Chapter 20: Meetings
(JILL)
Jill's entire body was sore. She felt as if she been run over by a street sweeper. Slowly she stumbled along, her Samurai Edge aimed at the ground and resting against her leg, her eyes darting in every direction. The least of her concerns was another encounter with hunters. She was more worried about a bigger monster…
Up ahead she could see a flickering neon sign. She could only make out the last part. Something DINER. She shrugged inwardly, heading in that direction. Maybe there was something inside she could eat. Just as likely, there'd be something inside trying to eat her, but she figured she could handle herself.
(CARLOS)
Carlos leaned his carbine against the wall as he undid his fly, basking in the relief of the moment coupled with the fact that he managed to remain civilized and use an actual bathroom. He'd found the diner deserted after a quick but thorough sweep, and decided to take advantage of the situation and rest a minute. He needed to grab some food for himself and the LT, but that could stand to be put on hold for about five minutes. Then he'd stuff his various bandolier pouches (he was just about out of ammo, anyway) with as much food as he could, before trucking back to the railcar.
Carlos shook his hands dry and reached for his M4, only to hear a sound from the restaurant that made him freeze up. It was a footstep, then another, steady and determined, not the sloppy shuffle of the infected. Carlos picked up the carbine, clicking it over to semi-auto, tucking it close to his chest as he gently kneed the swinging door open, keeping the weapon low as he moved cautiously toward the source of the noise.
He wasn't sure what his plan of action would be. If it was a looter, he'd have to…What? he asked himself. You're looting too. What are you gonna say, jefe? I was here first?
Carlos made sure to watch his footing, as well as being equally careful not to lead too much with his weapon. He placed his back up against a wall, before whirling around the corner.
He caught a flash of blue and heard a shout that sounded vaguely feminine, before a leather booth slammed into the barrel of his carbine, jerking it up. Carlos was too experienced to have his finger on the trigger, so no shot discharged, but the impact still caused him to stagger backward. He tried to bring the M4 back down, only to have it knocked out of his hands entirely by another kick. Quickly his hand dropped down to his right thigh, were his Sig P226, the standard handgun of the UBCS, lived. He jerked it out of its holster just in time to find himself staring down the wrong end of the biggest damn revolver he'd ever seen…in the hands of one of the hottest women he'd ever met.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa chica" he said, smiling casually, dropping the half-raised pistol and raising his hands. "I think we may have a misunderstanding here-"
"Can it" the woman snapped, her eyes narrowed. "You have thirty seconds to tell me who the fuck you are, or your brains decorate the wall. Got it?"
"Easy, easy! I can't just-"
"Ten seconds."
"My name's C-carlos" he managed, too agitated at this point to even be embarrassed by his stammering. "I'm with the UBCS. We were sent in to evacuate civilians, but everything went to hell. I was only looking for some food. I didn't know anyone else was here, I swear!"
"UBCS?" the woman repeated, not lowering the magnum. "Never heard of it."
"It's a PMC" Carlos explained, trying to put her at ease, so she didn't start blowing .44in holes in him. "We contract all over the globe. Mostly security, but occasionally full combat ops like this one."
"Contract? With who?" she demanded, her finger still on the trigger.
"We're affiliated with one of the local pharmaceutical companies. You may have heard of it. Umbrella-"
"Wrong answer" the woman replied, her eyes suddenly narrowing. Carlos saw her finger tighten on the trigger and realized he was about to die, his brain not moving fast enough even to process this. He saw a flash of brilliant light…
And felt the bullet whistle past his head. He heard a wet thud from behind, and turned to see a headless body lying sprawled on the floor.
"Umbrella did all this" the woman said coldly. "Last chance. Why are you really here?"
"What?" Carlos stared at her in disbelief. "Lady, you're outta your mind. Why would Umbrella do something like this?"
"Don't fuck with me" the woman said. "Or I promise you you'll regret it. Not for very long, though. That I can promise you. Now tell me what Umbrella's goals are. Why did they release the virus? What's their game? Why are they doing this again?" she screamed, the revolver shaking in her hands.
"Lady, I don't know what you're talking ab-"
"Answer me!" she snarled, and for the second time Carlos thought he was about to die.
"I don't know!" Carlos shouted back, profoundly wishing he hadn't dropped the Sig now. Maybe he could've shot this crazy bitch-
"The fuck you don't!" she screamed. "You don't know about the Umbrella lab outside the city? The one where they were making monsters? The one where a bunch of my friends died? The one we just barely managed to get away from?"
