28: The Clock Tower
St Michael's Clock Tower loomed in front of them, a dark silhouette against the sky. The clouds parted slightly, just enough for a small amount of moonlight to light the edges of the leaden clouds that covered the sky. Far from being a comfort, it only served to make the scene even more ominous.
"Creepy," said Renée, speaking for them all.
"Creepy or not, we're going in," said Amber, mentally pulling herself together. "Someone in there needs our help."
A flock of crows sprung up into the air at their approach. Cawing, the birds circled the clock tower once or twice before coming to land on the roof.
Christina crossed the courtyard briskly, and tried the front doors. They were locked. This was duly reported back to the others.
"Strange," said Renée, frowning. "I thought the other units were meant to be assembling survivors inside the main hall, ready for the rescue operation. Why is it locked?"
"What rescue operation?" said Amber sharply.
"Well, that's why we were sent here," said Renée. "To rescue civilians. The plan was to search the city for survivors, round them up and bring them here, then ring the bell at the top of the tower to signal the rescue helicopter and begin the evacuation."
Amber's cynical expression said it all. She clearly didn't believe a word.
"So where is everyone?" said Lisa.
"Maybe we be the only ones who survive," said Jack.
"No, that can't be possible," said Lisa. "I'm sure some other people must have made it out."
"There another way in?" asked Jack.
"A side entrance. Over here," said Christina, leading them towards a smaller door on their left-hand side. Fortunately this door was unlocked, and despite the creaking of hinges, it opened easily.
It was pitch black inside the room, but this didn't seem to bother Christina. She put her hand inside the room and felt around for a light switch. A soft light replaced the darkness, and she led them inside.
----------
Lisa had visited St Michael's Clock Tower once, many years ago, with her parents. It had been some sort of official event - she couldn't remember why her parents had been invited, or why they'd brought her along. Though most of the evening's events were now beyond her recollection, a few things still stood out in her mind.
There had been music and candlelight and dancing, and she'd been bored stiff because she was the only child there. Her mother – elegant in a long bottle-green evening dress, and smelling of expensive perfume – had spent all night talking to someone called Dr Aylett. Or was it Haderlitz?
Not long after going up to the Mayor and loudly announcing that his tuxedo made him look like a great big penguin, her father had hurriedly ushered her into this room with a notebook and pencil so that she could sit here and draw quietly, and not get in anybody's way.
Oh yes, she remembered this place. The music room, with its grand piano and large, arched windows, a haven of peace and quiet after the noisy foyer. She'd sat on the floor by the windows and happily drawn pictures until she'd used up every page of the notebook, but on looking up, she'd screamed, dropped everything and run back into the foyer – through the frosted glass of the windows, she could have sworn she'd seen a monster.
Lisa looked at the windows, and shivered. Of course, as her father had patiently explained back then, the "monster" had been nothing more than a rhododendron bush. But this time around, Lisa knew that there really were monsters outside, and she half expected zombies to burst into the room at any moment.
"It just be me, or you get the feelin' that zombies gonna burst into the room any moment?" said Jack to Renée.
"Yeah," Renée agreed.
Lisa looked even more nervous, and inched away from the windows. Her eyes darted to every corner of the music room, watching to see if anything nasty was about to leap out from some hidden crevice.
There was a noise behind her, and she whirled round.
"Whatwasthat?" she gasped, in a single breath.
"Middle C, I believe," said Christina calmly.
Amber had opened the piano lid, and had pressed one of the ivory keys for no real reason other than idle curiosity.
"Sorry," she said hastily, seeing Lisa's expression.
"Can you play the piano, Amber?" said Lisa, when she finally managed to catch her breath.
"Not really. I only know "Chopsticks"," said Amber. "But my friend Jill from STARS, now there's someone who can play the piano. You should hear her play Beethoven - beautiful. But she won't play "Moonlight Sonata" any more."
"Why not?" said Lisa.
"Bad memories," said Amber simply.
