Maybe I should head for Europe, get myself some in-ternational cuisine. I can go anywhere I want now, any-where at all. There's nothing holding me back.
The thought was supposed to get him excited for all the possibilities, but it didn't, it made him feel anxious and kind of weird, so he went back to considering his escape. The main gate that led out of the prison was locked down, but he figured if he searched enough guards, he'd find one of the emblem keys. He'd already run across the warden, the late Paul Steiner, but all his keys were gone. So was most of his face, Steve thought, not particularly unhappy about it. Steiner had been a serious dick, strutting around like he was King Turd of Shit Mountain, always smiling when another prisoner got led off to the infirmary. And nobody ever came back from the infirmary -
–snick.
Steve froze, staring at the metal door straight across from the tower. The graveyard was on the other side, and he knew for a fact it was full of zombies, he'd sneaked a look right after plugging the courtyard corpses. Jesus, could they open doors? They were walk– ing vegetables, mush brains, they weren't supposed to be able to open doors, and if they could do that, what else were they capable of…
… don't panic. You've got the machine gun, remember?
All of the other prisoners were dead. If it was a per-son, he or she was no friend of his… and if it wasn't human, or was a zombie, he'd be putting it out of its misery. Either way, he wasn't going to hesitate, and he wasn't going to be afraid. Fear was for pussies. Steve grabbed for the searchlight handle with his right hand, his left already on the trigger guard of the heavy black rifle. As the door swung open, he swal– lowed dryly and snapped the light on, firing as soon as he had the target piimed down. The weapon rattled out a stream of bullets, the handle jouncing against his hand, rounds kicking up tiny foun– tains of mud. He caught a glimpse of something pink, a shirt maybe, and then his target was diving out of the line of fire, moving way too fast to be one of the canni– bals. He'd heard about some of the monsters Umbrella had cooked up and machine gun or no, he hoped to God he wasn't about to meet one of them. I'm not afraid, I'm not… He tracked right with the searchlight and kept firing, a sudden anxious sweat on his brow. The person or thing was behind the protruding wall near the base of the tower, out of sight, but if he couldn't kill it, he could at least scare it away. Cement chips flew, the high-intensity beam illuminating the lower half of a dead prison guard, mud, and debris, but no target…… and there was a lightning flash of motion from be– hind the wall, a glimpse of pale, upturned face… BAM! BAM! BAM!… and the searchlight shattered, white-hot chunks of glass spraying across the tower room floor. Steve let out an involuntary yell as he jumped back from the machine gun, somebody was shooting at him, and he didn't care if it was pussy, he was about to shit his pants. "Don't shoot!" he shouted, his voice breaking. "I give!" It was dead silent for a few seconds, and then a cool female voice came out of the dark, low and somehow amused.
"Say Uncle."
Steve blinked uncertainly, confused and then re– membered how to breathe again, feeling his cheeks go red as the fear fell away.
"I give," that was totally lame. So much for first im-pressions. "I'm coming down," he said, relieved that his voice didn't break this time, deciding that anyone who could make a joke after being shot at couldn't be all bad. If she was the enemy, he had the 9mm… but friendly or not, there was no way he was going to ask her not to shoot again, that would just make him look worse.
And it's a girl… maybe a pretty one…
He did his best to ignore the thought, no point in get-ting his hopes up. For all he knew, she was ninety-eight, bald, and smoked cigars… but even if she wasn't, even if she was a total hottie, he didn't want to end up taking responsibility for any life besides his own, screw that shit. He was free now. Having someone count on you was almost as bad as having to depend on others… The thought was uncomfortable, and he pushed it aside. Anyway, the circumstances weren't exactly ro– mantic, what with a bunch of diseased monsters running wild and death around every corner. Gross, slimy death, too, the kind with maggots and pus. Steve took the steps to the courtyard two at a time, his eyes adjusting to the post-searchlight dark as he stepped out to meet her. She stood in the center of the courtyard, a gun in hand… and as he got closer, it was all he could do not to stare. She was muddy and wet and about the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen, her face like a model's, big eyes and fine, even features. Reddish hair in a dripping ponytail. An inch or two shorter than him, and about the same age, he thought – he'd be eighteen in a couple of months, and she couldn't be much older. She wore jeans, boots, and a sleeveless pink vest over a tight black half tee, her flat stomach showing, the entire outfit ac– centuating her lean, athletic body… and although she looked tired and wary, her gray-blue eyes sparkled brightly.
Say something cool, play it cool no matter what…
Steve wanted to tell her he was sorry about firing at her, to tell her who he was and what had happened dur– ing the attack, to say something suave and worldly and interesting… "You're not a zombie," he blurted, inwardly cursing even as it came out. Brilliant. "No shit," she said mildly, and he suddenly realized that her weapon was pointing at him, she held it low, but she was definitely aiming it. Even as he froze she took a step back and raised the gun, watching him closely, her finger under the trigger guard and the muz– zle only inches from his face. "And who the hell are you?"
The kid smiled. If he was nervous, he was doing a good job of not letting it show. Claire didn't take her fin– ger off the trigger, but she was already half convinced that he was no threat to her. She'd shot out the light, but he easily could have strafed the yard and taken her down. "Relax, beautiful," he said, still smiling. "My name's Steve Burnside, I'm… I was a prisoner here." "Beautiful?" Oh, great. Nothing annoyed her more than being patronized. On the other hand, he was obvi-ously younger than her, which probably meant he was just trying to assert his maleness, to be a man rather than a boy. In her experience, there were few things more ob– noxious than someone trying to be something they weren't. He looked her up and down, obviously checking her out, and she took another step back, the gun unwavering; she wasn't going to take any chances. The weapon was an M93R, an Italian 9mm, an excellent handgun and appar– ently standard issue for the prison guards; Chris had one of them. She'd found it after diving for cover, next to the dead, outstretched fingers of a man in uniform… and if she shot the young Mr. Burnside with it at this range, most of his handsome face would be on the ground. He looked like an actor she'd seen before, the lead in that movie about the sinking ship; the resemblance was striking. "I'm guessing you're not from Umbrella, either," he said casually. "I'm sorry about opening up on you like that, by the way. I didn't think there was anyone else alive around here, so when the door opened…" He shrugged. "Anyway," he said, cocking an eyebrow, obviously trying to be charming. "What's your name?" There was no way Umbrella had hired this kid, she was more sure of it with each word out of his mouth. She slowly lowered the semiautomatic, wondering why Umbrella would want to imprison someone so young. They wanted to imprison you, remember? She was only nineteen. "Claire, Claire Redfield," she said. "I was brought here as a prisoner just today." "Talk about timing," Steve said, and she had to smile a little at that; she'd been thinking the same thing herself. "Claire, that's a nice name," he continued, looking into her eyes. "I'll definitely remember that." Oh, brother. She wondered if she should shut him down now or later – she and Leon had gotten pretty tight – and decided that later might be better. There was no question that she'd have to take him with her to look for an escape, and she didn't want to deal with his re-proach along the way.