Chapter 14: Human Filth
September 17th 0714 hours
The train made its way through the dark tunnels at a brisk pace, Kevin stood stony-faced at its controls, praying that he wouldn't miss the stop they were looking for, or more dangerously, go too fast and derail the train and kill all of them instantly, which would truly suck, to say the last.
David stood at the rear of the carriage, arms folded and staring out at the world which raced by, while Dean and Alyssa were both sat down, the former having his eyes closed and rocking slightly where he sat, due to the motion of the train. Alyssa sat opposite him, just staring at him as he slept. His face might have been filthy and his clothes and hair were stained with dried blood, but otherwise she found him rather handsome. But of course, she wouldn't say that to his face, cause he'd probably laugh at her instead. Suddenly, he shifted in his seat and opened his eyes slowly.
"Are we there yet?" he asked, almost sounding like a bored child on a long road trip.
"Not quite," replied Kevin from the front. "Which station are we looking for again?"
"Bachman Street station," Dean replied, stretching. "It's the closest to the southern outskirts of the city."
"Isn't there a way we can get outside the city totally?" added Alyssa hopefully. "What about a train yard or something?"
"That's still inside the city limits," answered David, finally joining the conversation. "Getting that far wouldn't help us very much."
"So, the best we can do is to head for Bachman Station and go from there," explained Dean, getting to his feet and stretching. "And we don't have many more choices aside from that, so don't suggest anything else."
"Joy," mumbled Alyssa.
"But it's still about 15 minutes away to our final destination," added Kevin. "So try and relax, OK? Nothing can get to us in here."
He'd be regretting that statement soon though.
THUMP!
Something heavy landed on the roof above them, and they all jumped to attention, with Alyssa looking as though she nearly hit the ceiling in the process. They all reached for their weapons and looked around fearfully.
"The hell was that?" asked Kevin, abandoning his position at the controls.
"Well whatever it was, it had better stay out there," murmured David in typically dry fashion.
THUMP!
They all jumped again, scanning their weapons outside the carriage windows for any sign of something that resembled a threat.
"Could it be one of those fleas again?" asked Kevin.
"Well if it is, they didn't get the hint from beforehand," growled Dean, as he cocked his shotgun for added impetus.
THUMP! THUMP!
The sounds came more frequently now, causing their panic to raise, their movements becoming more frantic to try and find their attackers.
"Come on, come on, show yourselves," muttered Dean through his clenched teeth. He really wasn't in the mood for this crap, especially after that tussle with the queen flea back there.
Then as quickly as they came, the sounds were gone. They all stood there; silent aside from the rumbling of the train on its tracks, ready for anything that would come at them. Several moments passed, but nothing came or happened. It looked as though they were safe for now. The civilians started to lower their weapons.
"Is it-"
Dean saw something brown move at one of the windows next to him, and he flicked his weapon in its direction.
BOOM!
The weapon roared next to David's head and the offending window exploded in a shower of glass.
"Ah damn it!" cried David, holding his ear.
CRASH!
Another window further up the carriage exploded and a brown shape landed inside the train, parking itself between Alyssa and Kevin. It was another of those fleas, a fairly small one, covered in dried blood and with its carapace covered in numerous large scratches, as though it had been attacked by something else.
It shrieked at them, before Kevin put a shotgun blast through the back of its head, spraying its blood and brain contents all over the ground. As the shotgun blast died away, more windows around them shattered and more fleas bounded through into the carriage, intent on feeding. They bounded off of the walls and ceiling to find a good angle to strike from, but none of them got even close, as SMG and shotgun fire shot them down in mid-air.
Dean swung his shotgun around, batting away a flea that dove at him with great speed, before he drove the barrel into its open mouth as it lay on the ground and fired, blowing it apart from the inside. Meanwhile, David unloaded into another monster flea as it landed before him, blowing most of its body into bloody chunks, while Alyssa unloaded on yet another as it clung to the ceiling, peppering its body with 9mm rounds, until a fateful round to the skull felled it instantly.
Silence fell, as whirls of gun smoke ascended, and the sounds of battle faded away totally, replaced by the trundling of the carriage on the tracks, and the hurried breathing of the assembled survivors, as they waited to see if anything else were to come. After several seconds, they all exhaled deeply and lowered their weapons, content that the danger had passed for now. The sound of weapons being reloaded and safeties being put on sounded in the carriage.
"What were you saying about us being safe in here?" asked David sarcastically. Kevin rolled his eyes.
"I don't know absolutely everything, you know," he snapped back. "I'm not physic!"
"Come on ladies, less of that," joked Dean, slinging his shotgun over his shoulder, before admiring the almighty mess they had all made. Blood and brain tissue was splattered up the walls and along the floor and ceiling, the corpses of a few dead fleas littering the main aisle of the carriage, the smell of gunpowder lingering in the air as well.
"Well so much for an uneventful ride," muttered Alyssa, sitting herself back down.
"Hey, did you expect anything else?" asked Dean, still smiling a little.
CRASH!
He felt a whoosh of air behind him, the sensation of several shards of glass hitting him at high speed, then of something heavy landing on his upper back. He only had to see the brown segmented limbs that hung over his shoulders to know what was holding onto him, and to send him into a wide-eyed panic.
"Dean!" cried Kevin, drawing his Colt .45 and aiming over his colleague's shoulder.
"Don't you dare!" shouted Dean back as he began to shake himself like mad in an effort to get the thing to let go of him, but it only dug its legs deeper into his shoulders, causing him slight amounts of pain and drawing blood as it did so, but he just gritted his teeth and reached behind his head, getting a hold of the monster bug on each side of its head as best he could, and wrenching it back in an effort to stop it from taking a bite.
But as he did, the momentum carried them both backwards and Dean felt himself smack into the open window behind him, nearly falling out as well, and feeling the rush of air against his face as he did so. Luckily for him, Alyssa managed to grab a hold of him and pulled him back, enough to stop him falling out of the window, but still not enough to deal with the huge bug clinging to his back.
"Dean! Hold on!" she cried, trying to get a good grip on his jacket.
"What do you think I'm trying to do?!" he snapped back, feeling the jagged limbs dig into his shoulders some more and crying out in pain as they did. By then David and Kevin had grabbed a hold of one arm each and were trying to pull him back inside, but the strength of the huge bug didn't seem relative to its size, and a tug-of-war began, with a human life as the ultimate prize.
"Get...off…me!" seethed Dean, still keeping a firm grip on the flea's head as the other three survivors tried to drag him back inside.
"Goddamn…insect!" growled Kevin as he nearly dislocated his arms trying to save his friend from being dragged out to certain death.
But Dean realised they wouldn't be able to win this way, not in a million years. They didn't have much of a choice now…
"Let me go!" he cried.
"What?!" shouted Kevin, looking understandably worried.
"You can't save me this way! Just let me go and worry about yourselves!"
"We're not…letting…you go!" seethed David, still keeping a grip on Dean's shoulder.
"Screw that!" agreed Alyssa, holding onto his jacket.
"Don't get yourselves all killed because of me!" Dean shouted back, feeling the breeze outside the carriage again, and the hot breath on the back of his neck as well. "It's no good if we all get killed here!"
Kevin began to see sense at his colleague's argument: if all of them got killed in that subway tunnel, then none of them could still be left over to go after Umbrella and make them pay for all this crap they were responsible before. But at the same time this seemed way too familiar to him: back at J's Bar, they had all stood alongside other officers from the R.P.D, but all of them had died, just so they could all get to safety. He wasn't about to let that happen again.
"No!" he cried, not relinquishing his grip. "I'm not letting anyone else die just so I can live for a bit longer!"
"For God's sake Kevin!" replied Dean. "Be reasonable!"
"He's right!" cried back David. "Don't be stupid!"
