beChapter 12: Rumbling
(REBECCA)
"Do you hear that?" one of the kids asked, her ears suddenly perking up. They'd finally gotten them to lay down for awhile, and Rebecca wasn't far from mentally cursing when this one woke the others up.
"It's probably nothing" Maddie said, trying to get them to calm back down. The sound of the zombies pounding on the walls outside hadn't disturbed the kids as much as it had everyone else; Rebecca figured they just didn't quite get what was going on. In a way (a very detached way), Rebecca felt sorry for them. Odds are the kids were now all each other had; all their other friends and family were almost certainly dead, either eaten or infected.
Rebecca was willing to chalk it up to the kids' imaginations, except at roughly the same moment, Chase and Billy stood up and looked at each other, equally confused looks on their faces.
"That sounds like-" started the former Army Ranger.
"Treads!" finished the former US Marine. He turned to the others. "Those are treaded vehicles outside. Tanks, APCs, heck, I'm not too picky to not take a halftrack. Point is, I think we're about to be rescued!"
Everyone stared at him for a moment. Then, like the rising sun, comprehension dawned on everyone's face. As one, the civilians started to rush the door.
"Wait!" shouted Chase, firing his M14 into the air, the distinctive crack of the battle rifle in the confined space causing everyone to stop and flinch. "Before we all go running outside, we need to talk to these people. Make sure they're able to take us all…and they're who they claim to be." He pointed to Karen and Rita. "You two stay with the others. Billy, Rebecca, and I will go take a look."
Rebecca checked her shotgun at the door, making sure there was a shell in the chamber. The Remington was far and away not her favorite weapon, but it was better than the Samurai Edge. She shuddered a little as she remembered trying to fight one of the BOWs Umbrella called a hunter with just the 9mm. Even the timely arrival of Mat and Chris had only barely gotten her out of that alive, and Mat had gotten his face badly scarred as a result. There was no sense in not being careful, when the alternative was death.
"Rebecca, keep the door open" Chase said quietly, his M14 clutched across his chest at low ready. "Billy, watch my back. If things go south, lay down suppressive fire." His eyes fixed on Rebecca's. "But if things look bad, put the safety of the group ahead of us. If those guys attack, shut the door. Don't let them in, even if it means letting us die. Think you can do it?"
Rebecca nodded slowly, her eyes a little wide. She hadn't quite considered the possibility of having to leave Billy or Chase outside with zombies and hostile soldiers, and she wasn't sure she could do it…
Chase's eyes narrowed. "You had better get your head in the game, Sergeant, right now. Got it?"
"Yes sir."
"Good. Let's go."
Chase pushed the door open, turning the knob with his left hand, leaning against it with his right shoulder, the M14 held awkwardly against his body up and ready. He opened the door halfway, then turned and swept the rifle back and forth, before waving Billy and Rebecca forward. "Clear" he said, his voice low.
Rebecca crouched in the doorway, the Remington held against her shoulder, the barrel aimed at the ground at an angle, her head swiveling back and forth, eyes peeled for anything out to kill her or her friends.
The rumbling was getting louder. Rebecca figured out why the infected hadn't reacted to them leaving the building; all undead eyes were on the three squat tracked vehicles rattling and belching their way down the street.
They didn't look like tanks, Rebecca noticed immediately. True, the things were armored, and they had treads, but they lacked a big canon mounted on top. Instead, it had a single, smaller turret mounted toward the front of the body, a shorter-barreled gun mounted on it.
Soldiers flanked each machine, which ambled along at a leisurely pace. The sight of the men made Rebecca' heart fill with relief; each man wore dark green fatigues and helmets, with M16s cradled in their arms. Rebecca couldn't make them out clearly, but she knew the Velcro patches on their shoulders would by a bi-chromatic representation of the American flag.
"Howdy!" Chase called out, lowering the M14 to waist level.
"Fuck!" exclaimed one of the soldiers as he and several of his comrades whirled in his direction, M16s suddenly aimed at him.
"Identify!" one of them shouted, as two more soldiers jogged forward, their rifles also trained on Chase.
"Chase Mathison, Raccoon City Police Department. Over there is Rebecca Chambers, also RPD, and Billy, a survivor we picked up earlier."
"Relax guys, they're clear" said another soldier, this one with a corporal's twin stripes. He turned to Chase. "Sorry Officer. We had a run-in with some guys a while ago who claimed to be civies, right up till they started shooting."
Chased nodded. "I understand. I think we may've run into them too, earlier this morning. I hope you killed the bastards, and they didn't get too many of you."
The corporal grinned savagely. "Not to worry, Officer. We gave considerably better than we got, I promise you. That group of fuckwits won't be bothering anyone ever again." He paused. "Where'd you guys come from, anyway? We didn't see you until you were right on top of his. Damn near gave Wallace a heart attack."
"Fuck you, Greer" replied the soldier who'd shouted earlier, a look of embarrassment on his face.
"We got about two dozen survivors in that warehouse behind me" said Chase, gesturing with his left hand. "We heard you coming and were hoping you'd be willing to give us a lift."
Greer smiled, an odd expression given the sunglasses he and the others wore. "Officer, that's what we're hear for." He spoke into a boom-mike mounted on his helmet, then turned back to face the police. "Call your people out. We'll load 'em up. I say it's about time we got you folks to safety."
