Chapter Thirty-Eight: Escape
"Danny!"
Sarah jumped to her feet as the marshal stumbled back into the control room, favouring his side. He sagged to one knee and would have fallen over if Tommy hadn't been there to catch him. Sarah helped the photographer guide Danny down to a seated position and lifted the arm he held tight against his ribs.
Sweet Jesus on a pogo stick.
"I'm fine," the marshal protested with an unconvincing wheeze and wince.
"You're bleeding like a stuck pig," Sarah countered.
"What's with all the cracks about my weight today?"
Ignoring his comment, Sarah set about examining his wound. Metal fragments jutted out of his side, leaving it looking like a piece of raw steak someone had run through a blender. Blood ran from half a dozen punctures in a steady trickle.
Sarah and the others had watched Danny's fight with the Umbrella team play out on the control room's security monitors. Her heart had leapt into her throat more than once during the confrontation. All things considered, the marshal had gotten off lightly.
Not that that's saying much. Sarah slung Danny's arm around her shoulders and told Tommy to follow suit. Together they hauled the man back to his feet. He's still going to bleed to death if we don't get him to a hospital soon.
"The train will be here in one minute," Drake called as if reading her thoughts. He rose from his chair behind the computer console, nearly knocking it over in his haste and ran for the elevator. "Let's get the hell out of here."
Drake held the doors open as Sarah and Tommy half dragged, half carried Danny into the lift. Kuznetsov followed closely behind them. Once everyone was aboard, Drake ducked inside and pushed a button marked "TS".
Let's hope that stands for "tram station" and not "tough shit".
It took the elevator only seconds to reach its destination. The doors opened onto a concrete platform in a cool, dark tunnel. Glowing red lights broke through the blackness at the far end of the passage, accompanied by the frantic rattling of a train racing along a steel track.
Sarah watched as the tram backed into the station, slowing down as it neared the platform where she and her companions stood. Metal clamps rose from hiding places in the ground and grabbed hold of the train's wheels, securing it in place. It was similar in appearance to the locomotive on a passenger train, only longer and wider to accommodate more personnel. As it locked into place, a side door hissed open and a small staircase descended, coming to a rest flush with the platform.
"All aboard," Drake muttered as he charged up the steps and made a beeline for the driver's compartment.
Danny grunted and groaned as Sarah and Tommy helped him negotiate the steps to reach the passenger cart. The space was built to hold more than fifty people with a washroom in the far left corner and benches lining each wall. Telling the photographer to be gentle, she helped him guide the marshal's bulk down onto one of them, sliding the case that held the vaccine samples beneath it.
"You sure you know how to drive this thing?" Tommy asked, glancing to where Drake was strapping himself into the engineer's seat.
"We're about to find out," the hitman replied in a decidedly non-committal tone as he flipped a series of switches on the control panel in front of him. A rumble ran through the tram as its engine stirred to life. "Well, that's encouraging at least."
Leaving Drake to worry about the finer points of train conducting, Sarah turned her attention to the patient before her. Danny's face was closed and contorted with pain. His skin was rapidly turning from a milky white to an alarming shade of gray. His blood was already soaking through the fabric that covered the bench and dripping onto the floor below.
I need to get that shrapnel out before I can stop the bleeding.
Sarah scanned her surroundings, praying a tram used to evacuate a facility in an emergency would be also be equipped with emergency medical supplies. She doubted employee safety was a major priority for the Umbrella Corporation but some things simply went with the territory.
It took her only a moment of searching to notice the first-aid kit bolted onto the wall above her head. She tore it open and rifled around inside before discovering what she needed. She tore the pair of tweezers free and set to work.
"This is going to sting, Danny," Sarah warned, taking the first jagged scrap of metal between the prongs of her instrument, "but it's the first step in putting Humpty Dumpty back together again, alright?"
"Believe me," Danny's voice was little above a whisper, "a sting will feel like an improvement at this point."
"Stay with me, big guy." Sarah muttered, slowly pulling the piece of shrapnel out of the marshal's side. "We'll have you fixed up in a jiffy."
Please don't let me be lying to him. Not him.
Sarah's hand remained steady as she tweezed each scrap of metal out of Danny's side but inside she was trembling with fear. The man who lay before her had kept her going, had kept them all going through the endless horror show that was Raccoon City. He had seen his team, his friends die in the process but still he kept them pushing forward.
Fate, in all its miserable cruelty, had forced them together in this situation but it had been Danny Cobb who had accepted the mantle of leader. It had been Danny Cobb who had done everything in his power, against all odds, to get them this far. It had been Danny Cobb who had given them a chance at escape, at making it out of Raccoon City alive.
If it hadn't been for you, Danny I'd be just one more corpse in this city of the dead. Sarah slowly plucked another shard from the marshal's side then a third and a fourth. She moved methodically, carefully. The work kept her focused and calm. It almost made her forget that a man's life hung in the balance. If it hadn't been for you, it would have been curtains for me in the library. Those tweaked out scumbags would have beaten me, raped me and put a bullet in me when they were done.