"We need to get through this door," said Renée, pointing to the door on their right. "It leads through the dining room and into the main foyer. Problem is, it's locked."
"Why dunt you just break it down?" said Jack.
"Because we might need it later," said Renée, as she fished through her pockets for her trusty lockpick. "That's why. Zombies can't open doors, and a closed door will keep them busy for a long time. And if we have zombies on our tail, that's a valuable advantage, believe me."
"What's in that other room?" said Lisa, pointing to a door on the other side of the music room.
"Oh, that? That's the chapel," said Renée. "Safest room in the building, structurally. First place I'd check for survivors."
"Should we check it, then?" said Lisa.
"I would," said Renée.
"If not for survivors, then for supplies," added Amber. "They mostly use the chapel for storage these days, our own dear Mayor being the godless heathen that we've all come to know and love. We might find something useful."
She listened at the door for a moment, before flinging it open and yelling "Freeze!" as she pointed her empty gun at…
… an empty room. No survivors, but on the other hand, no zombies either. Both relieved and disappointed, Amber lowered her gun. With Jack and Lisa following close behind her, she stepped through the door into the chapel.
It was a small room, made smaller by the amount of furniture it contained – a couple of pews, an altar covered with a blue cloth, a miniature pipe organ, and a cupboard for whatever ecclesiastical supplies were required for services. Not that many services were held here, judging by the smell; the air was stale and full of dust.
"Smells like nobody's been here in years," Lisa remarked.
"Well, somebody's been here recently," said Amber. "Very recently. Look at the candles."
For the first time, Lisa noticed the candles burning in the candlesticks on either side of the altar. If someone had lit them and left them to burn for days, they would have burned right down by now – but these were new candles. They'd only just been lit.
"I wonder who light 'em all?" said Jack, looking around.
"I don't know, but it's a shame they didn't move all this junk out too," said Amber, scowling at an old typewriter and a large iron chest placed near the door. "Religious or not, it's not right to treat a place of worship like a closet."
"You think there be anythin' useful in there?" said Jack, pointing to the chest.
"Only one way to find out," said Amber, and took hold of the lid.
The hinges squealed in protest as Amber opened the chest. She felt around inside it for a little while.
"Anything in there?" said Lisa.
"Nothing – no, wait, there is something in here," said Amber, scrabbling around in the bottom of the chest.
She brought out a plain wooden box, large but quite flat, and laid it on the table next to the typewriter. On removing the lid, they discovered a note, a box of handgun bullets, and a long, thin object wrapped in sackcloth.
As Amber started unwrapping the object, Lisa picked up the note and read it aloud.
"To the finder of this note: beware. There are evil things in this place. I leave this item here in the hope that it may save your life. I fear that it cannot save mine. M.D."
Lisa stared at the paper for a moment.
"I wonder who M.D. is?" she said to herself.
"Who cares? Look what he left us!" said Amber, eyes shining, and showed them the item that had been hidden inside the sackcloth. Jack and Lisa's puzzled faces cleared instantly as they recognised the object.
"A shotgun?" said Lisa.
"Neat!" said Jack.
"Looks like a Benelli M3," said Amber, giving the weapon the benefit of a closer inspection. "Hmm… fairly well-maintained. Doesn't look like there's anything wrong with it. And you know what, it's loaded too. Talk about divine intervention, huh? Thanks, God," she added, with a glance at the altar. "We owe you one."
Lisa and Jack agreed.
"Yeah."
"Praise the Lord."
"Oh, and pass the ammunition," said Amber, reaching for the handgun bullets.
----------
By the time they left the chapel, the dining-room door was open. There was no sign of Christina or Renée.
"Perhaps they went on ahead," said Lisa.
They went into the dining room. Lisa vaguely remembered this room too, though she didn't remember it being this dark. The lighting was very subdued, and the décor didn't brighten the room either. The top half of the walls was painted a cool grey with some lighter grey for decoration, and the lower half was wooden panelling; grey and dark green, the green area painted to look like marble. The carved dining table and chairs were a dark mahogany, and the black and white floor tiles radiated cold. The fireplace at the end of the room, by the windows, was cold and dark and clearly hadn't been used for some time.
