She didn't want to believe it. Shaking her head again, she denied what she knew to be true. But how far did that truth extend? Was one of them infected, or was it all of them?
"Maybe someone else is here," Cindy said weakly. "Maybe they set off the alert…"
"Look at the monitors, Cindy…anyone or anything here before us must have been wiped out already," said Yoko, flipping furiously through the manual.
"What are you doing, Yoko? We have to go after them!"
"There might be a way to deactivate the defense system from here," replied the girl, her brow furrowed in concentration. "It's too risky to go out there…"
"We need to warn them," cried Cindy, pacing back and forth by the door.
"See if you can find an intercom system," said Yoko, her eyes never leaving the computer screen. "If we're lucky, this section of the facility is off the main defense grid…"
"What do you mean?"
"This back entrance was the most secure from bio-weapons in the case of an outbreak. In a lockdown situation, this wing was to be an escape relay point, meaning an automated defense system would be more dangerous than helpful in this section," she replied, still tapping at her keyboard.
"So we should go after them to stop them before they reach this grid you're talking about…!"
"It might already be too late, if that warning message is any indication…"
"But, but…we can't just sit here!"
"Then look for the goddamn intercom," yelled Yoko, frustrated with Cindy's persistent concerns. "I can only do so much on my own!"
Rebuffed by Yoko's angry words, Cindy realized the young girl was right, and began to test the speaker panel by the main monitors. Just when she thought she had figured out the device, another monitor flickered to life, displaying a map of the complex. One of the sections began to flash, and Cindy's stomach sank when she realized that was the same hallway George and Jim were in.
Yoko continued to wade through the system's defenses, searching desperately for a deactivation window. Data flew past her eyes, an endless stream few minds could keep up with. Stopping the flow, Yoko called to Cindy.
"I think I might have something," she said hopefully, turning to find the room empty.
Cindy was gone.
--
"Wait up Jim," called George.
"What, you wanna 'check on me' again?"
"What do you mean?"
"Don't play dumb with me, doc. I know you all scared of being alone with me, thinking I'm all weak and shit."
"Everyone's just worried about you, Jim."
"Worried about they own skin, you mean," said Jim. "If I wasn't a brother, this wouldn't even be an issue!"
"You think that's what this is about?"
"Well, I keep overhearing you all being like 'look at his skin, look at the color'. I mean, what the fuck is that?"
"Jim, you know that's not even close to what they were talking about."
"I been singled out by people all my life, doc. I know how it is, and I've come to accept it. I just didn't think—"
Jim's words were cut off by the wail of a warning klaxon above them. A monotone voice that might have been intended to sound female came over the loudspeaker.
"WARNING…BIOHAZARD DETECTED…INITIATING 7-G PROTOCOL FOR SECTION CLEANSING."
"What is this…?"
As if the disembodied voice wished to reply, the ceiling opened suddenly, dropping a heavy steel gate between the two men. The two shared a worried look before two more gates fell, one at each end of the hallway, trapping them.
"Oh shit," squealed Jim.
--
"Shit," swore the girl again. She had been denied access to the security server for the eighth time, and she was beginning to lose patience. None of the pass codes in the manual worked, nor did the code on the back of her keycard. It seemed the system had been designed to be operated by only the higher ups in the corporation's facility. A sensible way to encourage the preservation of the department heads by the employees at the very least. How very typical of Umbrella, she thought.
But she dismissed the thought as quickly as it had come to her, working furiously at the system's defenses. Again, denied. It seemed it wasn't a matter of an elusive numerical code, but the administrator limiting the authorizations and rights to users. Slamming the keyboard down, she seemed to make up her mind, running out the door.
--
"Stay back," yelled George, seeing Cindy rushing towards him, her face streaked with worry. "It's not safe here!"
"Maybe she's got the key to these things," said Jim, who was still tugging futilely at the thick steel bars. "Help us Cindy!"
"What do I do," she cried helplessly. "I don't know what to do…!"
"Stay calm, Cindy," George said patiently, locking his eyes with hers. "I need you to stay calm…there's a panel behind you, on the wall. Go to it."
She nodded quickly, obeying him without hesitation. But she knew she was useless when it came to computers. What could she do?