You came back for me Danny. You kept me going when I wanted to give up. So you stay with me now.
"What can I do?" Tommy's question startled Sarah. She looked up to find the photographer crouched at her side, his face strained with worry as he stared at Danny's prone form. Clearly she wasn't the only one who felt they owed the marshal a debt of gratitude. "How can I help?"
Tommy Chan, as I live and breathe. You just might convince me there's a human being lurking deep down inside of you yet.
"Find me a clean compress," Sarah instructed as she pulled the last piece of shrapnel free. "A blanket, a towel, a pillowcase – anything."
Tommy nodded and hopped to his feet. He twirled about in confusion for a moment before racing off into the tram's bathroom. He returned a moment later clutching a hand towel.
"Perfect," Sarah nodded, gesturing to Danny's side. "Hold it to his wound and keep pressure on. Don't be gentle about it either, push down hard."
Tommy dropped back down beside her and applied the compress to Danny's injured ribs. The marshal stirred and let out a moan but the photographer held his ground, keeping the pressure on. The white cloth quickly turned red but if the sight of so much blood made Tommy squeamish at all he kept it off his face.
Sarah pulled a bottle of antiseptic and a pack of bandages out of the first-aid kit when an angry buzzing sounded from the driver's compartment of the tram. It was followed a moment later by a shout from Drake.
"Fuck!" He roared, unstrapping himself and heading back into the passenger section. "One of the goddamn clamps is jammed. We'll have to release it manually."
"I'll help you," Kuznetsov had been standing guard by the tram door but holstered his pistol as Drake approached and led the way back onto the platform.
"Nothing's ever…easy," Danny muttered as the two men made their exit.
"Don't you worry about that," Sarah replied, dousing one of the bandages in rubbing alcohol and waving Tommy away. "Think happy thoughts."
"What are you - ahhhhhh!"
Danny kicked and howled as she applied the antiseptic to his injured side. Once she was satisfied the area had been sterilized she tossed the gauze aside. The marshal let out a violent gasp and shook his head.
"You could have warned me…that would sting."
"Don't be such a baby," Sarah chastised her patient, placing bandages on his puncture wounds and using surgical tape to hold them in place. "Tommy, do me a favour and go see what's taking Mike and Ike so long out there."
She threw the photographer a look that encouraged him to encourage the two men to solve whatever the problem was in a hurry.
If we don't him to a hospital soon we're going to lose him.
"On it," Tommy jumped back to his feet and charged down the steps onto the platform.
"Sarah…" Danny mumbled, his eyelids drooping shut.
"Don't talk." She patted the marshal's arm, using her free hand to place another strip of tape over the final bandage. "Save your strength. You're going to need it when we walk out of here." She gave him a small smile. "You better believe Tommy and I aren't going to keep lugging your ass around."
Danny shook his head. "If I don't…If I don't make it…tell Drake…"
"Shut up, Danny," Sarah grabbed hold of the man's hand and squeezed it as hard as she could. "You're going to make it out of here. We all are. Whatever you need to tell Drake, you can tell him yourself after we get out of the city."
"Tell him…tell him I know…" Danny trailed off as his eyelids slid shut.
Tears welled in Sarah's eyes as she feared she had lost the man. She lowered her ear to his chest as she dug her fingers into his wrist, frantically feeling for a pulse. She let out a sob of relief as she felt its slow but steady beat and heard the rattle of air in his lungs. Danny had passed out but remained among the living.
For now.
"We need to get out of here now," she whispered to herself and rose to call out to the others when she heard Tommy's voice drift through the open doorway.
"Hey guys!" He bellowed at Drake and Kuznestov. "What's the hold up? We need to get –"
The rest of the photographer's words were lost in a surprised grunt followed by the sound of something heavy slumping to the ground. Sarah darted to a window on the platform side of the tram and saw Tommy prone on the ground. He lay flat on his face, a thick red welt already beginning to form on the back of his neck. She looked on as a hulking figure walked over the photographer's body. The lighting in the tunnel was pale and faint but granted enough illumination for her to make out the features of a face that took her breath away.
Sarah found herself looking at a ghost.
It can't be.
"Howdy fellas!" Mike Gilson barked, moving past Tommy, aiming his assault rifle to where Drake and Kuznetsov stood at the far end of the platform. "Did you miss me, Drake?"
Realizing the man was unaware of her presence, Sarah ducked lower. She crouched beneath the window, raising her head just enough to see out over the sill.
The burly deputy marshal had been through the mill since he had parted their company after trying to murder Danny. His vest and clothing were torn in multiple places, spattered with blood, dirt and other stains Sarah couldn't identify. Gilson's face was just as filthy, marred by cuts, scrapes and bruises. His eyes though, were the most frightening part of his appearance.
They were wide, unblinking and shone with a light that made Sarah's bowels clench. Flames of madness danced chaotically in his gaze. They were the eyes of a man who had abandoned any semblance of rationality, logic, empathy and compassion.
They were the eyes of a monster.