"Fine!" growled Kevin, defeated. "But if you live through this Dean, you'd better come back and show me that you're a fighter! You hear me?!"
"Deal!" replied Dean.
"Right, here goes nothing," Kevin then said, giving a look to his two companions.
All at once, they let go of their friend.
Dean felt himself sucked off of his feet and through the window, feeling the intense breeze against him, before everything blacked out.
Ben's legs finally gave out and he collapsed on his hands and knees in front of a dumpster, gasping for breath and retching in equal amounts. Finally, the adrenaline rush was a bit too much for him and he threw up, emptying his stomach contents onto the concrete beneath him. He didn't care about hating the thought of throwing up, or the smell of it or the chance of getting it all over himself: his body needed to cleanse itself, and he complied with flying colours. The business done, he started to spit out the remnants of vomit in his mouth, before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and getting back to his feet.
He looked behind him in time to see his companions come running up and stopping just next to him, out of breath. Simon, Max and Cliff.
Four people left, from an initial group of about 9 or so. The others were all dead. Those mutated insects, no matter how many of them were killed; another just appeared to take its place. The unarmed civilians were slashed to bloody pieces right before Ben's eyes as he fumbled to reload his shotgun. He'd failed them, and even worse, he'd failed Roger, when one of them suddenly loomed behind him, grabbing the veteran officer in a death hold and literally sucking his brain out in one swift move. He still remembered the look of unadulterated terror on the man's face as he crumpled to the floor; a look that was forever burned into the back of his mind.
His brain was in overload trying to process all of the things he had seen and his own personal thoughts on the subject. The zombies, it was certain that they were the actual people of Raccoon City, transformed by some evil, whether it was natural or artificial in origin. But those insects…where the hell did they come from? It didn't seem possible that anything could have created those, or that they came from some other normal insect. They were more like a living nightmare, given life by the chaos engulfing the city, or some hellish daemon spat out of the mouth of hell itself. Anything seemed possible now.
But whatever was to blame, there were only four of them left alive now. They'd been running for over half an hour, and had gotten themselves well and truly lost in the process.
"Now what?" asked Max, in between hurried gulps for air.
"I don't know," replied Ben, his voice almost a whisper, as he pushed himself off of the dumpster and walked into the middle of the alleyway.
"Where are we supposed to go now?" asked Cliff, with genuine concern.
"I don't know," repeated Ben, his voice still hoarse and low.
"We can't wait here," added Simon. "What next?"
"I don't know," repeated Ben, for the third time.
"So what the hell-"
Ben turned and kicked the side of the dumpster, hard enough to put a dent into it.
"I DON'T FUCKING KNOW!"
Everything fell silent as the other stared hard at Ben, looking as though his eyeballs were going to fall out of his skull by themselves. Finally, he turned away from them and buried his face in his hands.
"What's the use?" he then said, almost sobbing as he did so. "We can't survive this. No-one can!"
"Ben!" shouted Simon.
"We should be dead already!"
"Great, he's lost it," said Cliff, shaking his head slightly.
"You're not helping," seethed Max from next to him, clutching at the claw wound on his arm. Even though it had been a good time since it had been inflicted, it was still quite uncomfortable to him, and the fact that it kept bleeding every now and then, even though they'd stopped for a moment to bandage it with a shred from his other sleeve shirt. And his head felt as though someone had dropped an anvil on it.
"Fuck what I said before, there's no hope for any of us in this mess," wailed Ben. "We should just blow our own brains out and be done with it then!"
"Ben!" cried Simon. Ben turned around.
THWACK!
A gloved first smacked him in the cheek, knocking him off of his feet. He looked up at Simon as he lay on the ground, who just shook his hand a few times to get rid of some of the pain.
"You giving up now?" he asked, staring down at Ben. "That's not the Ben I knew a few hours ago. Sure, it looks bad. In fact, it looks impossible, but we won't know if we can make it unless we try to make it. We've made it this far, so are you going to just break down on us? Or are you going to try and get us out of this shit-hole in one piece? Well?"
Ben just continued staring up at the S.W.A.T officer, not moving.
"You know what, fine. Suit yourself," continued Simon, in a casual tone. "You might want to give up now, but I for one won't be. So you can come with us, or you can stay here and let those things find you. Your choice."
"No," muttered Ben, finally getting to his feet shakily. "I'll fight through this, but I can't handle being the leader for much longer. Simon, would you mind taking over?"
"Of course not," replied the S.W.A.T officer, giving Ben a heart pat on the shoulder. The uniformed officer gave a slight smile back, as Simon turned to face the others. "OK then, we gotta keep going."
"What?" asked Cliff in disbelief. "Screw this, you're all on your own." He started to turn away from them.
"And what's that supposed to mean?" asked Simon in reply, getting the gruff man's attention.
"He's gone crazy," replied Cliff, pointing a blood-stained finger at Ben. "No way I'm hanging around with him." Ben just stood by, his face passive.
"You won't last a minute by yourself," moaned Max, looking a little groggy.
"I'm willing to take that chance," retorted Cliff, walking away a short distance. "Better than staying with the crazy brigade."
"Fine, sign your own death warrant," interjected Simon, getting Cliff's attention again. "But if you want to get out of here alive, then you're best off staying with us. Entirely your choice, though."
There was a tense silence, suddenly broken by a few hacking coughs. They all turned to see Max bent over double, coughing his lungs up by the sounds of it. His MP5 had been dropped onto the ground beside him, as the coughing became worse and he fell down to his knees. No, he wasn't coughing…it sounded more like retching.
"Max! You feeling OK?" asked Ben, running up to tend to his friend.
"I…don't…know," coughed Max in reply. "It feels like my stomach's…on fire!" and then he continued his retching. With one deep hack, a glob of congealed blood suddenly flew out of his mouth and sprayed on the ground before him. Ben just stared at the red stain before he caught a glimpse of his friend's slashed arm. The flesh around the wound appeared to be turning grey, as though the skin had died…but the wound had only been inflicted recently.
"Max, your arm-" he said, making a reach to take a closer look at the injury.
"Get off me!" shouted Max suddenly, shoving Ben away from him, who fell on his rear and scrambled to his feet as Max lowered his head and his body started convulsing all over as though he were having a seizures. The others just watched carefully and in confusion, as he finally dropped to his hands and knees and wretched, vomiting a stream of green liquid onto the pavement below him, something that was volatile enough to actually scold the ground and raise up a considerable amount of steam.
"What the hell?" asked Cliff, stood at the ready.
Max's skin started to turn an off colour, a grey shade that was creeping across the entire surface of his skin like an evil rash; perhaps it was, as far as Ben was concerned. While all this was going on, Max moaned as though he were in great pain, until he abruptly stopped, and got to his feet in a shaky manner, almost as though he were being controlled by invisible puppeteer strings. Soon he was stood on his feet, arms by his side, his fingers twitching like the legs on a spider that had just been stepped upon.
Finally, Max looked up at his companions, and his eyes opened to reveal nothing but white. His mouth opened and a long, tortured moan escaped.
"Holy shit!" cried Cliff, backing away.
"Max! No!" shouted Simon as Max extended his arms and made a lunge for his former friends, no trace of any human emotion in his eyes. Ben's shotgun fired in his hands and the top half of Max's head disappeared in a puff of red spray, before it slumped to the floor noisily.
"Holy shit!" gasped Ben. "Why the hell did that happen?! He wasn't bitten by a zombie!"
"Forget that! Where's Cliff!" continued Simon. They both looked around, only to see that their other companion had vanished during the confusion, perhaps down the alleyway just ahead of their position when they had initially stopped.
"Goddamn it!" growled Ben. "Idiot's going to get himself killed!"
"Well forget about him!" reasoned Simon. "We need to worry about ourselves for now."
"Suppose your right," admitted Ben, "even if I'm not fully comfortable with it." Simon gave him a hard glare, before he looked around and fixed his look on an open alleyway just ahead of them.