"Look for an abort command," urged George, his hands clutching the bars tightly.
"WARNING…BIOHAZARD DETECTED…INITIATING 7-G PROTOCOL FOR SECTION CLEANSING."
"SHUT UP YOU BITCH," screamed Jim. He kicked vainly at the bars, yelping in pain as he fractured a toe.
"There's no 'abort' button," moaned Cindy.
"No, no, look for a command on the display interface…what does the screen look like?"
"I…I…" began Cindy weakly, feeling utterly useless. And then an idea occurred to her. "YOKO!" she yelled, waving to the camera.
"That bitch is watching us die," asked Jim, angry.
"She's trying to find a way to stop the system defenses from the control room…"
"WARNING…BIOHAZARD DETECTED…"
"Yeah, and she's doing a great fucking job," Jim said sarcastically.
"They're doing the best they can, Jim," said George calmly.
"George…" Cindy said, rushing towards him, abandoning the computer panel.
"You shouldn't be here," he said softly, his dark eyes intense. "It's too dangerous."
"WARNING…"
"I don't care," she replied angrily. "I can't just let you die!"
"BIOHAZARD…"
"Yoko," yelled Jim suddenly, as the girl appeared around the corner. "Check that panel over there!"
But she was already at it, pounding away wordlessly at the terminal, deep in concentration.
"Cindy," began George, watching her intently. "If we don't make it out, I want you to—"
"…SECTION CLEANSING…"
"Don't be silly," Cindy said, wiping away a tear. "We're all going to make it out of here."
"But if we don't," insisted George, resting his hand on hers. "I want you to make it out of here. For all of us that didn't…no matter what."
"George, I…" she fumbled weakly, trying to find the words.
"Please, let me finish," he said gently. "What you said to me yesterday, about these short days left to us…I finally know what you meant…"
The warning alarm continued its banshee shriek, the flashing red siren flooding the hallway with an ocean of crimson. But despite the commotion, Cindy heard his every word, felt his every emotion.
"WARNING…"
"All these years, all those mistakes…yet my only regret is not having the courage to talk to you sooner," he confessed. "I wanted you to know, the first time I came into your bar was one of the worst in my life, my marriage over. And then I saw you, your smile lifting everyone's spirits, even mine…I wish we could have shared something sooner, without us having to lose the world just to bring you into my life. But no matter my regrets or losses, I want you to know how much you mean to me, Cindy. How important you'll mean to the world when you get out of this. The world needs a heart Cindy. It needs you…"
"INITIATING 7-G PROTOCOL…"
"My life is shit," wailed Jim. "Yoko, do something!"
"I'm trying," she yelled back, her eyes never leaving the terminal.
"SECTION CLEANSING…"
"I need you to do one last thing for me, Cindy," asked George sadly, caressing her shaking hand. "I need you to look away. When it comes…please, look away," he begged, releasing her hand and stepping back into the cage.
"WARNING…"
"George, I can't…" wept Cindy, pounding her tiny fists against the bars. "I can't…"
He looked longingly at her, his quiet dignity filling her heart with sorrow.
"Live," he whispered, his smile sad.
"SECTION CLEANSING…COMMENCING."
She didn't look away.
--
Afterwards, she clung feebly to the bars, the sobs that had wracked her body long passed. She became dimly aware of the girl standing by her, both struggling to accept what they had witnessed. The girl knelt by her side, pressing a kind hand against Cindy's shuddering back.
"I'm so sorry Cindy," said Yoko, her own eyes wet with tears.
"It's not your fault," whispered Cindy, looking away. "There was nothing more you could have done…"
"If only I'd had more time…I could've stopped this."
"It doesn't matter now," Cindy said weakly, making no effort to move, her head hanging.
"We have to go, Cindy," urged Yoko, pulling on the woman's limp hand.
"Why, it doesn't matter now anyways…nothing does."
"It mattered to George," argued Yoko. "He would have wanted you to make it out of this, I know it."
"And he's gone now, burnt to ashes," she wept, burying her face in her hands. It seemed there were always more tears to cry.
"He didn't give his life so you could just give up and die, dammit," said Yoko, grabbing Cindy's arm fiercely. "If he mattered at all to you, you'll respect what he sacrificed and move!"