"Look, you sound like you know more about this than me, okay?" Carlos snarled, finally just deciding to hell with it. "If you wanna shoot me, shoot me. Cuz I got nothing to tell you."
They stared at each other for a minute. Then, slowly, the woman lowered her magnum. She shook her head. "I guess you're telling the truth."
"You think?" Carlos said, irritably. "Jesu Cristo, lady, you were this close to blowing my head off. And I'm somewhat attached to that!" He paused. "Just who are you, anyway?"
"Jill Valentine" she replied. "I am, or at least I was, an officer with the Special Tactics and Rescue Service."
"Oh, so you're with the RPD?" Carlos asked. "My men went through there yesterday. We got some help from another officer, a niña named Rebecca. You know her?"
Jill's eyes actually lit up. "You were with Rebecca? When? Where? Is she okay?"
"Well, she was up until this morning. We got ambushed and everyone split up. I don't know what happened to her. Sorry." Carlos paused, then bent down for his handgun, which he replaced in its holster. "Now, if I can just find where you kicked my M4, I'll be on my way-"
"STARS!" a horrific voice snarled from outside.
"Shit!" Jill hissed, dropping down. Carlos followed her instinctively.
"What the hell was that?" he hissed.
"A present from your bosses" Jill replied. "We gotta get out of here."
"We? Lady, a second ago you were all set to blow my head off-"
"Look, outside is about nine feet of pure killing rage. So unless you want to get beaten to death by Frankenstein's uglier big brother, I suggest you come with me."
Carlos thought for a minute, but he could see the woman wasn't lying. More than that, he could see his M4 a few feet away. Quickly he darted over and grabbed it.
"Follow me" said Jill.
(MAT)
Mat was keeping his flashlight moving constantly, illuminating as much of the darkening streets as he could. It was about six thirty at night, but the sun had long since dropped beyond the smoky sky. As such, he needed to be extra vigilant. There were all sorts of places for nasty things to lie in wait…
Mat heard a strange sound from above and behind him. Odd, like little suction cups being pulled off a wall. And a heavy, raspy breathing sound…He spun around, his flashlight trained on the source of the noise, to find one of the pink monsters from the RPD building perched on the wall. Mat didn't even hesitate, firing a burst into the monster. Its slender body shuddered under the multiple impacts, the P90's bullets tearing completely through it. With a scream it fell off the wall and dropped onto the hood of a car, where it thrashed about, banging on the metal and crying in anguished agony. Mat stepped forward and shot it twice with the Colt, making sure the thing stopped moving.
Then Mat heard a deep-throated roar from his left side. Whirling around, he saw a big, four-legged shape standing in the middle of the road. Already knowing what he'd see, Mat shined the light at it anyway, revealing the hideously disfigured form of an Africa lion, is once proud mane tattered and ripped, its flanks bloodied, its teeth dripping with blood.
"Oh, son of a bitch" he whined, as the great undead cat let out a snarl and began to run toward him.
Mat zigzagged, realizing this was an animal that routinely ran down wild gazelles. Then it occurred to him that this animal must've come from the zoo, where it probably didn't get all that much exercise. That meant he could probably outpace it for a little bit, at least.
He past a parked car, hearing the monster lion jump on the roof, the vehicle's windows shattering at once at the sudden weight. He tucked the P90 closer to his chest, darting under an awning. He heard the lion land on top, its claws tearing through the fabric as it ran.
Mat's eyes darted around for a place to duck inside and force the thing to slow down. He saw the open storefront of a pet shop and angled in that direction, the lion loping along behind him. With a last burst of speed, Mat lunged forward, raising his hands over his face as he jumped through the big front window. Landing, he rolled onto his back and scrambled away as the lion bound inside.
Mat brought up the P90 and held down the trigger, a single, long, panicky burst into the monster. The lion snarled, then yelped in pain, then reared up on its haunches, its body swaying in force of the bullets. Then, with a brief snort, it dropped to the ground.
Mat lay on his back for a moment, the P90 resting on his chest, its barrel still smoking as he tried to catch his breath.
After a few minutes, he decided he was ready to get going. Turning, he found himself face to face with an extremely angry, extremely dead husky, its fangs drawn back in an evil snarl. It snapped at him, its jaws closing just an inch from his face.
"Gah!" he exclaimed, scrambling back and drawing the Colt. He fired twice, his second shot catching the dog in the eye and dropping it without another sound.
It was then Mat realized the animal was in a pin, and couldn't have gotten to him anyway. As he cursed himself for wasting bullets, he realized he could hear another sound: someone breathing heavily around the corner. Cautiously, Mat his way in that direction, P90 at the ready.