Lisa rubbed her bare arms, more out of habit than the warmth it would bring. She thought of the shirt Jack had given her, but it was still damp from the sewers; putting it on would only make her feel colder. Better to leave it tied round her waist.
"How come the table be set for dinner?" said Jack, pointing to the cutlery and china laid out neatly on the table.
"Just for decoration, I think," said Amber, glancing at the table. "I don't think anyone's actually eaten dinner in this place for years."
She made her way over to the double doors, and opened one of them very cautiously, as if afraid something would jump out at her. Nothing happened. Amber breathed out gently, and she went through into the foyer of the clock tower, accompanied by Lisa and Jack.
Though she remembered it well, the foyer felt unfamiliar to Lisa. The last time she'd seen it, it had been brightly lit and warm, full of people and noise. Now it was big and empty, full of shadows, and quiet except for the sound of the wind outside. There was a draught coming from somewhere - probably the front doors.
It was a huge, imposing room, dominated by the wide staircase leading up to the upper floor. There were lights burning dimly up above, and in between the arches that supported the gallery upstairs, but they seemed to make the shadows darker.
"This place gives me the creeps," Amber muttered. "Big old spooky waste of public money."
Her voice echoed a little in the empty hall.
"Where are Renée and Christina?" said Lisa.
Amber stepped forward, stood in front of the desk placed in the centre of the room, and called:
"Hello?"
Hello…lo…
"Renée? Christina?"
Christina…tina…
"Where are you?"
Are you… you…
"Right here."
Amber yelped, and turned round. Renée was sitting by one of the pillars, calmly reading a piece of paper. It would have been a perfectly normal scene, if it hadn't been for the presence of an Umbrella mercenary's corpse, lying in a pool of drying blood just inches from Renée's feet.
"Sorry," said Renée, not looking up from the paper. "Didn't mean to scare you. You okay?"
"Aside from a brush with heart failure, couldn't be better," said Amber wryly. "What are you reading? And what happened to him?"
"To who?" called Jack.
He and Lisa went over to Amber and Renée to investigate; they both recoiled at the sight of the dead mercenary.
"Whoa!" said Jack. "What happen to that guy?"
"Bullet wound to the head, by the look of it," said Renée, her eyes not leaving the paper once. "Bad news for him, good news for us; at least we know he won't come back as a zombie."
"What are you reading?" said Amber again. "Is it so interesting that you can't tear yourself away and make eye contact?"
"Just going over these operation instructions," said Renée. "Found them in that dead guy's hand."
"What do they say?" said Amber.
"Not that much more than what I told you," said Renée, finally looking up. "Though it does say that we should give priority to Umbrella employees and their families."
"Why am I not surprised?" said Amber under her breath. Aloud she said:
"That applies to you, right, Lisa?"
"That's right," said Lisa.
"Then you're our ticket out of here," said Amber. "Jack's your best friend, so you can't leave him behind, and I'd better come with you because… uh…"
"'Cause my aunt be dead an' I got nobody to look after me," supplied Jack.
"Yeah, that's right," said Amber promptly. "I'm a police officer - got to protect the innocent, and all that."
"Oh, I wouldn't worry too much, if I were you," said Renée. "Doesn't look like the rescue helicopter's going to be crowded. I mean, who'll it be? Me, you, Jack, Amber, Christina…"
"My parents," interrupted Lisa.
"Yeah, them too," said Renée vaguely. "And Sarge and Mikhail and Carlos - if they're still alive, that is. I shouldn't think we're likely to run into anyone else on our way over to HQ."
"Whoever screamed – you think they're still alive?" said Lisa hesitantly.
"I doubt it," said Renée. "But Christina's right, we have to investigate."
"Where she at, anyway?" said Jack.
Right on cue, the door on the other side of the foyer opened, and Christina walked in.