"He mattered more to me than you'll ever know," Cindy said hollowly, her eyes distant. "What's left now?"
"And where would we be without our faith in each other," asked Yoko, remembering Cindy's words. "What would we have to sustain us other than that faith, knowing there is genuine concern for each other? We need each other to survive, just as you needed him and he needed you. Hold on to that now, and it'll get us out of here…"
Cindy looked at her now with a renewed hope, a tearful sadness lingering in her eyes. But she stood all the same, her knees quivering.
"You're…right," nodded Cindy, closing her eyes tightly to blink away tears. "Of course…you're right."
"I learned from the best," replied Yoko, shouldering her friend up. "We all have to help carry each others' burdens, right?"
Cindy didn't reply; her face buried in her free hand. She kept pace, however, the pair moving upwards through the facility.
"George…" she whispered, casting back one last glance at his burnt remains.
--
"There should be a communications center up here," said Yoko, as they reached the third floor. So far, they hadn't encountered any more automated defense systems, which meant one of the men must have triggered the sensors. If only she had taken care of it sooner, thought the girl.
"Who's out there to help us," Cindy asked tiredly. "No one."
"We'll find out soon enough," answered the girl, casting Cindy an annoyed glance. She could understand her pain, but now wasn't the time to grieve.
The locks throughout the facility had all been disarmed from her accessing the control panel. Apparently, the automated defenses were on a different command matrix, which had limited her access earlier. The steel doors of the Com center slid open easily, revealing an empty but well-lit room. Yoko dumped Cindy in a nearby chair, moving over to the main control panel.
It was set to receive signals, but all it seemed to get was static. The frequency adjuster was digital, scanning for transmissions on every wavelength. Yoko fiddled with the device's knob, before she saw something of real use: a regular desktop PC. She sidled up to the desk, pulling out the keyboard tray.
"Do you still have Alyssa's zip disk," she called to Cindy, who still seemed to be in a daze. "Cindy!"
Startled, Cindy looked at the girl, puzzled. "Yes, I still have it," she replied, walking over to hand the girl the disk.
"This should do some good then," she said, sliding the gray disk into the PC's slot. "I can upload all her research and data onto the Web from here…maybe it all wouldn't have been for nothing."
The prospect seemed to pick up Cindy's spirits, the futility of her earlier pessimism passing. She nodded, watching Yoko navigate through the Internet and firewalls, posting the information wherever she could. News sites, message boards, emails…it was all foreign to Cindy, but before they were done, she saw them all filled with Alyssa's last work. Her voice would be heard, no matter what else happened.
"Good work, Yoko," she said appreciatively, resting a hand on the girl's shoulder. The two exchanged a relieved look, sharing the knowledge that all their pain and suffering had meant something. Before another word could be spoken, the radio behind them crackled to life, a distant voice coming over the speaker.
"Is anybody out there? This is RCFD chopper 711, over Raccoon University airspace…is anyone out there? Please respond," buzzed the radio.
"That's only a few miles up the river," said Cindy, reaching for the transceiver. "Hello chopper 711, can you hear me? We are stranded a few miles south of you, in an abandoned building along the river. Can you help us? Uh, over."
"We read you loud and clear, miss. How many other survivors are there? Over."
"It's just…the two of us," replied Cindy, her lower lip threatening to quiver. "Over."
"Roger that, ma'am. We can make it there in about five minutes. Please find a clearing for a pickup point, the higher the better. Over and out."
"Understood. Oh, over and out," Cindy said, ending the conversation, her head swimming with giddiness. A chopper escort out of town? It was almost too good to be true.
--
"Looks like you're going to have some company back there," said Danny, setting down the radio.
"I think she's asleep," said Gil, watching her in the rear mirror. "Thank god," he muttered under his breath.
"Aw, she's not that bad, just really pushy."
"Since when do you like pushy women?"
"Well, can we really be picky in this kind of situation?"
"Haha, I guess not. I still prefer her ass asleep than bossing us around, though."
"She's probably had a really rough time of it down there," said Danny, watching her with sympathetic eyes. "We were lucky to get this bird when we did…"
"Yeah, and she was lucky we picked her bossy ass up, but do we even get a 'thank you'? Hell no."
