Chapter 13: Last Bastion
October 1, 1998
10:30 PM
Beckersville Avenue
"Hold up, Sam." Foster said, voice thin and strained, leaning heavily against his second in command.
"Are you going to be sick again, chief?" The younger man asked, gently lowering his friend so that he was propped up against the wall of the alleyway they had been running through.
"Nah," Jacob replied, a meager grin splitting his pale, sweating face. "Just need to catch my breath is all. I'll be fine in a minute."
Sam nodded but seriously doubted the statement. Tubbs Foster was miles away from fine by the looks of him. The squat sergeant's face was taut and ashen gray, as if all the blood had been let out, leaving it pale and hollow. Jacob's skin was clammy and deathly cold, Sam was beginning to think that the man's blood had been let out and replaced with ice water instead. Sweat beaded down Foster's face and the fact that since receiving William's transmission he had thrown up twice only further aggravated Sam's concerns about his boss' condition.
'I should have just taken the shot when I had the chance.' Sergeant Brocket clenched his fists together in frustration, replaying the scene at the west barricade through his head. He watched through his mind's eye as the rotting, ghastly figure wrestled with Jacob on the pavement. The sound of Jacob's voice telling him to shoot – pleading with him to shoot – raging louder in the trooper's ears than the screams of his comrades as the undead monsters overwhelmed their numbers. Then came the sickening crunch as the man sunk his teeth into Foster's hand and ripped loose a dark-colored piece of flesh.
"I should have just shot the bastard then and there." Sam mumbled as he turned away from Jacob. Looking at the man he had once thought indestructible in such an ill-begotten state instilled the younger man with such fear that it turned his belly to ice. Sam Brocket had experienced enough fear for one night without having to watch his friend slip away into the ranks of the undead, thank you very much.
'Even if I had missed and hit Tubbs instead,' the trooper though solemnly, pressing his head and hands against the brick wall in front of him, unaware of Kathy as she came up beside him and laid a hand across his shoulder, 'it still would have been better than letting him turn into one of those…those zombies! God, the way things are going I'm probably going to have to shoot him anyways. How much longer does he have? How much longer before I have to take his weapon away, before it's not safe for us to be anywhere near him?'
Forcing the unpleasant thoughts from his mind, Sam shook his head. He knew he should not be thinking that way but he was tired and cold and…scared. Now that was a funny revelation to have. There had been a time when Samuel Brocket pretended there wasn't a thing on God's green earth that frightened him one bit.
"Not after tonight though." Sam muttered to himself, starring off into the empty street. How much longer would it stay empty? How much longer until those things found them again? "Not after tonight."
"Hey," Kath's voice next to him snapped the trooper from his reverie, "you aren't falling apart on me too are you?"
"I'm sorry." Sam replied, leaning against the wall and shutting his eyes for a moment, sucking in a deep breath of the frigid air. When he opened his lids again the young man turned his head to where Jacob rested at the other end of the alleyway, his chest struggling to rise and fall with each new breath. "I – what happened, it's my fault."
"You raised the dead?" Kathryn asked and Sam was stunned to see her smile. "You brought them back to life and ordered them to eat the flesh of the living? I've known you a long time, Sam, and I know for a fact that you're no voodoo witch doctor so I highly doubt that any of this is your fault."
Sam knew that she was only trying to lighten things up, trying to get him to relax, but he still found himself becoming angry with the young officer. "How can you crack jokes at a time like this, Kathy?" Sam rasped, his tone coming out much harsher than he intended. "Our friends died back there! They were eaten alive for the love of God and now Foster…Foster's going…"
Samuel fought to force his tongue to form the words he dreaded to speak but his efforts were in vain. He couldn't say it, simply couldn't. The idea of Jacob Foster, always so friendly and generous, turning into a soulless horror whose only desire in life was to feast on warm, human entrails was unfathomable.
"I should have just shot the bastard." Sam said, repeating the words for Kathryn's ears this time. "I froze up though, I've never done that before, never! Whatever happens next is because I hesitated, I should have just reacted."
"Sam," Kathy said tentatively, gripping his shoulder more firmly and forcing him to meet her unwavering gaze. "What happened tonight was not your fault, okay? I know you're scared – I am too, scared shitless in fact – but now is not the time to play the blame game. If you're going around feeling all guilty then you're not going to be able to focus and that means you'll only make more mistakes. Now, I can't do this alone, I need you to help me."