"Gilson?" Drake asked as the deputy stepped into view. "How the hell are you still –"
"Alive?" Gilson cut off the other man with an unnerving chuckle. "That's a good story but it's one I'd rather share with you alone."
The hulking marshal swiveled, training the barrel of his weapon on Kuznetsov. The Russian realized what was about to happen and went for his sidearm but he was too slow. Gilson pulled the trigger twice before the UBCS commander could get his pistol out of his holster. Both rounds struck Kuznetsov in the neck. He hit the ground, spasmed once and then went still.
Sarah clamped her hands over her mouth to keep from screaming. Tears scorched a path down the sides of her face.
"You piece of shit!" Drake fumed, taking a step towards Gilson before reconsidering after the deputy turned his assault rifle back in his direction. "You bloodthirsty fucking psycho!"
"Psycho?" Gilson sounded almost amused by the suggestion. "I kill a couple people and I'm a psycho but you make killing your career so what's that make you?"
Drake didn't respond to the jab, he just continued to glower at the deputy marshal.
"Maybe you're right," Gilson went on, "maybe I am a psycho. Maybe I am a bloodthirst fucking maniac but who made me that way? You did, Drake. I came to this fucking hellhole because of you. Whatever this place turned me into it's because of you. However much blood I've split is on your hands."
Sarah ducked beneath the windowsill and frantically shook her head, hoping to shake loose an idea or two about what to do. Gilson had murdered Kuznetsov in cold blood and was about to do the same to Drake. He was only drawing things out for his own twisted sense of fun, like a cat playing with a mouse it had caught – its death was inevitable, it was simply a matter of how long it took the predator to grow bored of the sadistic game.
I need to do something. I need to do something. I need to do something!
True, but what? Sarah still had the element of surprise on her side but that wouldn't be enough to neutralize the hulking U.S. marshal. Gilson easily had a couple feet and couple hundred pounds on her. Even if she could blindside him, Sarah wasn't under any illusions about being able to tackle the man and wrestle his weapon out of the thick paws he called hands.
It was then that Sarah became aware of the weight in her back pocket, of something poking through the fabric and into her leg. She reached behind her and withdrew the handgun Danny had given her. Her hand trembled as she contemplated a question she never would have imagined she would have to ask herself.
Can I kill another person?
When Sarah had taken the gun, despite the sour stance on firearms that had been instilled in her by the trauma she had experienced on her grandfather's shooting range as a young girl, she had been prepared to use it to defend herself from the mindless hordes of infected and the no less monstrous kind of men like the ones who had abducted her in the library and killed Homer. If she had been forced to use the gun under such circumstances she could have reconciled the action as not only right but also necessary. What she contemplated now though was an entirely different matter: sneaking up behind a man and putting a bullet in his head.
It was murder…but it was Drake's only chance.
Sarah knew Gilson would tire of his conversation soon and unlike her, he would have no qualms about putting a bullet through someone's skull. He had tried to gun down Danny. He had gunned down Kuznestov and who knew how badly he had hurt Tommy. The man was a mad dog and he had to be put down before he bit anyone else.
Sarah steadied her hand and thumbed off the pistol's safety.
Red means dead.
Gripping the gun in both hands, she slowly approached the steps leading back from the platform. She began a careful descent, taking them one at a time, moving delicately so as not rattle them and give herself away. She caught Drake's eye as she stepped down and gave him a look that said "Keep him talking".
"How did you find us?" Drake asked, his gaze flicking back to Gilson's before the man could notice his attention was elsewhere.
"It was easier than I expected," Gilson replied and Sarah could hear the grin in his voice. "I almost lost you in the woods but those spooks in the black combat gear led me right to you. I almost lost you again after the skirmish at the cabin but that Army Ranger asshole was kind enough to fall into my lap with a map that practically had this place marked with an X."
As the two talked, Sarah approached Gilson from behind. He stood less than ten feet away but the distance was more than she trusted her aim to cover. She crept forward, her feet barely touching the concrete as she moved on the balls of her feet.
Her heart was a jackhammer against her breastbone. She could feel her pulse thrumming in her temple and neck, flooding her system with adrenaline. Sarah feared discovery at any moment, that Gilson would somehow sense her presence, whirl around and drop her with a shot through the forehead but Drake kept the big man focused on him.
"Briggs?" The hit man asked with genuine surprise. "Did you kill him too?"
"Carved him up with his own boot knife," Gilson nodded, sounding downright proud of himself. "I decorated his throat with a red smile."
Son of a bitch.
Sarah closed within five feet of the burly deputy. She raised her pistol, training the barrel on the back of Gilson's head. She touched her finger to the trigger and remembered Danny's instructions: Squeeze don't pull.
Behind her, Tommy moaned loud and long enough to draw Gilson's attention. He spun around and found himself starring down the barrel of Sarah's weapon. Her heart jumped as his eyes' widened. She pulled the trigger but by then Gilson already had one of his meaty palms wrapped around her wrists, forcing her aim up and away from his face. The gun barked but the bullet crashed into the stone overhead.
