Announcement for everybody at the bottom, which should come as no surprise to any of you if you've read the recent chapters of Wandering Letters' FTH.

The Pelanoi Accounts

Chapter Six: New Plan

The Survivors

The gun clicked.

Empty.

Shit.

Resisting the urge to throw the useless snub-nosed pistol at the charging abomination, Leah turned and sprinted forwards. The others kept pace, though after constant running she noticed that some were beginning to show signs of fatigue, notably the fragile looking teenager, Sydney, Randolf and Ethan, though Cassidy's breathing was also laboured. She squeezed her eyes shut and swore viciously in her head. This was not what she had envisioned at all when she'd arrived on the island alongside hundreds of other tourists.

She was snapped rudely out of her memories as she was pulled aside, both her and her offender sprawled on the ground.

'What gives?' she asked aloud, until her eyes rested on Kit, and the monster that had very nearly engulfed her, the lamprey maw of which was latched onto the wall. It sucked for a moment before ripping its mouth and a chunk of concrete away, which it ground with its teeth before spitting out.

The two didn't wait for it to finish its erstwhile meal, already up on their feet and fleeing further through the terminal with the others.

'I am sick of running!' Leah shouted out, frustration boiling within her like a volcano. All they could do was run, the shots they'd landed on the monster hadn't seemed to even tickle it and unless someone was hiding a bazooka somewhere really clever there was nothing remotely like the firepower they needed around.

Another bellow boomed from the monster's horrific, slavering maw. It was hungry, and it wouldn't stop until they were nothing but chunks of meat and gristle in its gut. Leah felt panic clutch at her heart, squeezing it in a vice grip. She was going to die here. Everyone was going to die and there would only be a pool of red signifying that they had ever been there.

She stumbled on a dropped handbag. Immediately after she felt a rush of air over her body as the monster's claw grabbed the space she had occupied scant moments ago. A hand hauled her upwards; Kit had come to her rescue again while she'd simply stayed on all fours, dumb to the world around her. She grit her teeth and felt a surge of energy through her limbs. She liked being pampered, made to feel like she was the boss lady but she was no damsel in distress (though she was lying if she said she didn't slightly enjoy the attention Kit had shown her, situation aside).

As soon as she had her balance she pulled her hand away from Kit's and pumped her legs even faster, soon overtaking him, much to his surprise.

The monster howled and swung a massive fist, leaving a sizeable crack in the wall. If Leah didn't know better, she'd swear it was almost pissed.

Well get used it to it; you've got to work for this meal.

The young woman threw herself over a row of chairs, which the monster simply crushed under its massive, red feet. They were getting closer and closer to the end of the terminal now and Leah could see the sun beaming at them through the large, tinted windows.

An exit was in sight, and – provided that huge bastard couldn't simply crash through it – it provided a beacon of hope, that their ordeal was almost o–

Was that another roar?

Like the stuff of nightmares, and all but crushing their hopes of safety, another monster lurched into sight. This one was grey-skinned, almost corpse-like, but it looked just as mean as the beast pursuing them, and when it caught sight of them, it bellowed in hunger and charged.

'Oh no…' Randolf moaned in between pants, 'oh no, no, no that just isn't fair.'

'Tough it out,' Tiffany snapped at him, though she was beginning to show signs of fatigue as well at this point, 'we're almost out and then…'

'Then what Little Miss Fatigues? We're all fucking exhausted! We leave? We die. We stay? We die. We try to fight? Oh you better believe–' Ethan's despairing rant was cut short as Kit slapped him on the back of the head.

'We aren't dead yet,' he told him as he ran, 'we've found a way through everything this place has thrown at us so far, we'll get out of this one.'

'Oh it must be so nice being an optimist,' Ethan groaned, now appearing to have given up all hope.

The grey-skinned beast bellowed a challenge through its circular maw –

–and stepped right past the group of survivors, tackling its crimson kin, sending them both sprawling to the ground. The survivors stopped, stunned at their ungodly luck and the sight before them.

The two monsters were locked in a bitter struggled, the crimson monster raked its claws across Grey's torso, who replied by sinking its maw into Red's shoulder. Both attacks drew a sickening amount of blood and it wasn't long before the smooth floor of the terminal was slick and slippery. Grey detached its mouth from Red and bellowed its fury.

Red replied by socking it in the face.