"What about Tubb-" Sergeant Brocket started to protest but the younger officer cut him off with a sharp gesture and a pointed look.
"Jacob is going to be okay." Kathryn said. "We won't let anything happen to him, right?"
Sam faltered for a moment, his gaze torn between Officer Ward and the sickly form of Sergeant Foster. He looked at one and then the other before Kathy's eyes grabbed hold of his and refused to let go.
Those deep emerald eyes were as hard and unshakable as granite. Calmness and rationality existed in those green pools things Sam though had been swallowed up by the insanity of Raccoon City. Slowly, looking into those steady eyes, Sam felt logical thought return.
Shaking his head, the trooper sighed and sagged his tense shoulders. "I'm sorry Kathy, I didn't mean to freak out like that, this just hasn't been a typical day at the office."
"You can say that again." Kathryn smiled timidly and even managed a short laugh. With a great deal of effort Sam managed to do likewise.
"You know…" He trailed off, forgetting what he had been about to say as the sound of footsteps caught his ear.
They were soft, shuffling noises, the sound of sneakers sliding across wet pavement. The footfalls sounded uncertain to Sam's trained ears, as if whoever was approaching them from the entrance to the alley was lost or confused. Or sick.
'Sick with whatever those things back at the barricade had.' The trooper thought, sweat beading on his forehead as he unholstered his pistol and aimed in the direction of the footsteps emanated from. Kathy raised Foster's sidearm, pointing in the direction Sam gestured towards. 'Sick with the disease that turned everyone in this city into a rotting cannibal. Sick…sick like Tubbs is going to be.'
Moments grew into seconds, seconds grew into minutes. The light, shuffling, wavering footsteps grew closer and a new sound came with them. Harsh, uneven breathing accompanied the footfalls now. Did the zombies that had attacked the blockade breathe? Sam couldn't remember, it felt as if someone had taken an egg whisk to his thoughts, scrambling them and make it difficult to concentrate on anything in the swirling torrent of his mind.
Samuel could feel the tension radiating off Kathy to his right. Her eyes were wide and unblinking, shoulders taut and rigid. The H&K trembled ever so slightly in her hands. Just as he thought the suspense of the situation was going to kill him before anything else got a chance, Sergeant Brocket caught his first glance of whoever had been stumbling towards them.
A sneaker, tattered and wet, poked cautiously around the corner. A moment later a pair of legs came into view, concealed by a pair of blue jeans marred by splotches of grime and blood. The legs led up to a slender torso, clad in a black hoodie that seemed stuck to the shoulders of a rather young looking man. It was the young man's face that made Sam take his finger off the trigger.
Healthy color flushed the youngster's face, the warm blood in his veins painting the skin of his cheeks bright red. Samuel could still remember the dead, empty eyes of the creature's that had overrun the police blockade but the look in this young man's brown eyes was one of alertness – and apprehension. Sam saw a great deal of terror and anxiety in those red-rimmed eyes. A second later Sam took in the baseball bat the stranger was gripping forcefully in one hand and knew he was looking upon one of the living. The SWAT trooper sincerely doubted any of those…zombies…had the intelligence to so much as pick up a baseball bat let alone walk around holding it as if they'd try and decapitate a full grown man with it.
"Shit." Kathryn seethed beside Sam, unable to keep the note of surprise out of her voice.
At first Sam thought the sight of the frightened young man was the cause of her astonishment – seeing that there were still living, breathing human beings walking the streets of Raccoon City had certainly come as a shock to him – but then he heard the sharp click behind him. Before the trooper could so much as turn his head he felt cold metal pressed against the back of his neck. A second later, warm air brushed his ear as a voice tinged with a British accent spoke.
"Put the weapon down, lad." The voice said. "Don't do anything stupid and you won't get hurt."
Cursing himself for a fool, Sam glanced to his right and saw Kathy looking at him with askance. Out of the corner of his eye, the trooper could just make out the barrel of a rifle pressed against his friend's skull. He might have deserved to die for his stupidity – why hadn't he though to check the alleyway behind them as well? – but Kathryn certainly did not. Sam nodded to the girl and let the H&K clatter to the ground, he heard Kathy's weapon fall a split second later.
