Chapter 33:
Last Stand
(REBECCA)
There were tennis shoes in her locker in the STARS office. Rebecca gladly changed into them, happy to finally be out of her boots. They were cute, but not the best thing in the world for running around in. She made a face. She hadn't ever managed to break them in, and the middle of the zombie apocalypse probably wasn't the best time to try. Her feet hurt. A lot.
"Huh. Never would've figured you for a cowgirl."
Rebecca whirled around, startled, at the voice, only to find Billy Coen standing in front of the closed door.
"Oh…It's you" she said coldly, not in the least bit happy to see him.
"Sorry I scared you" he replied, smiling that same slightly smug grin he'd worn when they'd first met, like he found Rebecca amusing.
"You didn't scare me" she replied. "I just…didn't hear you come in."
Billy nodded slowly, not buying it. "Sure." He pointed to the boots she'd just taken off. "So, what's the story with those? You moonlight at some little midnight rodeo? Does Dawson know? That doesn't seem like his style, but hey, who am I to judge? Just cuz your buddy's a massive asshole doesn't mean a thing to me."
Rebecca didn't rise to the bait. "What do you want, Billy?"
Billy raised his hands defensively. "Hey, hey. Easy there, doll face. Just calm down a little. I only want to talk."
"I'm not stopping you" she replied, irritably. "And no one calls me doll face."
"Where is all this hostility coming from?" Billy asked, sounding genuinely confused. He leaned against the wall next to the fax machine, crossing his arms over his chest. "I thought we were…buddies or some shit like that. What's the deal?"
"The deal is you left me" Rebecca replied.
Billy rolled his eyes. "Are you kidding me? That's what this is all about-?"
"I wasn't finished" Rebecca interrupted, glaring at him. "You left me. I understood that much. The others would've tried to arrest you, and my word would've have been enough. I get that." She paused, taking a deep breath. "But why are you still here? What are you doing still in Colorado, let alone Raccoon City?"
"I was…lying low" Billy said vaguely. "I didn't know what else to do."
"Fine" Rebecca said. "Then why didn't you come looking for me? Why did you run when I saw you?"
"I…" Billy paused, thinking for a minute. "I didn't want to…complicate things for you. You're young, and you have your whole career ahead of you. I didn't want to jeopardize that by showing up on your front door."
"But you were perfectly willing to let me lie to my friends about you!" Rebecca snapped. "After all that, don't you think I deserved to know what happened to you?"
"Maybe" Billy said, not meeting her eyes. "Maybe you did…"
Rebecca snorted, standing up. "Maybe" she repeated, still angry, stepping past him and out the door. She paused there, not looking at him. "Was there something you wanted?"
"I heard you were going back into the city, so we could all get out of here" he replied.
"And?"
"And I just wanted to wish you luck" Billy replied. "I've been out there. You're gonna need it."
"Thanks, Billy" Rebecca said, heading down the hall. She didn't look back.
(CHASE)
Chase held the small medallion in one hand, studying the surface. "Unicorns" he said quietly. "Why?"
Rita shrugged. "This used to be an art museum. When the city converted it to the main precinct, they left most of the exhibits behind. I guess this is one of the leftovers."
"And, naturally, it's sitting on top of the sewer tunnel."
Rita smiled faintly. "Yeah. Odd, ain't it?"
"Odd is not the word I'd choose" said Mat, shaking his head. "Bat-shit crazy, maybe. But odd just doesn't quite do the stupidity of this justice."
Rita turned to look at him. "You were all fine with this a few minutes ago. Why the sudden change of heart?"
Mat pulled the magazine out of his P90 and began to slide bullets inside. Snick. Snick. "It's not the plan I have a problem with." Snick. Snick. Snick. "Just who's going."
"Who's going?" a voice asked.
Chase turned to see Rebecca coming toward them.
"I don't like you two going out there alone" he said. "Why don't I go with you?
"Mat, we've been over this" said Rebecca tiredly. "You need to stay here on the barricade. At least one of us needs to be here at all times. We're the only ones who have experience with this sort of thing."
Dean Travers, a beat cop who'd managed to stumble into the station about thirty minutes earlier, coughed loudly. "I beg to differ" he said irritably, resting his big SPAS-12 on his shoulder. The shotgun was huge and brutal, a bizarre South African selective fire 12-gauge, the sort of weapon it was illegal to own unless you happened to be a cop, and even then it was a little iffy. Still, Chase had seen Dean use the weapon to take down no less than fifteen zombies within five minutes of showing up at the station, so he wasn't inclined to complain. "I'd say some of us are pretty damn knowledgeable on this 'situation,' Chambers."
"You have experience with the zombies, yeah" Mat answered. "But there are other BOWs out there, and they make the undead outside look like something from a children's show by comparison."
"You mean there's worse things out there?" exclaimed Dean, unshouldering the shotgun and pulling it close to his chest, like a life preserver. "Shit."
"So, Mat needs to stay here in case you get attacked by a pack of Hunters, or a Tyrant or something" Rebecca continued.
Hunters? Tyrant? What the hell? Chase wondered. These things have names? It's almost like someone's been making the bastards…
"Well, I suggest we get this party started" he said, placing the medallion in the niche apparently custom made for it on the fountain. There was a grinding noise and the statue, a Greek-looking woman in a flowing jug upending a jar from her shoulder, began to slide backward and up, as if she was on a ramp. A small gap opened up, little more than a crawl space. It was narrow and short, not much more than two feet tall.
"Shit" muttered Dean again, shaking his head. "Glad that's not me going down there."
