Chapter 33: Returned From The Grave
October 3, 1998
4:00 AM
Arklay Mountain Research Station
Rico was feeling pensive. Actually, he preferred to think of it as feeling exceedingly and inexplicably pissed off.
His entire team had been gunned down save maybe for Foller but Rico could only speculate about the Australian's fate. Smith was now more firmly in control than ever and obfuscating what he knew with a measured zeal. Owens was hardly any help either as the little rat outright refused to share any information on Operation Puppet Master or the combat data he had gathered on the carriers in Raccoon. The B.O.N.E.S. major was just beginning to wonder who he had to kill to get a straight answer when the power went out and they lost valuable time while Smith had to hack through a door lock. Then, to round the night off, the archives turned out to be crawling with human carriers – a further bar to getting away home free.
Of course, between the three of them they had more than enough ammunition to transform what remained of the AMRS staff into fertilizer but Rico still did not appreciate the delay. Bodies, many already bloated and rotten, made a carpet along the ground of the fourth floor archives. Several wore tattered lab coats but there were a few in the denim coveralls of maintenance men or the bland uniforms of security personnel. It was one of those that Rico took a moment to vent his frustrations on, giving the corpse a stiff kick to the ribs but instantly regretting the move as he felt flesh and bone give way. His boot came out covered in a pale, pinkish fluid.
The AMRS archives were more like a computer lab than a library though there were metallic shelves stuffed with file folders and even a few thick volumes of books. The entire room was painted a cool shade of blue with banks of computers set into marble desks running up and down the area. Currently, the archives were running on back up power so the only illumination came from the static glow of the computer monitors and the burning emergency lights overhead that bathed the archives in the color of blood. Racing in between the rows of computers was a soft black carpet decorated with tiny red and white shields – miniscule representations of the Umbrella Corporation's logo.
"What were they all doing up here?" Owens asked, looking around at the fifteen odd bodies strewn across the ground with a sour expression. "This hardly seems like the best place to seek shelter."
"I suspect they were attempting to do what we are now doing, sergeant: erase the records and activate the self-destruct mechanism." Smith answered coolly from where he sat typing away at a computer in the middle row while Rico and Scott stood guard at either end. "Unfortunately for them it was probably already too late by then."
"Yeah, I'm crying my eyes out." Rico said snidely, adjusting the strap of his AK. "Can we cut the friendly banter and hurry this thing up? I'd like to get back home some time today before this place becomes a crater – if that's alright with the two of you gentlemen."
"I find that patience is a valuable quality to possess in a crisis situation, major." Smith said without looking up from the screen. "Perhaps you should consider better improving your own skills in it."
Arrogant prick, Rico thought holding his rifle tighter. The Latino seriously considered shooting his supervisor again. He doubted it would result in Smith's timely death but at least it would be amusing to see. Until he gets back up and breaks my neck anyway.
"There," Smith said tapping the ENTER key. A blue diskette popped out of the drive and Smith tucked it away into a waterproof container before sliding it into a vest pocket. The supervisor then went on to type in the command "file erase" before setting the self-destruct timer at thirty-five minutes. "There's a ten minute fail-safe for personnel to reach minimum safe distance and an audio warning at the five minute mark. After that the real countdown begins so it would be advisable for us to be elsewhere when that occurs." Smith punched the ENTER key once more and Rico could just about hear the clock in his head ticking the seconds away.
"Time to be gone." The B.O.N.E.S. major said as Smith bent down to retrieve the sample case.
Rico started as four holes hammered through the door handle in the emergency exit at his back. An instant later the door nearly came off its hinges as it was violently kicked inwards and six men stormed the room. Though most of his trip through the AMRS had involved running into the walking dead the B.O.N.E.S. major still felt surprise at the sight of this bunch for they were supposed to be wholly and truly dead by now. They were not though and Rico was starting to believe they had been returned from the grave to haunt his steps.
"Lieutenant Wilcott." Smith said calmly, rising to his feet holding the sample case in one hand while aiming his rifle at the man in the lead with the other. "I was hoping you and your men would have had the good sense to die out on the mountainside. Your presence here is…inconvenient."
"Well, how about you give me a call the next time your company decides to murder an entire city and we'll work out our schedules then." Wilcott snapped, standing a few feet in front of the men that formed a line at his back.
It was an odd collection assembled behind the Ranger lieutenant. There was a bald young man in stained police uniform, a hulking beast of a man with a flaming beard tied in tight braids and three others dressed in Ranger gear. One of them had long, unkempt blonde hair and was actually grinning. Another carried a bolt-action rifle across his back and had eyes as cold and unyielding as a plate of steel. The third soldier was nearly as tall and well built as the bearded man though dark-skinned with smoldering, hateful eyes. Rico noticed a large assortment of them were wielding the black-finished weapons of B.O.N.E.S. troopers.