"Good." The Brit sighed and Sam felt the pressure on the back of his neck ease up. "Now, you and the young lady, turn around real slow and there'll be no need for the sanitation committee to come down here and scrape your face off the wall."
Nodding to Officer Ward once more, Sam slowly began to turn. How could he have been so stupid? If he had only had the presence of mind to glance over his shoulder then this catastrophe would have been avoided.
'It figures though.' The trooper though dejectedly, raising his hands as he turned to face his captor. 'I'm trapped in a city full of monsters, running low on ammo and I'm just about to reach safety when what happens? I get robbed and shot at gunpoint by some trigger- happy yahoo because I was too dense to watch my back. It'd be funny if I knew I wasn't about to die. They'll probably take what weapons we have – maybe even my body armor – then put two in our heads and be on their merry little way.'
Wholly convinced that it was a band of the marauding rioters who had been terrorizing Raccoon as of late that had taken them captive, Sam was more than a little stunned to turn around and come face to face with a shaggy-haired man in his middle years, blue eyes twinkling with mirth, decked out in a Kevlar helmet and army fatigues with the American flag stitched across one shoulder. The soldier's bearded face creased in a smile as he saw the surprise flash in Sam's eyes.
"Who…" The trooper began lamely then turned his head to see that Kathryn wore a similar expression.
Officer Ward stood starring agape at another one of the men dressed in camouflage body armor wielding an assault rifle. Strapped to his back was a cumbersome looking device that had a phone resting in a slat on the side. Sam had seen enough Vietnam movies to recognize the piece of equipment as a military radio. The radioman wore a neutral expression as he lowered the barrel of his weapon.
"Get over here, Skip!" The Brit shouted past Sam to the haggard-looking young man who approached at a nervous jog. "Good work, kid."
"Th-thanks." The young man – Skip – stuttered, glancing up at Sam uncertainly.
"All clear, lieutenant!" The radio operator yelled over his shoulder, his eyes never leaving Kathy.
Muted, Sam watched as four more figures came around the corner at the opposite end of the alleyway. One of the men, stern faced and bearded, carried a bolt-action rifle in his hands, the optical scope mounted on the weapon signaling him out as the group's sniper. The soldier next to him was a foot taller than Samuel about twice as wide, his broad shoulders and thick chest making the young trooper think of a black William Brown. The muscular solider held a bulky machine gun in his massive paws.
The man lead them forward had his arm wrapped around the waist of a young woman in a flight suit, supporting her as they walked to join their companions. The girl's face was pale, her hair hanging in wet clumps from the rain, and she favored one leg heavily, a brace and dirty bandage secured around the other.
The fellow keeping her upright, also in his middle years with a crust of stubble forming on his chin wore a mask of calm indifference but the emotions swirling in his eyes gave him away. Sam could see doubt there, doubt and a barely contained panic. Not an encouraging thing to see as judging by the way the solider moved, each step certain and decisive, as well as the air of authority that seem to follow in his footsteps marked this nervous man as the unit's leader.
"Sorry for the dramatics." The lieutenant said, handing the girl over to the dark-skinned soldier on his left. "We could hear you talking from down the street and I didn't want to get shot by accident if you guys were feeling jumpy so I had Skip circle around a couple of my guys slip in behind you. Sorry if we gave you a scare but I thought it best to err on the side of caution all things considered."
"Yeah," Skip said, moving over to join the lieutenant, sliding past Sam with a cautious gaze as if he thought the trooper might try and beat him to death for his trickery. "S-sorry about that."
The soldiers, along with a miserable looking Skip, formed a line in front of Sam and Kathryn. For a team of professionals they certainly gave the appearance of a ragtag bunch at first glance. Their clothes were covered in a film of nameless grime, stained with sweat and dried blood. The dirt on their tired, flushed faces was streaked by the falling rain. Each soldier's eyes twitched from left to right anxiously, as if expecting a threat to come from any direction. Considering all that he bared witness to that night Sam wouldn't be surprised if such a thing happened.
"You guys are military?" Kathryn choked out beside the trooper, saying it more as a statement of fact than a question.
The lieutenant nodded. "We're part of an Army Ranger detachment out of Michigan. I'm Lieutenant Zeke Wilcott and it looks like you've already met what's left of my squad."