"Come on," he said. "Let's get out of here."
Before they left, Ben took one last look at Max's body. He didn't like the idea of leaving him there to rot out in the middle of nowhere, but he didn't have much of a choice really. There was no-one left to give him a decent burial anyways. And by the looks of it, he was turned into a zombie due to that wound from the bug monster back there. So did that mean risking contact with any of the city's monstrous denizens could be fatal for them? It seemed logical to assume so.
He quickly hurried after Simon.
His eyes flickered open a few times, before he finally felt the weight of the intense pain in his back struck him and he groaned loudly, reaching a hand around to make sure that he wasn't bleeding from the back of his head again. As his vision cleared, he saw bright lights overhead him, and wondered briefly if he had landed at the pearly gates of heaven, but then his vision cleared more and he saw the concrete ceiling of the subway tunnel above him.
Great, I'm still alive at least…
He tried to fore himself to sit upright, but pain hit him hard and he fell back into a prone position, groaning as he did so. So, he'd survived falling out of subway train moving at high speed, so it made sense that his body felt as though it were it had been smacked into a brick wall at high speed multiple times.
He gave himself several seconds, before he finally forced himself into standing up, and this time he succeeded, his bones creaking as he straightened up and stretched, catching a glimpse of his watch as he did so. It was just after 11 in the morning, so he'd been out at least 4 hours.
Damn, didn't realise I'd been out for that long.
He looked around again, and he saw a corpse of one of those giant fleas, lying in a puddle of its own blood, unmoving. He suddenly remembered that before he was dragged out of the train, one of those monsters was clinging to his back. It looked as though the damned thing had cushioned his fall, and just as well that the weight had killed it outright as well, otherwise it would have probably killed him before he woke up. He'd have to be a lot more careful from now on.
Having another thought, he reached into one of his jacket pockets and took out one of the small white anti-viral pills he had received from Alyssa beforehand. He opened up the small packet and swallowed one of the pills, before tucking the packet away again.
Looking around a little more, he eyed his shotgun, lying discarded at the far corner of the area he was on, a small concrete platform about 12 square feet in size. Stooping to retrieve it, he looked to his left and his right, searching for anything that could give him a clue as to where to go to next. To the left, he could make out a plain steel door, situated in the wall about 50 feet away from where he was currently stood, a single bright light illuminated above it. With a deep breath, he readied his Beretta handgun and began to walk towards it.
After a minute or so, he reached the door and stopped for a slight breather. There wasn't a sign or placard of any type on the door, just a yellow sign reading 'AUTHORISED PERSONEL ONLY'. That didn't bode very well, but he couldn't really go looking for another door, otherwise he could be stuck down here for much longer than he wished to be, especially if those fleas were still lurking about.
He looked behind him down the tunnel, thinking of the three other survivors he had been recently separated from.
Take care guys, and I hope we'll meet again in the future.
With his thoughts given to the others, he stepped through the door, letting it slam shut behind him.
He was now stood in what appeared to be a small storeroom, with several shelving units to his left, and a plain wooden desk to his right, devoid of anything remotely interesting. Overhead, a single light-bulb gave an ample amount of light for him to work with, in particular exposing the dead body that was lying in the far corner. He didn't seem that surprised to see a dead body, so used had he become to their sight in this city of the damned. What he was surprised with was the fact that this body bore the colours and equipment of the U.B.C.S. How one of their number had made it down here was beyond him, but chances were the body could hold something useful that would benefit him.
The man was a fairly youthful-looking guy with sandy-blonde hair that was cut short, along with tanned skin, but otherwise he had no noticeable features, aside from the fact that he had a bullet wound in the left side of his stomach, the blood staining his combat fatigues a considerable amount. He was holding a SIG Pro handgun in his right hand, the slide locked back in the empty position, and his ammunition pouches were all completely empty. Although in one of the pockets on the tactical vest, he did find a small pocket diary, stained slightly with blood. Opening it up, he found that the book was about half-full, the entries going back as far as January 1996, but he found the most recent entries, starting from the beginning of September.
September 13th
So today is our first day of leave in a long time. We usually have a lot of time of, since the company does a good job of keeping its creations under wraps, but recently there's been a lot of miniature outbreaks. Last week we were called out to a facility in the Rocky Mountains, fairly standard clean-up job it was. Except that Pierce was killed by one of those 'Hunters', which was a real shame. I really liked that guy.
Today also marks the 2nd anniversary of my initial date for my execution. At the last minute, the company bailed me out, and now I owe them a lifetime of thanks for giving me something else to do with my life.
September 25th
We've just received word that there could be a possible outbreak in Raccoon City, so we're all on standby in case the situation escalates. If it does get to that point, this will be the largest situation the U.B.C.S have ever been directly involved in. My stomach's doing somersaults just thinking about it.
September 26th
So we got the go-ahead to enter the city. Our objectives: to extract any civilian survivors, with an emphasis placed on Umbrella employees, of course. But this isn't like any other mission I've experienced in the last two years: this is something new altogether, like hell on earth. Literally hundreds of zombies are wandering the streets, along with other B. that seem to have mutated into existence thanks to the outbreak, some of which are completely new to me.
Most of us were wiped out within minutes of landing, and as far as I could tell, there's only a few small groups of us left, all from various platoons, all of us split off from the others, and our communications are worthless as well. I'm currently in a group with Archer, Davies, and Sergeant Ginovaef from Bravo Platoon, and we've already made plans to go towards the extraction point at the St. Michael's Clock Tower. But with the way things on the street are, I don't have much faith in getting that far.
September 27th
It's hopeless now.
Sergeant Ginovaef killed them! He turned his gun on Archer and Bridges, muttering something about 'knowing too much.' That's it, he was driven insane by everything he'd seen, I know it! I don't blame him really, but he didn't have to turn on the rest of us. I almost didn't get away myself, but he still managed to shoot me in the side, and without the proper medical supplies, I'll be dead soon. But I don't mind.
After everything I've been subjected to over the last two years as an Umbrella lackey, I don't care anymore. I agreed to work for them cause I had no choice, but I'm wishing I never did so now. The needle in the arm was bliss compared to dying in a place like this...
A small space was left, before Dean read one last line.
Sharon, I hope I get to see your face in heaven.
He sighed and lowered his head. Despite working for the company responsible for this whole mess, the U.B.C.S members didn't like them as much as he did, and there was no way out of this mess for them. He'd have to do something about that, he thought, as he threw the pocket book back onto the dead body, before noticing the black bag the mercenary was propped up next to. Taking a look inside, he found a number of small tube-like objects, and pulled one out to examine it. Curious, he bent it slightly in his hands and there was a crack sound, before the object started emitting a warm, yellow light that partially filled the room. He knew about these: glow sticks, used by military personnel mostly. The gases inside were separated by glass walls, and by giving them a quick snap, the gases would mix and emit a decent amount of light for a few minutes. Thinking they could be useful, he grabbed a few and stuck them in his side pack.
That taken care of, he stood and looked around, noticing another door opposite of the one he had entered through, also marked with a sign saying 'AUTHORISED PERSONNELONLY'. Opening it slowly, he was struck in the face with the smell of raw sewage, and he turned his head away to catch his breath. That done, he poked his head through the door again and glanced around. A set of concrete stairs lead down into pitch darkness, devoid of any form of lightning. Stepping through and holding his glow stick aloft, he readied his Beretta in his right hand.
"Here goes," he said to himself, descending the steps.
Ben stuck his head up and looked over the edge of the building they were currently on the roof of. They'd stopped for a rest, and decided that it'd be safer to camp out on the roof of small apartment building they had passed, rather than staying at ground level. They hadn't come across Cliff or any other humans during their short trip sadly. But their radios did pick up bursts of a transmission from a small group of police officers holed up in a different place across the city. But they couldn't do anything t assist, just listen to the sounds of tearing flesh and spilt blood.