"You'd rather stay up here with the zombies?" Rebecca asked, incredulous.
Dean nodded. "Oh, definitely. There's no way to move down there, you know? Rather stay up here and die breathing fresh air, rather than die down there in that spider hole."
Rebecca's face went a little pale, but she squared her shoulders and drew her handgun, clicking on the light mounted on the bottom rail. "Okay, I'll go first. Rita, you just follow me."
Rita nodded. "Roger that. Y'all just lead the way."
Chase patted Rita on the shoulder, then nodded to Rebecca. "You girls be careful down there."
She nodded, then turned to Mat. "Well, um…"
They looked at each other for a moment, then Mat leaned forward and gave her a hug. Chase could've sworn he heard Rebecca's back pop, and she winced slightly. "Just come back" Mat told her. "Promise me that, alright?"
Rebecca smiled and nodded. "Of course. You just promise me you'll still be in one piece when I get back, okay?"
"Yeah. I think I can do that."
Rita smiled and clapped Mat on the back. "Don't worry, buddy. I'll make sure your girlfriend gets back in one piece."
Mat and Rebecca both went red.
"We're not…"
"That isn't…"
"I mean, not that she's not…"
"But…you know…"
"Don't you think you'd be best getting on the move?" Chase asked.
Rebecca nodded. "Uh…right. Of course." She took Mat's hand and awkwardly shook it. "Well Mathias, it's been fun." Then, without waiting for a response, she got down on her hands and knees, and began to crawl down the tunnel. After waiting a moment, Rita followed suit.
No sooner had they disappeared into the darkness did the statue begin to slide back down. Chase, Mat, and Dean all leapt forward, trying to slow it down, but it was no good. With a scrapping groan, the statue slid back into place.
"Shit" Dean said, shaking his head. "Now what?"
Chase looked from him to Chase, then at the few other officers and citizens standing in the lobby. "We wait" he said, unshouldering his M14. "If you need me, I'll be hunting zombies. Anyone want to come?"
(CINDY)
The rooftop looked like a battlefield, which, Cindy allowed, made sense, since it had been until about five minutes ago.
George had sent her upstairs to collect any wounded, along with any weapons left by those who wouldn't need them anymore. He'd sent Kevin along in case the birds came back, or someone reanimated while she was up there.
Kevin had a pair of big, dark blue RPD duffel bags slung over his shoulder. "Let's get this over with" he said nervously, looking around at the dark red clouds overhead. "I feel like I'm being watched. Don't you?"
Cindy nodded. "Yeah. I wanna go back down, too."
The police had made a pretty good showing against the undead crows who'd dive-bombed. For every cop lost, they'd probably killed at least a hundred, maybe even a hundred and fifty of the deranged birds. Cindy couldn't be sure. All she knew was the roof was covered in loose feathers and the broken bodies of the crows. She had to walk slowly because it was also slick with their blood, and she had to be careful or she'd slip and fall in it. Despite everything she'd been through, she'd somehow managed to keep her waitress uniform more or less clean, and she wanted, for some strange reason, to keep it that way.
She and Kevin split up, Cindy making his way to the bodies still on the roof, Kevin picking up the various handguns, shotguns, and rifles strewn all over the roof, along with the assorted magazines and clips for those weapons.
Cindy knelt beside a man propped against an air conditioning unit. There was a widening pool of blood around his body, and his face, arms, and chest were a horrible crisscross of scratches. Despite that, the man coughed wetly and looked up when Cindy approached.
"Maggie?" he croaked weakly, stretching a bloody hand toward her.
"Kevin!" she shouted, waving to him. "Kevin, we've got a live one!"
"Maggie…" the cop said, his voice trailing off, as Kevin rushed over to him.
"What happened?" he asked, looking down at the man.
"Maggie" the man repeated, not taking his eyes off Cindy. "Maggie, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry…"
"What's he talking about?" Cindy asked, looking over at Kevin. "Who's Maggie?"
Kevin's face had an expression of grim sadness. "I think he means you" he said quietly.
"Me?"
"Maggie, please…forgive me" the officer said. "I'm so sorry…I just wasn't…good enough…in the end."
Cindy shook her head. "No, it's not your fault. Please, just hang on…"
The man shook his head, reaching up for her face, his fingers touching her cheek. "You are so…beautiful" he said, his eyes dim and unfocused. "Maggie, I'm so sorry." He paused, shifting awkwardly, pulling a large weapon up from the roof. "Here…take this. Use it…better than me" he said, handing her the submachine gun.
Cindy dumbly took the heavy weapon, astonished that the wounded cop had been able to hand it to her one handed. "Please, hang on…"
"Maggie…" the man said again, softly, before sinking back against the air conditioner. With a final sigh, the breath escaped his lungs, and he was still.
Cindy and Kevin stood together, staring at the dead officer.
"What was his name?" Cindy asked.
Kevin shook his head. "I don't know" he said quietly. "I may have seen him once or twice, maybe I even talked to him a few times. But I never even learned his name." He shook his head. "I wonder if anyone downstairs would." He paused, reached into the man's pocket, and removed his wallet. He flipped it open, taking a look at his driver's license. "Well, at least I know where to send this now." He pulled a pair of SMG magazines from the man's vest, then gently shut his eyes, before turning to look at Cindy. "I think we're done here. Let's go back down. I have a feeling they're gonna need both of us before too long."
"Yeah." Cindy looked over at the dead man one last time, then stood and followed Kevin off the roof.