Lieutenant Wilcott went on to introduce the other members of his team. Sergeant Wesley Creeks was his right hand man. Sergeant Ryan Pierce functioned as the unit's tactical sharpshooter. Corporal Joseph Cooper was the designated heavy weapons specialist. Sergeant Scott Owens worked the radio and Rachel Parker was the injured pilot. Under normal circumstances Sam would have shaken hands but the circumstances in Raccoon were far from normal and he would have felt seriously conflicted shaking hands with people who had been pointing weapons at him only moments ago.
"Wait a minute." Sam said after Zeke finished with the introductions. "You said 'what's left' of your squad. What does that mean? Aren't there more of your people running around looking for survivors or something?"
"I doubt it." Zeke replied evenly, shaking his head.
"You doubt it?" Kathryn interjected, her tone half-indignant and half-incredulous. "Isn't that why you guys are here? To rescue survivors?"
Again, the lieutenant shook his head. "Those were never our orders. We –"
"Then how do you explain the kid?" Sam interrupted, gesturing at Skip with his hand, making the young man jump. "I seriously doubt you brought him along to carry your bags."
"If you would give me half a second to explain," Zeke said, irritation thick in his voice and apparent in his eyes, "then I'll tell you everything you want to know, okay?"
"Fine." Sam replied evenly, angrily retrieving his pistol from the ground and thrusting it back into his holster. "Go ahead."
"Thank you." Lieutenant Wilcott sighed, wiping his face with the back of his hand, the edge to his voice seeming to dull. "Our unit was dispatched here along with three others. Our orders were to reinforce the officers already stationed at the blockades throughout the city until health officials could get the outbreak under control. Unfortunately, on the way here we – we hit a little snag."
"A little." Wesley scoffed sarcastically. Cooper nudged him with an elbow and gave the Brit an admonishing look.
"There was a malfunction." Zeke continued, ignoring the other two soldiers. "Rachel told me the chopper's engine overheated. We crash-landed in the middle of a street several blocks from here. Not long after that we were attacked by – well – by zombies. I'm not surprised that you aren't looking at me like I'm crazy. You must have seen them too otherwise you wouldn't be miles away from your appointed barricade looking like you've just been through a war."
Taking a moment to glance down at his clothing, Sam decided that Lieutenant Wilcott's assessment was a fairly accurate one. Dried blood and caked on gore covered his vest and pants. There was a nasty tear in the trooper's right sleeve from when he had fallen while retreating from the barricade as well as a nasty scrape to go along with it. Sam was unable to see his face but he was certain if he could it would be tight with fear and creased with worry. A war? Yeah, that about summed it up.
"They massacred us." Sergeant Brocket said after a moment, his voice distant as he went through the night's events for what must have been the hundredth time since running from the blockade. All the smells and sights seemed so close again. Pale, reaching hands, the stench of decaying, diseased flesh, Foster crying out as one of those things bit into his hand. "We couldn't stop them. There had to be hundreds of them. There was nothing any of us could do. God…so many people died. I thought we were the only ones left until you guys showed up. Kathy and me and J…"
Before he could finish pronouncing the man's name Foster coughed weakly behind Sam and Officer Ward. Turning, Brocket saw that his friend was still slumped against the alley's wall where he had left him, chest rattling with each new breath he took in. The chubby sergeant's head rolled from side to side lazily as he muttered some nonsense to himself, eyes open but apparently unaware of the presence of the newcomers.
'He's so far gone.' Sam thought, heart constricting in his chest, watching Jake absently wipe sweat from his brow before drooping back against the wall. 'I'm so sorry, Tubbs. I should have just shot the bastard.'
"Your friend alright?" Zeke asked a little warily, poking his head past Sam to observe the slumped, sweaty husk that was Jacob Foster.
"He's fine." Samuel snapped, positioning himself in front of the lieutenant once more, glaring defiantly. He could feel the tension from the other Rangers as they looked at the wrecked vessel that had once been his closest friend. Sam's hand drifted down to the butt of his pistol as he noticed the soldier's tightening their grip on the weapons they held.
'He's fine.' The words repeated in Sam's mind as he starred Lieutenant Wilcott in the eye and felt Kathy lay a hand on his arm. 'He's fine and none of you bastards better think about trying to put him down. We're going to help him anyway we can and if anyone of you tries to hurt him, so help me, I'll kill you myself.'
"One of those things – a zombie – bit him." Kathy said, seeming not to notice the sharp look Sam instantly threw her way. "Can you do anything for him? You guys must know something about what's going on in this city. The government has to know something."
