"Wait! Don't shoot!"
The gunman didn't move, the deadly-looking weap– on still aimed at her head…
– gonna kill me -"Get down!" the gunman shouted, and Claire dropped, her knees buckling as much from the com-mand as from the cold fingertips suddenly groping at her shoulder… Boom! Boom! The gunman fired and Claire snapped her head around, saw the dead cook falling backwards from directly behind her, at least one massive hole now in its forehead. Sluggish spurts of blood jetted from the wound, the white eyes filming over with red. The fallen corpse twitched, once, twice – and stopped moving. Claire turned back to the man who'd saved her life, and his uniform registered for the first time. Cop. He was young, tall – and almost as terrified-looking as she felt, his upper lip beaded with sweat, his blue eyes wide and unblinking. His voice, at least, was strong and sure as he reached down to help her up.
"We can't stay out here. Come with me, we'll be a lot safer at the police station."
As he spoke, she could hear a closing chorus of gasping moans from the street, the wails of hunger growing louder. Claire let herself be pulled up, grip-ping his hand tightly, taking small comfort in the fact that his fingers were as feverish and shaky as hers. They ran, dodging dumpsters and heaps of flat– tened boxes, chased by echoing, haunted cries as the zombies found the dark alley and started after them.
FIVE
Leon ran alongside the girl, desperately racking his memory for the city's downtown layout. The alley should let out on Ash, not far from Oak, the RPD's street, but the station was at least another fifteen blocks west; unless they could find transportation, they weren't going to make it. He was on his last clip, four rounds left, and from the sounds reverberating through the alley, there were dozens, maybe hundreds of the creatures at either end. As they reached the mouth of the alley, Leon held up his hand and slowed to a jog, scanning the dimly lit street. He couldn't see much, but from where they stood to the next streetlight, there were eleven or twelve of the creatures to the right, staggering and reeling their way through the stinking darkness. There were only three of them to the left, not far from…
… hallelujah! "There!"
Leon pointed at the squad car parked across the street, feeling a flush of wild hope. There were no officers in sight, that was too much to ask for, but the front doors were standing open, and the three moaning things that roamed nearby wouldn't reach it before he and the girl could. Even if there were no keys, there was a radio and the windshield was bulletproof. They could probably hold out against the walking corpses until help came…
… and it's the only chance you've got. Go!
He hesitated just long enough to see the girl nod, her brown ponytail bobbing, and then they were sprinting for the black-and-white, the pavement a blur beneath their feet. Leon kept the handgun half-pointed toward the creatures closest to them, fifty feet away; he wanted to shoot, to keep them from getting one step closer, but he couldn't afford to waste the ammo.
God, let there be keys.
They reached the car at the same time and split, the girl running around to the passenger's side, and Leon realized with a new kind of horror that she probably thought the car was his. He waited for her to slam the door before jumping behind the wheel, a small, deeply frightened part of him screaming that this was his first day as he yanked his own door shut. A prayer answered; the keys were in the ignition. Leon dropped the Magnum into his lap and grabbed them, feeling that wild hope once again, like there were options besides dying. "Buckle up," he said, barely hearing her assent as he turned the keys and the flashers came on. Ash Street and the creatures that stalked it were bathed in blue and red swirls of pallid color, shadows changing form and thickness. It was a vision of hell and he hit the gas, desperate to get away from it as fast as he could. The car spun away from the curb with a squeal. Leon pulled the wheel right and then left, narrowly missing a lurching woman whose scalp had been torn half off. Even through the closed windows, he could hear her frustrated howl as they sped away, joined by the cries of many more.
Backup, call for backup.
Leon fumbled for the radio, not taking his gaze off of the road. The creatures were scattered but persis-tent, dark and shambling monsters that staggered out into the street as if drawn to the sound of the speeding car. As the black-and-white rocketed across Powell and continued on, he had to dodge several more of them. The girl was talking, staring out at the desolate landscape as Leon hit the com button on the radio, his sense of helplessness rising. No static, no nothing.
"What the hell's going on, I arrive in Raccoon and the whole place is insane…" "Great, the radio's out," Leon interrupted, drop-ping the radio and focusing on the road. The entire city seemed like an alien world, the streets strangely shadowed. There was a dreamlike quality to it, but the smell kept him from believing that he was asleep. The stench of diseased flesh had permeated even the interior of the squad car, making it hard to concen– trate on driving. At least there was no traffic and no people. No real people…
,… except me and the girl. I've got to do my job
here, keep her from getting hurt. Poor kid, she can't be
older than nineteen or twenty, she's probably terrified;
I've got to keep it together and shield her from further
danger here, get to the station and…
"You're a cop, right?"
The girl's lilting but somehow sarcastic tone snapped him out of his panicked musings. He shot a look in her direction, noting that while she looked pale, she didn't seem to be quivering on the edge of a break– down. There was even a trace of humor in her clear gray eyes, and Leon got a sudden strong impression that she wasn't the breakdown type. A very good thing, considering the circumstances.
"Yeah. First day on the job; great, huh? I'm Leon Kennedy." "Claire," she said. "Claire Redfield. I came to find my brother, Chris…"
She trailed off, staring back out at the passing street. Two of the creatures were staggering into the path of the car from either side, but Leon hit the gas and managed to drive between them. The steel mesh screen separating the back compartment was down, giving him a clear look from the rearview mirror, the two shuffling ghouls were now plodding mindlessly after them.
Hungry. Just like in the movies.
For a moment, neither spoke, the obvious question remaining unspoken. Whatever had happened to turn Raccoon into a horror show didn't matter as much as how they were going to survive it. They'd be at the station in a couple of minutes, assuming the roads stayed clear. There was an underground parking lot, he'd try that first, but if the gates were closed, they'd have to cover a short distance on foot. There was a small courtyard in front of the building, a park area.
Four rounds left and maybe a city full of those things. We need another weapon… "Hey, open the glovebox," he said. If it was locked, there was a key on the ring that should open it. Claire tapped the button and reached inside, reveal-ing the back of her pink sleeveless vest; the legend "Made in Heaven" was appliqued above a voluptuous posing angel holding a bomb. The outfit suited her. "There's a gun inside," she said, and pulled out a sleek semiautomatic. She raised it carefully and checked to see if it was loaded before digging out a couple of clips. It was one of the RPD's old issues, a nine-millimeter Browning HP. Since the slew of re– cent murders, the Raccoon force had been carrying H amp; K VP70s, another nine-millimeter – the difference was that the Browning could only hold thirteen, while the newer issues held eighteen rounds, nineteen if you kept one chambered. From the way she handled it, Leon could tell that she knew what she was doing. "Better take it with you," he said. The RPD kept a decent arsenal; assuming that there were still cops around, he could pick up his assigned weapon and…