All
Carlos Oliviera could think about was that one wormwood-rotted door by the
maiden-cog trick. He jogged steady across the marble of the main clocktower
hall, his boots giving off a hollow tattoo. His steady stream of plans were
momentarily faltered as he swallowed down a rise of bile and frustration while
picking his way across the silent, haunting shell of the rescue 'chopper. The
blackened scraps were strewn everywhere, a main chunk had splattered the fine
staircase into husky splinters, rendering it pretty much useless. There wasn't
anything pertinent up there now, anyhow. He remembered going out to check the
crash, filing through the wreckage with an arduous pace. No way that pilot
could have survived.
Carlos was relieved when he stepped into
the miniature library. He was washed in the putrid sweet smell of rot,
overwhelming his senses, but at least he wasn't watching a long lost hope. A
lengthy sigh escaped his breath. He couldn't dottle, though. Jill was depending
on him to find the hospital and get that vaccine. And he would, she
would be safe, if a little tired. Then they could get the hell out of
Raccoon City, this freaky and reality-fucked place that had been torment ever
since he arrived. And now, it could get worse. If he wasn't back in time, or if
the vaccine wasn't there, he would have to shoot someone he cared about. As if
the flesh-eating ghouls weren't enough.
He came upon the little workshop
area, looked back once wishing Jill to stay put and conserve energy, and dug in
his feet. He rammed the massive rusty-gold bell with a grunt and was rewarded
by the give. It scrapped across the floor sonorously and Carlos was breathing
shallowly by the time he pushed it away from the back door. He gave an
involuntary smile as the assaulting waft of damp dirt and concrete issued from
beyond the door as he opened it. The sound of rain was clear. It lead outside. Gracias,
dios, he thought.
When he came out of the small alley,
Carlos' heart left and a huge weight lifted from his shoulders. The hospital
was barely a block away. What fucking luck. He unholstered the Eagle and stood
solidly, picking off the three carriers carefully. He wasn't really seeing
them- he was so blithe he didn't have to go that far, that he'd be back with
Jill in no time.
The glass from a blown car's window
crunched sloshily underfoot while Carlos sprinted to the looming infirmary. He
crammed the pistol away and unslung his assault rifle. He didn't know what was
in there, better to be prepared. When he got up the white steps, Carlos peered
inside through the glass doors. Well-lit, clean, as if nothing ever had gone
wrong in the place. Except its dead. The recesses of the lobby had deep
shadows, too. Looked like it was half shutdown. That he feared. He reached out
a hand and grasped the handle, gave the door a tug. He felt his heart sink as
the doors jiggled together. God dammit-
Wait. Maybe he could break the bolt
between the doors.
Carlos seized his rifle, brought his
leg up and swiftly kicked the bead-cut of the door separation. They bowed in
and came back. Well, hell, idiot, you think it would work on the first try?
So he slammed on the again and again until about the tenth try he had put on so
much weight behind it he was able to push a smite and feel the lock slide away.
Must've been a desperation move to get the doors closed- that wasn't much.
As soon as he stepped in he gave the lobby a
good survey. Couches, reception desk, some sort of vending machine…there was a
dark room to his right, the window had blinds pulled. There was a bit of a
corner where reception was, and he had to secure the room first, but still a
peek wouldn't be so bad. He'd just skim by the window.
The place wasn't dead quiet. The
place was surface-of-the-moon quiet. It was other-worldly and seriously gave
him the creeps. The hospital felt as if nothing human had ever set foot
in it, much less anything living-
Carlos whipped around as a low,
urging moan came from the unsecured reception. Of course, zombies were gonna be
here, if only it didn't sound like a patient groaning out to hospital staff. He
hefted the rifle to take care of the carrier-
There was an insane squeal that gave
him the impression of thin, keen blade edges. A slice of dark black blood
spurted out from behind the corner and made a wet slap against the clean wall,
followed by the collapsing corpse of a decapitated zombie. As the head lobbed
out in squishy cracks, bits of scalp sloughing off when it hit a chair leg, a
shadow slithered over the fallen carrier.