Steeling himself, the trooper tightened his hand around the grip of his sidearm and waited for what was to come next. Kathy shouldn't have said anything, these guys wouldn't know anything about the virus, they were just grunts sent in to help keep order and while that might have been helpful a few hours ago it was meaningless now. All that mattered was that the Rangers knew Foster was infected with the same bug that had turned almost everyone in town into a walking corpse and they would probably want to him because of it. Kill him before he could kill them.
'Just try it.' Sam dared them silently, watching as Zeke and his troops studied Tubbs carefully. 'Just go on and try it.'
Relief and a great deal of surprise washed over Sergeant Brocket when Zeke simply shook his head and turned back to regard Kathy. None of the Rangers took so much as a step closer to Jacob. No one raised a weapon. Sam let his grip on the pistol relax.
"We know about as much as you do, I figure." Lieutenant Wilcott shrugged. "As far as I've been able to figure out whatever this mystery disease is its turning people into zombies…and maybe even other things."
"Other things?" Sam raised an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?"
"There's…there's other things out there." Skip replied meekly, glancing over his shoulder.
"Things worse than whatever you've bumped into so far." Said the Ranger leaning against the alley wall with a bolt-action rifle cradled in his arms – Sergeant Pierce if Sam remembered right.
Kathy snorted. "What could be worse than those things? They wiped out our entire defensive line. If there's anything running out there that's worse than that I do not want to meet it."
"You got that right." Cooper muttered, changing the ammo belt in his SAW.
"What else is out there?" Sam asked warily, scared to know what could possibly be worse than a flesh eating monster that could walk through a hail of bullets like it was a hail of spit balls. Something like what Foster was going to become.
"Oh, nothing much." The Brit – Wesley – said sardonically. "Just an eight-foot giant with claws the size of Samurai swords and a jaw he can drop as low as his balls. Oh, right, and then there were these things we ran into back at Skip's apartment building. They've got no skin, run around on all fours and could wrap their tongues around you three times and still have enough slack left for you to play jump rope with."
Sam felt his jaw drop and – given the nature of the descriptions – was certain it must have fallen somewhere around his balls. "You're kidding me right?" He said.
"You saw those things – the zombies – you saw what they did." Zeke said, looking Sam in the eye, his own gaze unblinking. "You know that Raccoon City has monsters well, guess what, they come in all shapes and colors too. And, believe me, they've all got nifty little tricks of their own and a variety of ways to kill you so, if we're all done chatting, I think it might be a good idea to find some shelter."
"Y-yeah." Sam stuttered after a moment, what they had just described could not have existed – then again before that night he would have thought zombies could not have existed either. "We're heading for Precient 24, it was set up as an emergency shelter for civilians and we got word from Captain Brown a little while ago that they were still holed up there."
"That's convenient," Zeke said, a small grin splitting his grimy face, "we were going that way too. The survivors of another chalk said they'd rendezvous with my company there."
Sam nodded. "Let's go then. Maybe the captain is expecting you guys."
"You didn't know we were coming?" Wilcott asked, drawing his brows together.
"Nope," Samuel shook his head, "but they don't tell us blue-collar bums everything either."
"Tell me about it." Zeke muttered then shook his head. "Alright, get your injured man and let's get moving."
Sam nodded again, tapping Kathy on the shoulder and signaling her to follow as the lieutenant turned to his radioman – Owens. Together the two moved to where Jacob rested and slung his arms around their necks. With no small amount of effort and a great deal of grunting, Sam and Kathy managed to life Foster's considerable bulk. The SWAT commander mumbled something unintelligible and lolled his head against Sam's shoulder.
"Alright, let's go people." Zeke said, helping support Rachel once more. "Coop, Wes, you two take point. Sergeant Pierce, Sergeant Owens, you've got the rear. Skip, stick close to me and the officers. Move out."
As the soldiers moved into their positions and the group started out of the alleyway, Foster whispered weakly in Sam's ear. "I…I think I'm sick. Sam, I'm not feeling so hot."
"I know." The younger man spoke with a calm he did not feel. "I know but we're almost at the station. We can get you some help there. Just hang on, buddy."
The words played over and over again the trooper's mind as they started up the street with Zeke's men leading the way. 'Just hang on buddy.'
