Chapter 36: Morning
October 3, 1998
4:50 AM
Arklay Mountain Research Station
Hey, brickhead, wake up.
What?
I said "Wake up", brickhead. Christ, clean the shit out of your ears already.
Ben?
Were you expecting someone else?
Am I dead?
Not by half but that's going to change if you don't wake up and pull your dumb ass off that floor. Open your eyes.
Eddie's closed lids fluttered open, he inhaled sharply, groaning as pain cut through every fiber of his body like a knife. Wincing, the young officer looked down to see the bloody ruin his right side had become. Red liquid dribbled out of three deep punctures in his ribs, his arm also dripping the crimson fluid from gashes left by steaming shards of metal. His head felt light as a balloon, his mouth packed with sand.
You're not dead. A voice spoke in the rookie's mind though Eddie was uncertain whether it was his own or Ben Tredd's.
"That's a pity." He grumbled, struggling up to a sitting position.
Stomping down the screaming agony in his side, fighting off the urge to vomit, Eddie pulled himself to his feet, leaning back against the wall for support. He shook his head, trying to burn away the dense mist that had settled across his brain. Where was he? Why was it so dark? How come alarm sirens were pealing like the sky was falling?
Eddie looked up from his torn side and all his questions were answered. Lying only a foot or two away was the fallen, hulking form of Goldeneyes. The giant lay on its back, its sightless visage pointed towards the ceiling. Black, viscous blood formed an expanding pool beneath what was left of the monster's head. Goldeneyes' lower jaw had been completely destroyed, leaving its immense mouth locked in a silent roar; the back of the creature's skull decorated the surrounding walls.
Memory came back to the young officer in a violent, raging tide. Goldeneyes was charging at me and I used Zeke's grenade. Judging by my arm I'd say I was a little closer than the recommended minimum safe distance. It was right after Shank had – oh, God, Shank.
Remembering the sight of the Psycho's broken body sagging to the ground like a scarecrow with its stuffing pulled out, Eddie searched around frantically for his grungy, unkempt, wayward companion but found no traces of the big man. Relief flooded the rookie's battered, tired form. If Shank was gone then he must have survived their tussle with Goldeneyes. Seeing Eddie down and out he must have hurried topside – either to join Zeke and the Rangers in escaping or to die at the hands of the Umbrella death squad.
Whatever the case, Eddie prayed they were all safe and well on their way outside of Raccoon City, flying off into the sunrise towards freedom. Towards home. The circumstances under which they had been forced together were unimaginable and though they had spent the better part of their time together wracked by panic, dodging death and worse, Eddie still counted Zeke Wilcott, Wesley Creeks, Ryan Pierce and, most of all, the mysterious Psycho Shank, among his closest friends.
Dead or dying, the rookie thought, pressing his left hand to his bleeding, they're long gone by now and I need to be too.
As if to drive the point home, an all too familiar female voice came over an out of sight intercom, "Five minutes remain until destruction," she said. "All personnel must evacuate immediately. The self-destruct sequence has been activated. This sequence cannot be aborted."
Gritting his teeth, Eddie growled something unintelligible. How he was beginning to loathe that woman. Five minutes, he thought lurching a step forward as the ground began to tremble, the walls groaning, five goddamn minutes to find Burke's train. Sure thing. No sweat. I ought to reach it just in time to get blown to kingdom come. Wouldn't that just be a riot? Damn it but it's hell being lucky.
Not like you have a choice, greenhorn. Tredd said. Now quit your belly aching and get moving.
"Yeah, yeah." Eddie told his dead partner as he stumbled forward dizzily. "Shut up, Ben."
Dust fell from the ceiling overhead as the hallway shook, seeming to ripple and sway. Losing his balance, Eddie crashed painfully into the steel mesh of the elevator gate. Hissing as fresh waves of agony rolled through his side, the rookie sucked in a deep breath, steeled him self and flung the gate up. The tendrils of burning pain tightened around his ribs, reached into his stomach with the effort but Eddie deemed the discomfort bearable.