(MAT)
Mat stood with Aaron and Dean at the gap in the fence, near the zombie attracting grenades. The flares had burned down, but the horrible, sickly sweet stench of rot still hung over the area, and the infected were still coming, shambling along the street toward the gap in the RPD's defenses.
Fortunately the undead weren't actually intelligent enough to have realized the fence was the station's weak point. They were swarming all over the station, pounding at the boarded up windows, rattling the perimeter fences, and generally making a lot of noise, which, combined with their nearly constant moaning, was enough to dry anyone crazy.
Mat clicked his P90 over to semi-auto. Beside him, Dean twisted the barrel of his SPAS, shifting the weapon to pump action. Mat had yet to figure the utility of that option out, although the Benelli M3s the station used also had that ability. It made no sense to him, but now probably wasn't the time to worry about it.
Aaron was carrying a regular pump-action, an Ithaca Model 37, the infamous "Stakeout" of police lore. Mat had qualified with the short barreled, stockless weapon, but that had only proved to him he didn't care for it. The thing kicked like a mule, and with no stock, you had to have arms like Chris Redfield to fire it with anything resembling accuracy.
Mat paused. He hadn't thought about the STARS officer for several days. Up until yesterday, he thought Chris was in the dangerous situation, preparing to storm Umbrella's HQ with a potentially untrustworthy bunch of strangers. Now he was beginning to wonder if he hadn't gotten out of Raccoon City in time.
He hadn't had time to think about the other survivors. He had no idea what had happened to Brad Vickers, but then, he didn't know the man very well at all. Barry Burton had apparently gotten out of town in a hurry, packing his family up and heading for parts unknown in fear of some Umbrella reprisal. And as for Jill…
He couldn't help being angry with her. Jill was a cop, even if she was suspended. Rebecca, with her lack of combat training and general inexperience, had shown up at the precinct, ready to do what she could. A part of Mat couldn't wait to see Jill again. He just hoped she had a good excuse for being AWOL when he did. Otherwise…
The sound of Aaron racking the pump of his shotgun brought Mat out of his thoughts.
"That's gonna be a little loud, don't you think?" Dean asked, eyeing him, apparently forgetting for the moment what weapon he was carrying.
"Nah" Aaron replied grimly, watching the zombies pick up speed as they staggered toward the fence. "The bastards already know we're here." He brought the Ithaca to his shoulder. "Let's get to work."
(KEVIN)
Kevin plopped the duffel on the folding table in the center of the RPD building's lobby and slid the zipper down its length. "Take what you can fire" he said simply.
He was the only cop present. There were four men with him: Jim the cowardly transit worker, David the asshole plumber, and two mercenaries named Dustin and Karl. Both soldiers had their own weapons: an H&K G3 battle rifle for Dustin and an AK-74 for Karl. The others were unarmed, and Kevin wasn't sure about giving either of them guns. Jim because he didn't seem trustworthy, and David because…he really didn't seem trustworthy.
But both had volunteered, Jim upfront, David as if the suggestion ought to have been obvious, and Kevin should have been asking him. Kevin was having a hard time not hating the other man.
Jim pulled a big chromed handgun from the bag, hefting it awkwardly. "How about this?" he asked, showing Kevin the Desert Eagle…by pointing it at him.
Kevin hastily grabbed the weapon and shoved it back in the bag. "No…no, I don't think that's such a good fit." He reached down and pulled out a Beretta Cougar, handing the compact 9mm to the other man. "Why don't you try this?"
Jim took the Cougar and studied it for a moment. "Yeah…" he said quietly. "Yeah, I think this could do it."
David shouldered past him, reached into the bag, and snatched up a snub-nosed .44 magnum, a Smith and Wesson Model 29. "This'll work" he said matter-of-factly, grabbing a box of ammo and a pair of speed loaders, then heading for the door.
Muttering to himself, Kevin led the others outside. "Remember" he said, drawing his Colt and looking at them. "Our job is just to stall. No heroics. And don't waste ammo" he added pointedly to Jim. "We don't have that much left."
The two mercenaries nodded. "Understood, officer" said Karl. Dustin, the other one, just nodded sullenly. Kevin was finding he was also a bit of an ass, if not quite in the same league as David.
Speaking of David, the plumber wasn't looking at him, wasn't paying any attention at all. He just paced back and forth on the pavement outside the station, like a small tiger with a massive chip on his shoulder, like he was spoiling for a fight.
Jim kept looking around nervously, his eyes wide, as if he expected danger to come from any direction.
Instead, it came from them all.
Zombies suddenly began flop over the sides of the walls, while others wiggled like enormous worms underneath the big wrought iron gates.
"Alright guys, this is it!" Kevin shouted, aiming down the .45's sights. "Let's go!"
(REBECCA)
Whatever she could say about the Umbrella caused zombie outbreak in Raccoon City, it was definitely introducing her to new people. Granted, not all the people she'd met were especially pleasant (the officer who'd tried to murder her in the interrogation room immediately sprang to mind). But she'd also met Maddie, and now Rita, two other women she felt a strong connection to, the sort of people she'd never have talked to but for their circumstances, but who she had some much in common with.
Rita was a cheerful individual, and Rebecca found her twangy accent appealing; it brought an air of good humor to her voice. Rita was an optimist at heart, not loosing her confidence despite the situation. She made the journey through the cramped tunnels if not bearable, than at least tolerable.