The impact knocked it off of Red, which clambered to its feet and lashed out with its tail. A spine sank into Grey's kneecap, but Grey didn't react. Did either of these beasts feel anything? Evidently not as Grey punched its claws deep into Red's chest, burying them all the way to the wrist until they protruded through Red's back. Red tumbled over, bleeding, but far from defeated.

'You know if I wasn't sure that these things would kill us as soon as they're done I'd say that this is the greatest thing I've ever seen…' Randolf murmured aloud as he watched the spectacle, unblinking, then a thoughtful expression found its way onto his face, 'well… almost.'

Grey surged forward to capitalise on its fortune when it stumbled over. The leg that had been stabbed by Red's tail was still, and its movements in general were becoming noticeably stiffer.

'What's going on? What's happening to it?' Sydney asked in awe.

'I don't know sweetie…' Cassidy said softly.

'I have a question,' Kit said, 'exactly why are we standing here watching this instead of running?'

No one really had an answer to that.

So they ran.

Outside was just as warm and bright as it was on any other day, and if you shut your eyes and felt the breeze gently caress your face you could almost forget that hell had risen to Earth. Unfortunately the wind carried the unmistakeable stench of smoke and rotting meat.

'Look!' Sema cried, 'I don't believe it!' She sounded almost relieved to the point of tears. Over by one of the hangars was a helicopter that appeared to be about to take off. It was undoubtedly civilian, and several figures were already huddled inside.

'Like hell they're leaving us behind,' Tiffany muttered to herself before urging the weary survivors on.

The helicopter crew were in the middle of their final preparations for take-off and clearly they were eager to be gone, one survivor greeted them at the cabin. He did not look particularly pleased to see them.

'Sorry, we're full,' he said gruffly. Bags lined his eyes; clearly he'd had precious little sleep recently and his left arm was in a makeshift sling. He was balding, in a white business shirt specked with blood.

'Oh no, no that just won't do,' Randolf insisted, 'if you knew what was behind us, you'd let us on and we can all get out of here nice and easy.'

The man refused to budge.

'We're full.'

'Bullshit,' Ethan snapped, 'I can see at least three empty seats in there; you really telling me you can't fit us on? You like to put your feet up asshole?' Tiffany stepped in front of him, silencing him with a glare.

'Ethan, really not helping.' She turned to the man blocking their entrance.

'Listen, we've been on the run for a couple of days now, we're exhausted, hungry and we just want to get off this crazy island like you and the folks in there. I really don't think we're asking for all that much for you to just –'

The man pulled a gun on her.

'Back off,' his tone indicated he would pull the trigger, 'I don't want to shoot, but I will if you don't back the hell away from this thing.'

'Okay… okay we'll play it your way,' Tiffany held her hands up in surrender, the others taking a cautious step back.

'Just our luck,' Ellen muttered bitterly, 'first sign of an exit and it's taken by a crazy asshole.' The man heard her speak and waved the muzzle of the handgun in her direction, forcing her to clam up.

'Okay… I am really, really sorry about this but there's really no room we've got… I'll ask the pilots to come back for you so just…' the man's voice trailed off and for a moment he seemed like he truly regretted his actions. Then he turned his head away from the group and shut the cabin door. The rotors spun and the vehicle began to take off.

A screeching of metal forced the group to look back to the exit. Red was ripping its way through, having evidently won the battle against Grey. It was covered in gaping, bleeding wounds but moved as easily as it had when they'd first seen it.

'Okay…' Sydney started, 'anyone got any ideas on how to stay alive until they get–'

The helicopter lurched in the air suddenly, then again, until it span and, horrifyingly, began to drop. Through the glass of the cabin doors they could see some of the people inside were attacking the others; some had likely been infected and reanimated just as the vehicle took off. One of them had entered the cockpit.

'Oh Jesus…' Kit breathed.

The helicopter plummeted like a stone directly into the path of the approaching monster, which craned its head skyward and tilted its head at the screaming metal death trap.

The monster was a prototype Tyrant model developed with the Grant & Glukhovsky modified sample of the Umbrella T-Virus. It stood just over three metres tall, weighing more than half a tonne of solid muscle and dense bone. It was fully capable of rending battle tanks apart.

It died almost instantly as the frame of the transport helicopter crushed and mangled its spine. The rotor blades – still spinning – loped off its thick left arm. The fuel tank ruptured on impact, dousing the monster, where a spark – and there were plenty – ignited the fuel.