"You killed my boy scouts." Rico snarled, tucking the AK tight against his shoulder. "You're all dead men."
"Oh really?" Red Beard challenged. "The last time I looked we had more guns aiming in your direction so why don't you just put your weapons down and maybe I'll make it quick for you all."
"Sorry," Rico shot back, "dying is against my policy."
"This whole place is about to go up like the Fourth of July on ecstasy, Zeke." Owens said, training his sights on the lieutenant. "Either way you're fucked, L.T."
"Owens." Wilcott hissed between clenched teeth, his voice dripping with passionate rage as he starred at the mole. "I'm going to save you for last, you two-faced son of a bitch. God help me but I'm going to rip out your spleen and tap dance on it before I give you two in the head. Rachel's dead because of you." The last was almost delivered as a snarl.
"You shouldn't make this personal, Zeke." Owens frowned. "It was just business. I was only doing my job., it was never about any of you."
"You scum-sucking prick." Wilcott growled, taking a step towards Scott with his rifle raised. "I'll show you just how personal this is."
Before the Ranger could make another move though the far wall exploded in a spray of plaster and copper wire. Rico whirled with the others, fixing the barrel of his AK on the center of the dust cloud that was dense as early morning fog. The floor began to quiver and shake as great, thundering footsteps resonated throughout the building. It took every last reserve of the B.O.N.E.S. major's willpower not to vomit in terror and run away when he saw what had ripped the wall apart as if it were made of paper.
At first only its eyes, burning golden orbs, were visible through the falling screen of rubble. A body, impossibly muscled and covered with patches of dark brown scar tissue ducked low through the opening made by a pair of arms tipped with bone claws as long as the blade of any machete and when the brute stood again its head nearly reached the ceiling. Throwing back its head the giant roared and the air itself seemed to tremble with its beastly cry. Howling, the creature's chin fell nearly to its stomach and Rico shuddered at the thought of the ease with which that gaping maw could swallow him whole. Out of the corner of his eye, the Spaniard could see that the young man wearing the police uniform had fallen to one knee, clapping his hands over his ears and wincing as the monstrosity continued to scream.
"The Devourer." Rico said with a terrified kind of awe as the giant swaddled in a scorched leather kilt shouldered its way further into the room. Reacting out of instinct more than good sense, knowing they were already as dead as dog meat, Rico started to raise his rifle.
"No, you fool!" Smith barked, knocking the muzzle back down with one hand. "It's not here for us. Look!"
Perplexed at first, Rico quickly saw what his supervisor meant. The Devourer's golden eyes blinked with a bizarre sort of recognition and then the thing grunted – a distinctly disappointed noise in Rico's opinion. Slowly, the lumbering Tyrant turned to face Lieutenant Wilcott and his group of survivors. The giant's mouth dropped open in an expression hideously reminiscent of an eager smile.
"Quickly, this way!" Smith ordered, tugging at Rico's sleeve as the Devourer advanced on the horrified party of survivors. He led the Latino and a pale-faced, shaking Owens to a metal door in the right hand corner of the archives and kicked it open with a crash, revealing yet another sterile-looking hallway with a staircase leading up at the end, lit only by the blood red glow of the AMRS' emergency lights. Without another breath the trio charged towards the hall, leaving Lieutenant Wilcott and his friends to entertain the Devourer on their own.
Rico was almost through the doorway when he heard one of Wilcott's bunch raise a shout at his back. "They're getting away!" Someone cried and the major had only a moment to hit the ground before the chatter of automatic fire chewed up the wall in front of him.
Falling to the floor and rolling over onto his stomach in one fairly awkward motion, Rico fired off a single shot and had the pleasure of watching it smack into the belly of the dark-skinned Ranger holding Sven's M-60 before Smith was hauling him out the door again. A faint smile touched Rico's lips as he saw that the last expression on the gunner's face was one of intense pain and surprise.
"Move! Move!" Owens screamed from halfway down the hall. The little rat, his face wide and pale with fright, promptly took his own advice and scurried towards the staircase.
Rico knocked Smith's hand away irritably as the supervisor pulled him up and then the two of them were racing after the terrified mole. Trailing after them came the sounds of gunfire, bellowing voices and plodding, clamorous footsteps.
"That's impossible!" Rico panted as they sprinted for the stairs where Owens was urging them to move faster emphatically. If he had learned anything from working for Umbrella then it was that what had just transpired was impossible. "Those things don't pick their prey – food is food. Why didn't it attack us?"