Rita, it turned out, could talk about just about anything, and for however long the situation required. As they crawled through the tunnel, Rita kept up a steady dialogue about all kinds of things, from armored car engines (Rita said she could speak to them) to dogs (Rita said they spoke to her) to her childhood in Alabama (she'd lived in Raccoon City until she was about five, when her family had decided to head East). Rebecca, who'd grown up in Arizona, was intrigued by stories of the Deep South, which, Rita assured her, wasn't really as bad as popular culture would have her believe.
"Sure, we hard our rough patch back in the 50's and 60's" she allowed. "But except for a few old folks and some other idiots, most of us would just like to put all that behind us."
Rebecca was willing to let Rita carry the conversation. The sound of her voice from behind was reassuring, and her monologue gave Rebecca something to focus on besides the events of the past hour.
Two thoughts, images really, kept flashing up in her mind:
That psychopathic cop staring down at her, a hungry gleam in his eye as he tried his best to squeeze the life out of her…
Mat staring at her, worry written on his face, apologizing frantically, then leaning forward…
The competing strains of Holy crap I almost died and Holy crap Mat kissed me were bouncing around in her head like a pair of hyper-active hedgehogs, and Rebecca was concerned her brain would explode unless she did something about them.
Well, she'd solved one problem pretty well; Michael Guthrie would never hurt another girl, Rebecca had made sure of that. As for the other…
My best friend kissed me. Worse, I kissed him back! And I kind of liked it…She didn't know what to do about Mat. She liked him, she cared about him, and it was pretty darn clear he cared about her too, but now was almost certainly not the time to start something like that.
And then there was Billy. Rebecca had had feelings, or thought she'd had feelings for him back in July. Now she suspected it had just been the heat of the moment, the adrenaline, the fact that he was the only other person locked in the nightmare Marcus had created in the Arklay Forest. Now she wasn't so sure; she was seeing what kind of man Billy was, and while she didn't hate him like Mat did (she wondered if her buddy wasn't just a little jealous), she didn't think he was someone she could ever…love.
And that's what it all boils down to she realized. Rebecca hadn't really been in any relationships before; she been surrounded perpetually by older guys, who either saw her as the weird genius kid and were threatened by her smarts, or just saw her as someone vulnerable who they could take advantage of. She'd gotten hurt a couple times, and that had been enough to cure her of any curiosity.
Until now, anyway. And this was probably the worst time to even be worrying about such things, but now that the seed had been planted, Rebecca found her thoughts kept sliding back in that direction. It was pretty irritating, but there wasn't much she could do about it, either.
The end of the tunnel offered her a reprieve. "Hey, Rita" she said, interrupting the other woman's spirited monologue about Joshua trees, two of which had apparently grown in her front yard as a kid. "I think we're here."
"Really?" the other woman asked. "About time! I'm sicka bein' stuck down here!"
"You and me both" Rebecca answered, awkwardly climbing the steps at the end of the tunnel. She kept the Samurai Edge trained ahead, both for the light mounted at the bottom, and because who knew what was lurking down here with them.
It turned out to be a blank wall lying in wait for them. Rebecca tapped it with her knuckle, then turned to Rita. "Now what?"
"It must be some sort of door" she replied. "Maybe we can shift it?" she suggested, moving over so her shoulder was against the wall and leaning against it. "C'mon, give me a hand here."
Rebecca thought for a moment, then flicked the safety down on her handgun, before joining Rita in the effort. After about a minute and a half of straining, the wall slowly began to give way, a loud groaning noise coming from the bottom as it shifted.
"Eureka!" shouted Rita, her excitement palpable. "We've got it now!"
With a last creak, the wall slid forward and Rebecca and Rita found themselves kneeling in front of a series of stone steps in a dimly lit building. The two female police officers exchanged a smile.
"We did it, buddy!" Rita exclaimed, giving Rebecca a high-five.
"That's very sweet" said a woman's voice from up above them. "Now, you two have about three seconds to explain who you are and what you're doing here." This last sentence was punctuated by the racking of a shotgun.
"Son of a bitch" Rita swore quietly. Rebecca found she could agree with the sentiment, if not the words themselves.
(MAT)
"Dropping mag!" he shouted, ejecting the Colt magazine and slamming in a fresh one.
"Roger that!" Dean shouted back, shifting his field of fire to decapitate a zombie jogger with the SPAS-12. He tried to shoot another one immediately after, only to have the shotgun click at him. "Shit!" he cried, swinging the weapon's folding stock like a club, snapping the undead man's jaw and spinning him around in a circle. "I'm out!" he exclaimed, digging into a pouch for spare shells.
"Use your pistol!" Aaron yelled. He'd long since exhausted the shells in the Stakeout, and without a stock, the weapon was useless even as a club. He'd slung the Ithaca over his shoulder, then drawn his Browning and started shooting, but it was clear he wasn't as proficient with the handgun. A zombie Mat or Dean could take down with one or two shots took him three or four. And they just kept coming, drawn by the noise of their shooting and the other zombie's moans.
Mat had switched to the Colt pretty fast. He had a lot more ammo for the handgun anyway, and he quickly found it had about the same effective range as the P90. Unfortunately, he also found the monster pistol kicked like a pissed off mule. He fired as fast as he could, knowing his wrists were going to hold it against him later, but also knowing the mere idea of later was contingent on shooting as quickly as possible.
He shot a zombie at point blank, watching fragments of bone shoot out the back of her skull as she dropped to the ground, then spun and drove his elbow into the face of another, feeling his skull crack under his elbow pad. He was eternally grateful to David Ford for suggesting the things; they were more than worth it.
