Chapter Five
The Police Station
Fucking dogs, Jill thought irritably. She kicked an empty garbage can onto its side and used it as a makeshift barricade. It had the effect of walling her off in a narrow alleyway littered with flickering shadows, but it also meant that the mutant dogs would have a bit more difficulty getting at her.
It had taken Jill longer than she had expected to make her way to the police station. Night had fallen, and she had barely managed to scrape together any food. The persistent hunger made her feel shaky, and she had to take a moment every so often to calm her nerves with a simple meditation technique. She'd only run across zombies so far, which she counted as a major blessing, though she had not been oblivious to signs of more dangerous predators lurking about. At one point, she had found a twisted chunk of corrugated steel, and she had not been able to identify any signs as to what could have maimed the chunk of metal. No explosions, no large trucks. Nothing except a lot of splattered human blood that had turned brown and cracked on the cement. Now she was in yet another back alley, this time only two streets away from her second home, and she had run across mutant dogs, with their maimed faces, and tendrils of bloodless flesh hanging off their cheeks in strips. Their mouths twisted into a perpetual snarl, the scent of human blood drifting off their muzzles.
And she had only eight rounds left on her pistol and two rounds on her shotgun. That was enough to get past four, maybe five zombies, if she were lucky. The dogs were scrambling at the side of the garbage can and making growling noises. Jill had propped the can up with a couple of pieces of torn piping, so that the dogs couldn't simply roll the barrel backwards. Satisfied that they were sufficiently walled off, Jill turned around and began jogging on the balls of her feet, still feeling vulnerable knowing that killer dogs were behind her somewhere. The alley ended in a brick wall, but that didn't trouble her. There was a door to one side, and a sewer grate. She took the former, noticing with dismay that the dogs had taken a running leap and had crossed the barricade, and were now charging her. Throwing caution to the winds, Jill yanked the door open and threw herself inside, slamming the door shut behind her just as the first dog reached it. The distinct sound of their claws scraping at the metal could be heard, though she resigned herself to ignore it and instead turn her attention to the contents of the room.
Fortunately, the room was well lit, and appeared empty. It looked to be some sort of a stock room for a larger supply store. There were counters along the far walls and one down the middle of the room, and they all had knickknacks of various kinds. Nothing terribly useful, save for a gun clip, which she made her way towards and retrieved. Sniffing the air, she detected the scent of copper and, with a sudden tenseness, Jill glanced about the room searching for the sight of blood. There was nothing. I swear, she thought, if another goddamned zombie jumps out of another goddamned closet, I'm going to start freaking out.
Jill proceeded to move about the room cautiously and methodically searching for any hiding spots. When she rounded the corner of the aisle counter, she stopped in her tracks. There, sitting on the ground, his eyes closed, was Brad. He looked to be sleeping and was breathing shallowly. A quick assessment of his form, and Jill could tell that he had been roughed up pretty badly. One broken arm, and a multitude of cuts and abrasions.
"Brad?" Jill asked tentatively, her hand still gripping her gun. "Brad?" she asked more loudly.
Brad suddenly let out a wet cough, that sent mucus dribbling down his chin. He glanced up and stared owlishly at Jill, as if not believing that she were really there. "Jill?" he asked finally.
"Yeah, it's me. Jesus, you look like shit. What happened?"
Normally, Jill would have expected Brad to let out a short, barking laugh, but it seemed that all he could do was muster up a wan smile. "You know, the same shit as always, Jill. Same shit as always." He then leaned his head back once more and closed his eyes.
Part of Jill wanted to comfort her colleague, and part of her just wanted to pump him for information and then take off. It was hard, she reflected, mustering up care for others when things were so bad. Still, looking at him, Jill couldn't help but feel a sense of overwhelming sadness. Chances were, neither of them were going to survive this mess. If it were just zombies, Jill could have had more hope, but given that there were probably more dangerous creatures lurking about, and, given that Umbrella was waiting just outside the city perimeter... Well, she thought, you can give up any time. Take comfort in that and keep on going.
Jill then proceeded to kneel and used a nearby napkin to wipe off the excess blood from Brad's skin and face. He looked incredibly tired, and pale, and she understood acutely.
"Thanks," he muttered.
"No problem," she replied softly.
"Do you reckon we could maybe just wait here for help to arrive?" Brad asked, though Jill could detect the weariness and the hopelessness in his question.
"Come on," she said as gently as she could. "We need to get moving."
"Where?" Brad asked.
"I figured the police station would be a good start."
Brad visibly trembled at Jill's words. He opened his eyes and gazed fixedly at her, as if trying to communicate the horror of what she was suggesting. Finally, he said, "You can't go there."
"Why not?" Jill asked, though she had a pretty good idea why not. "Has it been overrun?"
Brad shook his head. "I don't know. You'll never make it inside. It was all I could do to retreat."
"What was it?" Jill asked intently. If she were going to beat it, she had to know what it was. "Was it dogs?"
At this, Brad did in fact laugh. "No, Jill. Not dogs."
"Jesus fuck, Brad. What is it?"