The vehicle exploded and burned; a grisly, metal funeral pyre.

The survivors stood in dumb shock at what had just transpired.

'Fuck is too right Marcus…' Ethan murmured, so faintly he wasn't even sure he'd spoken aloud. Sydney brought her hands up to her face and tried her best not to retch. The rest simply stood there, rendered deaf and dumb by the fate that was nearly their own.

Eventually they regained their senses, and realised that the crash had attracted a lot of unwanted attention. The airport wasn't an option. They had to find another way off the island, but what if there was no way off, and New Rynn City was in the exact same state as Elspeth City? In that instance surely it would be better simply to run and find somewhere to hunker down and wait for rescue surely.

A grim feeling of foreboding settled over their heads. This was not to be the last of their trials on Pelanoi. Though no one said it out loud, that same thought ran through each of their minds as they trudged away from the airport, and the groaning dead who closed around it.

The Mercenaries

Viper kicked the corpse away from him, the blade of his knife slick with blood. The cop had barely been worth the effort, but his contract was clear: no survivors, in addition to other things. He glanced dispassionately at the body through his visor; she seemed to have been in her middle ages, dark-skinned and entirely unprepared for him. She'd screamed at him when she'd seen the body of the old timer, though Viper had nothing to do with that; a Licker had gotten to him if the claw marks were any indication.

He glanced to one side, wondering where the rest of his team were. He'd been tasked with making sure the mall's destruction was assured, but he didn't see the point himself. Alaina seemed like the type that was all fuse and no detonator but even a blind man could tell she knew her way around explosives. It seemed almost like an insult to check on her work.

Regardless, it gave him a chance to explore his own goal, separate from the task Grant & Glukhovsky had required his services for, but as he checked the rubble it seemed he'd have to wait for another opportunity, or another lab to come across. Sighing, he picked himself up and manoeuvred through the rubble, ignoring the walking dead that had come to investigate the explosion.

-X-

'Not a trace of anything left Grey Lead,' Viper confirmed after he returned.

Elias nodded, turning on his heel and walking down the street through the slums, tapping his earpiece.

'Natalia, anything up ahead we should know about?' he asked.

'Negative,' came her reply, 'just the odd dead guy or two–' Elias heard a familiar crack through comms in tandem with a grunt of effort.

'One now; and she's shambling off in another direction.'

'Keep up the reconnaissance; I don't want any surprises in a place like this.'

'Will do. Out.'

Tech lightly kicked the mutilated body. It had been a young woman; scrawny thing. A man lay not too far from her, his throat torn out. A dead Licker BOW told the team everything there was to know about these two lost souls.

'Must've been pretty good to have killed one of these things,' Felix murmured.

'No,' Elias said dismissively, 'just lucky. Those perforations? Shotgun spread. Slowed it down, stopped it from really going to work, otherwise there'd be more bodies.'

Felix spent a moment longer staring at the body of the creature before shrugging and getting up.

'End of the day; doesn't really matter which one it is, they're still alive and this thing's dead.'

Elias grunted. Tech glanced at Felix before turning his attention outwards to the slums around him. Alaina spared him a look.

'You sure this is the fastest way to the airport after those survivors?' she asked, noticing Ghost stiffen a little out of the corner of her vision.

'Positive.' Tech said, and that was the end of that discussion.

Grey Team's comms squawked to life as Natalia contacted the rest of her team.

'It's all clear for the next two miles, then we're out of the slums and on to the freeway. From there it's a straight shot to the airport,' she reported concisely, professionally.

'Copy Natalia, good work, the rest of us are moving up, don't get yourself killed while we're en route. Out.'

Elias took a moment to take stock of his team as they snuck through the slums. His gaze fell on Alaina first; a temperament that fit her profession to a T, but easily the most talented (or lucky) explosives expert he'd worked with to date in spite of her relatively young age. His mind drifted back to the file Grant & Glukhovsky had handed him when he'd been assigned Grey Team. It was a strange transition; one moment she'd been living on a countryside farm in Ireland the next she signed up with a PMC with literally no warning.