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When Precient 24 loomed into view at the top of the street Ezekiel Wilcott thought he was laying eyes upon a fortress rather than a police station. The building was three floors high and constructed solidly out of stone. The windows lining the face of the station had all been boarded up but the lieutenant could see light filtering out through slits in the metallic double doors that served as the building's entrance. Sandbags topped with barbed wire surrounded the station's front steps. Behind these stood two men dressed in black body armor holding submachine guns, peering into the dark. Zeke spied around a moment longer with a pair of night vision goggles fished from his rucksack and spotted two more figures atop the precient's roof, both dressed as the men bellow but one held a pair of binoculars while the other had the stock of a bolt-action rifle pressed against his shoulder. A sniper and his target man. When the spotter saw the Ranger looking up at him he used his free hand to wave.
'Looks like they were expecting us after all.' Zeke though, waving back as he replaced the NVGs. 'The cops must have radioed ahead after the blockade fell.'
With the thought came the uncomfortable reminder of a new problem for the lieutenant. Now that the quarantine had failed the creatures that had turned Raccoon City into their own little buffet were free to head out into the countryside. Free to head out and spread the disease.
Lieutenant Wilcott had no choice but to inform headquarters of that development and wait for an appropriate course of action. Unfortunately, Zeke had a strong feeling what that course of action would be and it did not instill him with a great deal of hope.
'Panic fire.' Zeke thought as he signaled for the group to move out from the building they were squatting behind. 'They'll napalm this city and all outlying roads just to make sure the virus doesn't spread any further and there won't be any chance of evac before then because there's no telling who's infected.'
Well, that wasn't exactly true. The stocky SWAT officer that had been bitten – Zeke never had learned his name – was clearly infected. The way he need support to walk, the way he constantly mumbled to himself and the way sweat seemed to drench every piece of exposed skin were obvious enough signs. As much as it pained him to admit it, Zeke had been about to recommend leaving the man behind but the way the younger trooper had glared at him gave the lieutenant the distinct feeling he would have been shot for even suggesting such a thing.
"We'll have to put him down later, you know?" Wesley had whispered to him when the two officers had gone to retrieve their friend.
"First things first, Wes." Zeke had replied. "First things first."
Cooper took point as the group darted for the station's front doors, careful to avoid the bodies and shell casings that littered the street. Some of the dead consisted of men and women in plain clothes, their skin the color of ash and peeling back in thick strips, bullet holes riddled their bodies. The rest were police officers, decked out in SWAT body armor or blue uniforms, blood poured from harsh gashes in their necks and bellies. Many still clutched their weapons as they starred blindly at the night sky.
"God," Skip gagged from beside Zeke, "there's dozens them! Oh, God, the smell!"
"Keep it together, kid." Coop said gently as the two troopers behind the sandbags waved them in.
"I think I'm going to be sick." The female officer – her nametag read "Ward"- muttered.
Zeke and the others quickly hopped over the sandbags, careful to avoid being cut on the razor wire, and were then helped to the ground by the two SWAT troopers on the other side. Getting the chubby officer over the fortifications was the hardest part, requiring the two troopers to pull on his arms while Officer Ward and her companion handed the man up to them. After everyone was assembled on the other side and moving up the steps, the massive blue painted steel doors were thrown open and another figure holding an MP5 submachine gun stood framed in the entryway.
The newcomer immediately made Zeke think of Joe Cooper with fair skin and close cropped brown hair. This man, dressed in black slacks, a blue windbreaker and a bulletproof vest, was just as tall as the heavy weapons specialist and as densely built. A pair of intense blue eyes surveyed the group from behind the sheen of his eyeglasses. Zeke was about to extend his hand in greeting to the man, taking him as the one in charge of the precient, but the large fellow pushed his way past the Ranger as if not seeing him at all and moved straight to where the injured SWAT trooper stood supported by his two friends.
"What happened to him?" The man with the glasses demanded, choking on his words. "I told you to radio in if anything went wrong. What happened?"
"One of those things bit him." Officer Ward replied.
"Back at the barricade." The young trooper added.
"Fuck." The newcomer swore, then removed his glasses to rub his bloodshot eyes before shaking his head. "Alright, get him inside, tell Pommer to go and get Doctor Burke."