"It's a zombie."
Jill just raised an eyebrow. "A zombie?"
"A super-zombie."
"Uh-huh," Jill said, still skeptically. "A super zombie."
Brad nodded.
"Well," Jill said, sighing and getting to her feet. "It's not like we've got much choice. I mean, it's either sitting around here waiting to either starve to death, to be eaten by zombies or for Umbrella agents to kill us off. I'm not exactly their number one fan."
Brad smiled. "Yeah, I reckon you're not."
"You coming?" Jill asked, though she was pretty sure she already knew the answer.
"I'm sorry, Jill. I just - I can't go out there. Not yet."
"S'okay, Brad." Don't judge him, she told herself. We all deal with things in our own way. "Listen, if I get help, or if I take out this super zombie, I'll come back for you. All right?"
Brad nodded. "Thanks, Jill."
"Don't mention it. Try not to die on me while I'm out."
"I'll do my best."
With those terse last few words, Jill headed out the exit on the far wall, which opened into a courtyard adjacent to the RCPD parking lot. Almost there, she thought. She was sure she could at least score a grenade launcher from the locker room. Then she could see about hunting down this so-called super zombie.
The courtyard was unusually quiet. The RCPD parking lot fed into a main road, where she could see cars banged up and dead bodies littering the street. She was surprised then, that there were no zombies loitering about. It seemed like a particularly good spot for them, given that it was a fairly open, well-trafficked section of the town. Especially with all the police activity. Maybe the cops gunned them down, she thought hopefully.
Taking care to survey all the darker corners of the lot, where the pools of lamplight were not shed, Jill made her way to the front gate, which, to her dismay, had been smashed apart. The padlock lay broken ten feet away and one of the wrought iron gates was hanging off one hinge. Right, she thought. No zombie and no dog could have done that. Still, seeing that the windows of the police station were still intact, which was a good sign the station hadn't been overrun, Jill pressed onward. She was only fifteen feet from the door now anyway.
"You know, getting to the police station actually requires that we know where it is," Harry pointed out.
"No shit, Sherlock," Faith replied, scanning the area. They had debated over whether to lurk about in the alleys or to take the main road, and had finally decided on the latter, confident that they could outrun any obstacles that tried to hem them in, and because they figured it would be faster walking down the main road, which Faith believed bisected the town into two neat halves. They'd also hoped they could find some Raccoon City residents, but that was proving to be a more difficult task than they had realized.
"If there's going to be any of them still alive, they'll be holed up somewhere waiting for help to come," Harry lectured, always scanning the street for threats.
"What makes you say that?" Faith asked.
"That's what they always do in the movies," Harry responded. "Haven't you ever seen Night of the Living Dead?"
Faith rolled her eyes. "Leave it to the experts, kid."
"Besides, it's what I'd do."
Faith and Harry came across a tattoo parlour that looked relatively well kept. There were no broken windows, no blood stains around the entrance. It also looked like the owner lived on the second floor, which would have been a pretty good bolt hole.
"You reckon we should go in?" Faith asked.
Harry nodded.
The door was locked, obviously, and was made of glass. Neither of them were particularly inclined to break it open, because it would undoubtedly attract the local undead population. "Any chance you could just magic it open?" Faith asked. Harry considered it for a moment, and then, lighting on an idea, disapparated into the interior of the shop, wherein he undid the latch and opened the door.
"Nice,' Faith commented, before closing and locking it.
"Yeah, it's pretty handy."
"Funny that," Faith mused, as they scoured about for signs of a brawl.
"What?" Harry asked in the quietude.
"You can disappear and reappear at will without a wand. And you can do it through solid objects."
"Yeah, so?"
Faith just shrugged. "I guess I don't really understand why you can't do other things without a wand. It's all just magic, right? And besides, teleporting like that can't be any easy feat. Surely if you can do that, you can do things that are easier."
"You'd think so," he said, nodding. "It's possible. When kids are upset, they do all kinds of things. Accidentally, even. Once I blew up my aunt Marge. Turned her into a balloon so that she floated up to the ceiling."
"She couldn't have been too happy about that," Faith mused.
It was Harry's turn to shrug. "She was obliviated, so it's not like she'd remember it."
The pair went up a narrow flight of stairs, the floorboards creaking ominously. They exchanged a glance as they heard some movement from the darkness that spread over the top floor. "Hello?" Faith called. "Is anybody there?"
Deciding to take no chances, Faith took the lead and crept ever closer. Harry, meanwhile, was contemplating Faith's words about wandless magic. Hadn't Lupin conjured a blue flame wandlessly in his third year? Harry was pretty sure the werewolf wasn't anything special magically speaking. He didn't radiate that sense of energy that Dumbledore and Voldemort did. Concentrating, Harry focused his mind on conjuring a blue flame. He felt himself steadily disappearing into a meditative trance, much like he did with occlumancy, and, when he opened his eyes, he saw a faint glow emanating from a flame no larger than that of a matchstick, resting comfortably in the palm of his hand.