"Are you complaining, major?" Smith snapped as they reached the first step. "It has to do with Puppet Master. I'll explain later – if I feel the need to. Save you breath for running. Once we reach the next level we have to find the elevator to the helipad and I don't need to remind you that we're fighting the clock now."
He hasn't changed one bit, Rico thought as he tore up the stairs, need to know, the hell with the rules and not fond of questions. Same guy I always knew. Not that any of that matters now. All that matters is getting out of here before this place turns into a firecracker.
Still, if Wilcott and his misfits made it out of their tangle with the Devourer in one piece they could certainly complicate that. But no…no they were probably dead already. Maybe Wilcott had been clever enough to outwit Rico and his boy scouts but they had been only men and the Devourer was no mere mortal. It was the essence of death given flesh; destruction wrapped in a shell and imbued with life.
Then again, Rico considered as they crashed through a door at the top of the steps, maybe it's safe not to make any bets. That redneck got through the Chameleons after all – and he did that at night in the middle of a thunderstorm.
None of that made any real difference though. Rico was confident in the Devourer's abilities and one way or another Lieutenant Ezekiel Wilcott was not making it out of Raccoon City alive. Major Da Silva would though, he always did, he was a survivor and he would make it back home no matter what he had to do. Or who I have to kill.
The firm coldness of the thought was quite reassuring.
---------- Page Break ----------
The Umbrella cleaners, along with the back-stabbing, two-faced, lying son of a bitch, Owens, had snuck out the back door but Zeke's sole concern was for the well-being of his men. Cooper had taken a round to the stomach during the chaos and now stood slumped against Shank, the only one capable of supporting the corporal's burden on his own. Furthermore, the creature they had first faced on the streets after fleeing Skip's apartment building, a horrid, golden-eyed demon with a mouth that Zeke thought had to be the pit of Hell itself, advanced towards them slowly. The giant's clawed hands flexed with eager anticipation.
The lieutenant knew their only chance was to make for the hole the behemoth had created in the wall – but even that was only a small chance. Zeke was all too aware that the tunnel could just as easily lead to a dead end as to freedom. There was precious little alternative thought and Zeke had a more pressing problem as it was – namely the solid, eight-foot tall mass of clawed death advancing on him.
"Wes," Zeke said in a rush, never taking his eyes away from the burning yellow cinders set in the beast's skull, "lead the others around this freak and through the opening it made for us. I'll make sure it's attention stays on me while you do it."
"But – " The Brit began to protest but Zeke was in no mood to argue.
"I'm not asking you – I'm telling you!" He snapped as the hideous creature took another lurching step forward, halving the distance between them. "That's an order, now move!"
Without giving Wesley any chance for rebuttal, Zeke leapt to the side and up onto one of the marble desktops. Cocking the bolt on his AK, the lieutenant opened up full-auto on the lumbering giant, the rounds peppering its broad chest and tree-trunk arms. Viscous black fluid – like the oil fueling a massive machine – spilled from the multiple wounds but a dark purple jelly poured out right behind it to plug the holes and stem the tide of ichorous liquid.
Howling, more out of irritation than pain Zeke suspected, the giant turned his way and took one plodding step forward. Behind the mammoth, the Ranger noted with satisfaction, the others were stealthily slipping through the still smoking hole, Shank holding Cooper up around the waist. Determined to buy his companions every last second, the lieutenant continued to fire into the tattered, scarred, mass of flesh that was the monster's chest until his weapon ran dry.
"That's it," Zeke taunted the walking horror, the fear he felt melting away to take on the shape of a foolish kind of bravery. "Come and get me you ten-ton sack of crap!" Leaping out of the way, Zeke narrowly avoided being sliced in two by the giant's talons as it brought one hand down with a feral scream. Sparks flew as the computer bank erupted in a shower of dust and sputtering flames.
Methodically, slowly, the clawed demon that should have perished in the fires of Skip's burning SUV turned and fixed the lieutenant with its fiery, golden stare. Zeke felt no surprise at seeing the beast alive and whole again; he doubted that he would find anything surprising after Raccoon City. Every madman's dream, every disturbed, warped fantasy of the human mind had been birthed in this necropolis – this City of the Dead.
Reloading as fast as his hands could manage, Zeke felt the floor shift beneath his boots as Goldeneyes took another step closer. The giant moved slowly, as if it had all the time in the world and Zeke supposed it did. Whatever or whoever the thing had been before the Umbrella Corporation had bestowed upon it the curse of un-life and with that came a perverted, twisted immortality.