"There you are," she said disapprovingly, on seeing Lisa, Jack and Amber. "What kept you? The chapel's small, it shouldn't take you that long to search it. Did you find anything?"
Amber brandished the shotgun, and grinned.
"Yep."
"Oh." Christina looked surprised for a moment, but quickly recovered her icy composure. "Well, I'm sure that will come in handy. Renée, the bedroom's clear, so are the living room and the library. The only door left is a green one in the library, but it's locked. I need to borrow your lockpick."
"No, I'll do it," said Renée. "I'm quicker."
"You three want to stay here?" said Christina to the others. "Or are you going to come with us?"
"We gonna come with you," said Jack, before Amber or Lisa could respond. He didn't particularly want to stay in the same room as a dead man. Apart from anything else, the sight of all the blood was making him feel sick again.
"Very well. But you're to stay close. Wander off again and you could end up like our friend over there," said Christina, with a nod in the direction of the dead mercenary.
"What, with bullets in our heads?" said Amber mockingly. "Please."
"Hey, guys, look at this," said Lisa suddenly. While the others had been talking, she'd noticed something interesting about the late mercenary, and she'd crouched down next to his corpse so she could get a closer look.
In his hand was – well, she wasn't sure what it was, but it looked like some kind of weapon, possibly a grenade launcher. She picked it up, but she barely had time to look at it before it was snatched out of her hands.
"Careful with that!" snapped Christina.
"What is it?" said Lisa.
"I don't know, and that's why you need to be careful," said Christina, as she examined the weapon. "It could go off at any minute."
"Could it be any use to us?" said Amber hopefully.
"I doubt it," came the curt reply. "This is a mine launcher – a prototype weapon."
"So? What's wrong with that?" said Amber.
"I never trust prototype weapons," said Christina. "When you're in the field, you want a reliable, tried and tested weapon, not an experiment. Experiments have a nasty habit of blowing up in your face when you least expect it."
Christina handed the weapon to Amber, who took it gingerly.
"Personally, I wouldn't touch this thing with a fifty-foot pole," Christina continued. "Though if you're willing to take your chances with it, then that's entirely up to you. Just don't come whining to me when you've blown your own arm off."
"Uh," said Amber, who suddenly looked very uneasy, "Actually, I think we'd better leave this right here."
She laid the weapon down very carefully next to the mercenary's corpse, and backed away.
"Let's get a move on, then," said Christina.
Christina and Renée led the way across the foyer and towards the door on the other side. As usual, Amber followed behind. Last of all were Jack and Lisa, glancing uneasily back at the mercenary lying dead on the floor. They wondered if whoever else was in the clock tower had suffered a similar fate, or whether there was a chance that they might still be alive…
----------
"Hmm…"
Renée was kneeling next to a green door, peering into the keyhole. Behind her, the others watched intently. They were standing in the clock tower library, trying not to choke on the dust and cobwebs, waiting for Renée to pick the lock.
"Well?" said Christina impatiently. "Can you open it?"
"This could take a while," said Renée thoughtfully. "Haven't seen a lock like this one before. Must be a pretty unusual key…"
Christina scowled, and folded her arms. Jack just sighed, and sat down heavily on a nearby chair. Meanwhile, Amber and Lisa wandered around the room in search for something to pass the time, having lost interest in Renée's work.
"What's through that door?" said Lisa, pointing to another door at the opposite end of the library.
"Living room," said Amber. "Which leads into a bedroom. God knows who'd want to sleep in this mausoleum, though. I certainly wouldn't."
"Why there be a bedroom in a clock tower? An' what they use this place for, anyway?" said Jack.
"Beats me," said Amber, idly picking up an open book and flicking through the pages. "Oh, wait, there's something here about it. Take a look."
She handed the book to Jack and Lisa, indicating the passage that they ought to look at. Jack took the book, positioning it so that Lisa could see it from over his shoulder, and they started to read.
