Chapter Four: Derailment Part One
"This is Delta Team, Delta Team. We have gained control of the train. Over?"
"Understood," Wesker said, leaning into the microphone. Beside him, William gazed down shaking his head. He tugged at his red tie—a motion Wesker had seen William do many times when he was stressed.
"This just doesn't make any sense," William said, not for the first time that night. "The countermeasures prepared in the event of a T-Virus leak were bulletproof. How did it contaminate the Arklay facilities, not to mention the train three miles—"
Wesker grabbed the microphone.
"That is irrelevant, Birkin," Wesker replied, turning his head to his companion. Despite the sunglasses he wore, he could still see William clearly. His blonde hair covered his forehead, though Wesker could still see the ridges of his furrowed brow. "We must make sure that no knowledge of this gets out."
"Of course," William said, rubbing his forehead. It was then that Wesker realized the dark rings under Birkin's eyes. You poor fool, Wesker thought—picturing William slaving all day in the Raccoon facilities only to be dragged here. Birkin even still wore his lab coat.
"Remember the mission," Wesker said. "Reclaim the Research facility and destroy the train."
"Yes, yes," William replied. "I'm surprised Vladimir isn't here breathing down our necks."
"How far are you from the nearest branch line?" Wesker said, taking his hand off the microphone and speaking into it.
"About ten minutes to—huh? "The Delta commander said. Suddenly, the tiny surveillance room erupted as the sounds of screaming and gunfire blared through the speakers.
"What's happening," Wesker said, raising his voice to be heard over the noise. William winced. However, only ten seconds after the cacophony began, it ended. "Delta team, report!" Wesker said.
Wesker's voice came from walkie-talkie in the Delta commander's slack hand. The black-clad soldier lay, twitching from death spasms. A leech climbed out of the broken eyeglass of his gas mask and over his black helmet. Another man, also dressed in full black, lay slumped against the open door to the Ecliptic Express's control room. Several of the creatures clung to both bodies, draining the corpses of blood before it could spoil.
They didn't much care for the humming of the engine to their right, nor the sound of the forest speeding past beside them on the left. However, they nevertheless, did as their queen commanded. So, once many had their fill of the strangers' blood, they collected in between the two bodies. They climbed and clung together. It was almost like a natural process for them by now—the ultimate defense against predators. They knew instinctually the shape to take. Within seconds, the leech mass accumulated-bubbling as the mound rose—defining their shape until they took the form of a man.
Images flickered through their heads as their queen told them how to exact revenge for their brethren. The leech man took a step. The collective creature staggered, torso leaning back. Its legs wobbled as the train rocked beneath. However, it straightened itself and took another step forward.
After several seconds, the leech man lumbered into the train's control room. The creature turned its head, as though looking at the room with its false eyes. Nothing stood out—the only pieces of furniture being an armchair bolted to the ground in front of the controls and a large steel cabinet in the right corner. Rain pelted the windshield. The wipers swiped back and forth, though as fast as they went, they barely helped visibility. Below the windshield stood the controls. A faint, blue glow illuminated the keyboards from the light of the monitor.
To the controls, their queen told them. The leeches complied. The creature raised its hand toward the machine. Like its eyes, the leech man's fingers were a façade—unable to spread their fingers apart. Instead, it tapped on the console gently with the tip of its fingers. 'Maximum speed—danger!' flashed across the monitor. The leeches raised a hand and drove it through the screen. The message sizzled but faded to black. Dead leeches—impaled with shards of glass-dropped away from its arm.
The Ecliptic Express shuttered slightly as it approached a higher speed.
Miles away, the young man watched from his cliff. He saw everything his children did, telling them each step.
"That will do," he muttered, opening his eyes. He wished he could stay there to hear the train's inevitable derailment. And the screams of the murders within. The young man glanced down at the shiny bodies surrounding his feet. The leeches crawled up his legs, like a cat wanting affection.
"Come, children," he said, turning. "We have a far greater business to attend to."
Billy's knees shook.
"Is it just me, or is the train going faster?" He asked.