"FUCK!" Faith shouted from somewhere ahead of him. His concentration broken, the flame disappeared and Harry hastily dashed up the stairwell in search of her.
"Wha-?" he asked, bursting into a small bedroom. A lamp was lit and Harry could see Faith mercilessly hacking away at the remains of a zombie, its severed hand still twitching ominously.
"What happened?" he asked.
"Fucker jumped out at me from the closet," she said, her eyes blazing with fury. For good measure, she stabbed the torso of the zombie one last time, her blade puncturing its left kidney.
Harry could now make out a nasty pair of claw marks on Faith's face. Oblivious of Harry's scrutiny, she spat on the zombie's head before turning around and stalking out of the room to go back downstairs.
Harry glanced around the small room, taking in the sight of it. All in all, he thought it was a rather cozy place, and it made him suddenly sad, to see just how deeply the darkness of humankind had reached into the lives of these people. He then apparated downstairs and found Faith washing the cut out in a large basin. "You okay?" Harry asked tentatively. He had gotten the feeling that Faith didn't like touchy feely questions, but he wasn't really sure what else to say.
"Yeah," she said. "This place just creeps me out. That's all."
Harry nodded. "Yeah, I get that too. It's like we're no longer in Kansas anymore."
"Yeah," Faith agreed, uncharacteristically somber. It was a side to her that Harry found discomfiting. "Come on. Let's keep moving."
It was not long before they managed to come upon a crashed police cruiser and a pair of zombie police officers, who, after dispatching, were ransacked for all their identifying information. Some of which included a little more information on the whereabouts of the mythical police station.
Harry was glad for it, because, after Faith's bout of unease at his magical powers, she began peppering him with questions, though it seemed to have to do more with filling the silence than any real curiosity on her part.
"So can you teleport other objects as well?" Faith was asking.
No matter how many times Harry tried to correct her and tell her the proper term was apparating, she refused to adopt it, and Harry had begun wondering if she were being purposely obtuse. He responded by saying simply, "No."
"Why not?"
"Ain't got a bloody clue."
"But you can teleport the things on you, like your clothes and stuff."
"Yeah, well, they're on me," Harry responded, somewhat defensively. Truthfully, he had no clue what the bounds of apparation were. He knew there were more advanced forms than simply disappearing and reappearing. He himself could only do line of sight apparation and apparation to familiar places. He also had a relatively narrow radius for his apparating zone. He guessed it was about four kilometres, which was enough for dodging Death Eaters. He also knew that people could learn combat apparation. he had seen Dumbledore slip out of an apparation and into a duelling stance at the DOM. Most wizards and witches didn't learn apparation sufficiently to not have a half second of disorientation on either end of the transport. Not to mention most of them were as loud as gunshots, whereas Dumbledore's was perfectly silent.
Eventually, he supposed those things would come in time. He suspected that a lot of it was born out of live combat situations, where you either learn to fire a spell on apparation or die trying. Not that Harry could fire shit without his wand. Not for the first time, he felt acutely vulnerable without it, and Harry was coming to resent that feeling. If all it took to incapacitate him was a simple disarming charm, then what did it matter how powerful a stunner he had? He still couldn't defend against more than one or two death eaters at a time. Two to put him on the defensive and one to catch him from behind.
Shaking himself from his downward mood spiral, Harry focused his attention on the looming sight of the police station that stood inlaid in the gentle upward slope of a hill. From where they stood, they could see the wrought iron gate and the ornate entrance beyond.
"Why do I have a bad feeling about this?" Harry asked.
"Faith peered about in the darkness carefully. From what she could tell, there was something definitely wrong.
"I've spent a lot of time hunting vamps," Faith remarked casually. She swerved sharply so that she was now walking off to one side, Harry having to do a double-take to catch up. She continued speaking when Harry sidled up next to her once more. "After a while, you get to learn where to expect a vampire, what kinds of places they like to hang out at. Eventually, if you live long enough, you learn that there's two kinds of situations where you need to be especially wary. One, if there's more than the usual number of them about, and two, if there's none at all."
"What does it mean?" Harry asked, screwing up his face in contemplation. He couldn't understand what would unify those two things together, though, when Faith didn't elaborate, he pondered the question harder. He tried thinking about it in terms of his own experiences. He remembered the spiders fleeing from the castle in the second year, and he remembered Bellatrix Lestrange fleeing from Dumbledore. He remembered death eaters flocking to their master at the end of the tournament. And then it hit him. "When there's a bigger predator around."
Faith just nodded, motioning for Harry to be silent as she took a running leap and vaulted herself over a brick wall. It appeared that Faith wanted to scout out the area circuitously before approaching the front gate of the police station. Harry could hardly fault her on her logic, but it did leave him in a rather awkward position. He was not confident he could apparate to the other side of the wall without splinching himself and he was unable to jump the wall the way Faith had done. He was also not inclined to ask Faith for help. It was bad enough she saw him as dead weight already. If he slowed her down, she might be liable to get violent. Determined not to fail, Harry took a running leap, hoping his magic might kick into gear and give him the little extra push he needed to latch onto the top. It didn't happen. However, he noticed with more than a little curiosity, that, as he jumped, his wings had unfolded instinctively, and they had held him aloft for an extra second before gently landing him back on the ground.