Dean managed to jam three shells into the SPAS. He spun, racked the pump, and immediately fired them one after another, destroying the head and upper bodies of three nearby infected. "Yeah, you like that, don't you?" he shouted, reloading again. "Well, come on! There's plenty more!"
Mat shot a zombie in the knee, then slammed his own knee into its head, putting it down and propelling its body into two more. All three undead, only one no longer a threat, toppled to the ground.
"Thing it might be time to call it a day?" he shouted to Aaron, but the other man shook his head.
"No! We've got to keep at it! Every zombie we take down here is one less for us to worry about later."
Mat could see the barrel of Enrico's Colt starting to turn red. He'd never seen a handgun do that before; the P90 had only done it once, at the range back in December of last year, when he'd first bought the weapon on consignment. It wasn't fun when an SMG did it during practice. It was even worse when a handgun did it during close combat with zombies.
"Fuck it!" Dean shouted, slinging his SPAS and drawing his Beretta 92, the fat black handgun the RPD was slowly issuing to its beat cops. He proved to be a much better shot with it than Aaron was with his pistol, dropping a pair of zombies with two precise rounds.
Still, it was a drop in the bucket, compared to the other zombies swarming into the small enclosure.
Mat reached down with his left-hand and yanked Rain's knife out of its sheath, holding the blade pointed down. He jammed it into the face of a zombie, then kicked it off the blade, dark blood staining the cold steel.
A detached part of his mind realized he was using two weapons given to him by two totally different dead people. Despite that, he suspected Rain and Enrico would've liked each other had they ever met. He wondered if the devout cop and the wayward mercenary were up in heaven, watching the struggles of their friends from on high, silently urging them on…
Dean's shout was Mat's only warning.
"Watch out!"
He spun just in time to see an infected dog, what Umbrella would've called an Ma-39 Cerberus (whatever the fuck that meant) leaping toward him, jaws open wide beneath its unearthly glowing eyes. He braced himself for the feeling of its teeth tearing into his body, knowing he wouldn't be able to react in time.
Except the pain never came. Instead, he saw another shape, this one in dark blue, step between him and the undead canine.
The Cerberus clamped down hard on Aaron's forearm, worrying the skin left and right with its teeth, tearing it to shreds in less than five seconds. Aaron screamed in pain, stumbling backward.
A second later, Dean's handgun barked twice, two rounds striking the dog's back and severing its spine. The Cerberus suddenly went limp, its teeth going numb as it dropped to the ground, where it lay, whimpering in a widening pool of its own blood.
"Shit shit shit!" Aaron said through gritted teeth, looking down at the ravaged skin of his right arm. "Damn it, I was so close!"
"It's okay, man" said Dean, stepping forward. "We'll get you to the infirmary, have them check you out-"
"No, I'm finished" he replied, looking over at Mat. "Right? I've got it, don't I?"
Mat nodded slowly. "Yeah. I'm sorry man, but that's how Edward Dewey bought it back in July."
"Son of a bitch" Aaron said softly, looking down at the bright blood running between his fingers. "Figures." He sighed, shaking his head. "Well, there's nothing for it." He turned to Mat and Dean. "You too had better get out of here. I'll hold 'em off now."
"What are you talking about?" Dean asked. "There's no way we're leaving you here!"
"He's infected" Mat told him. "He's gonna turn into one of those things before too much longer."
Dean sent him an incredulous look. "What do you mean?"
"He's gonna become a zombie" Mat explained. "I've seen it before, back in July."
"No shit?" Dean asked. "You mean, that stuff with STARS? That was this?"
"There's no time for discussion" Aaron said, grimacing. Already his face was deathly pale. Mat didn't think he was going to last much longer; certainly not as long as Rain had. "You two have got to get out of here. Those fuckers…they're attracted to blood. It won't be long before they're swarming this place."
Dean still wasn't quite caught up. "But-"
Aaron turned to Mat. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for the part I played in what happened in July, in Irons' cover up. I've tried to do my best to make amends for that, but I still don't feel right for what I helped he and Welles do to you and STARS." He reached into his pocket. "Maybe these will make things right."
Mat took the two keys Aaron held out. "You've got nothing to be sorry for" he said. "You've been a good cop…I hope, when the time comes, I can die having done as much as you." He looked down at the keys. One was cold, grey metal, while the other was a shiny silver color. "What are these for?"
"The silver one is so you can help me keep a promise to an old friend" Aaron replied. "The grey one is so you can help the truth get out."
Mat was about to ask for a little clarity, only to have a deep throated roar sound from down the street, answered by several more. Oh, hell he thought. A crimson head. Worse, that's more than one!
"Go, go!" Aaron shouted, pushing Mat and Dean back toward the door. "And make sure you lock that behind you. I'm not coming back."
Dean paused for a minute. "Good luck" he said finally.
But he spoke to Aaron's back. The other officer had turned to face the oncoming horde, his Browning clutched in a two handed grip, steadying his aim despite the vicious wound on his arm and the blood dripping down to the concrete.
Mat heard him open fire as he pulled the door closed. Five, six, seven shots, the moans of the dying zombies growing closer and closer. Then three more round in quick succession, a pause, and one final, echoing gunshot about thirty seconds after that.
"What do you think happened?" Dean asked.
Mat was about to reply, but a frantic pounding at the door cut him off. The zombies had gotten past Aaron, and were now trying to break the door down.
"Come on" he said, waving for Dean to follow him. "We've got to report this to Chase. And it looks like you need to be filled in on the situation."
(REBECCA)
"Well?" the voice prompted. Rebecca could just make out the barrel of a shotgun poking out of the shadows, close enough that one blast would almost certainly be the death of both herself and Rita.