"So now where do we go?" he asked, not turning to face his companion.
Down at street level, a pack of zombies shuffled by, moaning in unison, passing by where a postal van had crashed head-first into a lamp-post, crumpling the pole over completely.
"Your guess is as good as mine," replied Simon eventually, sat in a nearby corner and checking over his M4A1 for perhaps the 21st time. He didn't have much ammo left for the weapon, but then again Ben didn't have that many shotgun shells left as well, wasting a good number of them on those bug monsters from before. It seemed impossible that those frail-looking creatures could take so much punishment before keeling over…
"Great," muttered Ben, looking about some more. Then in the distance, he could see a huge structure looming, much bigger than the other surrounding buildings. It had to be the Raccoon Stadium, home pitch of the Raccoon Sharks, the city's local football team. The stadium was located just off of Bachman Street, one of the main streets in the city's southern area, and a predominant landmark for anyone trying to find their way around.
"Hey, the stadium's just over there," Ben said, pointing it out to his companion.
"Ah well, at least we're heading in the correct direction," Simon replied with a hopeful smile. "Let's take a few more minutes and get going towards it."
"Fine by me," added Ben, before his face darkened and he heard a strange sound. "Hm?"
"What is it?" asked Simon.
"Shhh!" hissed Ben. "You hear that?"
Simon focused his ears, and soon he could pick up the deep thumping noises, coming in a steady pattern towards them, from down at street level.
"What the hell is that?" asked Simon, a confused look on his face. Waiting for a few more seconds as the noises stopped fairly close to them, Ben risked poking his head over the top of the building and looking down. He quickly wished he hadn't, as he felt his stomach churn in palpable fear.
It was the same thing as before, it had to be. But up close, seeing all of its finer details, he very quickly wished it didn't have to be like that. It was huge and dressed in black, so it had to be the same thing Simon had swerved around earlier. But from here he could make out the demented grin that covered most of its visage, and the crude staples that seemed to be holding its face together like a patchwork quilt. But most of all, he noticed the stinger missile launcher it held in its right hand, and the snake-like tendril that coiled around the weapon's trigger.
"Holy…"
"What is it?" asked Simon, sticking his head over the edge to have a look, and his face fell like a lead balloon as well. "Holy crap…"
As he said that, the thing's head cocked in their general direction, and it exhaled a deep, throaty growl. Had it heard them from down there?
"Oh damn," muttered Ben.
"Move!" hissed Simon, and both of them rose up and hurried away from their position as fast as they could. As they did, they heard a guttural growl, and a metallic click as something was readied.
They threw open the door leading into the stairwell and fell through just as something slammed into their abandoned position, obliterating that entire section of roof in an immense fiery ball.
They descended the steps two at a time, and they were barging through the door that lead outside within about a minute, sprinting away in the direction of the stadium, and past a few loitering zombies, even as they heard the monstrous sound from behind them, chasing them down the alleyway.
"GRAAAGGGHHH!!!"
He waded through the sewer water that went up to just above his knees, breathing through his mouth so he didn't have to put up with the ungodly stench. He'd been down here about 10 minutes now, just following the seemingly endless network of tunnels in an attempt to find a way to the surface. The path was fairly straightforward, but every now and then he'd find a turn that lead to dead ends, so eventually he just stuck to the main route before him. The glow stick in his hand illuminated the deep brown water below him, and the plain brick walls, soiled with unmentionable stuff. He was just about begging for a monster to appear to keep him occupied-
A haunting moan bounced down the passage towards him, and he stopped in his tracks.
Best not to tempt fate again, Dean, he told himself.
Another moan, followed by the sloshing of water as something moved through the water from ahead of him. He stood still, his Beretta readied, as a shadowy form rounded the corner ahead of him and began to gradually approach. He waited a few seconds, as the creature entered the light, and he could make out the features of a man wearing the outfit of a sanitary worker, soaked and stained to the bone all over, his face covered in trash and other forms of human filth, obscuring his finer features. Squinting in the limited light, he aimed his Beretta towards the being.
BANG!
The single shot hit it between the eyes, and it landed in the water face-first with a loud splash, sinking slightly before floating atop of the water, bobbing slightly. Letting the loud ringing in his ears slip away, Dean moved on, skirting around the fallen zombie, even as it brushed up against him slightly, and around the corner, further along through the raw sewage and water he was stood in. He moved down the passage some more, around a few more corners.
As he got half-way down the next stretch of passage, his glow stick suddenly flickered and cut out, leaving him stranded in the darkness once more. He stopped where he was, trying to find a fresh stick somewhere in his side pack.
"God-damn it," he muttered.
Ad he did, another torturous moan sounded, this one quite a bit closer than the last one he'd heard. He froze again, his blood running cold. He stood in darkness for a few more seconds, listening to see if he were just hearing things, but the moan sounded again, drawing out longer than before, sending the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. He peered into the darkness, trying to discern the threat if it were nearby, but it was no use. He had to get some more light on proceedings. Reaching down, he managed to take hold of a glow stick and pulled it out of his pack, but as he did, his fingers slipped and it fell into the water, making a very noticeable sound.
Plop.
As the noise faded away down the passage, he heard another moan, and a more terrifying sound entered his ears: the sloshing of water, as something waded towards him. He'd given away his position, so he'd have to do something quickly before he got taken by surprise. Quickly, he thrusted his hand into the filthy water and felt around, grimacing as he did so. The sloshing sound came closer, as his hand closed around something and he pulled out the glow stick, caked in dirt and other unmentionable substances.
Quickly, he gave it a crack, and soft yellow light illuminated the corridor.
He turned slightly and found himself face-to-face with a dead face, its mouth full of yellowed teeth and its eyes a ghostly pale colour.
Dean instinctively shouted the first thing which came to mind.
"FUCK!"
BANG! BANG! BANG!
He thrust his gun into the face and fired off three shots in surprise, all of them burying into the evil visage and sending the zombie backwards into the water with a splash, and away from his soft flesh, luckily. He leaned up against one of the brick walls, gasping for breath at the very close call he'd just experienced. He stared down at the floating zombie, waiting for it to come back so he could shoot it a few more times, but no such luck for him in that regard. Instead, he settled on trash-talking the body a little.
"God-damned walking corpse."
With a bit of effort, he forced himself to stand off of the wall and moved on, past the floating corpse, past a network of piping across the walls. Further along the passage, he finally came to a set of metal stairs leading up and out of the water, and he offered a blessing up to whatever God it was that was helping him out until now. Ascending the steps quickly, he let the water drip off of his clothes, but he was sure that he'd never get rid of the smell of sewage on them as long as he still wore them.
Stood at the top of the stairs, he shook himself dry a little more, and wiping his filth-encrusted left hand on the wall a couple of times to remove the bulk of the dirt. That done, he looked up and focused upon a plain steel door in front of him, devoid of any warning signs. With a shrug, he pushed it open and stepped inside.
The room he was now in was of a decent size, around 25 square feet in all, with a large table taking up space in the middle of the room, a row of computer consoles along the far well, next to another door in the far corner, all finished off by a few lockers and a storage chest by the wall to his far left. Overhead, several tube lights illuminated the room, negating the need for his glow sticks anymore, so he casually discarded the one he was still holding, before he dumped his shotgun and Beretta on the table and looked about.
He approached the consoles to see that one of them seemed to map out the layout of the sewer system by way of a multitude of bright lines on a dark black surface, with features such as 'junction rooms' and 'surface access ports' marked. His current position was marked with a blinking blue light that read 'Sewage Control Room 2', and by tracing a route with his finger, he could see that he wasn't too far from a surface access point about 300 yards away to the south. At least he wouldn't have to stay down here with the rats and the filth for much longer.