Whoa, he thought, enjoying the moment of weightlessness. It was almost as though he could taste the freedom that he had always enjoyed from playing Quidditch. Harry then glanced speculatively at his wings, and a crazy thought began to form in his mind. He knew that the magic of the Pegasus allowed it to fly, lightening the body enough so that the wings could carry the horse's body. It was the same magic that the phoenix used to carry heavy loads, and Harry wondered if it were possible for him to do that here, even in his human form. The Hermione side of his brain immediately tried to speak up and tell him that it was impossible, but he swiftly and ruthlessly clamped down on that thought, if, for no other reason that some of Faith's earlier questions were starting to make him doubt his own education. Things weren't adding up, and he didn't like it.
Harry took ten steps back, steeled his nerve and took another running leap, this time slipping into a light meditative trance and letting his unicorn instincts guide his body into executing the necessary downbeat of his wings. Harry felt himself propelled up and up and up, the distinctive trickling feeling like water being poured over his head infusing his being as he leapt the eight feet clean over the brick wall, and, to his horror, came down fast and furious towards the ground below. Snapping out of his trance, Harry gave another beat of his wings, which jerked him to a stop in mid-descent, before letting him coast to the dewy earthen floor where his feet gently touched down. Whoa, he thought again, blinking away himself from his reverie and taking in his surroundings. Faith had walked up and down the narrow path from the street, obviously having been convinced that an attacker was lurking in the shadows.
Coming up next to him, she gave him a short nod of acknowledgement, and then knelt down to stare at the dirt. She pointed at it, clearly intending to show Harry something. He squinted down, but did not see the significance.
"It's a footprint," Faith explained, her voice still tinged with derision at Harry's poor tracking skills. "Whatever it is, it's big. I reckon it's ten feet tall. That, or it's got a bad case of acromegaly."
"Uh huh," Harry agreed, squinting even harder at the dark earth and not really seeing the footprint. Not that he was surprised entirely. Faith's vision was as phenomenal as her strength.
Faith jumped back suddenly, almost knocking Harry over, and before he could process what she was doing, he heard the whistle as her sword cut through the air, followed by a distinct squelching sound. Looking down at the shrubbery, Harry saw a worm, maybe four feet in length, now cut in half, its gaping maw revealing razor sharp fangs. Faith just stared in horror at the creature, as both halves wobbled and then began slithering away.
"Goddammit," she breathed. "This place just gets creepier and creepier."
Harry nodded. "I can't wait 'til we're out of here."
They trekked onward, taking care to stay to the footpaths in case any other deadly worms chose to make themselves known. Together, the pair ambled up the side of the brick wall so that they were now approaching the main entrance. Both of them were acutely aware that it was an obvious place for a trap. The open space between the gate and the front door was about eight metres by eight metres, with only one narrow path to the side. The gate dragged along the ground, making it slow to open, and the front door was reinforced steel, again, making it difficult to open. However, the only place where Faith and Harry could think an attack would come from would be the path they were now traversing.
"You reckon we should step into the spotlight?" Harry whispered.
"Yeah, why not? Nothing like imminent death to turn a girl on."
However, before either of them had time to move, the front gate swung open, to both their surprise. "Someone else," Harry whispered excitedly. "Excellent. We can team up."
The newcomer was a woman, slender, fit, carrying a gun, short, cropped brown hair. She was particularly alert, which was a good thing, but there was no uniform, so Harry wasn't sure whether she was actually a cop. She had the sense to leave the gate open, at least, which meant that at least intuitively, she understood that something was not right.
Faith was about to come forward when Harry stayed her with a hand. "Don't," he commanded in a whisper, and Faith, who normally did not take orders, complied, because there was a steeliness in his tone that she could not ignore. "We'll catch the critter by surprise." Preferably in the back."
It happened at the point where Jill was halfway to the front entrance. Between Jill and them, a dark form materialize, accompanied by a deep rumble in the stone. Harry blinked rapidly to clear away the surprise and then realized only after a second that the thing had jumped down from some height. Glancing upward, he could only assume that it had done so from the roof of the building, because he could see no other structure where the creature could have hidden. And the roof was pretty high. That fall should have broken its legs, Harry mused.
They both heard the flat crack of gunfire, and, seeing that it clearly did not fell the creature, which, to Harry's relief, was at least humanoid. No worm monsters yet, he thought grimly.
However, before they pushed forward, another figure darted through the open gate, calling out, "JILL! NO! LOOK OUT!"
The creature turned to face this new threat, and now, with its back no longer turned to them, they could see it in profile. It seemed to recognize Brad and said in a throaty growl, "Stars."
Harry noticed that Jill visibly paled at this, while Brad just looked grim.
"Brad!" Jill called out.
"Just go, Jill!" he said, clearly resigned to his fate.