The big man growled and pulled Sarah off her feet. Her world disappeared in a dizzying blend of colours as he whirled her around and tossed her across the concrete. She heard the hand gun clatter across the floor as it was violently pried from her fingers. Pain jolted through Sarah's limbs as her elbows and knees banged off the ground as she rolled side over side before finally coming to a rest. The ceiling spun for another moment before Drake's face resolved out of the chaotic twirl. She felt his hands around her shoulders, drawing her up to her feet and pushing her behind him.
A moment later Tommy was tossed unceremoniously beside them.
"Thanks for the heads up kid," Gilson nodded to the photographer, "I knew there was a reason I didn't put a bullet in you."
"Yeah thanks, Tommy," Drake spat acidly, glaring at the man as he staggered to his feet, one hand rubbing the back of his neck.
"Sorry," he grunted, "but you try getting knocked the fuck out and see if you're not a bit sore when you wake up."
Sarah could only shake her head as Gilson trained his assault rifle on their trio.
Put a fork in us, we're done.
The thought came with a bitter taste. They had come so far, endured so much, survived all manner of nightmares only to meet their end at the hands of a madman. It didn't seem right.
"Doctor Waxer," Gilson greeted her with a grin that was all teeth, "it's so good to see you again. Seems we've got the bad back together, don't we? With a few exceptions anyway. I'm glad so many of you are left. I was worried that team of spooks had stolen all my fun. By the way, where's my Boss?"
"Behind you."
Gilson turned at the sound of Danny's voice. The marshal commander stood at the top of the staircase leading into the tram. He held a pistol in one hand and although he was pale, bloody and struggling to stay on his feet, Danny's aim was unwavering.
"I'm sorry," he said solemnly.
Gilson brought his rifle up then dropped it as the back of his head exploded. Sarah registered the gunshot a moment later. The burly deputy swayed on his feet for a moment then crumpled to the cold, hard ground. Danny remained standing for another moment, smoke trailing from the barrel of his pistol before he collapsed onto his back side.
Sarah darted across the platform and up the steps to the tram. She pulled Danny back into a seated position. His eyes were closed and she feared the worst but when she pressed her fingertips to the carotid artery in his neck she could still feel the beat of his pulse. It was slow and shallow but it was there. The marshal's eyes fluttered open and met her own.
"I told you…that bullet was lucky."
"Yeah," she answered, fighting back more tears, "yeah you did. C'mon you big lug. You shouldn't be out of bed."
Slinging one of Danny's arms around her shoulders, Sarah helped carry the marshal back up the steps and lay him across the bench again. He settled back with a groan and a sigh, falling into unconsciousness almost immediately. She checked the bandages she had taped to his side and was alarmed to find them already soaked through. Danny was losing blood faster than his wounds appeared he should be, which could only mean his internal damage was worse than she had expected.
We're running out of time.
She turned to yell at Tommy and Drake to get the damn train moving when the two men came clambering up the steps. Drake slammed the door shut behind them and charged towards the driver's compartment with barely a sideways glance at where she knelt beside Danny.
"We got the final clamp free," the hitman said as he hoped into the conductor's chair and began throwing switches. "It's time to leave this place in the goddamn dust."
Sarah clutched Danny's hand between both of hers as the train began to rumble down the track. "Hold on," she whispered to him. "Just hold on. We're almost out of here."
Vibrations shook the tram's floor and walls as Drake coaxed more speed out of the vehicle. Sarah knew every rumble and bump meant they were a step closer to freedom from the horrors that had consumed Raccoon City and yet she was ashamed to admit that a large part of her refused to believe they would actually escape. The possibility of leaving this nightmare behind seemed too good to be true and so as the train raced along the tracks she waited for something to go wrong.
We'll go too fast and derail. The power will go out. We'll make it to the end just to find that the exit has been bricked over. Some giant monster with two heads, eight arms and fifteen eyes will rush in and bulldoze us off the track.
All those scenarios seemed more likely than the one where they followed the escape route to its end and made it out of the city before it was wiped off the map. What startled Sarah the most was that she felt no fear when entertaining the various grisly endings that might await her and her companions in this dark tunnel. They would either make it out or they would not. Either way, she wouldn't be surprised.
Stop it.
Sarah shook herself, trying to drive away the darkness that was devouring her thoughts. She hadn't come this far to simply lay down and call it quits now. Telling herself to be useful, Sarah pulled more supplies from the medical kit overhead and went about changing Danny's bandage.
Her heart fell as she lifted up the marshal's soiled bandage and watched as fresh blood bubbled out of the wounds. It was thick and dark. Her previous ministrations had been in vain. Danny was bleeding out and short of them finding a surgeon and fully equipped trauma suite on their way through the evacuation tunnel there was nothing she could do to stop that.
Give me a break. Just give me one goddamn break.
Sarah set about cleaning and changing the dressing anyway. It was futile but it was the least she could do. "I'm sorry," she muttered as she went about her work. "I'm so sorry, Danny."