St Michael's Clock Tower was built in 1857 to celebrate the twinning of Raccoon City with Bad Waschbär, a small spa town located in the southwest of Germany. The clock tower - a perfect replica of Bad Waschbär's clock tower - was constructed on the site previously occupied by St Michael's Catholic Church, which was destroyed by lightning in 1851. The work began in March 1857, and the clock tower was completed shortly before the end of the year. Unfortunately, due to unspecified mechanical problems, the bell of St Michael's Clock Tower has tolled for no-one since the winter of 1859.
Originally intended to be the official residence of the Mayor, the clock tower was only used for this purpose by James Runcie, the 8th Mayor of Raccoon City (1862-4) and then only during the warm summer months. Since then, St Michael's Clock Tower has been used mostly on official occasions, though it is also open to the public on the second and third Wednesdays of each month.
"Oh," said Lisa. "That's interesting."
But her comment went unnoticed – the others were too busy watching Christina complain loudly about how long the work was taking.
"We're wasting time. How much longer is this going to take?" she snapped.
"Well, if you think you can do it faster, I'd like to see you try," said Renée sourly. "This is an extremely difficult lock."
"Let me try it. If I don't have this door open in two minutes, then you're welcome to take over," said Christina.
Grumbling, Renée moved aside and allowed Christina to take over the work. She sat down on the floor next to Jack.
"How are you feeling, Jack?" Renée asked him.
"Okay, I guess," said Jack, although this wasn't strictly true. His arm was still hurting, and squinting at the book's small print in the library's dim light had made his headache worse.
"How's your arm doing? Mind if I take a look?" asked Renée.
"Go ahead," said Jack, with a shrug – then he cried out, and clutched his injured arm. The act of shrugging had caused a burst of searing, white-hot pain to run up his arm.
Lisa and Amber hurried to his side at once.
"Jack?"
"Are you okay?"
"What's wrong?"
"My arm really hurts…" said Jack, through gritted teeth.
In an instant Renée had retrieved the first aid kit and unwound the bandages on Jack's arm. She winced at the sight of the injury – despite her treatment, it looked a lot worse. The arm was swollen and sore, and the skin around the wound was far too pink. The wound itself was still bleeding, and a foul-smelling yellowish substance was starting to ooze from it.
"That must hurt like crazy," remarked Amber.
"No kiddin'," said Jack weakly as Renée set to work on his arm, cleaning the wound and disinfecting the area with First Aid Spray. He flinched at the feel of the latter – the spray now stung more than ever.
"Sorry, Jack," said Renée, as she saw him wince.
"Dunt worry 'bout it," said Jack, biting his lip until the pain subsided.
Renée had just finished putting fresh bandages on Jack's arm when she realised that the two minutes she'd given her colleague to unlock the green door had now passed.
"Hey, Christina, time's up," she called. "Now it's my t – oh…"
Christina was standing next to the door, lockpick in hand, looking satisfied.
"Finished," she said. There was the very faintest hint of a smile on her face.
"Oh… that's good. Thanks," said Renée, as Christina dropped the lockpick into her hand. "Well, looks like we're ready to go."
She took hold of the door handle and pulled open the door. "Now we need to - "
Lisa couldn't see very much from where she was standing, but whatever was beyond the door was clearly horrible, because it made Renée stop dead. It was some time before she turned round to face her companions.
"Remind me again," said Renée, her voice steady but her face pale. "Which one of you was afraid of spiders?"
Dead silence. Then Amber timidly raised her hand.
"Ah," said Renée. "Because we have a slight problem on our hands. The problem being, the corridor is full of spiders the size of small cars."
The colour drained abruptly from Amber's face, and she started to shake.
"Nnngh…"
"Come again?" said Renée.
"I think that means she doesn't want to go in there," said Lisa. Turning to Amber, she said:
"Maybe you'd better stay here while we go and check it out."
Amber nodded feebly.
"Y-yeah," she said, after remembering that clenched jaws and a closed mouth were not good for lucid speech. "I - I think I'll just stay here and wait for you guys."
"Ahem," said Christina. "Might I draw your attention to the ceiling?"