Doesn't matter though. Zeke reminded himself, sliding a fresh clip home and pulling the bolt back. I don't have to make it out of this alive – just give Wes and the rest enough time to do so.
A crack of gunfire interrupted the lieutenant's thoughts. Dark blood burst from the giant's shoulders and Goldeneyes dropped its jaws to wail with fury. The power of that terrible cry alone was enough to sway Zeke on his feet. Wesley's voice filled the silence between the creature's roar and another report of an automatic.
"Zeke, get the bloody hell out of there!" Wes hollered and the beast roared again.
Cursing softly, the Ranger was forced to reconsider his strategy of martyrdom. If he remained behind to keep Goldeneyes occupied while the others fled it was almost assured that he would die in the process but it was clear now that Wesley planned on interfering with that process. Perhaps loyalty was one of the Brit's most endearing traits but it was also highly inconvenient at the moment. After all, was death not the rightful price to pay for all the blunders Zeke had made since arriving in Raccoon City?
Swearing once more beneath his breath, the lieutenant hurtled over one of the computer banks and raced around the behemoth to where Wesley stood firing. Then something remarkable happened – Goldeneyes charged. The giant dropped into a three-point stance and threw itself through the space separating it from its prey, bringing its knife-edged hand up in a wicked, underhand swipe. With only a fraction of a second to get out of the way or be carved up like a Christmas ham, Zeke dove through the doorway and collided with Wesley sending both men skittering across the tile floor.
Goldeneyes' strike missed – barely – and those foot-long bone talons wound up embedded halfway into the wall. Shrieking with primal outrage and frustration, the giant desperately tried to tear its hand free. Zeke gave the struggling terror, looking even more frightening so totally consumed by unthinking, violent anger as it struggled to break free, one final look before pulling Wesley back up and pushing him down the hall.
There was not a great deal to see in that thin corridor and with Goldeneyes' roaring pursuing them down the hall, Zeke was not all that concerned with stopping to sight see. Everything passed by in a blur. A white floor turned red by the emergency lights surrounded by red walls beneath the flickering crimson glow of the floodlights. Fitting, Zeke thought, that a company with so much blood on its hands should have their facility lit as if it were displaying that fact. A few doors lined the hall and Zeke surmised they led to offices but he hardly cared for Goldeneyes still bellowed fiercely. Then, as Zeke and Wesley round the corner, salvation appeared in the oddest guise. Against the far wall was a metal door marked in bold red letters: MAINTENANCE LADDER ACCESS (HELIPAD).
"We should almost thank the bastard," Wes grinned, looking at the door where the others were gathered, "without him busting in the way he did we never would have found this."
"I'll send him a card later." Zeke said absently then shot the lock off the door and tossed it open. Cold air rushed up from a dark shaft in greeting; the steel rungs of a ladder bolted to one side glittered in the pale light from the hall. "Time to go, guys."
A tremor rocked the ground, making the walls quiver and Zeke clutched the doorframe lest he tumble down the ladder shaft. From somewhere distant an alarm began to blare. A cool, emotionless female voice came over a hidden speaker and began to repeat the same warning over and over in a droning tone.
"The self-destruct sequence has been activated," the voice informed them and Zeke felt suddenly weak. "This sequence cannot be aborted. All personnel have five minutes remaining to reach minimum safe distance. Please evacuate immediately. Repeat. The self-destruct sequence has been activated. This sequence cannot be aborted…"
"Time to really be gone." Eddie said, sweating profusely as the woman's cold announcement mingled with the screams of Goldeneyes from down the hall. With one last worried look at the wounded Corporal Cooper, the rookie cop jumped onto the ladder and began to climb.
Zeke ordered Pierce and Wesley to follow after the young man and both Rangers did so albeit reluctantly. Once the pair had began their ascent the lieutenant gazed at the ladder then back to where Shank supported Coop's tired, battered body around the waist. Getting the corporal up the ladder be no small feat as Joe was not a slight man to begin with and now lacked the strength to stand up on his own, let alone pull his bulk hand over hand up a ladder. Not to mention the added problem of the time limit those Umbrella fucks and their little pal Owens had just placed upon him. There's no way they can suffer enough for what they've done here, Zeke decided, no way.
"Alright," Zeke said at last as the female voice informed him there were only four minutes left to reach minimum safe distance. "We'll have to leave the 60 behind so it doesn't get in the way then I'll climb up ahead and, Shank, you place Coop on the ladder. I'll pull his hands up to the next rung while you push his feet onto – "
"Forget it, boss." Cooper shook his head weakly and coughed softly, blood dribbling between the fingers of the hand he pressed to his stomach. Goldeneyes bellowed a challenge from down the hall and the building shook once more. "You're…you're leaving me here." Coop winced, his face a twisted visage of horrible agony.
