Author's Note: I suppose I should have been mentioning this sort of thing all along, but here goes anyway. Ahem...
I do not, not have I ever, owned any of the intellectual property directly or indirectly pertaining to the Resident Evil series of games or movies. My work here is simply a bit of fan fiction designed for the amusement of other Resident Evil fans.
I don't have any money to speak of.
Don't sue me.
Please.
Now... back to our story already in progress shall we?
I don't know how long I slept. This slumber was one of those deep dreamless sleeps. One of those sleeps that it kinda hurts to get up from, the sleep of the dead, so to speak. My sleep was disturbed by a metallic roar, which raced overhead. It was dark inside the storage unit. Only a trickle of light was leaking in from underneath the sliding metal door. I could hear the others stirring. The cats were still curled up next to me and were stretching. I clicked the button on the flashlight attached to my shotgun, made sure the safety was on, and looked around. Jeff was unfolding himself from a puffy-looking chair, Braddly was sitting up from his bed, and I could hear Darrell shuffling around somewhere out of sight.
I eased to my feet and lifted the garage door slightly. It was daytime, afternoon by the look of the sun. We had been asleep awhile. Laying on the floor I peered out to see if there was any sign of hostile forces. No zombies. No monsters.
"Looks clear for now guys," I said over my shoulder as I lifted the door further.
Looking into the sky I could see the source of my disturbance. There was a helicopter flying over the area. I couldn't make out many details. Looked black from here. My heart leapt with the thought that someone may be looking for survivors in all this mess.
"GUYS! There's a helicopter out there!"
"Aren't there some flares in the car?" Darrell said groggily.
Slinging my shotgun over my shoulder, I made for the trunk of the police cruiser, searching frantically through the various items we had collected for survival. Finally I found a small black plastic case labeled, "emergency flares." Opening it up I was pleased to see several road flares and even a single-shot flare pistol. Laughing to myself I got the flare pistol out and cocked it back. Lifting it over my head I fired a shot straight up. A bright red ball of fire arced up into the air. I watched the helicopter, hoping the occupants would see the flare and come to assist us. Surely it was police or military or something. Sure enough, a moment later the distant chopper pivoted and headed our direction.
"They saw it! They're coming!" I screamed.
There was a collective cheer from inside the storage unit. My weary companions came out and stood next to me waving frantically and shouting at the oncoming helicopter. Our feline compatriots ambled out of the storage shed, squinting at the bright light and licking their lips. Even Darrell seemed to cheer up. The bandages around his wounded shoulder showed only a slight reddening, the bleeding must have almost stopped. We yelled and waved and laughed up until I noticed that the helicopter wasn't really slowing down as it approached. It's nose was angled down, it was black, unmarked, and as it got nearer I could see the helicopter had multiple weapons mounted on the sides. Something felt very wrong. The others could see the worry on my face and stopped cheering.
"What's wrong, Scott?" Darrel asked.
His answer came in the form of some kind of small rocket fired from a pod on the right side of the helicopter. I pushed Darrell to the ground, hard. I heard him grunt painfully as his already wounded shoulder hit the ground. Jeff and Brad flung themselves away from the police cruiser. A fraction of a second later the rocket his the car. The explosion shook the ground beneath us. A missile and a full tank of gas had the predictable effect of producing a huge fireball and a large cloud of black smoke. Fire washed over my back, and I could immediately smell burning hair.
"Oh shit!" I heard someone yell.
"Move move move!" I yelled at Darrell, practically dragging him to his feet. Jeff and Brad were scrambling to get up.
"What the fuck are they doing?!" Brad yelled as he moved past me.
"Hell if I know!" I replied.
Jeff was making for the office where the gate control was. The chopper swiveled slightly an unleashed a hail of bullets one of it's mounted weapons. He made it inside without getting hit, and the gate to the storage began to slide open. The office building was being riddled with bullets though. The rest of us made for the gate. A bewildered Jeff Poked his head out and followed on our heels during a lull in the gunfire. We bolted across the street and into an alleyway, using the office building as cover from the deadly weapons of the helicopter, which still hovered nearby. The two cats were shaking uncontrollably, the loud noise and explosion had left the poor felines shaken. I felt a sting in my back. I didn't have to ask if I was burned, I just wondered how badly. Burns can kill the nerve endings in the skin, so you don't feel as much pain as you would. I shook my head, putting that thought out of my mind.
Darrell and Braddly stood panting. Darrell was clutching his shoulder, I could see the red stain on his bandages spreading slowly. The flurry of activity must have torn it and started the bleeding again. Jeff slammed his fist against the wall he was leaning on.
"Dammit we got nowhere to go." He muttered.
"We can head inside the building here," Brad said, gesturing to a metal door nearby.
"We got no idea what's in there," Darrell hissed.
"That thing will swing around here eventually and mow us down, we have to get inside," I replied.
Moving to the door I saw it had a padlock, but it was rusted and old. I brought the butt of my shotgun down on it hard. It took several blows but finally it gave way, allowing the door to swing open, revealing a dark, dusty area. We all filed inside, weapons at the ready, and slammed the door shut behind us.