Jill brandished her pistol, but Brad had already drawn out an automatic submachine gun and was already laying into the creature. Even Harry, who was no expert on weapons, could tell that firing it was taking its toll on Brad, who was backed up against the gate, his whole body bent around the thing to endure its impact. He's got a broken arm, Harry mused.
Jill, glancing between the two, marshaled her resolve and began firing rounds at the creature's head.
The deafening report of gunfire, which surely should have brought zombies from across the town, was having zero impact on the hulking figure. Brad just continued unloading his clip into the belly of the beast, as it took three slow, purposeful strides forward, so that it was standing right in front of him. Then, as if out of amusement, it just stood stock still, waiting for Brad to run out of gunfire, which was inevitable. Jill had run out of pistol rounds and shotgun rounds, and was now searching futilely for another weapon.
"Come on," Faith said. "We've got to do something."
Jill had taken a loose pipe and hurled it at the creatures head, but again, it did nothing more than thunk flatly against its skull before falling to the ground.
"Jill, go,' Brad said.
"I'm sorry," Jill lamented, before turning away from Brad and dashing into the station.
"Stars," rumbled Nemesis once more.
"Fuck this shit," Faith said, her Gryffindor tendencies getting the best of her. She hefted her blade so that she was holding it by the tip. Careful not to prick herself, she hurled it with inhuman grace, so that it spun through the air like a throwing dagger, whereupon it impacted with the creature's bald, dark head. The point of the blade barely nicked it before falling to the ground. All the creature's attention was on Brad, who tried to dodge out of the way of a swipe of his hand, but he only managed to get caught by the throat and then lifted into the air.
Faith charged forward and Harry apparated so that he was right behind Nemesis. And then, he realized with sinking horror, that he had no clue what to do. Fuck me, he thought disgustedly, feelings of ineptitude sweeping through him.
Faith, on the other hand, had picked up her sword and made a vicious slashing motion against Nemesis's wrist, where she hoped he was weakest. Brad was futilely struggling against its iron grip.
Her sword, however, only scratched his leathery, reptilian skin. Without even looking in her direction, Nemesis shot out a hand and swatted her away like a bug, sending her crashing to the ground in a tangled heap.
Harry dashed over to her side, but she was already getting up and whirling like a firestorm, delivering a roundhouse to Nemesis's hip, which left an imprint of her shoe against his skin, but did not even cause him to budge.
Nemesis then promptly threw Brad's lifeless body to one side and turned to face his two would-be attackers.
"Stars," he said once more in his ominous rumble, before charging at Harry, who had picked up the sword and was trying futilely to shove it into Nemesis's back. Harry ducked out of the way but was not quick enough to avoid a punch to his head. Fortunately, his wings contracted around him, effectively cocooning him and softening what would surely have been a brain damaging blow.
"Motherfucker!" Faith shouted, bodychecking the creature full force, and then trying to shove him over in the hopes of knocking him onto his back.
But Nemesis was either too strong or too heavy, or some combination of the two, and instead just whirled around and picked Faith up off the ground, and proceeded to strangle her, much as he had done with Brad. Faith, however, was significantly stronger than Brad, and was able to pry his fingers loose with all her considerable strength, so that Nemesis, seeing she was slipping from his grasp, threw her at the last second against the ground.
He advanced on her once more, and this time, when she got up, streams of blood were spilling down her face, and she was distinctly disoriented. It was at that moment that Ivory made its appearance. Whinnying a battle cry, Ivory charged forward with all the momentum it could muster, which was significant given its magical energies, and headbutted Nemesis in the chest, just as it was turning about to face this new threat. Having both sizeable mass and momentum on its side, Ivory managed to knock Nemesis backwards and flat onto his back. Not wasting a second, Harry transformed and began yanking on Faith's arm, dragging her toward the police station. "Come on," he urged. "Goddammit, Faith!" Nemesis was already getting to his feet, and, seeing this, Faith snapped out of her stupor and followed Harry, deftly and fluidly opening the door, letting Harry and herself inside and managing to close it before Nemesis could follow them in.
Both of them fell backwards as the steel buckled under each thump of the monster's fist.
"Holy fuck," Faith whispered, still staring wide-eyed at the doorway. Neither of them were sure whether the doors were going to hold against its relentless onslaught, and neither were particularly interested in finding out. They both scrambled to their feet. Harry was sporting a slightly bent wing, from where Nemesis had struck him. He touched it tentatively, and winced. Fuck that better not be broken, he thought. Faith was decidedly worse. There were deep bruises around her throat and her face looked like it was on the receiving end of a giant monster's fist, which was, precisely what it had been on the receiving end of.
Faith limped over to the front desk, which, unsurprisingly, was deserted.
""We should find Jill," Harry said, nervously biting his lip. Faith seemed to be lost in her own little world, and he remembered the last time he had interrupted her ruminations. She had almost killed him.
"Faith?"
"I'm fine," she said, taking a deep breath.
"Faith-"
"I'm fine," she cut in, this time more severely. "I'm a slayer. My injuries-" she pointed to her face and her leg, "they'll heal soon enough." Faith rooted around the front desk in search of a weapon. She found a pistol, but the clip had been taken out. "Jill must have ransacked this place before us."