The rotund SWAT officer let out a groan as the two nodded and carried him up the steps, disappearing inside the walls of Precient 24. Putting his glasses back on – Zeke could see the word POLICE tattooed across the back of his jacket in yellow lettering – the man turned and regard the lieutenant with that fierce blue gaze once more. Extending his hand the man took Zeke's firmly in his and gave it a hard, painful, shake.
"Captain William Brown of the R.P.D." The man said. "Who the hell are you guys?"
Zeke sighed he was really getting tired of having to make the same introductions over and over again. "Lieutenant Ezekiel Wilcott. We're with an Army Ranger unit sent to reinforce the barricades here…or we were anyways."
William snorted and crossed a pair of tree trunk arms over a barrel chest. "You're just a little late don't you think, lieutenant?"
"There were some unforeseen complications, alright? Look, we've all got our problems so don't snap at me, Captain Brown." Zeke replied, not harshly but firmly and in a concise manner.
A fierce, fiery look flashed in the captain's eyes as he puffed out his bulging chest and Zeke braced himself for the blow he was certain would follow. Much to the lieutenant's relief though, Brown unclenched his fist – a mighty looking weapon all its own – and sighed deeply. Running a hand through his short hair William shook his head and regarded the Ranger with an apologetic expression.
"I'm sorry, lieutenant." Brown sighed again, his broad shoulders sagging. "Things have just been rough all over if you haven't noticed. I've lost a lot of friends and good cops over the past couple weeks and now Jake is…" He trailed off, glancing towards the station's front entrance before turning back to face Zeke. "I'm glad you guys are here though, about time we got a pleasant surprise around here."
"Surprise?" Wesley said, sounding taken aback. "You mean you didn't know we were coming either?"
William shook his head. "Should I have?"
"The leader of our chalk, Captain Sullivan," Zeke said and flinched at the sound of the man's name. Just saying it stirred the gruesome images of what had transpired after the crash back to life. Stomping the painful memories out of his head Zeke continued, "told us that your chief of police had been informed that military support was on its way a week ago."
"Chief Irons you mean?" William said the name as if it tasted sour to his tongue. "That probably explains it, he always was a couple crayons short of a full box. I haven't heard from him since the crisis started and I sincerely doubt anyone else has either, still he'd have to be one hell of a whacko to keep the news that the cavalry was on the way a secret. Anyways, what matter is that you're here now, so let's get inside and figure out how to get out of this frigin' mess."
Without another word Captain Brown turned on his heel and paced up the steps. Two more SWAT troopers appeared in the doorway, scanning the darkness with their weapons as William approached with the Rangers in tow. Zeke moved slowly up the steps, taking caution not to aggravate Rachel's leg further.
"How are you feeling?" He asked as they made their slow climb.
"I'm alright." The pilot replied with a small, tired grin. "A little light-headed but that's probably just due to the fact that I could use some chow and a hot shower right now." She sniffed the air lightly and scrunched her nose up. "You could do with one too, lieutenant."
"I'll keep that in mind, major." Zeke chuckled, helping her conquer another step.
Rachel smiled at him then and Zeke could feel new emotions stirring within him as he looked at her grinning face. Pain and anguish, both physical and spiritual, formed a cloud in the injured pilot's eyes but breaking through that dense fog of heartache the lieutenant could see the rays of courage and determination. The girl's leg was broken, she had spent the night watching her friends die and running from unspeakable horrors but still she managed to smile. Right then and there, in the midst of so much death and terror, Rachel Parker looked beautiful.
'Keep it in your pants, Zeke.' The lieutenant's mind cautioned him as he led the pilot into the station's lobby. 'You can worry about hooking up with Rachel later, for now stay focused. You've been lucky so far but luck runs out at some point and you don't want to have to go through what you went through with Sullivan again now do you? Not with Rachel or Wes or Skip, poor kid should still be back home eating his mom's oatmeal.'
Nodding to himself, Zeke stepped through the precient's front doors on the heels of his team, the two SWAT members promptly locking up the entrance once everyone had stepped inside. The lobby of Preicent 24 was surprisingly roomy. Standing in the center of the white linoleum floor was a semi-circle shaped oak reception desk complete with desktop computer and telephone. Placed up against the right hand wall was a row of chairs for those waiting to report a crime or be processed for committing one. Directly ahead of the group was a pair of double doors crafted from solid looking wood, an indentical pair of doors stood off to the left as well with a key card reader set into the wall beside it.