"Hold it!" she shouted, drawing on the hidden reserves of authority she hadn't know she had until entering the police force. "We're cops!"
"Oh…really?" the woman at the other end of the shotgun sounded genuinely put out. "Well…crap. I'm sorry, ladies. I had no idea." She paused, gesturing with the shotgun. "It's okay, kids. It's the police."
Kids? Rebecca found herself wondering as she and Rita climbed the stairs toward the woman with the shotgun.
"I'm so sorry" she was saying. "It's just…I didn't know what to do, and with all the children here…" She was an older woman, grey-black hair tied up in a bun atop her head, subdued clothes from another era. With the shotgun held awkwardly in one hand, she looked like a schoolmarm from a very old western.
"Where are we?" Rebecca asked, looking around. The room they stood in had high, vaulted ceilings with big ornate columns, and for a few horrified seconds she was afraid she'd somehow led Rita back into the Umbrella Training Center. But only a moment, because there was an air of hominess to this place, of sanctuary, as if nothing could really go wrong here.
Rebecca looked back at the grey-haired woman, who was now surrounded by about fifteen elementary school-aged children, and mentally cringed. Oh no, not more kids she silently pleaded.
"The children were here for an activity" the woman was explaining. "When those…people showed up, I locked the doors and brought them in here. I'm afraid I had to move some of the shelves around, but you know, I've always thought a little change was good every now and again." She chuckled nervously to herself, and some of her hair had come loose from the bun. It gave her a slightly…demented appearance.
Demented or not, she still had answers for Rebecca. "Where are we?" she asked again, a little bit more forcefully.
"What do you mean, where are you?" the old woman replied with a question of her own. "Why, dearie, you're in the Spencer Library, of course!"
(YOKO)
Alyssa and Yoko were loitering outside by the basement steps when Mat and another officer approached them. "What's going here?" he asked. "You two planning to sneak out again? Honestly, I'm not your parent, you know."
"Fuck-" Alyssa began.
"Off" Mat finished. "Yeah, you're pretty fond of that phrase, I've noticed. Most unladylike." When Alyssa opened her mouth again, he raised a finger. "Really?"
"Screw you" she said, just as forcefully.
Mat snorted. "Better. Now really. What are you two doing here?"
"We were with the K-9 officer, Tony" Yoko explained, trying to diffuse the situation before Mat and Alyssa shot each other. "He said he needed to go check on someone downstairs. Told us to wait here. And he…"
"He hasn't come back" Alyssa finished, using the abrasive tone she seemed to save for the male portion of humanity.
"So…you just stayed here?" the other officer asked. Yoko could make out the name TRAVERS on his uniform.
"Look, buddy, what did you expect us to do?" Alyssa demanded. "He's a cop, we figured he was trained. Besides, he hasn't called for help. He's gotta be fine, right?"
Yoko expected a hot response from Mat, but instead he nodded. "That was probably the smartest thing you ladies could've done" he said, smiling faintly, before turning to Officer Travers. "C'mon Dean, let's go find out what happened to Tony."
Dean looked down the darkened staircase, at the equally dark hallway. "It's dark" he muttered. "Wonderful."
The two police officers made their way down the stairs. Somehow, Yoko and Alyssa found themselves close behind, careful to stay back out the two men's way, but following nonetheless. After a moment, Alyssa pulled her handgun out of her maroon colored slacks, holding it down low, both hands wrapped around the grip.
Mat and Dean both clicked on flashlights mounted on the sides of their weapons, sweeping the beams in overlapping arcs, heads constantly swiveling. Yoko, who'd never held a firearm in her entire life, found herself wishing for a gun. She felt very alone and vulnerable down here, alone among their group as the only one who didn't have a weapon.
They were in a T shaped hallway, with sterile white walls. At the junction, Mat pointed to the left, gesturing for Dean to go ahead, while he'd follow behind. He turned, cast an irritated glance at Alyssa, then motioned them ahead of him. He followed behind, walking slightly sideways, keeping his weapon trained on the darkness. Yoko wondered why the lights were out.
Dean was waiting for them at the end of the hall, facing a single white door, the word GARAGE written on in large black letters. Mat took a position opposite him, then turned and booted the door open, allowing both cops to enter the pitch black room on the other side.
"Shit" said Dean, shaking his head as he swept his shotgun back and forth. "I can't see anything."
"Quiet" Mat said, sweeping his weapon in the other direction. "I hear something…"
They swept their flashlights in short, quick arcs, trying to find the source of the slurping sound, which seemed to be coming from everywhere inside the darkened garage.
Then, suddenly caught in the illumination, they found the noisemaker: a dog, buried up to its middle in the corpse of a mechanic, worrying at the body from the inside, its rear up in the air.
"Oh God!" Yoko exclaimed, unable to contain herself.
Mat and Dean both opened fire, tearing the dog apart. Unfortunately, it wasn't alone. Somehow, the RPD's garage had become infested with zombie dogs. And they were hungry.
Yoko saw Dean spin around, the illumination from his shotgun falling on a monster ready to pounce, then jerking slightly up as he fired, blasting it apart. Alyssa fired in all directions. Yoko could hear bullets striking the walls; it was clear she wasn't actually hitting anything.
Mat was firing his weapon in short bursts, knocking dogs out of the air as they tried to pounce on him with practiced ease. Then, all of a sudden, it wasn't so easy. Mat reacted too slowly, and a dog managed to slam into him, its weight knocking him off his feet.