Rebecca followed and closed the door behind them. The corridor now looked darker than it had last time she was here. She glanced out the window. The forest zipped by, though she couldn't tell the difference. It was as though she could feel the momentum of the train.
"We better get moving," she said, leading the way.
This is the hall Edward died in. The thought made her wince. Rebecca took tiny steps, almost afraid of seeing the body again—or not seeing it. She turned the corner. Edward lay as he was, head bent and rocking slightly with the shaking of the train. Wind and rain howled through the shattered windows above him.
"Was he from your team?" Billy asked.
"Yeah," she said, her voice low. Her sight never left Edward.
"I'm sorry for your loss."
Rebecca gulped, and she finally forced her gaze down the corridor.
"I barely knew him," she said, though her voice broke at the end.
That's even worse, Billy thought. You'll never know them. He remembered all the young men that had been under his command, and how only a percentage of them came back. They had families back home—mothers and girlfriends and lives. Just thinking about it caused Billy to shudder. But, in the end, wasn't that what they all were—stories unspoken?
Billy shook his head, only to find Rebecca standing in front of the door at the end of the hall. I understand you, Doll Face, he thought, chasing after her. She wanted to carry on his memory with her—even if she barely knew him-but didn't understand the burden behind it. He knew Rebecca would come to bear it—after all, she was a tough girl.
Rebecca flung open the door. The wind howled through the open threshold, nearly knocking her down. A grated walkway lined the engines, leaving only a steel railing between them and the night on their left. Two bodies lay on the walkway, covered head to toe in black clothing. A glossy, thick liquid dripped from them. Other than rocking to and fro, the corpses remained still.
"Don't worry," Billy said, stepping in front of her.
"Who said I was worried?" Rebecca said, straightening her posture.
"Whatever you say, Miss Independence," Billy replied, waving his hand as he continued toward the other side of the walkway. Rebecca grunted but followed him.
"Who were they, you think?" she said as she kneeled beside one, the wind nearly stealing her voice.
"Dunno," Billy said, raising his voice. He stood in front of the corpse against the control room threshold. "They look like some kind of stealth operatives, judging by their gear. But it's weird."
"What is?" Rebecca said, standing and joining her companion.
"There's usually some form of identification—a patch, a badge. These guys have nothing."
"Maybe the government knows about this," Rebecca said, though more to herself. Zombies and Leech Men did seem like something that fell under government jurisdiction.
"Yeah, that would be just wonderful," Billy muttered. He glanced up into the room. "Shit."
Billy ran into the room, and Rebecca followed. When she entered, he stood over the control console.
"What kind of idiot would break the monitor," Billy said, gesturing toward the shattered screen. Color flushed from Rebecca's face.
"You mean we're—"
"Out of control?" Billy said. "Yeah, at this rate it'll either derail or crash. Not a damn thing can be done if we can't see what we type…unless."
Rebecca followed Billy's gaze to a lever on the far right of the controls. A sticker above it read 'Emergency Break.'
"Hold on," He said. Rebecca looked around, however other than the chair, there wasn't anything to hang on to. Billy grabbed the lever and pulled down—the lever stuck. "What the hell?!"
"Maybe there's something you have to do," Rebecca said, turning her head to find a manual or anything that could help. She walked over to the steel cabinet and opened it. A couple of extra uniforms hung on a clothes hanger. Below, a double-barrel shotgun sat diagonally—barely small enough to fit within the narrow space. A red, leather-bound book sat on the shelf just above the hanger, along with six walkie-talkies and a case of shotgun shells.
Rebecca grabbed the book. Ecliptic Express Operator Manuel was written in gold script across the front. A smirk crossed her face as she rushed back to the control panel. She slammed it onto the control panel and leafed through the pages.
"Come on," she said. The floor shook violently enough to make her knees to shake. Billy leaned in. Finally, she came across the article "Emergency Break."
"Automatic shutdown will occur upon engage," Rebecca muttered, eyes flitting over the words. "Rear brake must also be engaged simultaneously."
"Who in the hell built this train?!" Billy said, snatching up the manual to read it for himself. Rebecca's heartbeat accelerated. Her body shook, though she wasn't sure if it was her nerves or the rumbling of the train.