The lobby itself had few decorations though, other than a few potted plants there was not much to look at. The shrubs and bushes standing around the reception desk and on either side of the door were wilted and turning brown, dying from neglect. Zeke thought they resembled the mood of the city perfectly.
Lieutenant Wilcott eased Rachel into one of the chairs before turning to face William, the rest of his squad standing at his back. "I heard you mention that there was a doctor here?" He asked.
"Yeah," Captain Brown nodded. "Doctor Burke. He came here when things started to go south. Used to work over at Saint Jude's if I remember right."
"Do you think the doc could take a look at Rachel?" Zeke asked, gesturing to the wounded pilot. "She busted her leg up pretty bad and we've only been able to slap a bandage on it really."
"When he's done with Tubbs." William answered definitively.
"Tubbs?" Wesley asked. "That the chap who got bit?"
"Yeah." The police captain said bluntly, obviously not wanting to talk about it. Zeke assumed the two must have been close friends, the thought made him wonder how he might feel if one of his troop became infected. "When he's done with Foster I'll get him to check on the young lady."
Nodding quietly the lieutenant decided it might be a wise idea to change the topic of their conversation. "I noticed the sniper on the roof," he said, "smart idea that, should keep any of those things from getting too close. What other precautions have you taken?"
William let out a heavy sigh as he sagged down into one of the visitors chairs, unslinging his MP5 and propping it up against one leg. "All doors leading into and out of the station have been locked. The – the zombies seem to have some trouble dealing with deadbolts. I've got men out front on watch. The power went out a while ago so I sent Thompson and his team down to get the generator running again. As you can see we've got lights again – they came on a few minutes before you guys showed up – so I'm just waiting for them to get back now."
Again, Zeke gave a nod of approval. "How long will the station's provisions hold out for?"
"A week, maybe two if we ration it just right." The captain removed his glasses and cleaned them on his shirt. "After that we're screwed. There's more help coming though right? Choppers to evacuate your team and the others right? They wouldn't just leave you all stranded."
The bright, hopeful look in Captain Brown's eyes made Zeke's heart break. Thos eyes were bloodshot and weary, the man exhausted by all the horror and tragedy he had no doubt born witness to. He looked at Zeke with a pleading gaze, William Brown did not just want to hear a scrap of good news he needed to hear it. The lieutenant could only sigh, he had nothing positive to tell this man.
"I wish I knew, captain." He said flatly, resisting the urge to sigh again as he saw Will's face droop. "I've been trying to get into contact with headquarters but there's been a great deal of interference and I can't get a clear signal."
William groaned, a pathetic, defeated sound and slouched forward in his chair. His head fell heavily into his hands. Zeke was not entirely sure but he thought he could hear soft, strangled sobs escaping the man.
"No help's coming." The captain said, his voice haggard and muffled by his hands. "We're screwed. I tried so hard, tried to keep it together, tried to help everyone else keep it together and now it's all for nothing! We're all going to die here like rats in a sinking ship!"
Zeke dropped to a crouching position and shook the big man roughly like he had done with Skip in the elevator. He had only been in Raccoon for a few hours and already he'd seen enough to question whether or not anything going on around him was real or some kind of twisted nightmare. He did not even want to think about what the mental strain would have been like for William Brown, a man who had been stuck in this nightmare for weeks. The Ranger knew the man was falling apart and that if he or anyone else wanted to see tomorrow then he was going to have to keep Captain Brown's sanity intact for a little while longer.
"We are far from screwed, captain." Zeke said firmly, forcing William to look at him. There were tears in those broken red eyes after all. "If you breakdown now though, we will be screwed. Every last one of us. Now, if you want to get out of this, I'm going to need your help."
"H-how?" William asked, swallowing back the water in his eyes. "What do you need me to do?"
'Good.' Zeke sighed, this time with relief. The good captain wasn't crazy yet at least. In some ways, the Ranger was surprised he wasn't too.
"You can start by giving me information." He said, releasing his grip on the man's shoulders. "Tell me everything you've seen or heard since the disaster started up to this moment right now. Everything."
Captain Brown nodded and started talking. The more he went on the more Zeke began to frown. And sweat. Things were a lot worse in Raccoon City than he had first though. Much worse.
Author's Note: Another chapter up for you, my Readers. I hope you enjoy. Please read and review when you get a chance. Your feedback is what keeps me inspired and writing. Thank you and enjoy.