Mat landed on his back, his weapon pinned to his chest. The dog leaned forward, grabbing for his throat, but Mat caught its throat with his left hand, managing to keep it literally at an arm's length. With his right hand he pulled out a knife and began to furiously stab at the monster's body, but he didn't seem to be having much affect.
"Shit" Dean swore, leveling his shotgun, but not taking the shot. At this range, he'd tear them both apart, and he knew it.
Yoko didn't know why she did what she did. It was as if something just seized her. She had no clear recollection of what happened: one minute she was standing behind Alyssa, cowering in fear, and the next she'd run forward, raised her foot, and kicked the dog as viciously as possible off Mat.
The dog let out a yelp of surprise and rolled onto its side. A second later, it was back on its feet, its front legs bent low, growling as it prepared to lunge.
Then Mat rolled as well, aiming the same chromed handgun he'd used when she'd first met him. Mat fired twice, the handgun reports booming in the open space, and the dog let out another, more final yelp, then was still.
Mat shoved the handgun into his holster, then slowly stood up. "Thanks" he said to Yoko, picking his knife up off the floor. As he did so, she caught another glimpse of the emblem on the hilt in the glare of Dean's flashlight. And just like the last time she'd seen it, Yoko's world spun.
A parade of images flashed before her eyes:
A woman in a yellow jacket sneering at her, telling her she was "Nothing but a little girl."
A blond haired man in sunglasses and another with a short brown goatee studying a chart. "This one shows promise" the man with sunglasses said, nodding toward her.
A tall, thin man with a German accent, complaining about "lack of combat aptitude." She saw a name tag attached to his shirt. CAIN.
A wall, a large red and white polygon painted on it, a jumble of words beneath. Yoko caught only one: Hive.
She saw, or thought she saw, Mat, lying in a bed a few feet away from the one she was in. She was surrounded by dozens of such beds, each one containing a person. "This one's awake" said the man with the goatee, and now Yoko could see his tag. BIRKIN.
She was on a bed, being wheeled down a hallway. It came to a stop past a pair of swinging doors, beneath a bright light. A middle-aged man with thinning platinum blond hair leaned over her, looking down over a surgical mask. His voice sounded soothing. His words were anything but. "You know the drill by now, Yoko" he said. "I suggest you brace yourself-"
Yoko felt pain wash over her body. She felt a scream escape her lips, and her vision went white. The next thing she knew, she was sprawled on the floor, Alyssa, Mat, and Dean standing over her, looking down in concern.
"What happened?" Alyssa asked, offering her a hand.
"I-I don't know" she replied, shaking her head. "I just…I can't explain it."
"Shit" Dean said, from where he was squatting beside something on the floor. "Mat, you better take a look at this."
Mat nodded. "Okay. Be right there." Then he turned to Yoko. "Thanks. Looks like we're even now."
Yoko shook her head. "No. I still owe you one."
Mat shrugged. "If you say so." Then he turned and headed over to Dean. "What is it-shit!"
Yoko and Alyssa turned to see a bloodied body lying in front of the cops. It was the same one the dog had been inside. There wasn't much left.
"Oh God" Alyssa said quietly. "It's Tony."
"Man" Dean said quietly. "What a way to go. He loved these dogs, too."
Mat knelt down beside the dog they'd killed first. "This isn't one of ours" he said, pointing to the collar. "Looks like a stray. I heard Tony was taking in strays. Guy really did love animals. Looks like it didn't pay off so well this time. He must've let it in, thought he was being humanitarian." He sighed, then leveled his submachine gun one handed and shot the dead cop in the head.
"The fuck?" Dean exclaimed, stepping back. "That's disrespect!"
Mat shook his head. "No. That's mercy. He won't come back now." He looked over at the two women. "You know what I'm talking about, right?"
Alyssa and Yoko nodded. "Yeah" they both said, within a few seconds of each other.
Mat smiled faintly. "Good. Knowledge, here and now, really is power." He pulled something out of his pocket and headed toward a door at the end of the room. "I have something I need to take care of" he explained, half turning toward Alyssa. "You're gonna want to come with me. This is something you need to see."
Alyssa nodded, looking curious. "Okay. What is it?"
"Not a what" Mat replied, pulling the door open. "A who." He waved them down the dark hallway.
"Where are we going?" Alyssa asked, after a few minutes. "Damn it!" she exclaimed a second later when her arm connected with a table she hadn't seen in the darkness.
"You'll see" Mat replied.
"I highly doubt that" Alyssa retorted, but didn't ask a second time.
Soon enough, they came to a sliding door, made of something similar to mesh.
"What's in there?" Yoko asked, a little intimidated by the imposing metal doors.
"Look up" said Dean, sounding uncomfortable.
"Answers" said Mat, confidently. He took hold of the edge of the door, then slid it to the left. "Ladies, after you."
Yoko followed Alyssa through the door, then heard Mat slide it closed behind them. She half turned, afraid he'd locked them inside, but saw that he and Dean had followed them in.
"What's going on here, Dawson?" Alyssa asked, irritated. "I don't have time for your games-"
"Alyssa? Is that you?" a voice from at the end of the room asked. "Mat? What are you two doing here?"
"Ben? God, you're still here?" Alyssa exclaimed, shocked. She ran toward the source of the noise. "I'm sorry. I totally forgot about you!"
