middle-aged Hispanic woman with cropped black hair who had probably been quite stunning in her youth. Dressed in a short black skirt, high heels and a low-cut black top, she was leaning over the reception desk and complaining loudly to Bernice.
"What you doing? Why you arrest my nephew?" she demanded to know, her gold hoop earrings jangling as she slammed her hand down on the counter. "He do nothing! Someone beat him up! Why you arrest him for that?"
She jabbed her finger in the direction of Jack, who was looking extremely uncomfortable.
"Auntie, it be nothin'," he mumbled. "It dunt even hurt much. C'mon, we just go home, 'kay?"
"No, is not okay, Jack! Nobody beat up my family! Someone beat up my family, then they beat me! I like to see them beat me! I beat them an' they family all the way to next week!"
"Ma'am, please, calm down," said Bernice. "Your nephew wasn't arrested. He was brought in by two officers who found him at the scene so that they could take a statement from him. That's all. He's not in trouble and he's free to go. I suggest you take him home so he can rest. He looks like he had quite a rough time."
"Fine. Gracias," said the woman curtly, turning on her heel and taking Jack with her. "Come on Jack, we go home."
"Okay, Auntie," said Jack, obediently following her out of the building.
The doors had barely banged shut behind Jack and his aunt when they slammed wide open again; an officer had burst in, panting for breath.
"Downtown's going crazy today! You know that work experience kid? He and his girlfriend just got attacked by dogs!" he gasped.
Amber's heart skipped a beat.
"What?" she cried. "You mean Kenny? Oh my God, is he hurt?"
"No, he's fine, just scared, and the dogs are dead now, but - "
The cop never even got to finish his sentence as Amber raced across the foyer to the door of the west office, as fast as her legs could take her.
Officers Edward and Carlsen were standing by the lockers, taking off their bulletproof vests and talking in hushed voices.
"All right then, so what's the lieutenant on?"
"Jeez, I don't know. She's been real moody lately. You even say the word STARS and she'll bite your head off. Other than that, though, she seems pretty normal."
"Maybe she's just upset about her boyfriend."
"No way, she has to be on something if she believes those crazy stories Redfield and Valentine have been telling."
"Yeah? Like what?"
Amber shot past them, almost bowling the two men over as she rushed through the office. A few loose papers flew from a desk in the wake of her passage, but she'd already run out through the other door by the time they settled to the ground. Edward and Carlsen looked at each other.
"Speed," said Edward.
"Speed," Carlsen agreed.
Skidding on the wet floor and ignoring the shouts from Gus, who was mopping the floor outside the darkroom, Amber ran down the corridor and up the stairs, taking them two at a time. She tripped over the top step and landed flat on her face, but picked herself straight up again and sprinted along the hall.
She ran through the STARS corridor and wrenched the office door open without even bothering to knock. Chris and the others looked up sharply from their work.
"Amber, are you okay? What's wrong?" said Jill, noticing how out of breath her friend was.
"Jill, Chris, guys, you have to come quick! There's been another attack downtown, dogs this time, and they went after Kenny!" Amber gasped, clutching at the edge of the door for support.
Every single one of the STARS members froze.
"Kenny? You mean our Kenny?" said Jill, horrified.
"Holy shit!" Chris yelled, out of his seat in an instant. "We have to get there right away!"
"Is he hurt?" said Rebecca anxiously, reaching for her First Aid bag.
"No, he's not hurt, but it sounds a lot like those zombie dogs you guys told me about!" said Amber. "I only caught a sentence or two and I don't really know what happened - one of the part-timers just burst in and said there'd been an attack…"
"Come on!" ordered Barry, grabbing his gun from the desk. "We need to hurry, those dogs might still be there! We can't let them run around the city or someone else will be attacked! And they might not be so lucky!"
"He said the dogs were dead now - " Amber began.
"Then we can use this as evidence! Rebecca, get the camera!" Brad yelled.
Amber watched breathlessly as the STARS ran past her, yelling in their hurry to get out of the precinct and find the scene of the attack. What was wrong with the city today? Kevin was right, it was a madhouse out there today, and that bothered her. All these attacks had to mean one thing. The T-Virus was in the city, and it was spreading… the question was, what could they do to stop it?