"We should find her," Harry said again.
Faith whirled around, and glared at Harry, the silence hanging heavily between them. "And how, pray tell, do you expect us to defend ourselves?" she asked in clipped, icy tones.
"Er-"
"If you hadn't noticed, our only weapon, that fucking sword, is now hanging outside with the uber-freak." Faith slammed her fists down on the desk. "Fuck ass."
The pounding had, by now,, ceased, and Harry wasn't entirely sure that was a good thing. Was there another entrance to this place? Probably. One which was probably not so well fortified. Like the windows. Bloody hell, Harry thought, reflecting on just what a bad idea coming to the police station had been. They were now both roughed up, had a psycho on their tail, and were short one weapon.
"Listen, Faith, we've got to get moving. It doesn't matter about other creatures. We need to find a way to defend ourselves. That thing could get in here at any moment."
"Don't you think I know that?" she flared once more. "What the fuck do you expect us to find here that's going to take that thing on? Hmm? You saw what it did. We'd be lucky to find a machine gun in this place, and look how well that worked. God, we're so screwed."
Harry, now pissed off himself, walked up to Faith and slapped her across her face. "Get a fucking grip," he said venomously. "Look at yourself. You're freaking out at the slightest bit of danger."
"Slightest bit of - you -"
Harry slapped her once more and deftly apparated out of her way, as he was certain a ruthless punch would be administered. Faith, not having expected that, overbalanced in midstrike and staggered forward.
"Aren't you supposed to be some kind of an expert? What kind of professional are you?" Harry asked scathingly. All elements of taunting were gone in his tone. Now he was just scornful. "We've had it pretty lucky so far, you know. That creature could have turned us into pulp. You and I are both still alive, still with no broken bones. We're safe for the moment. We've got a potential ally in this very building, and you're wasting all our precious time moping about how you got your ass kicked by an eight foot tall thug."
"Nine feet," Faith muttered sulkily.
"Nine feet, whatever," Harry said, waving her words away with his hand. "I'm going," Harry pointed to a door on the far wall. "You can come with me if you want. It's your call, Faith."
Harry began walking, acutely aware of the silence behind him. He had never been very good at consoling women, and he had never tried consoling men. He wasn't entirely sure which strategy would work best on Faith, and he wasn't sure how he was going to take his scorn. She'd had a holier than thou attitude since they'd met, and even now, it hadn't really gone away. By the time he reached the door, he felt Faith approach, his unicorn sense alerting him to her presence. It occurred to him for the first time that Faith was not a nice person. He had assumed, somehow, even after her attempted murder of him, that because she worked on the light side, that she herself was light. Having dealt with Snape for so long though, Harry should have known that it was a dangerous assumption to make. Faith was a bitch, and a psycho, and, oddly enough, that realization gave him comfort. As much as he loved the Rons and Hermiones of the world, he didn't really trust them to watch his back.
Faith did not say a word to him, and instead just grabbed the handle of the door and pulled it wide open, scanning the interior to see if anything were planning to jump out at them.
There was nothing, save for a bullet riddled zombie laying in a pool of its own blood in the middle of the floor.
"I guess Jill's gone this way already," Faith said, stepping inside and glancing about.
"No doubt she'll have taken everything of value."
"Not everything." faith picked up a simple dagger that was sticking out of a second zombie's chest. Faith sighed. "This'll do, for now, I guess."
The pair entered the next room, which was a file room. Some of the cabinet drawers were open, with papers strewn haphazardly about. Harry went over to one and picked it up, scanning it swiftly for anything useful. If others had been searching for these documents, then maybe there was something worth reading. However, most of them seemed to be lists of records. He wasn't sure, but he thought that they were perhaps bank statements. Withdrawals were circled in red ink on one sheet, and deposits on another. It wasn't hard to see that some things were matching up. Somebody at MedGen Inc. was doling out money for a Mike Harris. In chicken scratch at the bottom, Harry made out the words: MedGen Umbrella. (subsidiary).
"Huh," Harry mused. "Wonder what the deal's with this shit. Hey Faith, do you know who Mike Harris is?"
"He's the mayor of this shit town," Faith said, sidling up next to him. "Why?"
"Looks like he's been taking bribes," Harry explained. "From this company called MedGen, or maybe Umbrella."
"Huh," she said thoughtfully. "You think it's got something to do with what's going on in the town?"
Harry shrugged. "It's a bit odd to be scattered about the floor here like this. Whoever was reading through these files was clearly in a hurry." Harry looked pointedly at her dagger. "Things must have already have been going to shit around here."
"Yeah, but wouldn't they want to take these with them?"
"Unless they faxed it," Harry replied. "I mean, if your chances of survival are like, ten to ninety, you don't want to be troubled by carrying a briefcase around. Whoever did this probably just copied the files on to wherever and then prayed that they would get there themselves eventually."
Faith considered it. "Sure, why not. It makes sense, and it's the only thing we've got so far. It could've even been our mysterious Jill who went rifling through these papers."