"Okay," she said, taking deep breathes. Rebecca walked back to the cabinet and grabbed one of the walkie-talkies. Once she programmed it to pick up her channel, she handed to Billy. "I'm going to the rear. I'll radio you when to pull the lever on your end."
Billy nodded. She took a deep breath and headed toward the open door. There was no way she was ready to travel this train alone. Don't let fear control you, she heard her father say. Rebecca raised her chin.
"Hey, Rebecca," Billy said. Rebecca turned but grimaced. I know…be careful, stay safe. She could practically see that patronizing look the rest of the team had given her before in her head. However, when she faced Billy, his face was hard. "Good luck."
Rebecca stood there for a second. Eventually, she nodded.
"Thanks."
Billy watched Rebecca dart back out into the train. I should have gone, he thought but shoved the it away. That wouldn't do her any favors. Besides, if something happened to her, he wouldn't have to deal with her anymore. The thought left a sour taste in his mouth.
Don't be stupid Coen. Don't go trusting her. Only trust yourself.
Billy clipped the walkie-talkie to his jeans and then leaned against the control panel, but his body remained tense. It was always that way.
"The side-effects of war," he muttered. Had everything been worth it though? It seemed so long ago he had been that scrawny eighteen year old with an inflated sense of patriotism.
"This is just what I need, Ma," he had told his mother. It would be just the thing to wipe away their problems. Debts would be erased while he would be protecting not only his mother but his nation. His mother would love him for it.
"HA!" Billy said. How naïve he had been. Just the very thought of his past-self made his face flushed. Here I am, eight years later—Ma died of shame, and me, the 'convicted murder.' It wasn't until now that he realized his fists were clenched. Billy opened them, wiping his sweaty palms onto his jeans.
Now wasn't the time for that.
THUMP.
Billy jumped. His eyes darted up. It's nothing, Billy told himself. Just some leaves or something…just huge fucking leaves.
Billy's hand slid to the gun handle sticking out the back of his pants.
Another THUMP rapped on the roof. The car shook beneath the force of it. Billy crouched. The metal roof split open as a giant, ivory pincher rammed through it. When the claw withdrew, it left a hole the size of a tire. Another pincer drove through the metal, staying there for several seconds before wiggling its self out of the crevice.
Billy could only gaze up in mouth-gaping horror, wincing as he fell back hard.
What has claws that fucking big?!
A pincher wedged back into the hole in which it had created. The roof groaned as the creature on the other side pulled. Billy raised his handgun but didn't pull the trigger. What if he missed and the bullet ricocheted?
What good is this pee-shooter going to do against that, anyway—THE SHOTGUN!
The groaning of the roof now grew into a screech as the metal took on a curved shape. The creature wedged its other claw into the second crevice. The steel wasn't going to hold for much longer—And when it breaks, that bastard is going to be in for one hell of a surprise.
Billy jumped up, tailbone still aching, and dashed to the cabinet. He flung open the steel doors and the shotgun sat just as it had been. Billy turned on the safety to his handgun before tucking it into the back of his jeans. The control room filled with the cacophony of ripping steel, mingled with a sharp, staccato cry. Florescent lighting flickered and died as they were pulled from their circuitry.
Rain pelted Billy as he tried to load the weapon in almost total darkness. He jammed in the last shell and snapped the gun shut. Something wrapped around Billy's torso—something that felt as though were lined with tiny spikes. He gasped at the sudden pain, releasing the shotgun in shock. Before Billy could process what was happening, he was lifted out of the gaping roof. The claw released him, leaving him suspended in mid-air, before crashing down on the car's roof several feet away.
Billy gasped for air as he tried to push aside the chill of the rain, the ache of his side, and the phantom pain left from the pincher's barbs. He glanced down. No blood. Billy pulled at the soaked tank top that clung to him. No wounds-just a line of several little indents across his torso.
A screech made him turn back to the front. A scorpion the side of a bus stood over the control room. Its stinger towered over its body by at least seven feet, poised. Water trailed down the creature's brown exoskeleton as it raised its massive claws and screamed, as though challenging this newcomer.
Yeah, Billy thought. I'm definitely gonna need a bigger gun.