She had just finished wrapping the marshal's wounds with clean gauze when Drake stepped out of the driver's compartment and moved into the back of the tram with the rest of them. He stepped past Tommy who crouched against one wall, rubbing the back of his head and wincing. The hitman stood over her for a moment, his eyes fixed on Danny's prone form, watching the sluggish rise and fall of his chest, before he dropped down beside her.
"How's he doing?" The man's tone suggested he already knew the answer but Sarah shook her head anyway. She saw the light in the man's eyes darken at her reply but then he nodded and tapped her on the shoulder. "There's something you should see."
Nodding, she let Drake help her to her feet and lead the way back into the driver's area. The compartment was a mess of switches, dials and levers all of which was beyond her understanding but it was to a computer screen set in the center of the control console to which Drake pointed. Lines of text filled the glowing screen.
TO: ALL WHITE FACILITY SUPERVISORS
SUBJECT: RACCOON CITY STERILIZATION
Be advised that the Joint Raccoon Syndrome Advisory Committee, acting on a recommendation from the Umbrella Corporation, has ordered the sterilization of Raccoon City. The U.S. military will carry out this order at sunrise tomorrow at 6:22AM.
The execution of this order will result in the termination of the three White facilities within the city including the NEST laboratory. The loss of the research data and materials at these locations cannot be overstated.
Personnel who were able to evacuate the facilities designated "Watershed" and "Warehouse" will be reassigned in the coming days. Specific details will follow so appropriate clearances and schedules can be issued. There were no survivors from the NEST lab.
In light of recent events, the Corporation will be reviewing containment protocols at all White Umbrella laboratories and storage areas. Onsite security will be doubled while these reviews are taking place.
Jackson Courtlandt
Director of Operations
"I decided to do a little poking around in Umbrella's messaging system after I got the tram rolling," Drake explained. "This one was sent yesterday. Looks like Briggs was right about the sunrise deadline. We're getting out of here with just under an hour to spare."
Sarah shook her head as she finished reading the message. "'White Umbrella', 'NEST', 'Watershed', 'Warehouse'. This thing reads like a bad spy novel."
The codenames might have given the missive an almost comical tone but it still chilled Sarah's blood to read it. It suggested that Umbrella had two more clandestine facilities inside the city in addition to the one they were leaving. If she had any doubts about the conspiracy Kuznetsov told them had been unfolding under their noses for years they were now gone.
"I like how this prick talks about doubling security but then signs a memo with his name," Drake tapped the signature at the bottom of the note. "I think someone should pay Mr. Courtlandt a visit."
Sarah glanced over at Drake, the glow from the screen playing over his features and amplifying the murderous glare in his eyes. It reminded her of what Drake was – a man who made his living by killing others. To him, Jackson Courtlandt was more than just a name: it was a target.
"Guys!" Tommy shouted, appearing in the entranceway. "Danny's asking for you."
Pausing only to exchange a worried look, Sarah and Drake pushed past Tommy and out into the passenger area. Danny still lay stretched out on the bench but he was awake now. The marshal held one hand clamped against the bloody bandage on the side, he extended the other and Sarah took it gently as she crouched next to him.
"Did we…did we make it?" He asked in a voice that was soft, fading.
"Almost," Sarah replied with a thin smile. "We're on our way out of the city."
"The tram comes out just outside the city limits," Drake continued. "It should get us to minimum safe distance. Hopefully."
"Good…good." Danny nodded then turned to look at Drake. His eyes were glassy, his gaze far away but he fixed the hitman with a pointed stare. "I was…wrong about you."
"Danny, you don't –"
"No," the marshal cut in with a grimace, the effort of speaking obviously causing him more pain than he was letting on. "I thought you were…a monster, a murderer…nothing more. I was…wrong. You helped…save lives. You put your own…neck on the line…more than once…and you saved lives because of it."
Drake said nothing.
"Whatever you became," Danny went on, blood bubbles bursting on his lips, "whatever they made you…that's not who you are. That's not…all you are. Somewhere inside you…buried beneath all the bloodshed and death…is a…good man."
Drake said nothing but Sarah saw something glistening in his eyes. She thought it might have been tears but then the man blinked and the sheen was gone.
"I know why you did…what you did. I know why you…turned yourself in." Danny shook his head. "I know…you're better than that too. I know you're…more than what they made you. There's more to your life than just…revenge now, do you…understand? These people…need you. The world…needs you. It has to know…what happened here. Do you…understand?"
Drake said nothing but he nodded. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, but he nodded. Danny studied him for a moment before nodding back.
"Good," the marshal sighed and shut his eyes. "Good. Don't let the bastards…get away with it."
Danny's head lolled to the side. The hand clutching his side went limp and fell away. Sarah felt the marshal's other hand go slack between her fingers. His chest rose and fell and did not rise again.
"Danny?" Her voice was little more than strained whisper. She shook his shoulders but he did not stir. "Danny…" She jostled him again already knowing he was dead before she felt Drake's hands settle on her shoulders and heard him speak behind her.
"He's gone."
Across from her, Tommy pressed his back to the wall and slid to the ground at the marshal's feet. He pressed his face into his hands and shook his head.