Their eyes travelled upwards in unison. Crawling all over the library ceiling were hundreds of brown spiders, each one roughly the size of a tennis ball. Some of them were working their way to the edge of the ceiling and down the walls.
Amber screamed, and clutched Christina by the shoulders.
"Don't let them get me!"
"Get off, will you?" said Christina irritably, and tried ineffectively to shake her off.
"Get me out of here!" shrieked Amber. "Kill them! Kill me! Something! Anything! Just make them go away! Please!"
"Stop babbling!" Christina ordered.
"I hate spiders, oh God I hate spiders, they're going to crawl all over me and get in my hair and bite me and - "
Christina's eyes narrowed. She'd had enough. She drew back her fist, and punched Amber right between the eyes. Amber stood there for a second, swaying, then her green eyes unfocused and she pitched backwards with a little sigh.
"I think you just kill her," said Jack, after an uncomfortable pause.
Christina looked down at Amber's limp form.
"No, she's still breathing," she reported.
"Was that really necessary?" said Lisa crossly.
"Absolutely," said Christina. "It'll be much easier getting through that corridor now that we don't have that hysterical arachnophobe gibbering in terror and trying to run off all the time. Besides, we need that shotgun she's carrying."
"But why did you have to punch her?" argued Lisa.
"Because I don't have any animal tranquillisers," retorted Christina.
"Oh, very clever," said Lisa sarcastically. "Now do me a favour, and explain exactly how we're supposed to get Amber through that corridor, now that you've knocked her out. What are we going to do? I suppose you'll expect us to – to – oh, I don't know, drag her by the feet or something. Is that what you want us to do? Drag her by the feet?"
Christina looked thoughtful.
-----------
"Nice goin', Lise," said Jack bitterly. "Why dint you just keep you mouth shut?"
"Sorry," said Lisa.
She regretted using sarcasm on Christina, and silently vowed not to do it again. Either Christina didn't understand it, or she understood it only too well and didn't appreciate it from underlings. Lisa suspected the latter was the reason why Christina had decided to take Lisa's suggestion only too literally.
Amber's head bounced off the wall as Lisa and Jack dragged her unconscious form behind them.
"Careful, Jack," warned Lisa. "You're letting her head hit the wall."
"Oh, come on. Ain't like she gonna notice, the state she be in," said Jack, rolling his eyes. "B'sides, you ever try draggin' somebody by they feet when you only got one good arm? I like to see how good you could do it."
Lisa flushed. "Sorry. I forgot about your arm."
"Hurry up," barked Christina, from further ahead.
"Go to hell," muttered Jack and Lisa together. When they realised they'd spoken in unison, they exchanged a conspiratorial grin.
It was then that they saw the dead mercenary, caught like a fly in a giant spider's web in the corner. Limbs bound together by thick cobwebs, the dead man stared blankly at them from his final resting place, his features contorted with agony; his mouth locked forever in a silent scream.
"Ugh," said Lisa softly. "That's horrible."
Jack said nothing, but silently wondered if he would ever forget the ghastly sight of the dead man trapped in the web, with the signs of his final torment only too plain to see. He had a nasty feeling that he wouldn't.
They jumped at the sound of gunfire. Renée and Christina were up ahead, firing round after round of assault-rifle ammunition into giant spiders. Every now and then they heard the blam of shotgun fire, Christina having taken the shotgun after leaving Amber in Jack and Lisa's care.
The sound stopped after a while.
"Sounds like it's safe to go after them now," said Lisa.
"Yeah," said Jack.
They started to walk again, pulling Amber along behind them.
"Jack," said Lisa, after a minute. "How's your arm?"
"Still hurts," said Jack. "But Renée do a real good job. It dunt hurt so much."
"That's good," said Lisa.
A pause.
"Listen, I'm sorry you got hurt," said Lisa quietly. "It's all my fault. I should have been more careful."
"Dunt you worry bout it," said Jack. "You be my best friend – I hadda do somethin'. No way I could stand there an' let you get hurt."