Dropping the gate closed once more, Eddie tapped the button for the sub-basement and felt the lift begin its plunge down into the bowels of the station; the belly of the beast. Another tremor rattled the alls of the elevator, the metal moaning with discontent.
This place isn't going to last another five minutes if this keeps up. The cop thought, easing his back against the wall and shutting eyes that suddenly felt made of stone. The preliminary charges must be going off already.
With his eyes closed and breathing steady, it was easy for Eddie to block out the sharpness of his wounds, the hot stinging now a cold, throbbing ache. The droning mechanical hum of the working lift was oddly soothing, a comforting lullaby for the young officer. Pressing his warm head against the cool steel wall, Eddie could feel sleep beckoning to him, urging him to seek peace in the inviting blackness surrounding his thoughts.
Eyes open, newbie, Tredd snarled.
Gasping, Eddie snapped his eyes open yet again. He scrubbed at his face, wiping away beads of sweat. The rookie began to tremble, his blood boiling with fever.
Your dying you fucking genius, Tredd told him, those holes in your side are literally leaking the life from you, dumb-ass. If you doze off again I wouldn't wager on you waking up, so keep your goddamn eyes open.
Eddie nodded, for once Tredd was right. He was dying, succumbing to blood loss as surely as night was succumbing to day. Strangely though, he felt no panic at the thought, no fear. It was simply a fact, nothing more.
"I'll say one thing for Raccoon City," Eddie mumbled, siren lights playing off his features in the darkness, "it's sure a good cure for a man's phobias. Once you learn that there's worse things than dying, suddenly dying doesn't seem like such a serious problem anymore."
Pushing away from the wall, Eddie took a step forward – and nearly tripped. Quickly glancing down, the rookie spied something that made his heart drop and the pain in his side burn hotter, the fever in his veins near scorching now. Shank's body stood at his feet.
The Psycho was dead, his eyes closed and chest punched full of holes. Eddie felt his hopes for the other plummet faster than the lift. If Shank, the unrelenting, fearless barbarian that had kept Eddie's skin whole the entire night was dead then surely the Rangers must have met a similar fate as well.
The cleaners must have ambushed them on the helipad, Eddie realized with horror and rage, then finished off Shank when he came to help them. Goddamn it! Those murdering sons of bitches are going to get away with everything they've done here – everything Umbrella has done!
Fighting back tears, Eddie shook his head and cursed. What does it matter now? He wondered as hopelessness leapt from the shadows to seize him. What difference does it make if I live now that everyone else is dead? I'm no coward but I'm no hero either, no crusader. I can't take Umbrella on on my own. What good is my fucking luck if those bastards are just going to win in the end anyway?
Eddie started when it was Ben Tredd's voice that offered an answer. It makes their victory incomplete, he said, all hints of his characteristic sarcasm and derisiveness seemingly dried up, it proves that you were willing to fight them to the very end, Ed. It proves that despite all their power, influence and wealth, their dominance isn't total. That's what it proves, Ed.
A peculiar realization dawned on the rookie then. Tredd's voice had been with almost since the moment of his vicious death in that back alley. Always before it had taunted him but at the same time encouraged Eddie as well, forcing him to perform greater feats of survival even if it was just to spite the goads and insults of his departed partner. Now, there was no trace of the old Benjamin Tredd in that voice, it seemed as much a part of Eddie's mind as his own thoughts.
The young officer frowned. "Did Raccoon City really drive me crazy, Ben?" He asked the voice. "Were you just a figment of my imagination, my madness? Were you ever really up there, sitting in the back of my head, haunting me? Or were you just my way of staying alive, of pushing myself to go on after it seemed so much smarter to lay down and say 'uncle'?"
Ben Tredd said not a word as the lift screeched to a halt and an announcement told Eddie he had four minutes left to escape or perish, lost forever in a tomb within the Arklay Mountains. Reaching for the gate's latch, Eddie began to hum absently, unconsciously.