Sarah wanted to do the same. She wanted to scream and weep but couldn't.She wanted to cry but found she had no tears left to shed even though grief seemed to fill every fibre of her being. It seemed Raccoon City had even robbed her of the ability to mourn.
She looked down at Danny's still form and was once again reminded of how she had felt starring down at Homer's corpse. He could just be sleeping. If anyone had earned their rest then it was Danny Cobb. He had kept their group together, found ways out of impossible situations and allowed them to reach this point to escape the horrors consuming Raccoon City.
They had lost people along the way, too many, but how many more would have fallen without him? Sarah had no illusions that without Danny none of them would have made it out of this place alive.
Sarah took the marshal's hands between her own and gently laid them over his chest. She leaned down and placed a soft kiss on his cooling cheek.
"Thank you," she whispered.
-PAGE BREAK-
Leaving Sarah and Tommy to grieve in private, Drake rose to his feet and made the short walk back into the driver's compartment of the tram. He threw himself down into the seat behind the control console and starred through the windshield without seeing anything. As the train chugged through the darkness he reflected on Danny's final words.
"I was wrong about you."
"You helped save lives."
"You're a good man."
Drake wasn't sure he had ever thought of himself as being anything approaching good. Even before he met Freddy McShay and Romeo Capelli, killing had been how he made his living. He had been able to justify the lives he took during his stint with Delta because he had worn the flag on his shoulder at the time and could rationalize that he was only delivering death to those whose crimes were far worse and far more numerous.
After Delta, McShay, Jessica's murder and Capelli, Drake had adopted a similar way of thinking to live with what he did as a contract killer. He was only taking out gangsters, drug dealers, pimps and thugs who financed the criminal empire of a man more monstrous than themselves. Still, killing bad people did not make one good.
Drake had never viewed his actions as good. They were necessary and just, certainly, but not good. To view them as such would have bestowed on them a level of righteousness that simply did not fit. Killing could be necessary and just but it was never righteous.
"You're a good man."
What had swayed the marshal's opinion about him, Drake wondered. Danny Cobb had been hunting him for a long time. Just a few days ago nothing would have made the man happier than to see him rotting behind bars for the rest of his life. Yet, it seemed their experiences in Raccoon City had led Danny to believe that someone like Drake Lincoln could be capable of…of what? Redemption? The word didn't seem to fit at all.
There's no going back for me, Drake knew. I can't take back a tenth of the things I've done and even if I could I'm not sure I would. They seemed right at the time. There's no changing the past.
But maybe that wasn't what Danny had been trying to tell him. He had said that he knew what Drake had become, what he had been turned into, and that he was better than that. Perhaps, the marshal was trying to tell him to forge a new path. One that began with exposing what Umbrella had done to Raccoon City.
We`ve definitely got enough evidence between what`s on Tommy`s camera and what`s in that kit Sarah smuggled out. Still, where do we begin when we try to tell this story and who are we going to tell that would actually listen? I lived through the damn thing and I'm not sure I believe half of what I saw.
The way ahead began to brighten and Drake looked up as the tram shot out of the tunnel and rumbled through a barren rocky area. The train had been running on auto-pilot and began to slow as its sensors detected it was nearing the end of the line. Overhead the sky was fading from the deep black of night into the murky blue of dawn. Sunrise was coming and with it the destruction of Raccoon City.
Putting his attempts at self-reflection on hold for the time being, Drake pulled himself out of the driver's seat and went to rouse Sarah and Tommy.
I've got to hand it to you, Danny. After all these years on my tail and all you had to do to get inside my head was die. You're real son of a bitch, you know that?
The tram ground to halt just as Drake was informing Sarah and Tommy they had reached their destination. The two rose slowly to their feet and glanced down at where Danny lay in repose on the passenger bench. If not for his ashen skin and the bloody wound on his side, someone could have thought the man was simply napping.
The destruction of Raccoon City was less than an hour away and yet none of them, not even Drake himself, could move. He stood between Sarah and Tommy, all of them starring at Danny's body. He knew what held them there despite battling so long and hard to escape the city.
They had no tools or time with which to bury Danny. They had nothing even to cover his body with. To leave him here as they must felt like a betrayal.
"We should be outside the blast radius," Drake said. "We'll send someone back for him."
It was a lame promise but it was one Sarah and Tommy seemed to accept. They both nodded silently and exited the train. Drake followed them out but not before he cast one last glance back towards Danny.
"I'm sorry it turned out like this," he muttered, his voice just above a whisper, "but thank you."
With his last goodbye said, Drake turned on his heel and followed after his companions.
-PAGE BREAK-
Sarah trudged along between Drake and Tommy, the case that contained the T-virus vaccine samples swinging from one fist. She found its weight oddly reassuring. She knew it was the weight that came from carrying the burden of proof.
They're going to break this sucker down into its component parts and see what it was designed to treat. Despite everything she had been through in the last few days, everything she had lost, the thought put a smile on Sarah's face. There won't be a rock big enough or a hole deep enough for you corporate dickheads to hide in then. I can't wait to pop some popcorn and watch as you're dragged out of your offices in handcuffs. You'll be the stars of the crime of the century and let's not forget all of the Congressional inquiries that are sure to follow too.