(JILL)
The kitchen's oven door was open, as was the back door. Gas filtered into the enclosed space, filling the air with a noxious stench. Jill breathed through her mouth and tried to ignore it, hoping the monster (Mat had said something about Nemesis, but Jill was having a hard time seeing it as anything other than the Son of a Bitch Who Won't Die) didn't have much of a nose.
Carlos was crouched behind her, his M4 at the ready, a nervous look on his face. She hadn't had time to explain the monster to him before it had come knocking on their door. She hoped it wouldn't be necessary in any case. The thing was big, ugly, and clearly hostile. That ought to be enough for anyone, even if they were dumb enough to work for Umbrella.
She could hear the Tyrant as it crunched its way through the dining room, its heavy boots pulverizing the wooden floors as it used whatever sixth sense it had to find her. Jill wasn't sure why the thing had come after her; from what Mat said it had been after him last night, but maybe it had decided she was a more worthwhile target.
Lucky me she thought.
The monster paused just outside the kitchen, its footsteps suddenly stopping, as if it sensed a trap. Jill could almost feel its eye on her through the wall, as if it could actually see her.
"Come on, come on" she muttered quietly, her hand gripping the Samurai Edge tightly enough to whiten her knuckles.
One minute the monster was in the dinning room, and the next it was in the kitchen, having slammed its shoulder through the wall.
"Holy shit!" Jill exclaimed. Carlos shouted something in what sounded to Jill like Portuguese, raising his carbine to fire at the monster. Nemesis looked over at him in what might have been annoyance, then swatted him into a wall. He landed with a groan.
Jill ducked underneath the monster's huge paw as it grabbed for her, kicking herself off its leg and skidding along the floor on her backside. "Carlos, are you with us?" she shouted, sparing a glance at the staggered mercenary. He nodded groggily, but didn't look up.
"Get to the door!" Jill shouted, backing up, her handgun up in a two-handed grip. The Tyrant advanced on her, glaring down at her with its single, milky eye, its lipless mouth skimmed back over its teeth.
"STARS" it growled, looming over her shoulder.
"Yeah, yeah" Jill replied, her finger squeezing the trigger. "Blow me."
The ignition of the gas was a bit more sudden than Jill had expected. She'd figured she'd have enough time to run. Instead she found herself blown clear of the diner entirely, her body slightly singed. Of the Nemesis, she saw no trace, nor could she see much left of the building itself. As for Carlos-
"Holy shit, lady" he said, offering her a hand up. "That was some intense-"
ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGHHHH HHH!
Both of their heads whipped around to see the lone figure of the monster, rising phoenix-like out of the ashes of the diner.
"No way" Jill said, shaking her head in disbelief. "No way." She turned to Carlos. "We aren't going to win like this. C'mon, let's get moving!"
Without another word, they turned and ran, not looking back as the Nemesis began to follow.
(MAT)
The coughing sound was getting stronger, and Mat realized now he wasn't dealing with an infected, but a living person, and further one who was seriously hurt.
"W-who's there?" a shaky voice called out from the darkness.
"RPD" Mat called back, quietly. "Who are you?"
"FBI" was the unexpected reply.
Mat crept closer and found a man lying on his back, his stomach a bloody mass of torn and twisted gore. "God…" he said softly. "Who are you?"
"Norton. Derek…Norton. I was…Special Agent…sent to help with the…" he coughed, loudly and painfully, "forest murders…Who…you?"
"Mat Dawson" he replied, kneeling down beside the man. He gasped when he got a good look at the man.
"Pretty…bad…isn't it?" Norton managed, but Mat was more distracted by who the man resembled. Despite all the gore, he was a dead ringer for Billy Coen.
"I'm gonna tell you straight" Mat said, figuring the man wouldn't want to be lied to. "I can't do anything to help you? But is there anything I can do for you?"
The man coughed again, then reached into his pocket and removed his wallet. "Get this…to…my wife. Tell…tell her…I died…doing my job. Okay?"
Mat took the wallet, noting it was of the flip open variety, Norton's badge prominently displayed inside. "Yeah, I'll do that. Now, what did this to you?"
"Soldiers" the man replied. "Bad…people…don't know who…"
Mat wanted to ask more, but Norton shuddered and stopped breathing. Mat stared down at the dead man for a minute, then looked at the badge in his hand. Slowly he stood up, sliding the badge into his pocket. He still had a long way to go.
END OF PART 2