Harry nodded. "Yeah, maybe."
Jill sat staring listlessly off into space. Part of her couldn't believe that Brad was dead, and part of her was starting to catch up to the fact that she was alone in a town full of zombies. Jill couldn't really claim to have ever been popular. She could count the number of friends she had on one hand, and even that dwindled after the incident at the mansion. Nobody was really prepared to get caught in the crossfire, and Jill had been so idealistic. So naive.
Now she knew better. You couldn't beat Umbrella. They weren't evil, the way she had thought evil people were supposed to be. They were actually quite ordinary individuals. It was that realization - that nothing distinguished her from any of them - that dawning horror that the enemy was not Umbrella but something deep and intrinsic to humankind, that had deflated her; had stripped her of all her energies. Since then, she had been simply puttering from one day to the next, without having any goal or purpose. Without having the will to do anything past making sure she had her most basic needs taken care of. Umbrella had broken her.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, she had thought that, by giving up, she would be saved from the trauma of that dark side of humanity. If only she could have remained oblivious.
Now you're alone, she thought, staring at the grenade launcher that sat before her. She had hoped that by finding it, she would experience a sense of euphoria. Like it would solve her problems. But now, looking at it, she saw that it was a grenade launcher, not a miracle worker.
And Brad was dead.
Zombies were mindless thugs. They were driven by their need to feed, and it occluded all other functioning. Jill wasn't a scientist. She'd flunked high school, and had made it onto the STARS team through a backdoor through the military. She was top in her class in the reserves, and even did a stint in the Gulf War. She couldn't triangulate coordinates, and she couldn't work a microscope, but she could shoot things with remarkable accuracy, and that counted for something. She liked the feel of a gun in her hands. It made her powerful.
Zombies also didn't talk. They moaned and shuffled and drooled, but they most definitely did not talk. Jill wondered, not for the first time, whether she had it in her to kill a defenseless human. She was pretty certain that, if she survived this mess, she would personally hunt down every single member of the Board of Directors of Umbrella, starting with their CEO and working downward. There was no justice in the world anymore. None except for that which they made for themselves, now.
There was only one reason a steroid zombie freak would know they were STARS members, and there was only one reason it had laid a trap for them. They were being hunted. All of them, or maybe just her. Jill had a sinking feeling she was the only STARS member left alive. She was certain her colleagues could handle themselves well enough against zombies. But that thing, her nemesis, was something altogether different. Brad had unloaded nearly a full clip into its abdomen, and it hadn't even flinched. She gazed down at the grenade launcher once again, and, like always, whenever her back was to the wall, her resolve hardened. She was going to survive this mess, one way or another, and she was going to get the bastards that did this. Not because they were evil, or because she thought that a hundred other people weren't going to take their place and do exactly the same things, but because she was pretty sure there was simply nothing else for her to do.
Jill slung the grenade launcher across one shoulder, buckled a spread of explosives across her chest and loaded her shotgun and pistol. She tucked extra shells into a pouch at her waist and, once satisfied she had gleaned everything she could from the supply room, Jill headed out.
Faith and Harry exited the file room through a door on the far wall. This put them into a hallway with a shadowed alcove on one side and a stairway at the far end. "Reckon we're going up," Faith said, glancing keenly at the windows that lined the wall. Neither of them were oblivious to the fact that dark windows were dangerous things to be next to. However, before they could move in any direction, they saw Jill step lightly down the stairs, with what looked suspiciously like some sort of rocket launcher strapped expertly around her torso. "She's packing some serious heat," Faith commented with a hint of approval. "Maybe we'll get out of this after all."
Jill stopped at the foot of the stairs to study the two strangers that were standing across the hall from her.
None of them spoke, and Harry was acutely aware of Jill's gaze lingering on his wings. Wonder what she's thinking about that, he mused.
Both Faith and Harry were acutely aware that she was holding onto her pistol with a death grip, and that she was probably feeling rather trigger happy after Brad's death.
"Hey," Faith said.
"Hi," Jill responded. Some of the tension seemed to drain out of her posture, and, sensing that it was probably safe to approach, Faith took a step forward. She did not see Harry's moment of consternation. His unicorn sense had begun tingling, and was crescendoing into a headache. Without warning, he cried out, "GET BACK!" and immediately yanked Faith on the arm, dragging her into the alcove just as Jill skipped backwards and the windows exploded inward. Nemesis roared and was already climbing through. The splinters of glass flew out with enough force to bury themselves in the wood paneling on the other side.
"Christ fuck," Faith muttered. Both she and Harry were pressed close together, as if trying to melt into the shadows. Faith found herself momentarily seizing up at the sight of the creature, and so she did not immediately break out of Harry's surprisingly strong grip. Part of her wanted to rush forward and tackle the giant brute, and part of her knew that it was an entirely futile gesture. Like Harry, Faith experienced a moment of profound shame, realizing her impotence to save Jill.