He hummed the first verse of the song that had become, overnight, his own personal anthem. Eddie decided then that if he got out of Raccoon City still breathing, if he never heard another line of Luck Be A Lady Tonight it would still be too soon.
---------- Page Break ----------
The creature that had been codenamed T-115 Tyrant Devourer, had been a man once, a criminal but it no longer recalled this. The Tyrant had no real memory, in truth, save for the endless physical torment that was every second of its waking existence. Nor did the Devourer possess any true pattern of thought, it was driven by urges rather than desires, fueled by two instincts that could not be pacified: Eat. Kill.
Upon wakening to the searing agony that assailed every muscle tendon in its mutated body, the Devourer knew it had been damaged. This time the pain went beyond the normal, grinding anguish – the Tyrant could feel gaps in its hide, feel liquid trickling from those holes. The monster's torture was double as its body went through the routine of automatically sealing its injuries.
Infuriated by the needling pain, annoyed by the screaming noises pulsating in its ears, the Devourer roared, a horribly garbled sound now that its lower jaw was missing. Lashing out, giving action to its infinite rage, the Tyrant drove its fist clear through the wall to its right. Grunting, the beast wrenched its arm free.
Eat. Kill.
Hunger hollowed out the Devourer's middle, only adding to the creature's fury. It lusted for the sweet warmth of blood flowing freely down its throat. It ached to feel flesh and bone being rent by its claws and teeth. Hunt, the Tyrant thought, if it could be considered a thought at all. Raising its head, the giant sniffed the air.
Prey had been close in this place, only moments gone now. The Devourer bellowed its frustration. Prey was seeking to escape its claws, to avoid feeding an appetite that could never be assuaged. Turning, the Tyrant marched forward in the direction of the scent.
Something wide and heavy sought to delay the Devourer, to keep it from its prey but the Tyrant paid it no heed. Swinging one massive paw, the giant connected with the object and listened to the grating sound of metal and then the clatter of something falling down a great distance until finally the clamor faded away to silence.
Eat. Kill.
Smelling the air again, the Devourer sensed that its prey was near but still far below it. Taking a step forward, the Tyrant dropped off a ledge and felt itself descending rapidly, cold air rushing up around it. Blind and wounded, the creature was still aware that with every inch it fell, it came closer to its prey. Closer to satisfying its hunger: that eternal agony within it, even if it was only for a fleeting whisper of a moment. The Devourer growled with anticipation.
Eat. Kill.
Through the black and the cold, the Tyrant fell.
---------- Page Break ----------
The Colt handgun flashed in Zeke's grip twice, blood and gray matter exploding out the back of the zombie's head from the point-blank range of the shots. Beside the lieutenant, Wesley's rifle chattered and another ashen-faced figure in a white lab coat collapsed. Adjusting his grip around Pierce's waist, Zeke and the sniper hobbled forward with the Brit guarding their flank.
The Rangers had been greeted by the virus carriers shortly after arriving underground, the undead venturing out of the shadows close to the lift with grasping, desperate hands. If Zeke could be said to be looking forward to their escape from Raccoon at all the reason would be that he was leaving behind the monsters Umbrella had cooked up in their shop of horrors - that and the absence of the stench of disease and decay pervading every aspect of the city's landscape. I wonder if I'll even remember what fresh air smells like.
Zeke's first impression of the Umbrella subway system was that it was huge. The area was cavernous, sealed in on all sides by high stonewalls and a ceiling made of solid rock. Lights were hung intermittently along the walls, giving the chamber a pale, sickly glow. Railroad tracks ran down the length of the room with a platform on either side, stretching through an archway and out into a seemingly unending darkness. Resting beside the platform was a large trolley built of bolted steel panels, painted red and black, marked with the Umbrella Incorporated shield.
A cold wind blew down through the dark passage, howling like a lost spirit. Zeke inhaled its scent, noting instantly its purity. There was not even the smallest hint of blood or putrid flesh the lieutenant had become so accustomed to since entering the city. I do remember and yet it still smells so strange, so alien.