"But you nearly died, and you saved my life - I didn't even thank you," said Lisa.
"Well, you save my life too," said Jack. "You blow that big zombie sky-high, so I think we can call it even. Right?"
Lisa smiled a little. "Right. But thanks anyway."
"Hey, you welcome," said Jack, and he smiled too.
They were almost at the end of the corridor now. Jack and Lisa carefully manoeuvred Amber around the twitching remains of a giant spider on the floor, and stopped outside a door at the corridor's end.
Christina had already barged through the door, but Renée was thoughtful enough to hold it open, so that Lisa and Jack could get Amber through.
The first thing they saw when they stepped into the room was another creature with a long tongue, like the one they'd seen in the sewers. They just had time to notice that it was wounded in the split second before Christina blasted it into oblivion with the shotgun.
Blood spilled from the creature's broken body onto the Persian carpet beneath it. Now that it was dead, the shock of seeing the creature passed, and Jack and Lisa started to notice little details about the room they were in.
Three statues of goddesses at the end of the room. Junk piled up against one wall, and on the opposite wall, three paintings inset with clocks. And in the corner, huddled together, a mercenary and a young girl. Both were dead.
Lisa didn't want to say what she was thinking, but she felt it needed to be said.
"Jack," she said. "That girl… isn't that…?"
"Yeah. Almond," said Jack quietly.
He and Lisa let Amber's legs drop to the floor, and they went over to the bodies of Almond and the unknown soldier.
They both lay there peacefully, as if they'd just fallen asleep. Almond's blonde head rested on the mercenary's chest, her eyes closed, her expression serene. The mercenary's arm was around her, holding her close to him as if he was trying to protect her. He was frowning slightly, but the look on his face showed no suggestion of fear or pain. Only their stillness and a few smears of blood indicated that they would never wake again.
"That thing… it must've got 'em," said Jack. "Poor Almond."
"Friend of yours?" said Renée.
"Yeah," said Jack distantly, staring at the two bodies in the corner. Almond and the mercenary who'd died trying to shield her from harm. He wondered if they had died needlessly.
"You think," he began, "if we – we get here sooner – we coulda saved 'em?"
Renée shook her head. "No, Jack. I don't think we could have saved them. I think they died before we even got inside the clock tower."
From the look on Jack's face, Lisa thought he was going to cry again, or maybe let out a scream of rage and punch the wall in frustration, as she felt like doing. They'd come all this way, wasted so much time trying to get into this room, and for what? Two dead bodies and a monster. At this rate they would never get to Umbrella's headquarters!
But Jack just sighed heavily. He said nothing; he just looked at the dead creature in the centre of the room, and then back at Almond and the mercenary. A few more shots, and they would have killed that thing. For the sake of a few bullets, they could have survived. Instead, they'd died here in this room.
"Damn it," he muttered. "Ain't there anybody else left alive in this town?"
He suddenly noticed something tucked behind his friend's corpse. Moving her legs gently aside, he found a duffel bag, which presumably belonged to her. Hating himself for it, Jack opened the bag and sifted through the contents for anything that could be useful.
A hairbrush, a change of clothes, a Walkman and some tapes, a purse. A handful of other items that had probably been important to Almond, but were of no use in a survival situation. And, right at the bottom, a small book.
Jack opened it. The first page was marked:
"Almond Nicholls' Diary"
He suddenly felt guilty about reading it. A diary was private, after all, and he had no right to read it. On the other hand, Almond was dead now, and how else would he find out what had brought her here, to the clock tower of all places?
Curiosity triumphed, and Jack began flicking through the pages of the diary until he reached a fairly recent entry.
September 24th, 1998
They declared martial law today. My parents and I tried to get out of town, but they've closed off all the roads, and there's no way out of town. We're stuck in here, with no way of escaping from the zombies. Why have they done this? Do they want us all to die?
Jack turned the page.
September 25th, 1998
Jack's aunt is in hospital. She's infected with that weird disease. She'll probably die, but we didn't have the heart to tell Jack. He was so upset. His aunt is the only family he's got left – if she dies, he's got nobody. I don't know what would happen to him if she died.