Yoko followed the others to the cell at the end of the hall. One the other side of the bars was a short, pudgy man. He was generally sloppy looking, with a greasy ponytail of brown hair tied loosely behind his head and several wrinkles in his shirt and trousers. A red and white pack of cigarettes peeked out of his breast pocket. All in all, he didn't look especially dangerous, and Yoko couldn't figure out why he was in the cell, or why Dean kept fingering the trigger of his shotgun and glaring at the man.
"Smokes are new" said Mat. "How'd you get those?"
"Cop named Aaron" Ben replied. "He kept coming down here. Checking up on me, like. He asked if I needed anything, and I told him I'd kill for some cigarettes. He's been the only guy who's been to see me up till now." He shook his head. "Odd. I was under the impression he was part of Irons' loyal officers. One of those dirty SWAT types." He paused, looking at Mat. "No offense, I mean. I haven't seen him for a while. I wonder where he is."
Mat looked down for a moment. "Ben…I have some bad news. Aaron…he's dead."
Ben's eyes went wide. "How? When?"
"Just a few minutes ago. He saved my life, but in the process…he got infected" Mat said quietly. "He managed to go out a hero."
Ben nodded slowly. "Damn. He seemed like a nice guy." He paused. "Hang on. What do you mean, infected? The virus? Oh God, it didn't get loose, did it?"
Mat nodded. "About an hour or two before they came and got me out of here. It's pretty bad up top. The RPD has fallen back to this station. Apart from here, I don't know what the situation is. That's why we're here" he continued. "Before he died, Aaron gave me this key. I recognized the design. It's one of the cell keys. I suspect he was planning to let you out when the RPD abandoned the station. When he realized he wouldn't be leaving, he gave it to me."
"Damn" Ben said again, softly. Then he turned to Alyssa. "Please tell me you've still got the data I gave you."
"You mean those encrypted files you gave me?" Alyssa asked. She patted her shoulder bag. "Yeah, they're still on my laptop. Unfortunately, I don't have the key, so they're not very useful to-"
"The password is Bethany" Ben said.
"Bethany?"
"She was someone who…never mind. It's not important. Look, you have to get those files out there. The fate of the world could be at stake."
Alyssa snorted. "P-lease. Don't be so melodramatic, Ben. It really doesn't suit you."
"Listen up!" Ben snapped. "I put up with the self centered bitch routine from you because I think you're a good reporter, but I've had it! The time's come for you to grow up and take some responsibility. Otherwise, Umbrella's just going to bury the truth down here with Raccoon City."
"Umbrella?" Dean asked. "What have they got to do with this?"
Ben looked at him like he was an idiot. "Mat? Where'd you find this guy?"
"Be nice" said Mat. "He's just…a little out of the loop. Why don't you fill him in?"
Ben nodded. "Alright. But it's a long story."
"Condense" Dean replied simply. "Time is not exactly on our side anymore."
Ben nodded. "Okay. Here goes-"
Ben talked for about twenty minutes. Alyssa kept snorting derisively, as if she'd heard it before and didn't believe this story. Mat didn't say much either, although according to Ben he was one of the principle characters in something that sounded more like a bad science fiction movie than the real world.
Still, the reality of the situation had already hit Yoko hard. She'd seen some truly horrific things in the past few hours, and now she was open to anything.
When Ben was finished, Dean shook his head. "No shit" he said quietly. "This is…this is crazy."
"Any crazier than anything you saw on the street?" Mat asked.
Dean shook his head. "When I was out there, on patrol…I got a call to a super market. God, I can't even remember the name of the place." He sighed, shaking his head again, this time as if he wanted to clear it. "When we got there, things had pretty much wound down. Two people were dead, the manager and a customer. Apparently a crazy homeless person wandered in and attacked them." He closed his eyes, shuddering a little. "God, it was horrible. There was blood everywhere. This dude…he ate those people. I've never seen anything like it in my life." He looked up, his eyes going from Mat to Ben to Alyssa and Yoko. "And you know what the worst part was? They got back up! Those people, the dead ones, you know? They got back up. Just like that. Like it was normal."
"I'm not crazy. I know when somebody's dead. I know the signs. No pulse. No respiration. Their fucking jugular torn out. These folks were dead. Dead, dead, dead. And then, all of a sudden, they weren't. Just like that." He snapped his fingers.
He was quiet for a minute, and Yoko thought he was done. But Dean started shaking, his face turning pale. "They got up, and these fuckers were hungry." He kept his gaze focused on the floor, like he was seeing the whole thing again, projected on the cold concrete slab. "They attacked the other customers. They attacked me and my partner. They ignored our warnings. We had to shoot, we had no choice. But…it didn't matter." He shuddered. "Oh God…Ben. I can still hear him screaming..." He shook his head again, clearing his vision. "I'm gonna remember that forever."
He looked back up, finally, his breathing returning to normal. "So yeah, I guess I do believe you. The question now is this: what do we do about it? How do we make these guys pay for what they've done to us? What they've made us do to each other?"
"We keep living" Mat replied. "Living's the best thing we can do right now. While we're alive, the truth is alive with us. We've got to get the word out. We've got to make sure Umbrella gets what's coming to them." He looked at the others. "Are you in?"
Well folks, sorry for the long wait. It's been a crazy couple of weeks; I hope this chapter is long enough for you (it tops out at 17 pages single space in Word, so it should be…).
In case you're wondering, the character of Dean Travers isn't mine. He actually belongs to a buddy of mind, Jammer69er, who agreed to letting me use him. Thanks, James. :)
Anyway, please post me a review, if you don't mind. Those have kind of dropped off, and I'm not sure why that keeps happening.
Anyway, take care, and happy St. Patrick's Day!
-Godzillafan93