Clearing his mind of the pointless musing, Zeke, accompanied by Wesley, holstered his weapon and helped Pierce along to the platform, also emblazed with the Umbrella logo. The corporation was nothing if not vain, the Ranger decided. Their boots left hollow footfalls as they ran interrupted only by a shuddering crack overhead.
"This place is getting jumpy, Zeke." Wesley said, pausing beside his friend to gaze up at the roof as dust drifted through the cracks. "It's going to go up before the bloody countdown is even finished."
"Then let's not be around to see it." Zeke replied, leading Ryan up the stairs to the small train's door and sliding it open.
Large, plate-glass windows lined either side of the trolley and the Ranger found himself staring at one side of the subway's walls. Metallic pipes stood on one side, pointing down the length of the passage and Zeke assumed they were used to heat the facility during the wintertime. Snaking down from overhead was a collection of wires, held in place here and there by steel bars. The pipes rattled in place as another tremor shook the AMRS to its core.
Wesley moved in ahead of Zeke and the injured sniper, sweeping the trolley car with his M-4 before announcing that it was safe to enter. Climbing the last step, the lieutenant poked his head in to see that there was little in the way of decoration or luxury.
Padded benches were bolted to the left and right walls. Metal poles had been fixed to the ceiling and floor as support for anyone standing in the car. Zeke noted with relief the first-aid kits tucked under each bench. Umbrella had anticipated injuries during an evacuation clearly.
At the front end of the car, Wesley had found the train's conductor's area. It was nothing more than a small booth with a leather seat and control panel resting in front. The computer screen had flickered to life with Wes' opening of the door, its glow now giving his smiling face a faint blue tinge.
"These controls are as user friendly as they come." He said, examining the panel. "A bloody chimp could figure them out without having to scratch his head." Demonstrating his point, the Brit's fingers flew across the keys and the trolley's headlights snapped on, the vehicle humming as it came alive. "See?"
"Four minutes remain until destruction." The announcer's voice rang out in that infuriatingly sterile tone. "All personnel must evacuate immediately. The self-destruct sequence has been activated. This sequence cannot be aborted."
Zeke nodded to Wesley. "Get us out of here, sergeant."
Nodding in return, the Brit turned back to the controls and Zeke led Pierce into the passenger car. With a grunt, the lieutenant eased his sniper onto one of the benches and propped his feet up over the end. Ryan was deathly pale, coughing up small rivulets of blood and Zeke feared that the man had punctured a lung during their confrontation with the B.O.N.E.S. troopers on the helipad.
"Hold on, Pierce." He encouraged the other soldier, slapping him lightly on the shoulder as he knelt to retrieve the first-aid kit. "We're almost home. I'll have you bouncing your daughter on your knee while your wife chews you out about your career in no time. You've done real good, soldier, that shot you made on the roof was one in a million."
"Yes, sir." Pierce answered weakly. "Thank you, sir."
Popping open the medical box, Zeke was in the process of removing the bandages when a panicked, familiar voice shouted above the blare of the alarms from outside the trolley. "Wait!" The voice bellowed, startling the lieutenant. "Wait, goddamn it!"
Zeke looked up as Wesley poked his head out of the conductor's booth, the Brit's scruffy features puzzled, mirroring the American's. Both men had the same thought in their eyes. Eddie?
Hoping against hope, already aware that he should know better, Zeke raced to the train's side door with Wes at his side, fully expecting to see the young, cynical rookie speeding their way. For the first time since crash landing in Raccoon City as a part of the ill-fated mission to save the dying city, Lieutenant Ezekiel Wilcott got what he expected.
Charging towards them was indeed Eddie Gabbor, one hand clutching a side that was a burned, bloody mess. Sweat coated the man's dark face as he leapt out of the elevator, making the look in his wide eyes seem all the more desperate. When the rookie saw Zeke and Wesley standing in the trolley's doorway, though, a relieved, nearly ecstatic grin, broke out across his worn face.