Further down the page was another, very short, entry.
September 26th, 1998
Jack's aunt died. A zombie killed my mom this morning. We have to get out…
It was news to Jack that Almond's mother had been killed by a zombie. Stunned, he turned to the next page.
September 27th, 1998
This morning, Dad told me he'd heard a rumour about an escape plan, and the survivors meeting up at St Michael's Clock Tower. As we were leaving the house, we found Raphael. He's dead. I think most of the Street Rats are dead now. But either way, we're not sticking around to find out what happened to them all. We're leaving this town…
Jack broke off at this point to report the news of Raphael's death to Lisa, but Lisa didn't hear him – Amber had just regained consciousness, and Lisa was busy telling Amber where she was and what had happened to her. Jack shrugged, and continued reading.
Two mercenaries arrived at the clock tower shortly after we did. Apart from them, we're the only ones here. Dad's been acting kind of weird in the past hour or so. He keeps talking about how he wants to stay in the city with my mom. But Mom's dead – and this morning he was desperate to get out of town. What's the matter with him?
I talked to the mercenaries. Their names are Corporal Markus Duchovny and Corporal Boris Kirchner. Corporal Duchovny's kind of uptight, but the other one's quite nice. He said I reminded him of his sister. They talked to my dad about the escape plan – there's some kind of problem, something to do with ringing a bell, but Dad won't help them. He says he doesn't want to leave any more. I think he's gone nuts.
September 28th, 1998
Zombies broke into the clock tower early this morning, through the bedroom. My dad was sleeping in there last night, and he died. That makes me an orphan, I guess. The mercenaries killed all the zombies, but Corporal Duchovny died in the foyer. Corporal Kirchner and I have been here in the chapel all day, but we heard zombies outside a minute ago, and he doesn't think it's safe. We're going to the other side of the clock tower now, to hide in the room with the goddess statues – the back door of the clock tower's blocked by a giant bell, and if we lock the door into the room behind us, we should be pretty safe in there…
The diary ended there. It turned out that Almond and her mercenary friend had been wrong about their new hideout.
"They shoulda stayed in the chapel," said Jack to himself.
Meanwhile, at the other end of the room, Amber was not at all pleased.
"So what you're saying is that we shouldn't even have bothered coming here?" she said.
Lisa nodded.
"We wasted all that time, and I probably lost a whole lot of brain cells when she knocked me out," said Amber, giving Christina a nasty look, "and now you're telling me that the people we came here to save died pretty much the second after they screamed? Well, remind me never to listen to Umbrella mercenaries again. They seem to have given us nothing but bad advice on this trip. And – hey, where's my shotgun?"
"I've got it," said Christina.
"You give that back right now! That's my shotgun!" shouted Amber.
"You know, they say that possession is nine-tenths of the law," said Christina, turning the shotgun over and over in her hands.
"Don't you talk to me about the law!" yelled Amber, scrambling to her feet. "I'm a police officer, damn it! Now give me that shotgun!"
Jack was tired of hearing them bicker pointlessly. He stood up, intending to intervene, but after a few steps he suddenly noticed that there were now two disgruntled Ambers standing in front of him, and two impassive Christinas staring back at them. In the background were two Renées, both looking concerned about the impending argument, standing next to two equally beautiful Lisas.
Then all eight women suddenly blurred, and the rest of the room with it. Jack, quietly panicking, blinked frantically to bring everything back into focus.
"Jack?" he heard someone say. It could have been Lisa. "Jack, what's wrong?"
Jack opened his mouth to speak – but nothing came out except a strangled cry.
"Jack? What's the matter?"
"Hey Jack, are you okay?"
"Speak to us, please!"
"Looks like he's going to faint."
The last voice was unquestionably Christina's, and her prediction proved to be correct. Jack took one more step, before collapsing in a heap on the floor. The last thing he heard was Lisa screaming, and then everything went black.