Looking about, he noticed a document left on top of the table, and he walked over to have a closer look. Most of it was worthless crap about shift changes and staff responsibilities and duties, but the last page offered up something a little more interesting.
Once a month, officials from Umbrella Inc. will inspect the facilities to ensure that security for them to transport their materials into the main lab facility. If anything doesn't satisfy their demands, then the utmost effort shall be put into ensuring that by the time of the next inspection their needs will be better satisfied. After all, we don't want them to pull our funding, do we?
In addition to these Umbrella-sanctioned inspections, we'll have a visit from the chief of police, Brian Irons once a month as well, just to ensure that things are running smoothly as well. Some might think that this is all a bit too much with regards with inspection duties, but I should remind you all of why exactly we're being paid these huge bonuses: so nobody finds out about what's going on. Otherwise, it'll be all our necks on the line!
Dean mused this over for a while. It at least proved that Umbrella were up to no good below the city, using the sewer system as a secret transport system for their more illegal operations it would seem. If they'd created a virus that was the root of this whole mess, then who knows what else they were up to in secret? And it also showed that the Chief Irons was involved in the covering up of their activities, further proof of his corruption: he'd gone and sold the entire R.P.D out long before he started trying to gun his own officers down.
He looked over into the far corner of the room and spied several large crates and barrels, all bearing the Umbrella Corporation logo. So this place was being used to smuggle Umbrella products into the city. But what kind of products? The illegal type, most probably.
With a shake of his head, Dean dropped the document back on the table and walked over to the lockers on the far wall. One by one, he opened each one and checked out the interior in case there was anything useful he could use inside. But most of them were either empty or filled with useless junk such as spare clothes and worker's overalls. But when he opened the final locker, he took a step backwards and just stared for what seemed like an age.
"Holy shit!"
Propped up inside the locker was a grenade launcher, an RGB-6 model to be precise, complete with a 6-round revolving chamber and a case of grenades with red-coloured warheads, identifying them as napalm gel-loaded rounds. Whoever got a hold of this weapon most definitely broke the law: weapons like that weren't very legal, so to speak. But right now, protocol had been pretty much thrown out the window, so anything would help him right now. A post-it note had been stuck to the side of the weapon's revolving chamber, and it simply said:
Whoever finds this, it should come in handy against those damned pests that have taken over the tunnel ahead. Burn them all to hell!
He figured that the 'pests' mentioned in the note weren't of the regular variety, considering the current situation. Curious, he left the locker and opened the other door in the room, peering out into the next area. He saw a long catwalk at his level, suspended over running water about 20 feet below. The brick ceiling and most of the wall surfaces were covered in webs, huge webs that couldn't have been made by regular sized-spiders. His mind wandered back to the giant spiders he had tussled with back at the clock tower.
Slowly, he closed the door and returned to the still-open locker with the grenade launcher still propped-up inside it. Removing the note and crumpling it up, he tossed it aside before he removed the bulky weapon and slung the strap over his shoulder, feeling the considerable weight on his person, but he had to endure it if he wanted to use the weapon. With that done, he then reached for the case of rounds and counted out 12 spare napalm rounds which he dropped into his side-pack, which was just about full now.
Clicking open the revolving chamber, he saw that the weapon was already fully-loaded, and satisfied, he clicked it shut again. Now he was fully set to go, he hoped. Approaching the door again, he pushed it open and stepped through, letting it swing shut behind him.
The small store looked abandoned from the outside, aside from the occasional twitching of the window blinds and the two pairs of eyes which looked outside every now and then, searching for danger outside.
"I think the coast is clear," muttered one of the voices.
"You sure?" asked the other voice.
"Well he hasn't come by in 10 minutes, so I'd assume so," replied the first voice. Several seconds later, two men emerged from the store. One was dressed in the uniform of the R.P.D and armed with a Remington shotgun, while the other was dressed in full black combat gear, complete with Kevlar body armour and heavy combat boots, being armed with an M4A1 assault rifle. Both men's clothes were tattered and heavily blood-stained.
"Well let's get going, please," urged Ben, looking around. It was nearly mid-day now, and the sun was at its highest point in the sky, somewhat alleviating the harsh atmosphere of the city that he had already witnessed before. He squinted through the light as he surveyed the broken streets he used to call home. He recognised the street they were on as Bachman Street, one of the main roads in the southern city that lead straight to the Raccoon Stadium: he and Dean took this route all the time in the past, when they and others from the R.P.D went to attend the local football games. But those times seemed ages ago now: the street was a shell of its former self, with shop windows smashed in, light poles bent or uprooted from the ground, and cars piled atop one another, into mounds of twisted metal. Worse of all, the mid-day light exposed the blood which seemed to coat practically every surface he could think of: the pavement, the broken shards of glass from former windows, the wrecked vehicles, everything. He shuddered at the thought of countless human bodies being viciously torn apart and their life blood splattering onto anything in range.
"Ben!" shouted Simon, standing ahead of Ben on the street. Ben looked up, broken out of his thought processes. "The longer we stand about means the less time we have to get out of here, so shake a leg!"
"Fine," replied Ben, hurrying after his companion.
Their walk down the road was fairly uneventful, but they stayed alert all the same, their weapons readied and nosing into any dark corner they came across, in case of a threat lurking within. Black crows pecked at the odd desecrated corpse they came across, but they would take flight as the survivors approached, circling in the sky a few times before disappearing over nearby buildings. They cawed as they circled, but aside from that the only sounds that could be heard were the haunting moans of the city's former residents echoing down the streets.
"The sooner we get out of here the better," muttered Simon, looking around fearfully.
"Amen to that," replied Ben. "But still, it sounds weird, saying that about the city I live in."
"Far as I'm concerned," interjected Simon, "this isn't our home anymore."
"But-"
"Look around Ben!" snapped Simon, turning to face his companion. "This isn't our home anymore! It's nothing but a God-damned necropolis, full of these undead bastards!"
"But it was still our home!" replied Ben. "It can't be that easy to just cast that feeling off, can it?!"
"It is when your former friends are trying to rip your face off and eat it."
Ben just grumbled and turned away, trying not to get himself too stressed out due to current circumstances, even if Simon made a few logical observations. But as he turned away and looked back down the way they'd come, he froze on the spot when he saw something he didn't particularly want to.
"Oh crap…"
He saw the huge brutish beast striding down the road toward them, its face set in a demonic grin and a stinger missile launcher in its hand, its free hand flexing itself open and shut constantly. The monster breathed, and he saw a great cloud of hot breath escape from between its fang-like teeth. At that moment, Ben felt his stomach churning in fear.
Simon had noticed the same sight by now, and his face paled considerably. "Oh shit…"
"It followed us this far?!" asked Ben in a panicked manner, readying his weapon.
"Looks like it!" replied Simon, raising his M4 and firing a few bursts.
The rounds smacked into the monster's broad chest, drawing small squirts of blood from each impact, but it didn't even slow down, not even as it raised its missile launcher and readied a round into the chamber.
"Oh fuck-"
"Get down!" cried Ben, throwing himself into the air and tackling his companion into relative cover behind a crashed police cruiser. They hit the ground just as there was a 'whoosh' sound, and a dart-like object whistled past them at about torso-level. It flew straight and smacked straight into an abandoned store front, putting out all of the glass and causing an immense fireball to issue out from inside and blossom up into the sky.
"Geez, that was close!" cried Simon, even as he felt the heat from the new fire wash over his face.
"Yeah well, we gotta get out of here, now!" shouted Ben, dragging Simon to his feet. Standing up, he saw the hulking monster slowly approaching them once again, its stinger launcher lowered for the time being. The two cops quickly but carefully moved away from their position, towards the wrecked store with smoke billowing out of it, and around the nearby corner and down the street to put some distance between themselves and their pursuer. They made it about 50 feet before they looked over their shoulders to see the beast closing in, its face still locked in that same demented expression.