"Run!" Zeke shouted, waving the young man on, his own relief at seeing the officer alive almost pushing the lieutenant into a belt of hysterical laughter. "Run, you son of a bitch!"
"Come on, lad!" Wes yelled at his side and he did laugh. "We don't have all bloody day, you know?"
An ear-rending boom echoed through the tunnel accompanied by a shockwave that forced the two Rangers to brace themselves in the doorway and knocked Eddie off his feet. Tense horror filling his belly anew, Zeke looked up to see the source of the quake. Standing atop the crumpled ruin of the freight elevator was the towering nightmare, the relentless stalker, Goldeneyes.
The name seemed highly inappropriate now though, for the creature's eye sockets were empty save for some puckered, pus-encrusted tissue. Half of the monster's mouth was gone, black blood and purple slime spilling down its chest like some kind of gruesome waterfall. Holding back the wave of nausea that invariably came with laying eyes upon the beast, Zeke watched as Eddie, sprawled helplessly on his side, turned to stare disbelieving at the approaching, unstoppable hunter.
Goldeneyes wasted no time with a plodding, methodical walk this time, instead dropping into a crouch faster than the eye could follow and rushed forward with all the power and momentum of a diesel engine. Without another thought, Zeke and Wesley exploded out of the train's doorway, hurtling towards the downed Rookie with all possible speed. Goldeneyes' running footsteps made deep vibrations along the ground, mini-earthquakes.
The two Rangers reached Eddie a second before Goldeneyes. Grabbing the police officer by shoulders and ankles, they rolled the young man out of harm's way, closer to the tracks then dove for safety themselves. Growling, Goldeneyes swept past, its claws raking through empty air.
Pushing himself back to his feet, Zeke hauled Eddie up beside him by the shoulder and heard Wesley swear as he regained his feet. Only then did the lieutenant notice his friend wielded only his pistol and assumed he had left his M-4 behind with Pierce. Not that it will be much defense against this thing if it gets past us. Still, Wes must have known that too.
Goldeneyes now stood perhaps three feet distant but was ever so slowly turning to face them once more. Bunched together like this he'll rip us all in two with a flick of the wrist. "Scatter!" The lieutenant ordered.
The Rangers took off in two directions, Wesley side-stepped to the right, closer to the train, while Zeke, supporting Eddie, drew his sidearm and moved left. Goldeneyes completed its turn and looked from Zeke to Wesley then back again. Grunting as if somewhat confused the giant made its way towards the sergeant.
The demon's broad back obscured Wesley as he stalked towards the Brit but Zeke could clearly hear the crack of his friend's handgun ring out three times. Re-acting quickly, the lieutenant fired four times as fast as he could pull the trigger. Each of the rounds smacked wetly into the back of Goldeneyes' skull. Growling a low, gurgling cry, the monster paused in its slow approach and turned to confront Zeke. Overhead, the announcer called out the three minute mark.
More shots hit the creature from behind as it marched steadily towards Zeke and Eddie but Goldeneyes would not be deterred this time. It came forward, indifferent to Wesley's slugs tearing up its back. Looking up into that twisted, mutilated face, Zeke knew the creature had its target, had its prey. Dropping low, Goldeneyes fell into its killing posture.
In the space of a breath, the giant charged and, with a shout, Zeke pushed Eddie in one direction then slid back the other way. There was a thunderous crack and the tunnel shivered as Goldeneyes collided with the opposite wall. Dust and debris were jarred free by the impact and Zeke found himself less than a foot away from the creature, staring at the tree-trunk arm buried to the elbow in solid stone.
Jesus, Zeke thought, his eyes traveling up the giant's leathery arm to its sightless gaze. The scarred flesh filling the demon's eye sockets stood out to the lieutenant starkly then. They were the only wounds he had seen the creature sustain that it had been unable to heal. Acting on impulse, Zeke fired from where he lay, aiming for the crust over one socket.