Natalia hailed from Elias' own home of Britain, generally quiet, which, again, suited her profession perfectly. She seemed to have taken an interest in Alaina though, or at least her job, bombarding the young Irishwoman with questions from almost the moment they'd met. Her background was similarly strange to the short demolitions expert; hailing from a fairly wealthy family, she had no need to ever enter this line of work, yet here she was.

Felix seemed like a pure and uncomplicated soldier at first glance, though he was probably the one most likely to ignore a command. His file noted several instances where he refused to act as ordered if it meant putting himself in unnecessary danger as part of a PMC (which his father had also been a part of interestingly enough). He'd behaved himself in the mall, but Elias knew he'd have to keep a tight leash on him to curb any insubordinate behaviour. If not? Well apparently he was all but useless in a straight-up fist fight, not for lack of trying though.

Tech was an enigma. Easily the youngest member of Grey Team at only nineteen years old, and one of the most technically minded, Tech should have been studying electronics or machinery at a top university and making headlines. Instead he was working black ops, which, fair enough, would see him net a six-figure pay check. Should he die before he could see it though, he would pass in ignominy at best. Still, he supposed having the tech wiz was better than having someone decidedly less proficient, and the requirement to erase all Grant & Glukhovsky presence from the island meant someone was going to need to crunch the keypads.

Jake Burke gave him headaches, but his medical expertise was essential in order to keep his team in peak condition so that they could carry out their directives. His profile confused Elias to no end; interested in medicine in the field, so clearly eager to save lives. A brother who worked for Umbrella had offered him a job, which meant that Burke likely had experience as USS. Elias didn't believe it. He'd crossed paths with the USS before and they were the most cold-heartedly professional group of bastards he'd ever had the misfortune to meet. He'd tangoed with one particular operative who went by the alias 'Mr Death' and it was an experience he never wanted to repeat again; only a very lucky ricochet had saved him from a cold, ignoble death.

He glanced at Burke, who fiddled uncomfortably with the sight of his submachine gun. This entire scenario was beyond anything he'd imagined he'd signed up for and it showed; which was why Elias had such a hard time believing that such a person had worked for Umbrella.

He turned his gaze on the last member of Grey Team, the one who gave him more worries than anything else. Where the others had nice, neat files with everything but the darkest skeletons laid bare, Viper was a mystery. One dossier he'd pulled told him that he came from Africa and had been a proficient killer at the age of fourteen. Another told him that he'd served with Russian Spetznaz and had served undercover in Afghanistan, while yet another said he was ex-SAS and had taken part in more than a dozen 'wet work' operations. Each of these different files came with their own sources verified by dozens of individuals and the fact that each of these people claimed that their file was the correct one worried him greatly.

He trusted Viper to stick to the mission and help complete their objectives; he was as dedicated to the mission if not more so than Elias himself and – while Elias admired people who took their jobs seriously – he decided then and there that he'd never completely turn his back on the man. As if sensing his scrutiny, Viper turned his head so that his visor was pointing straight at Elias. After a moment of what Elias assumed was sustained eye contact, Viper broke the impromptu stare-off and casually executed a crawling member of the undead whose legs were little more than a bloody ruin.

'Strange guy,' he muttered under his breath before shouldering his rifle and ordering Grey Team to move on.

-X-

Short chapter this, mostly because I couldn't think of any other way to move the plot of both groups forward without one seeming rather out of synch with the other. Also not a huge fan of the deus ex machina I invoked in the Survivors section if I'm completely honest but it was that or… well, nothing I guess as anything else I tried simply seemed like it dragged on.

Another choice for you guys to make; hunker down somewhere or make for a coastal evac? Poll's up on my profile and I'll close it in a week's time.

Anyways, announcement time: Wandering Letters and I have started work on a collaborative work of fiction we've entitled 'Scavengers', going out under my profile at his suggestion owing to… well, I don't know. Like his recent 'Finding the Haven' and this story you're reading now, it's a sign-up story. We've got three slots out of ten fitted and the sign-up will be going up roughly the same time this goes out, so get cracking.

Also, here's a little preview for you all so you have some idea of what it's about:

-X-

Pain.

Pain ruled his world as he slipped back into consciousness. He felt dizzy, and the world seemed strange, limited as if –

Oh… that's right…

His right eye was missing.

How did that happen again?

It hurt more than anything he'd ever felt but he was too exhausted to cry out, so he simply sat there in dull, agonised silence, propped against the cold, dusty interior of a building whose purpose was long since forgotten.