"It's a miracle she made it out of there on her own…can't imagine what she's gone through…"
"Yeah, and that thing at the school…what the hell was that?"
"Man, I don't even want to know."
"Worse than any fire I ever fought."
"Same here, man. I'd take a five-alarmer over that monster any day of the week."
"That's cuz you've never seen a real five-alarmer, probie."
"Suck it, Gil, I've seen plenty."
"Yeah, like when? Just name one."
"The Apple Inn fire? Just a few days ago?"
"Man, that was nothing; couldn't have been more than a 3'er. I seen worse fires at barbecues."
"Yeah, and did those barbecues have skinless monsters ripping off peoples' heads?"
"You've never met my in-laws…"
As the men continued to playfully bicker over their wealth of experience, Alyssa stirred slightly in her sound slumber. Somewhere in the distance, farther than she could have thought possible, she heard Cindy's voice.
--
The two women stood on the rooftop, the light breeze brisk against their skin. The wind had picked up, flowing up the river and dissipating the thick fog. The skies were mostly clear, scattered clouds dotting the blue horizon. Dawn had passed, giving way to early morning. Though there were trees all around them, they heard no birds chirping, saw no squirrels foraging. Apparently the wildlife had been wiser than their human counterparts, who had refused to take action in the early hours of the outbreak. Many had refused to believe the stories, more refusing to leave their homes and everything familiar. They had been the first to go, packaged meals behind flimsy wood doors and glass windows, begging to be cracked open by hungry zombies.
But that was far behind them, the hopeful promise of escape just over the horizon. Once they were in the sky, they would be safe, on their way out of this hellhole. Yoko looked at Cindy, wondering if it would matter. She had seemed better since the radio transmission, but Yoko had her doubts that Cindy was strong enough to keep going. Only a day ago, such thoughts would never have even entered her mind, but now, with George and Jim gone, she seemed so lost, so ready to give up hope.
The exhaustion and fatigue from the previous days was catching up to both of them. Though they had found scattered catnaps and brief breaks from the insanity of the situation, their spirits were dimmed, nearly beaten. There wasn't much left in the tank for either of them.
"We're going to make it," said Yoko. "I can feel it."
Cindy only nodded, her eyes locked on something far off in the distance.
"Are those…fireflies," she asked dreamily, pointing at glowing dots high above the horizon, bright against the wispy clouds.
"No," replied Yoko, her heart sinking. "They're missiles."
--
"Holy Christ," breathed Gil. "They're not for real, are they?"
"I think they are," pointed Danny. "Look…there, over those hills!"
"We're not going to have enough time to pick up those two survivors and make it out…"
"It's only a few more miles…"
"Yeah, but it's there and back, Danny…think about it. We'll never make it out in time!"
"But I promised her I'd—"
"Forget your promise man, we're dead if we stay any longer! Those missiles will hit any minute…!"
Gil heard a distinctive click by his ear, felt a hot breath on his neck.
"What's a man without his word," asked Alyssa, resting the barrel of her handgun against Gil's head. "You're picking my friends up."
"Your…friends…?"
The exhausted woman nodded slowly. "Yeah, my friends…now stay on course, shithead."
"But you'll die too," argued Gil, glancing at her in the mirror.
"Then we die," she shrugged, leaning back in her seat. "What's a few more casualties?"
As she sank into the soft leather of the backseat, Alyssa began to wonder who else had made it out with Cindy. Most likely George, she thought, but if it were Jim or Yoko, she wouldn't be surprised. Jim had a scrappiness that reminded her of her younger days, and Yoko a levelheaded resourcefulness that would've made any reporter proud.
The tall trees dotting the river's edge thinned, revealing a tucked away building surrounded by a tall, steel fence. Though barely dots in the distance, Alyssa's eagle eye picked out the two survivors waving frantically on the building's rooftop. So Yoko had been the one to make it, she grinned tiredly. Looked like it was down to the women, she thought, just before losing consciousness. From somewhere far away, she heard an unfamiliar voice calling to her.
Note: Ok, last chapter is coming up that should tie together the remaining threads. By the way, the two firefighter pilots, Danny and Gil, were in Outbreak; seen as pilots at the end of the game, and one of them breaks down the door in Hellfire after the boss fight.