Purple sludge was vomited from the wound and the giant tossed its head back, screaming its violent, squelching cry of rage but still refusing to die. The wall groaned as Goldeneyes thrashed about, trying to free its arm. Darting his eyes around the station, Zeke saw Wesley looking at the mutant in horrified awe as he tried to fit another clip into his pistol with unsteady fingers. Eddie was back on his feet and reaching for the snub-nosed revolver tucked into his waistband.
Almost two minutes left, Zeke thought, scrambling to get his legs underneath him once more, Time for us to go.
"Get to the train!" He ordered, before firing at the creature once more and taking off.
Eddie was the first to obey, lowering his head and making a dash towards the trolley's open doorway then throwing himself through the portal. A gloved hand reached out to take hold of the officer's vest and drag him the rest of the way inside. Zeke all but marveled to see Ryan Pierce, battered, bloody and half-dead, appear crouching in the doorway with Wesley's long-arm in hand, firing at something behind the lieutenant.
Understanding took hold and Zeke felt his pulse quicken. Goldeneyes was free.
The heavy, quaking footsteps confirmed the Ranger's suspicions a second later. By the sound alone he could tell that Goldeneyes was coming on fast, each of the footfalls like an artillery shell going off. He could hear the creature's hungry grunting behind him, smell the chemical odor of its diseased, bleeding hide. A grating sound at the lieutenant's heels told him that Goldeneyes was brining its claws up, ready to split him from top to bottom.
The train seemed to loom on a horizon, within sight but out of reach. The trolley was close but still too far to contend with the unnatural speed of Goldeneyes. It was too far. He would never reach it before the giant fell upon him. Now, Lieutenant Wilcott, a voice sounded in his mind, it's your turn to die.
"Zeke!" Wesley called at his side and for the second time that morning, the lieutenant found himself being roughly shoved out of danger's path by his friend; stumbling and reeling towards the waiting trolley.
From behind the Ranger came the sickening crunch of flesh and bone. Wesley's shriek split the air, turning a cold knife in Zeke's heart as he tripped over the stairs and fell into the train car. The Brit's cry echoed down the tunnel, rode the cold wind then abruptly dropped off to silence once more.
"Wes!" Zeke cried out, tears stinging his eyes as he rolled over, raising his pistol, ready to defend his best friend.
It was too late though. Mortified, Zeke stared in mute horror at Wesley's body, twitching with his feet inches from the ground. Goldeneyes had skewered the man, its foot-long talons slicing through the material of his Kevlar vest to come out the Brit's back soaked with blood. Spasms rocked Wesley as the beast lifted him high in the air, his eyes rolling about to show the whites, blood bubbling out from between clenched teeth. With a contemptuous grunt, Goldeneyes flung Wesley's corpse aside, leaving streaks across the concrete as it skidded to the other end of the chamber.
He was dead before he hit the ground, Zeke realized. Oh Christ, the pain he must have been in. All because of me. All because of me.
"NOOO!" The lieutenant howled, a ragged sound of loss and emotional agony. Mad with grief, his desire for vengeance burning stronger than ever, Zeke launched himself forward, prepared to assault the towering beast with hands and feet if that was what it would take to avenge his friend. Before the lieutenant could make it out the doorway though, strong arms grappled his waist and hauled him back. Zeke screamed and kicked but it was all for naught. He saw the dark skin of the man restraining him and cursed Eddie with every oath he knew.
Groaning with exertion, Pierce slid the train's door closed and snapped the lock into place. Leaving Zeke's broken, weeping form on the ground, Eddie sprang to his feet and raced into the conductor's area, taking only a moment to examine the controls before flipping a switch and easing the throttle forward. Outside, the announcer's muffled voice informed them that two minutes were left in the countdown.
"I'm getting us out of here!" Eddie shouted into the back as the train rumbled and began to lurch forward.
"Wes." Zeke sobbed bitterly, striking at the floor.