Thump-click. Thump-click.
Carlos didn't like the sound of that. It was
heavy, whatever it was. He nervously lifted his assault rifle as the monster
loomed out.
His breath caught in his throat as a
hulking, hunched creature turned around. It was covered in bumpy, pebblelike
scales the color of barfy moss, bibulous red sores growing out of its back. It had
no neck, just a flat skull, slitted eyes, and a blockish jaw. Its arms dropped
to the floor, hands a mitt of short, vicious claws that stretched in
anticipation when it lay its bright yellow stare on him.
Carlos felt his heart fluttering out
of control. When he had overseen the…the thing it dropped its mouth and let
emanate that horrifically indescribable scream and leapt-
-he jerked up the rifle
unconsciously and fired a deafening stream of bullets into its lunging
reptilian body thinking only of how short life was and how the hell could
anyone fuck up a city so much with such a mistake as the T-virus all he wanted
was to get out of the place with Jill wanted oddly for her to have enough
strength to slap him again just be alive I'm fighting this shit for you
goddammit-
The monster came down on him and its
bulk hit him to the floor. He heard the remnants of his own yell of disgust
dissipate into the recesses of the hospital.
…I'm alive?
Carlos opened his eyes, breathing heavily and
clenching his teeth. His mind and head were buzzing with the pangs of adrenalin
that were making him sweat bullets. He was wildly dazed and befuddled. Shifted,
he ecstatically found the creature lying atop him.
God I can't breathe-
But he was okay. What fucking luck.
The thing was dead when it hit him.
He could feel the lower half of his body saturated in hot liquid, see the dark,
gummy pool silently spreading beneath the thing. The weight of it was crushing
him; he gripped the hard, moist shoulders of it and rolled it off. The corpse
fell into its own lake of blood with a stout smack, upturning for view its
shredded stomach and chest, variable pits opening up the mess of meat.
Carlos grimaced at both that and the
fully soaked pants he had on. He turned away from the bestial stench of the
thing and clutched at his weapon. As he rose to a crouch, he realized the rifle
wasn't going to save him from close calls like that. Those things were built
like trucks-
-obviously built to kill.
He used the rifle and a column to
boost himself up, slicking a hand through his sweaty hair and finally letting
his tension leave his muscles. The rifle was slung on his back and he was
chambering a grenade into the launcher when he felt his blood go cold.
He strained his ears to listen past
the deafening silence that wandered like a ghost prophesizing doom.
Thump-click. Thump-click.
Carlos snapped the launcher up with
panic pounding in his ears.
Thump-click.
Another one? He hoped the place
wasn't teeming with them.
Thump-click.
It's like they're hunting me.
The Hunter slid around the corner, its
crouched body already catching hold of the tile to propel it in his direction. Carlos
clamped down on his skittishness and fired. The grenade caught the beast in the
collar, whipping it back, and the round blew. The explosion echoed easily and
the force pushed the Hunter down. He felt a rush of joy seizing him as the
fireball faded away.
That's some powerful shit!
But incredulity pulled his breath away from
him as the thing began to rise, its upper chest and neck charred black and
warped in its reshaped disturbance. Trickles of congealed blood lapped the
edges of the wound. When it got balanced, he swore it looked squarely at him
with those animal eyes, as if thinking, "I don't think so."
Carlos fired again into its chest as
it sprung. He caught it in the split second it took to halve the distance
between them.
This time, it stayed still where it
fell.
He rapidly ran into the darkened
room, not wanting to face any more Hunters. The new area held no surprises; it
was a square library or prescription room, messily taken care of. He glanced
back through the blinds to the lobby, and seeing no new threats coming from
behind, began to search everywhere for anything.
AUTHOR's
NOTE:
Bazooka
is the same as grenade launcher, at least in my world. Hey- Can you tell I
don't like Hunters? Ain't it obscure?