Maybe they'll even ask me to testify and you better bet your sweet bippy that I'll do so grinning ear from ear and I'll flip you bastards off when I'm done. I want you to know I had a hand in exposing you for what you are. Just because you wear Armani doesn't mean you aren't as monstrous as the things you bred in your labs.
The fantasy made Sarah feel better – at least a little bit – but there was still the matter of making it a reality. To do that they would need to reach civilization again and that would likely prove to be quite the journey.
My legs are already aching and we haven't even made it a mile yet.
The tram had let them out in an abandoned gravel pit outside the city limits. From there, Sarah, Tommy and Drake had made the arduous climb and discovered that fortunately they were only a few feet from the main highway. They walked along the pavement now with the sky brightening overhead.
"So we just keep walking until we stumble across a gas station or truck stop or something?" Tommy had asked a few moments ago.
"That's the plan," Drake had answered.
Sarah ignored the throbbing in her legs as she kept pace with the two men. She kept her eyes forward, not daring to look back at the city. It was where she had lost Homer and so much more. She knew a piece of herself, a very large piece at that, remained among the ruins of Raccoon City. She would never be able to get that piece back and so what was the use in looking back, in trying to catch a glimpse of it? All the city held was death and madness.
Sarah focused on moving forward. There was nothing to impede them. All signs of the quarantine she had ordered were gone. There were no fences, no tens where medical officials huddled in hazmat suits, no soldiers on patrol. Everything and everyone had been pulled back after the order had been given to scrub the city off the face of the Earth.
But you won't clean up everything you did there. No siree. Sarah squeezed the handle of the sample kit tighter.
"What's the first order of business going to be when we get back to high society?" Drake asked, exchanging glances with her and Tommy. "I mean aside from exposing a global conspiracy to build apocalyptic viral weapons that most likely extends to the top levels of several governments around the world?"
"I'm looking forward to taking a shit personally," Tommy remarked sourly. "It feels like I've been holding it in for the last three days - which is surprising given the ample opportunities I've had over that period of time to shit myself."
"Amen," Drake nodded. "I'm looking forward to using the bathroom myself. I can't even remember the last time I was able to take a piss that wasn't in the corner of a room."
"You two are disgusting," Sarah observed, "but not as disgusting as we all smell. I know we've all gotten used to the musk of sweat, dirt, swamp water and monster guts but I'm sure the general public won't find it all that alluring. I'd say a long hot shower is a good idea for all of us before we go exposing any conspiracies."
"I'll drink to that," Tommy replied, "and I'm going to need one or two thousand drinks if I'm ever going to be able to get over what we just went through."
Sarah was about the voice her support for that suggestion when Drake held out a hand and cut her off. "Wait. Do you hear that?"
Raising an eyebrow, Sarah was about to answer in the negative when she realized she did hear something. It was a steady thumping sound like the blades of a helicopter slashing through the air. It was soft and subtle but grew louder as the craft approached.
Sarah twisted her head in the direction of the noise and watched as a shape flew towards them from the west. It was an aircraft but like none she had ever seen before. It was as big as a cargo plane but was propelled by a series four massive turbo-prop engines, making her think of it as some kind of plane-helicopter hybrid. It pushed towards their group at incredible speeds and was hovering over their heads within seconds of appearing in the sky.
Sarah thought that perhaps appear was the wrong word. The aircraft had seemed to materialize out of thin air. One second it hadn't been occupying space in the sky and the next it was circling them.
"It could be here to rescue us," Tommy said, shouting to be heard above the whir of the blades as the massive craft set down on the road in front of them, blocking the path ahead.
"I don't think so," Drake said, a hard edge in his voice and his eyes. "That thing doesn't have an insignia or a serial number. It's covert."
Sarah clutched the sample case tighter as Drake wrapped a hand around the grip of one of the handguns tucked into his waistband. She held the container protectively behind her back.
The strange aircraft killed its engines but the whine of the propellers was quickly replaced by the hum of hydraulics. Sarah watched as the back end of the craft opened up, a ramp descending and three figures exited.
They were all similarly dressed in black combat gear – army boots, fatigues, flak vests – and had their faces obscured by gas masks. Sarah gasped and felt Tommy and Drake tense beside her. Clearly she wasn't the only one who recognized the attire of their new friends.
They're the soldiers who ambushed us back at the cabin. Icy fingers squeezed her heart and jabbed at her stomach. They're the Umbrella hit squad.
Before Drake could draw his gun, two of the soldiers leveled weapons of their own in his direction. Sarah thought the pair were pointing pistols their way at first but then she recognized the black and yellow stripped paint on the guns and realized the two troopers were holding Tasers.
At least they seem to want us alive.
The third soldier, the shorter of the trio who stood in the middle, walked towards them and extended a hand in greeting. "Good morning," his voice was muffled by the gas mask but Sarah thought she detected the hint of an accent, something Slavic or eastern European. "Congratulations on making it out of Raccoon City. I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you all to drop your weapons."