Sparks showered the interior of the car as, from the other side, Goldeneyes rushed the vehicle and clawed through the sheet metal siding, peeling it open like a tin can. Steel squealed as it was torn, cool air swept over the two Rangers and then, roaring, Goldeneyes stuck its maimed, hideous face through the hole it had made.
Zeke reached for his pistol, ready to battle it out with Wesley's killer to the bitter finish when he noticed that Pierce was already moving. With the speed of a striking mongoose, the wounded sniper pulled himself into a crouch, sighting down the barrel of the M-4. In a burst of sudden memory, the lieutenant recalled the giant's reaction when he had reopened the scars that had blinded the creature.
"The eyes, Ryan!" He shouted. "Get the eyes!"
Sergeant Pierce required only a moment to adjust his aim before tapping the trigger twice. The scabs sealing the monster's eyes shut were ripped asunder once more, unleashing an eruption of dark-coloured fluids. Bellowing and gurgling, Goldeneyes spun and staggered backwards, the train gliding easily out of its reach now and up the tunnel.
With an exhausted sigh, Pierce fell onto his back, releasing the M-4. The sniper panted hard as he gazed up at the ceiling and from the conductor's booth Zeke heard Eddie blow out a breath as well before settling into the padded chair. Resting his back against one of the benches, the lieutenant scrubbed at his eyes and tried to absorb the shock of what had just happened.
Wesley, his friend since childhood, the only person Zeke had ever trusted implicitly, was dead. He had made the ultimate sacrifice to preserve Zeke and the others, to delay Goldeneyes long enough for them to make their getaway. That lone act went beyond selfless – it was heroic.
No, Zeke thought, running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair, it's more than that. Goddamn it, Wes, I never asked you to be a hero.
A tremor rocked the walls of the train car, rattled the windows in their sills and for a moment Zeke thought the self-destruct sequence had completed itself ahead of schedule. Then he realized that the vibrations were too slight for it to be an explosion of that magnitude. There was no light from a fire either rather it was more like a tremendous weight had been dropped on the tracks, sending a shockwave out to buck the train.
Something that weighs as much as much as Goldeneyes, the Ranger mused absently and then his head snapped up. Adrenaline pumping through his veins with a renewed intensity, Zeke drew his pistol and climbed to his feet.
The lieutenant turned his gaze to the train's back window and saw his worst fears confirmed as, even mangled and blind, Goldeneyes stood out on the tracks, giving chase. Despite its lack of sight the giant found them easily, no doubt following the clamor of the trolley's engine, its powerful legs matching the pace set by the train. Gradually though still too fast for Zeke's liking, the monster began to overtake them, coming closer with every stride.
"Can this thing go any faster?" He yelled over his shoulder.
Eddie, too, had seen the beast and shook his head quickly, eyes wild. "Not if we want to stay on the tracks!" He answered.
"Then we fight." Zeke said with calm assurance, scooping his pistol up. "Keep us moving," he called to Eddie, "I'll go deal with our friend."
With the car bumping and shaking all about him, Zeke made his way to the back window, gripping the metal poles along the way to stay upright. When he reached his destination, the Ranger shielded his face with one arm and smashed the plate-glass with the butt of his sidearm. Taking a knee among the glass fragments, Zeke checked the Colt's magazine.
One bullet, he thought, slapping the cartridge back into place and cocking the slide. All our hopes rest on one bullet.
Simply firing at Goldeneyes would be a waste and a death sentence. Even headshots had proved to be nothing more than an annoyance to the lumbering beast, a distraction at best. Zeke began to sweat. It would take nothing short of the entire AMRS falling on Goldeneyes' skull to subdue the giant once and for all but that still was not due for another minute. Far too long.
I need something to accelerate the blast, Zeke thought as Goldeneyes roared, closing distance rapidly. There has to be something left to throw at this guy. Cold air lashed at the lieutenant's face. Anything! The train sped on, racing past the pipelines strapped to the wall as it charged towards freedom. Zeke blinked. The gas lines.