"It won't be easy to lose him!" seethed Ben through gritted teeth.
Simon was about to reply when he noticed a red drum barrel on the side of the road, close to the monster's current path. Chances were that drum was full of highly flammable material, and they could use it to their advantage if they acted quickly.
"Well let's blow him to hell then!" the S.W.A.T officer cried, indicating the oil drum he had just spied previously, and Ben took one look, before he figured out Simon's plan by himself and just nodded in approval. Helping his friend stand up, he took a step backwards, readying his shotgun just in case. Simon set his sights over the oil drum and readied himself, letting the monster take another couple of steps towards them, until it was right next to the oil drum.
This should wipe that grin off of your face…
He fired a single shot into the stationary drum.
BOOM!
A sudden explosion erupted, engulfing the one-eyed monster in the resulting fireball and nearly knocking the two humans off of their feet. Shielding their faces momentarily as the heat wave washed over, they then lowered their hands to see the flames clearing, revealing the huge beast lying face-first on the ground, flames licking around its body. It wasn't moving, which was a good thing, but Simon would've preferred to see it blown into bloody chunks instead.
"Damn, that was a rush!" he exclaimed instead.
"Crude thinking, but it got the job done," added Ben, standing up straight.
"Well what would you have suggested?" asked Simon, a note of annoyance in his voice. Ben was about to answer when a low growl reached their ears. They both turned to face the fallen monster.
"Oh, you can't be serious!" cried Ben, staring in disbelief.
The huge body shifted, and then began to push itself to its feet, the flames still licking around its chest and arms. A couple of painfully long seconds later, it was back on its feet, its towering stature now made even more intimidating due to the fires swirling around it. It threw its head back and let out an earth-shaking roar that threatened to deafen both of them into submission. Then it turned to glare at the two humans it had been chasing, the flesh around its single eye charred and blackened due to the flames, but it didn't seem to notice that detail as it started to approach the pair again.
"Oh God-damn it!" cried Simon. "Run!"
Ben didn't need to be told twice, as he turned and chased after the S.W.A.T officer down the street as fast as they could manage. Behind them came the flaming one-eyed monster, roaring in fury once again.
Dean's footsteps echoed off of the metal walkway he was currently crossing, following a linear path that would hopefully lead him to some kind of salvation, he hoped. He glanced at the walls every couple of seconds, warily eyeing the huge cobwebs that covered the brickwork. He also listened out for that familiar humming noise that he had previously heard before at the clock tower, just waiting for a giant arachnid to come out of hiding to attack when he least expected it. Other than his footsteps, the only other sounds were the running water below him and the sound of his own breathing, slow but fearful at the same time.
He stopped and re-adjusted the strap on his recently-acquired grenade launcher for what seemed like the hundredth time. Although the weapon would've given him some much-needed firepower, it still weighed a damn ton and was uncomfortable to carry. But still, he didn't intend to carry it for very long anyway.
Then he heard that sound. A low, incessant humming noise, from somewhere nearby.
Immediately, he stopped what he was doing and looked around, scanning the walls with his newly acquired weapon. A few seconds later, a large hairy form appeared from one of the thick web clusters on the wall just ahead of him. He spied the black and yellow colouration and the beady eyes which stared straight through him, filled with an evil intent.
Quickly, he raised the grenade launcher and pulled the trigger. There was a 'whumpf' sound, quickly followed by a grenade exiting the weapon barrel, a trail of smoke curling away behind it. The grenade round hit the spider right on the top of its body, between its abdomen and thorax.
BOOM!
There was a small explosion, and then the monster found itself showered in blazing napalm gel, its entire body immolated by red-hot flames, and it quickly lost its grip on the wall and plummeted into the raging water current below. The flames were instantly extinguished, small wisps of smoke rising up, but the damage had already been done, as it thrashed about twice and then lay completely still.
Dean stared down at the charred corpse, panting after feeling the brief heat wave washing over him from beforehand, before he looked down at the heavy weapon he held.
"Damn, this thing's got some balls!" he said to himself, rather impressed.
THUD!
The sound of something heavy landing on steel got his attention, and he looked up in time to see another of those huge spiders perched on the catwalk just ahead of him, probably drawn out by the death of its companion. It raised its front legs and let out a sort of cry, before it scuttled forward at surprising speed. Backing away in surprise, Dean readied his grenade launcher and fired it again, straight into the spider's front end. The round literally blew apart the monster's front end, obscene amounts of green blood and pus spraying onto everything in range. Dean grimaced in disgust, just before he heard more humming from somewhere behind him.
He spun around to see more huge spiders crawling along the walls, probably drawn out by the sounds of battle. He counted at least three of them before several more suddenly emerged from the network of webs closer to him, followed by yet another that appeared on the ceiling nearly directly above him, spraying out a mouthful of sickly green acid that he didn't want to get on him. He quickly hopped back at it landed on the grating just in front of him and evaporated almost instantaneously upon impact.
Cursing, he turned and started to run, hopping over the still-smouldering spider corpse that he'd just created and kept going, even as he saw more large, hairy forms appear on either side of him, their eyes filled with malicious hunger. He kept going, the grenade launcher pressed tight against his chest and his legs pumping to get him out of there as quickly as possible. The catwalk turned a few corners, and he prayed for some form of salvation to find him, as the humming sounds were descending on him from all sides, even above him, but he didn't dare look back, not once.
Finally, he turned one last corner and saw what could have been his most vivid dream up ahead: a lone steel door, built into the concrete wall just ahead of him, about 20 yards away…the final stretch. Biting down on his bottom lip, he pushed his body into an extra burst of speed, just as something heavy landed behind him and shrieked in anger as its prey had escaped its grasp. Within a couple of seconds he was at the door, grasping the handle with his sweaty palms and praying that it wouldn't be locked. Luckily for him, the handle gave way, and he wrenched the door open and fell through into the room beyond.
He landed on his front, lying there for about half a second, before he realised the situation he was in and scrambled around to face the open door he'd just fallen throw. Pushing himself onto his knees, he grabbed for the handle and slammed it shut, catching a glimpse of the hairy forms rapidly closing in from beyond. As he did, he then quickly clicked in the latch on the door, then throwing his body up against it for further support.
Something heavy slammed into the door and it shook in its frame, but Dean relented, his back firmly pressed up against the door. The door shook a couple more times, before there was shriek, and then a long, painful silence, save for Dean's panicked breaths. Several seconds passed, before he finally thought it was safe for him to take his weight off of the door.
That done, he buried his face in his hands and used all of his willpower to stop himself from bursting into tears. He couldn't put up with this much longer. He'd gotten this far, but half the time he'd been assisted by someone else, but now he was by himself, down in Raccoon City's dark underbelly, hunted by the monsters lurking down in the darkness. He'd managed by himself, of course, but how much longer could he keep that up for? He should just give up there and then. No-one was coming to rescue the city anyway, that much he had gathered. The National Guard had quarantined the city, but had made no attempt to rescue any survivors still left behind. Raccoon was a lost cause, it was obvious. And yet he was here, fighting for his life. Him, Kevin, David, Alyssa, and any other people still alive in the city, left behind to die by their own country.
Maybe he should've just given it up ages ago. That Beretta holstered at his waist started looking very tempting indeed. The thought of the cold steel barrel pressed up against his temple, before he pulled the trigger and ended all of this stress and pain once and for all: that seemed very pleasurable to him. Unknowingly, he felt his hand reaching down for the holster, undoing the latch across the top of the gun.
When his fingers brushed across the cold steel of the weapon, he had a very sudden realisation.
What the hell am I thinking?
Blowing his brains out? That was the coward's way out. And he didn't consider himself a coward.