The icy hands curled around Sarah's heart tightened.
No, no, no. They can't win. Not after everything we've been through.
Drake glared at the man but shook his head and nodded to Sarah and Tommy. "Do it," he said tossing his pistols onto the asphalt. A moment later Sarah and Tommy added their own weapons to the pile.
"Thank you," the Umbrella trooper answered. "I'll also need you to hand over your camera Mr. Chan and we'll need that case from you as well, Doctor Waxer."
Tommy glowered at the man as he slid the strap of his camera over his neck and tossed it over to the trooper who promptly pulled the film roll out of the back, tore it to shreds and then smashed the camera itself into pieces on the road. "You owe me a Pullitzer, asshole."
One of the Taser-armed goons approached Sarah and tried to pull the vaccine case out of her hand. She resisted at first, scowling at the soldier, almost daring him to use his weapon. She didn't want to be on the receive end of 50,000 volts but nor did she want to surrender the best piece of evidence they had of Umbrella's crimes. He tugged harder, jarring her shoulder, but still she kept her grip firm.
I won't let you bastards get away with this.
The soldier raised his Taser threateningly towards her but Drake stepped between the two of them with his arms raised. "That won't be necessary," he said, glancing back over his shoulder at her. "It's okay, Sarah." His voice was gentle, soft but the hard gleam in his eyes remained. This isn't over, they seemed to say. "It's okay. Just let it go."
Let it go.
The thought of letting go everything she had been through in the last few days, everything she had suffered and lost, cut Sarah to the bone…but she trusted what she saw in Drake's eyes. She trusted what they said, what they promised. Slowly, she uncurled her fingers from around the case and let the Umbrella trooper tear it away. A ragged sob escaped her as he did.
"There, that wasn't so bad, was it?" The leader of the trio said as his colleague handed him the case containing the T-virus vaccines. "While you've made it out of the city, unfortunately you can't return home yet. Mr. Lincoln, Doctor Waxer, you will be coming with us. Mr. Chan, I regret to inform you that we won't need a man of your talents."
"What are you –"
The trooper drew his sidearm – a sleek black handgun that did not have the trademark yellow strips of a Taser – and fired two rounds into Tommy's chest. The photographer fell to his knees, looking up at the gunman with a bewildered look. The Umbrella soldier fired twice more, striking Tommy in the forehead.
"No!" Sarah screamed, clamping her hands over her mouth as the photographer toppled onto his side in a heap.
"Motherfucker!" Drake bellowed and rushed the gunman.
Electricity crackled as the man's two cohorts squeezed the triggers of their Tasers. Drake had only made it two steps when the barbs struck him in the chest and shoulder. He snarled and fell like a puppet with its strings cut. He writhed on the pavement as the voltage coursed through his body.
One of the troopers removed a pair of plastic zip cuffs from his belt, knelt beside Drake and set about restraining the man. The second came over to Sarah and dragged her away by the shoulders. She allowed herself to be led away, too stunned and numb to resist. She cast a glance over her shoulder and saw Drake being hauled to his feet as Tommy's blood spread across the pavement.
Within seconds, Sarah was forced into a seat in the cargo hold. She was strapped into place and then had her hands secured in front of her with a pair of zip ties like the ones used to bind Drake. The hitman was thrown into the seat beside her and similarly bundled up. He tried to rise up out of his seat as he was being strapped in and was quickly hit with a stun gun again for his trouble. He spasmed and dropped back, head lolling to one side as he passed out.
"Stop it!" Sarah screamed. "You're going to kill him!"
The trooper ignored her and moved away. His two companions came aboard the craft and orders were barked. The ramp began to close, engines hummed and the aircraft began to rise.
The leader of the squad walked past Sarah as he moved towards the bridge. The sample case dangled from his hand.
This wasn't supposed to happen. We had escaped. We were supposed to be safe.
Sarah gasped as she felt a meaty hand curl around her arm. She turned to see one of the troopers crouched beside her, pushing her sleeve up over her shoulder. His gas mask made his features look alien and gave Sarah the irrational idea that she was being groped by an extraterrestrial.
Her heart leapt into her throat when she saw the same man produce a small vial and hypodermic needle. He slowly drew the fluid from the glass container into the syringe.
"What the fuck is that?" She demanded, thrashing in her seat. "What the fuck are you injecting me with?"
"Relax," he growled, pinning her in place before jabbing the needle into the fleshy part of her shoulder.
The soldier shoved her back and stalked off without so much as a sideways glance. Sarah's mind raced as she feared what she may have just had pumped into her system but she quickly found the waters of her thoughts become murky and hard to grasp. The room swam, a blur of colours spinning before her eyes. She tried to keep her eyes open but they suddenly felt too heavy. Darkness swept over her in a rush. She was able to hold onto one thought as she tumbled down into that black pool.
This wasn't supposed to happen.
Author's Note: Please read and review! After what's felt like an eternity this story is almost complete. Stay tuned for the next and final chapter!