The next fifteen minutes were a surreal blur for Rebecca. The soldiers ("Colorado National Guard," Corporal Wallace, who looked strangely familiar, had proudly told her) established a perimeter around the warehouse front, two teams of three training the rifles down each alley, picking off any infected foolish enough to start shuffling their way. While the Guardsman kept the zombies occupied, the survivors piled into the three APCs.
Rebecca found herself in the same one as Billy and Karen, who had spent the last few minutes hobbling around on an ankle she'd sprained when she and Rita fell off the ladder a hours earlier. Chase and Rita had ended up in another, along with Elza Walker, while Maddie, Loretta, and the kids filled up a third. The soldiers marched alongside their vehicles, although none of them complained.
"Ma'am, we've had to do much worse stuff than this on training missions" one of them said nonchalantly.
It was hard for Rebecca to grasp, but things might actually turn out okay for her and the others. They might actually manage to make it through this alive.
Also inside the APC were two other survivors, One was a gangly young man about twenty-two years old, wearing big glasses, a medium-quality camera hanging from his neck over an "I Want to Believe" t-shirt.
"Andy Hughes" he said, extending his hand to Billy and Rebecca in turn. "Monster hunter." He went on to elaborate on that subject for a few minutes; essentially, he was a freelance photographer who sold pictures of various cryptid (although he'd never call them that) to all the black-and-white tabloids that dotted grocery store checkout lines. Andy was a true believer, though, one of the few members of the "next generation" of creature chasers. He'd been all over America, including canoeing up and down the James River looking for a rumored roving island in Arkansas. He'd come to Raccoon City after the first reports of a new breed of predator had come in, but due to the RPD's blockade of the Arklay Forest, he'd been kept out of harm's way, stuck at his hotel room until yesterday, when everything had hit the fan. He kept grinning, an expression that was at once annoying and yet disarmingly honest. "When I get oughtta here, am I ever gonna have some great shots!" he finished his story. Billy rolled his eyes in disgust, but didn't say anything.
The other survivor was a quite man in his mid twenties named Freddy Cuellar. Judging by the redness around his eyes and his generally disheveled appearance, Rebecca suspected he'd been frequenting bars when the outbreak had started. He didn't volunteer much about his own past up until he'd saved Andy from a horde of undead ("They wanted to eat you, you asinine little prick" he'd said irritably, interrupting the photographer's story); the two had been traveling together right up until meeting the National Guardsman about ninety minutes earlier. Freddy had a big, bolt-action Sako 75 rifle with a medium range scope sitting propped against one leg, and Rebecca could see the butt of some sort of revolver peeking out of a very ratty looking dark green jacket. Clearly this was a man who'd been through a lot more than just the nightmare of Raccoon City, and Rebecca didn't feel inclined to ask for more information.
Corporal Greer had climbed into the APC with Chase, leaving Rebecca, Karen, and Billy with the group's officer, a lieutenant named Carlson. This was a dour man of about twenty-seven with a serious-looking mustache and a face that never seemed to change expressions. He sat towards the front of the vehicle in silence. Billy eventually must've gotten tired of the quiet and struck up a question.
"This is a triple-A V. Why are we using an amphib transport instead of a Bradley or something?"
Carlson blinked at him in surprise. "You know something about APCs? Just a hobby, or-?"
"I was in the Marines a while back" Billy replied, somewhat evasively. "I keep in touch. When I was in, the AAAV was just being deployed. How'd a National Guard unit in Colorado manage to get its hands on three?"
"They're on loan from the Marine Corps" Carlson explained. "The Interstate bridge was dropped in the Arklay at about two this morning; I assume it was to keep those…things from getting out. Unfortunately, that also left the National Guard without a way to get our people in the city, but the Marines were more than willing to let us borrow some of their landers. They've set up a command post outside the city, after…well, let's just say the Ranger chalks sent in ahead of us haven't been heard from for a while. Which reminds me…" he continued, reaching back for a radio. "I'm supposed to call in to report any civilians we pick up, so the folks from FEMA and the CDC can prepare." He held the radio to his ear. "Lookout Actual, this is Gamma Actual, over."
There was a burst of static, then a gruff voice over the radio. "Gamma Actual, this is Major Nero. What is it, over?"
"Sir, my unit has encountered a large group of civilians, including four police officers. We are full-up and RTB, over."
"Understood, Gamma. I'll have people standing by to debrief your team. Lookout Actual out."
Carlson handed back the radio, then turned to face Billy. "Say, you might know some of the Marines at the Lookout. Major Nero's been flying 'em in since last night, along with us Guardsman and some regular Army pukes. Who knows, you might get to see some old friends?"
"Well, I dunno…" said Billy. "The Corps is pretty big…" But Rebecca could see the look in his eyes, the one that had first appeared when he heard this Major Nero's voice over the radio. Nero at least was someone from his past; someone who probably wouldn't be too terribly happy to see Billy again, maybe even one of the men from his old unit who'd framed him for murder. And if Nero was in charge of the evacuation point…
Billy's going to be in trouble when we get the chance to get out of here Rebecca thought glumly.
Well guys, sorry for the long break between chapters. Hope you like these two!
The character of Freddy Cueller is from Lotsofimagination. I'm looking for more potential OCs for stuff later on down the line, so if anyone has any they'd like to submit, let me know. I can't promise big parts, but they will show up.
Thanks!
Godzillafan93