But you could've done more to save your colleagues…
Stop it, he told himself. You can't do anything for them now, so concentrate on yourself. You've still got a family, remember? They're safe back home in Virginia. So you need to get yourself out of here so you can see them again.
It had been a long time since he'd seen his family, face-to-face. But it seemed like long enough had passed since that last time: it was time to stop worrying about the past and just get himself back there. Chances were that this whole mess would be all over Nation-wide news now, so they'd be worried sick about him. He'd have to escape and show them that he was still alive.
And there was something else as well. This virus, if it managed to get outside the city, could destroy the entire world in a matter of days due to the speed at which it spread. He couldn't let it reach his family and turn those into mindless zombies either: he'd rather die trying to prevent that. He needed to leave this city alive, for their sake, not just his.
Slowly, he forced himself to stand, shakily at first, but soon he found his solid footing again. Then he took a few deep breaths, recomposing himself.
You can do this Dean, you know you can. Just stay strong and hopeful.
That done, he stooped down and retrieved the grenade launcher lying on the ground a short distance away from him. He slung it over his shoulders and looked about. He was stood in a plain concrete corridor, that stretched ahead of him for about 20 feet, ending in a dead end with a steel door set into it. Seeing nothing else of value in the immediate area, he approached the door and reached for the handle.
The door opened with little effort, opening out into a wide-open shaft like area. A small steel catwalk lead directly to a wide open platform in the rough centre of the room, suspended above another steel grated platform below, just above the running cascade of water he'd been following through the sewer tunnels. And even more webs covered the upper walls of the room, stretching across the pipes and brick, covering practically every inch of bare surface he could see. Whatever this room was for, he couldn't tell, but he didn't have time to figure it out either way.
Slowly crossing the catwalk so he stood upon the upper platform, he saw a ladder just across from him, leading down to the lower level. Hoping that it would take him to safety, he started to approach, his ears peeled for any unusual sounds nearby.
He heard a soft humming noise, and he quickly turned, his grenade launcher readied. He saw a spider crawl out of a clump of webs just across from him, moving in careful steps before it stopped in place and remained still, aside from its breathing movements of course. But it was still far away enough from him to pose no danger yet.
Figuring that he could avoid a fight, Dean started to move slowly away from the spider, but as he turned to face the ladder, he stopped in place as he spotted a second monster arachnid, perched on the wall directly opposite where he was stood. It was just perched there, apparently not noticed him yet, despite the fact he was stood about 10 feet away. Or maybe it hunted off of movement, so it'd only strike if he made any sudden movements. Carefully, he moved his foot a little, but as he did the creature moved as well, scuttling down the wall a little.
He kept still, holding his breath. Looked like the monster wasn't going to let him go that easily, and he would be having a fight on his hands after all. Slowly, he readied his grenade launcher and aimed it up towards the spider, which remained where it was, its fangs twitching in anticipation of a future kill. Then in one sudden motion, he bought the heavy weapon up and fired.
BOOM!
The spider erupted in a burst of red-hot napalm, falling from the wall and into the water below. Quickly as he had fired, Dean turned just as the second spider leapt and landed upon the platform, shaking it due to its bulk. But quickly as it had appeared, a grenade slammed into it and reduced it to a pile of burnt flesh and cinders. He coughed a little and covered his mouth as the smell of burnt flesh reached his nostrils.
"Well-done, that's the way to do it," he quipped to himself, just as he heard another sound behind him.
He turned to face a huge series of webs that had accumulated in the far corner of the room, a mass that looked about the size of a pick-up truck. He wasn't liking the look of this, he had to admit…
He started to back away from the huge web mass, just as dust started to fall from somewhere within and something started to move within the mass, descending down onto the same platform he was currently stood on. It was another of those spiders, but this one was immense in size, at least twice the size of the others, and its body was a dull grey in colour, with deep black stripes across its body as well. Its legs were almost as thick as Dean's body itself, and its eyes were at least as big as dinner plates. And it's fangs were the size of swords and dripping with translucent venom. It's overall bulk took up nearly a third of the overall platform area.
"Holy…shit…" he murmured in response.
The giant spider reared its front legs up, just as another two regular sized-spiders appeared from the huge web cluster and began to scuttle across the walls either side of them, apparently drawn out by the big grey one. Like it was their queen almost. But either way if he had to deal with the grey queen and all the small spiders he'd be in trouble, especially if the ammo for his grenade launcher ran out prematurely. So he'd have to make a run for it when it came to the crunch.
Deciding that he'd delayed events long enough; Dean raised his grenade launcher and fired off a round into the queen spider. The round saturated a small area of its flesh in napalm gel, and caused it to shriek out loud, but that was about it. Afterwards, the beast set its sight on Dean and suddenly launched itself across the platform at lightning speed.
"Shit!"
Dean hit the ground and rolled aside, just as the monster barrelled into where he'd just been stood a second beforehand. Coming up in a crouched position, Dean quickly fired the last napalm round in the chamber into the side of the spider, scolding a large portion of the side of its abdomen away. It shrieked again and shook its body, as Dean emptied the grenade launcher's chamber and unloaded the spent rounds, loading the fresh ones one at a time in a painfully slow process.
He'd loaded three of them just as he noticed a regular-sized spider landed upon the far corner of the platform and started to eye him up maliciously. Swearing silently, he loaded the last three rounds into the launcher as quickly as he could, just as the spider raised its legs and charged straight at him. He finally managed to click the weapon shut and raise it up as the beast was only about 10 feet away from him.
BOOM!
The round blew apart the front end of the spider in a shower of smoke and flame, and Dean quickly brought a hand up to his mouth to block out the stench of burnt flesh. But just as quickly he had to roll away again as green poison rained down on his position. He heard the hiss of it evaporating as it struck the steel grating, as he came up on the opposite side of the recent charred spider corpse, keeping it between him and the queen spider.
The latter reared its front legs up again, showing the green liquid that dripped off of its huge fangs, just before Dean sent a napalm grenade into the joint of one of the limbs, snapping the leg off as the flames burned straight through. The queen shrieked in agony and backed away, eventually crawling back up onto one of the surrounding walls of the room. It looked in pain, which wasn't surprising considering someone had been shooting it with a grenade launcher.
Remaining in its perch, the queen shrieked again, drawing out a few more regular-sized spiders that crawled out of the web clusters dotting the walls around him. Seemed like the queen had had enough for now. Dean just gritted his teeth and readied the grenade launcher as the first spider landed upon the platform with a loud clang.
He fired just as it landed, blowing it apart with ease, just as a second one landed a few feet away and shot a jet of poison towards him. He ducked and rolled to the side, before giving it a grenade to the face. He'd barely recovered from that attack though when he heard a loud thud behind him. He spun around, only to get caught off-guard as a spider launched itself at him and caught him in the stomach.
The wind knocked from him, Dean felt himself fall back, before he walked into the railing that surrounded the platform and felt himself falling over into thin air, with nothing to break his fall.
He seemed to free-fall for several seconds (but in reality was about half a second), before he landed shoulder-first on something hard, the grenade launcher flying out of his grasp. He coughed hard, amazed that he didn't break anything in the fall, before he tried to roll onto his side to get a better view of what was going on, but intense pain flared up, preventing him from doing so. He went back onto his back, giving him a good view of the underside of the platform above him. At least he hadn't landed in the water, otherwise he would be in trouble.
Another monstrous shriek woke him up from his pain-induced stupor though, and he quickly rolled to the side just as yet another gout of poison spittle passed through where he'd been lying a short while beforehand. He got to his feet and looked around for his grenade launcher, as another giant spider fell to the ground a short distance away. He slowly backed away from it, still searching for his elusive grenade launcher. But the monster was giving him no chance to, as it reared up and charged at him. Left with no choice, Dean reached behind him and drew his shotgun once again.
BOOM!