Jill had ran up five of the steps of the stair well to help keep herself out of the monster's reach, all the while, holstering her pistol and swinging her grenade launcher off her shoulder and bringing it to bear against Nemesis. She fired immediately, causing a violent explosion to impact against Nemesis's chest and blowing shrapnel in all directions, as well as scorching its torso. Part of the banister was on fire. Jill was just loading another shot, when she saw, to her horror, Nemesis aiming a rocket launcher in her direction.
"Holy fuck," she breathed, allowing herself a moment of incredulity to blossom across her features before she threw herself over the banister just as the rocket impacted with the wall behind her, detonating and generating an enormous plume of blisteringly hot flame that tickled her backside as she fell into a crouch, her weapon already poised and discharging another grenade, this one angled up so that it caught nemesis clear in the face as he was turning. "Gotcha, motherfucker," Jill whispered, The grenade exploded, searing its skull and causing the bone to shine eerily. One of the shards slashed across its eye, causing Nemesis to flinch and roar in such a way that it sounded more like a wounded animal than a zombie. Seeing that Nemesis was hardly even damaged by the two direct hits, Jill opted to bolt. she turned tail and raced down the hall, barely giving Faith and Harry a glance before disappearing into the file room. Nemesis roared and charged past the little alcove, blowing the door off its hinges and rampaging into the file room in hot pursuit of its quarry.
Both Faith and Harry were silent after that display. Harry did not let go of Faith, and she did not seem to protest, and neither were prepared to admit the comfort they derived from each other's body heat. They were alone and vulnerable in a way that neither had been in a long time. For Harry, it was like being in the graveyard all over again, and for Faith, it was like being outcast by the Scoobies. Harry's wings unconsciously folded around the two of them to provide an extra layer of protection.
Finally, Faith spoke. "What are we going to do?"
Harry did not respond. He had no answer. He was racking his brain trying to figure out how the two of them were going to survive. He expected that he had a fifty-fifty chance of surviving by simply apparating away to the safety of another town, but that would mean leaving Faith in the lurch, and that wasn't something he was prepared to do. He was probably safer confining his apparation to the city limits, where he would have the advantage of streetlights, and he could then risk a major jump in the morning, where there was less of a chance of getting splinched and of being blindsided.
"Did you see her take a dive?" Faith asked, pulling away and stepping back out into the hall, letting the cold rush in to fill the space where she had stood. "Yeah, I was surprised by that," Harry replied. "Reckoned she should've broken her arm doing that."
"She's an expert," Faith mused. "And I'm pretty sure she at least sprained her wrist, though you could hardly tell."
"Did you notice that that thing was pretty single-minded."
"What do you mean?"
"It hardly spared us a second glance," Harry said. "It saw all three of us, but it went straight for Jill."
"You think it's after her specifically?" Faith asked. "These zombies don't seem to have much in the brains department."
"Yeah, well this one spoke too, remember? It said 'stars'. And it can also wield a rocket launcher." Harry stroked his chin thoughtfully. "I wonder what it means. Both that fellow Brad and Jill responded visibly when it said that word."
Faith shook her head. "I think it's probably better that we figure out how to fight it first.
Harry nodded. "Yeah, or just pray we don't run into it again. It's a big city. Besides, it's not even our primary objective."
"Yeah, well, I'm more concerned about what other obstacles we might find when we hit closer to home."
"True. And we're not even sure where to go from here."
"Actually, I've been thinking about that," Faith said. "Our last communication with Xander indicated that they were being stalked and captured."
"Yeah, so?"
Faith took a moment to phrase her next words. "Somebody created these monsters. If we're assuming that this uber-freak has been given specific instructions, then clearly a sentient being is behind all of this." Faith gestured expansively with her arms. "This whole city might be some kind of experiment, or possibly, the experiments just got out of hand. Buffy and her group might seem like pretty good targets for a group of overzealous scientists, wouldn't you think?"
Harry nodded. "Yeah, sure."
On a roll, Faith continued with her suppositions. "Anyone doing that sort of thing has to be pretty well financed. The same kind of financing that might lead to bribing the mayor."
"MedGen," Harry breathed.
"Or its parent, Umbrella."
"Faith, you're brilliant."
"Well, I'm not just a pretty face, you know."
Harry grinned. "Absolutely not." He brushed the tip of his wing gently against her cheek, which startled her. He then apparated into the file room to begin scanning for any useful information.
A/N: Hi all,
As you may have noticed, the last few chapters are actually covering a rather compressed timespan. Specifically, they're following a twenty to thirty hour period in which Raccoon City goes to hell. This is going to continue to be the case for a little while longer. (I'm loosely following the events in RE III).
For those of you who want to see some overall plot development with Umbrella, Voldemort, etc. you're going to have to wait. Harry's time in Raccoon City, though relatively brief in the overall scheme of things, is going to take awhile, because, in my mind, it marks a long, arduous process of transformation for Harry.
Funnily enough, I expect this story is going to end up with an overall plot structure similar to that of HP and the Dark Lord.
As always, I welcome suggestions. Every suggestion that has ever come my way has been incorporated into the story in some way shape or form. Though, admittedly, sometimes I've twisted the suggestions beyond all recognition.
Until next time,
EB