Turning his head, the lieutenant watched as the train slipped past thick lengths of metal pipes, rows of them. At first glance he had presumed them to be part of the facility's heating system. It was only a guess but if it was true…Then those things are pumping enough compressed gas to level half this tunnel if the mainline is ruptured.
"Hang on!" He shouted over his shoulder, turning back to take aim at the center pipe. "This is going to be tight." The lieutenant mumbled the last to himself then squeezed the trigger.
At firs there was only the ring of metal hitting metal and then the breath of a dragon consumed the tunnel. A cloud of orange-red flame filled the passage, rolling over Goldeneyes and swallowing the giant entirely. The concussion of the blast bowled Zeke backwards, forcing him to the ground. Heat crawled across the lieutenant's body, prickling his skin and for a moment Zeke thought that Hell had finally come to claim him. Ever so gradually though the blistering heat faded and the lieutenant dared to look up over the edge of the shattered window once more.
All that remained of Goldeneyes was a few bits of charred flesh plastered to the tracks and scorched tunnel walls. The blast had all but evaporated the seemingly invincible stalker. Zeke felt no remorse or no pity at the creature's demise for Wesley's scream rang all too freshly in his ears.
Go back to Hell, he said silently to Goldeneyes' remains as the train rounded a curve, you murdering piece of dog shit.
"You might want to hold on to something, lieutenant." Eddie advised as he scurried out of the control booth to sit in one corner, bracing his knees against his chest. "There should only be about fifteen seconds left in the countdown and I'm not sure we're far enough away."
Nodding solemnly, Zeke gathered the half-conscious Pierce to him and stretched his body out protectively over the sniper's own. He felt the explosion before he heard it.
It started off as the softest vibration, making the floor stutter beneath them. Then the windows rattled in their casings and the walls of the trolley shuddered as the train itself began to bounce wildly. The roaring rush of wind stole away Zeke's hearing and fierce heat singed his skin once more. The vibration grew in intensity until it seemed the whole world had to be trembling, had to be coming to an end. Glass shattered, Eddie cursed, metal rumbled and bucked. Zeke clamped his eyes shut and waited for death.
Death, however desired, did not come. The heat receded. The vibration lessened, faded. The train stopped its swaying and bucking and sped on. Towards home. Towards morning.
Slowly, ever so slowly, Zeke picked himself up off Pierce and stared down at the sharpshooter. Ryan's eyes worked themselves halfway open and then Pierce did something Zeke had never seen him do before. He grinned.
"Did we make it, boss?" Pierce asked, barely above a whisper.
"Yeah," Zeke said, managing a smell smile in spite of himself, "yeah we made it, soldier." Not all of us, he thought, not enough of us. "It's all over now," For you two but not for me. It'll never be over for me. "You're going to be just fine, sergeant, just fine."
"That sucked." Coughing, Eddie brushed glittering shards of glass from his shoulders and pants, fresh nicks standing out on his arms and forehead. "Someone oughta shut this ride down."
Carefully, Zeke eased back against one of the benches and checked his watch. Almost five AM: two more hours until Bosa's nuke arrives. Let's hope this thing takes us far outside the city.
For a moment, the lieutenant sat in silence contemplating all that Raccoon City – no – all that Umbrella had stolen from him. On that list were the woman he loved, his oldest, truest friend, his mentor and a host of other names. An entire city had perished to the company's greed and madness. Then, staring down at the pistol in his hand, Ezekiel Wilcott knew what he had to do.
I can't eat a bullet yet, he decided, not when justice still has to be served. Not until I help all those souls find peace. I will become Justice and my justice will be wrath. Zeke sighed. Not yet though. For now, I still have another purpose.
Discarding the empty handgun, Zeke dug under the bench he rested against for the medical kit. For the time being the lieutenant had failed in his duty to the dead but that fact alone did not relieve Zeke of his duty to the living.
Author's Note: Here's the new update my Readers, please enjoy and review. I know I said the epilogue would be after this but, sadly, I lied. There will be ANOTHER chapter coming and then the epilogue. So please stay tuned, read and review. Thank you.