The first shot blew off one of the spider's legs, but didn't slow it down.
BOOM!
His next shot struck it on the body, and it flinched and stopped in place.
BOOM!
His final shot hit it on the top of its head, and it flipped over onto its back, thrashing around for a little while, blood leaking from its ruptured skull, before its legs curled in into itself and it remained still. Dean cursed at the dead monster, just as he spied the grenade launcher lying a few feet away and made a dash for it. He managed to pick it up and hold it in front of him, just as he heard another shriek from above him.
The queen spider suddenly reappeared, crawling over the edge of the upper platform so it was hanging on the underside of the platform, before it let go and it gracefully flipped over in mid-air and landed on its feet on Dean's current level, hard enough to shake the platform considerably. He stood his ground though, even as it raised its legs in a threatening manner. Then it opened its fangs and squirted out another jet of steaming poison towards him.
He ducked and rolled aside, the venom harmlessly passing through the grating and into the rushing water below, evaporating into nothing. He fired the grenade launcher again, hitting it in the side of the head and causing it to shriek violently, more violently that usual. He didn't let up though, firing another round into the side of its body and burning away even more of its skin into the bargain. It backed away, flailing its legs around, giving Dean a perfect opportunity to launch the last round in the chamber into its underbelly, scorching it badly and forcing it to back even further away from him. He took the time to load the final six rounds into the grenade launcher, wondering if it were enough to finish the damned thing off. The giant flea back at the subway tunnel was about a shard to put down, but he had help of other people back then, and here he was by himself. He should've been killed ages ago. But his will to live on had kept him going this far.
He changed position as the enraged queen spun on the spot to extinguish the flames still engulfing her body, before fixing her gaze upon Dean and spurting out another jet of poison in his direction. He side-stepped as the liquid sprayed off of the railing next to him, before he fired another grenade that landed on the top of the queen's body, igniting it in flame. The huge spider shrieked once again, before it charged at him again, its legs raised threateningly.
Steeling himself for the spider's assault, Dean waited until the last possible moment, before he dropped to the ground and rolled to the side, the spider instead ramming into the railing he was stood in front of instead, its immense bulk finding itself caught on the bent steel and unable to get free. Dean watched with a small amount of pity as it thrashed in an attempt to get free, but to no avail. Yet, he had no choice but to put the monster down, before it did the same to him. Standing in a position behind the monster, he aimed at its bulbous abdomen and fired.
The first round streaked straight into the spider's body, engulfing it in napalm and eliciting another shriek of agony, but Dean relented and fired two more rounds into the same spot, the sheer power of the rounds blowing a sizeable portion of its abdomen into bloody pieces and causing an obscene amount of blood to pour out through the platform into the water below. The giant beast flailed around a few more times, before it finally crashed to the ground, its body now fully spent of any fight it still had. Flames continued to lick around its body, charring any parts that hadn't been touched previously. The monster's grey and black striped body was now rapidly becoming a charcoaled mass, considering the effect the napalm gel had.
Dean fell into a seated position on the floor, taking in a big gulp of air, but quickly regretting it as he got a lungful of the smell of burnt flesh. He coughed roughly instead, spitting out a large glob of phlegm into the bargain. He backed away from the giant charred corpse, watching with some form of morbid fascination as it the fire started to spread across its entire body and along its remaining legs, eager to swallow up every last trace of the monster.
He finally offered himself a sigh of relief, letting the grenade launcher hang loose in his hands for a moment. He wiped down his sweaty brow and looked around, his sight settling on a door set into the wall off to his left. The sign above it just read 'Surface Access'.
"Good enough for me," he muttered, walking towards it. But then suddenly, a noise from above him caught his attention.
Another giant spider landed directly in front of him, poised to strike. His heart nearly jumped into his throat as he hopped back a short distance. At the same time, the creature hissed and opened its fangs wide, squirting out another stream of poison towards him.
Dean moved to the side as quickly as he could muster, twisting his body as he did so to avoid the deadly liquid. But despite his attempts, a large drop of poison landed on the right sleeve of his jacket, burning straight through the denim and onto his bare skin.
He screamed in agony as the deadly substance made contact. Only a small amount had made contact, but to him it felt like someone had driven a red-hot poker into his flesh. Dean managed to get enough of his drive back to fire a grenade into the offending spider's face, blowing it to pieces. He didn't stop to examine his handiwork as he fell to the ground and clutched at his right arm in agony. He stared at where the venom had made contact on his skin: the area was charred black in some places, and small holes pockmarked the skin as well.
Then he started to feel dizzy. His vision darkened somewhat and his head felt as though it were swimming. Quickly, he shook his head to clear his vision, and when that didn't work, he slapped himself with his left hand a couple of times, which worked, for the time being.
I've been poisoned… he thought. So how long have I got before I drop dead?
He had to get somewhere safe; if he was caught out when he was in this state then he wouldn't stand a chance. He forced himself to stand, staggering and nearly falling as he did so, before he forced himself towards the surface access door, his vision still blurry and barely able to keep himself on his feet into the bargain.
Another shriek sounded somewhere behind him, followed by that dreaded humming sound coming closer and closer. He looked around behind him, only to see a black and yellow blur crawling down the wall across from him, before it made the leap onto the platform he was on, the sounds it were making sounded very muted to his fuddled senses. He kept himself going, his legs turning to jelly even as he reached for the door handle and pulled it open.
He fell through and slammed the door behind him, just as something heavy slammed onto it from the other side and shrieked in vain. He didn't pay much attention though as he suddenly pitched forward and landed face-first on the hard ground, bringing his hand up in time to stop himself from bashing his face off of the ground. He stared ahead down the corridor, his vision blurring into a muted blend of light and shadow. His body temperature was soaring; sweat bullets dripping down his forehead and his armpits rapidly turning damp as he dragged himself forward a short distance.
Dean rolled onto his front and gasped for breath, but it felt like a futile effort. His head felt as though it was going to explode, and he desperately wanted something to drink, so dry was his throat. He tried to force himself up, but he felt bound to the ground, and he quickly fell down again. He couldn't move very far, and he had no way to cure the poison: it looked as though this were the end of the line for him. Strange how his life would end in some godforsaken sewer underneath his former home city, and not back at home, surrounded by his family and loved ones. He allowed his head to fall to the side, accepting defeat.
The he saw his salvation a few inches away: a long pot plant, filled with small blue plants. Blue herbs, another natural flora of the Raccoon area. Unlike the green variety, this type were known to cure a number of natural poisons and toxins, either eaten raw or as a ground-up powder. He didn't really have time at the moment, so the latter method would be thrown out the window, so to speak.
Gathering the last of his strength he reached out and grabbed one of the plants, ripping it out of its bedding in one swift move and overturning the pot into the bargain. Bringing the plant close to his face, he used both of his hands to crush it down into a mouth-sized portion, before he went and shoved it straight into his mouth, no questions asked. He chewed the plant up for a few seconds, the taste of the sap and the dirt on the roots being far from pleasant, and then he finally swallowed it down, feeling the rough texture on his throat.
He continued to lie there for several seconds, his condition not changing at all. Dean was about ready to give up there and then, his eyes nearly fully closed. But then, he felt his temperature beginning to fall, and his vision was starting to clear. He could pick out the outline of the light bulb that hung above him, and of the cracks in the ceiling concrete. Slowly, he felt the heaviness in his body starting to fade away, and soon enough he found himself able to get up into a seated position. He sat there for a while, rubbing his face free of sweat and taking long gulps of air. Soon enough, his fever had gone right down and he felt as though he was ready to go 10 rounds with another van-sized spider. Slowly, he stood up and stretched.
"Well I'll never doubt those herbs again," he said aloud, looking down at the pot of blue plants next to his feet. Looking around, he stooped to collect the grenade launcher, and then continued along his way, searching for a way out of this damned place.