"Don't be stupid, Coop." Zeke retorted angrily. "We're not taking off without you."
"Yes…you are." Cooper replied, blood trickling from the corners of his mouth as he began to cough again. "Put me…put me down, Shank."
The brawny Psycho nodded sadly before settling Cooper down in the corner, propping his back up against the wall. Joe was awfully pale, his skin starting to take on a sickly yellow tinge. Blood poured through the fingers pressed to his belly. There was a distant, searching look in Coop's eyes that Zeke had seen on so many faces of the dying over the past two nights.
"I'm…gut-shot, boss, and…the last time I checked…we didn't have a master surgeon on hand." Coop gave a wry grin before drawing in a shaky breath and continuing. "You'd never be able to…drag my ass up that ladder anyway. Now, go. Before…it's too late."
"Don't you fucking do this to me, Coop! Don't you fucking give up on me now." Zeke nearly screamed at the solider, roughly grabbing him by the shoulders. Three minutes left, the heartless witch on the speaker said. "Get on your feet, corporal! I'm taking you out of here."
Thump. Thump. Thump. The floor quaked. Zeke brought his head up sharply at the sound of those heavy footfalls and realized time had grown even shorter. Goldeneyes had finally freed itself and was ready to pick up the hunt again.
It sounded as if the giant were plodding along slowly enough but Zeke knew now that its sluggish pace would not last. How long, the lieutenant wondered, a cold sweat breaking out across his face as he listened to the sound of those thunderous steps, how long before it charges and claws all three of us into scraps?
"Zeke…" Shank said warily, gesturing down the corridor with his AK.
"Get out of here." Zeke told the biker, starring hard at Cooper as he tried to puzzle out a way of trading his life for the corporal's.
"Not without you two." Shank insisted, shaking his head.
"Just go!" Zeke bellowed at the other man and perhaps it was the raw, unbridled emotion in his voice or the wild look in his eye but Shank swallowed thickly, nodded and started up the ladder.
Two minutes left, the voice said casually. From down the hall Goldeneyes roared with triumph and grew closer. Sighing, Zeke starred into Coop's glassy eyes and relaxed the fingers gripping the big man's shoulders. He would have wept but had suffered through too much grief and sadness already that ere were no tears left to come.
"Looks like you were wrong about me being born for this business, huh, Coop?" Zeke said giving the other Ranger's shoulders a comforting squeeze.
"Nah," Cooper replied with a small grin. "I was just right about me. I should have been a fucking postman." The ground trembled once more and Goldeneyes bellowed. Groaning, Coop began to pull himself up. "Get out of here…boss. I'll keep…Chuckles here off your back."
Suddenly, Zeke was reminded of Captain Sullivan's last stand at the crash site, sacrificing his life to keep the enemy delayed. Now, Joseph Cooper was ready to do the same. Ready to die with dignity and valor. It was then that Zeke realized he had been mistaken about there being no tears left to shed.
The lieutenant took one last look at his friend, wishing for the words or actions that would undo all this. But there were no words left to offer and no actions left to undertake. Cooper would die facing Goldeneyes but he would die if Zeke tried to drag him up the ladder too. A man's fate is set in stone, Zeke thought, and offers no flexibility.
"Go." Cooper said as one, long-bladed hand appeared around the corner.
Clasping his friend's hand one last time in parting, Zeke began to climb, feeling like the world's greatest coward. One more life given for yours, lieutenant, the dry voice mocked him, what have you given for them though? Of course, Zeke could think of no answer and it made him ache with self-loathing.
From far below came the killing scream of an inhuman terror matched bravely by the defiant shout of a brave soldier. There was no fear in Cooper's final cry, just an endless negative fueled by courage; a refusal that this beast would ever be allowed to harm his companions. Then the bark of an M-60 swallowed both sounds and Zeke climbed faster.
Overhead that stale, unfeeling voice told the Ranger the time to reach minimum safe distance had expired and now the real countdown to the end had begun. Thirty-five minutes. One way or another there was only thirty-five minutes left in this nightmare.
Author's Note: Hey all, sorry that it took me awhile to get this update up but hey, still better than my last three week hiatus right? Anyway, here's the next chapter for you, my Readers and let me thank you for all your reviews. Please keep the feedback coming and let me know what you like/dislike. There's only a couple chapters left in this tale so I hope you've enjoyed the story so far. Enjoy and please read and review! Thank you.