The younger sat there for a moment longer before trying to move. Fresh pain lanced up his left shoulder, and, craning his head to the side, he saw the rest of his arm laying a good metre away from him. The stump bled profusely.

"Oh? You're awake brother," a voice intoned from the darkness, willowy thin, almost a whisper.

A shadow emerged, which gradually morphed into a person. The newcomer was taller than he was, dressed entirely in either dark brown or black. He couldn't focus his vision from the fatigue and the crippling pain, but his hearing was serviceable, and it told him that he recognised him.

He cried out as memories came flooding back.

"I'm sorry brother, I didn't mean to do this to you…" the older crouched towards him, carefully, lovingly caressing his battered face. He wanted to spit, but his body wouldn't let him.

"But you wouldn't listen," he withdrew his hand, observing the blood he had wiped away before resting the arm on his knee.

"I didn't mean to kill her either," bullshit, he loved killing; it was what he'd lived for; all that kept him sane as the virus running through both their veins ate away at his mind, "but… don't you think it's for the best? Look at the world around us brother,"

He suddenly leapt to his feet and extended his arms dramatically, drawing his attention to the dank, dusty building complex.

"A world left to rot by humankind! Weak, feeble creatures who didn't know how to use the gifts presented to them… together we could rule this world! We could go anywhere, we could finally be free!" his voice became gradually more and more excited. He truly believed what he said.

The revelation made him want to weep.

"It would be you and me, brother, just like old times!" he paused, before chuckling softly to himself.

"Well… almost like old times," he crouched next to his wounded sibling again.

"Alpha," he pointed to his chest, "and Omega," the younger was dimly aware that his brother had tapped him lightly with a finger.

"Now… we'll have to do something about those injuries… well, there's your arm, we can probably just sew that back on, our blood will take care of the rest, as for your eye… that'll be difficult…" he was so engrossed in his out-loud thinking that he didn't notice the laser flicker over his body.

A shot rang out, deafening in the cramped complex.

His brother squealed.

He clutched the neat, bleeding hole in his side, his hand shook and his lip quivered as pain – thus far an alien sensation to him – blossomed from the gunshot wound. He screeched like a banshee before vanishing from sight, disappearing into the shadows from whence he'd come.

Silence reigned for a moment, until he heard footsteps approaching him. Another person appeared in front of him, dressed in shoddy combat gear, with loose pads of Kevlar strapped to his body. A smoking rifle sat comfortably in his hands.

"You okay?" the Scavenger asked the younger.

He didn't reply.

"Okay… stupid question, you look like shit. Come on, let's get you up," he said as he hooked an arm around his shoulder and pulled him to his feet. As his rescuer hauled him up, the thought that had been repeating, echoing through his mind.

He killed her…

"What?" the Scavenger asked.

He hadn't realised that he'd spoken aloud.

"He killed her," he mumbled through cracked, bloody lips, "I'm going after him."

"I'm sorry, say that again?" the Scavenger said, "Cause it really sounded like you just said–"

"He killed her!" He repeated, louder this time, "I'm going after him." His tone brooked no argument, but the Scavenger argued anyway.

"Okay that blood loss has gotten to you; we're leaving this place. The others have sighted a pack of Hunters and a whole mess of zombies inbound and you… shit man if you could only see yourself you'd not–"

He forced himself out of the Scavenger's grip, his feet were unsteady at first but he managed to keep himself upright. That was something at least.

"I'm not leaving until my brother answers for…" he searched for the words, "everything."

"I really, really can't recommend that. Now come on, if you don't follow me out of here now there'll be Hunters crawling all over this place and we'll have much less to worry about than that freak of nature,"

The younger shook his head violently, partly to clear his aching head, partly in denial.

"You've seen what my brother's capable of, if you think a pack of Hunters can stop him… I have to do this… I need to do this. He killed her…"

"Yeah, you've been saying that a lot. Listen man I am sorry but getting killed on a suicide run isn't going to make her ha–"

He was cut off as the younger appeared in front of him, his hand at his throat. His grip – even as weak as he felt at that moment – was strong as iron. Eventually the fire in his eyes died and he released the Scavenger, letting him drop to the ground, choking and wheezing for air.

"Go then, tell everyone else that I'll catch up eventually. I'm not leaving until this ends."

One way or another…

With that he stumbled off into the darkness after his brother.