The elevator did go down, though not as Leon had
expected, and not nearly as fast as he needed it to go.
The wide platform slipped down an angled tunnel,
like a slide, neon gridwork on black walls humming
past. Slowly.
"... now forty seconds to reach minimum safe
distance."
"Go go go..." Leon breathed, every ache and pain in his body forgotten in the rising dread that beat at
his brain. The voice had stopped telling him to report
to the bottom platform, now only making announce-
ments in ten-second increments. As much as he
loathed the repeated instructions, it was much worse
not hearing them; the silences between the statements
were telling him not to bother trying.
To make it this far and then die because of a slow
elevator... He couldn't accept that. He'd been
through too much. The car crash, Claire, the running
and the monsters and Ada and Birkin - he had to
make it, or it was all for nothing.
There didn't seem to be a real floor beneath the
descending platform, or he would've tried it on
foot, but the lift seemed to be lowering by grooves
cut into either side of the darkness, by some mecha-
nism that he couldn't begin to guess at.
"... twenty seconds to reach ..."
Leon started to shake, the tension running through
his muscles, tightening them, making it hard to
breathe. What was safe distance? When that cool, inhuman voice reached zero, how long before the
explosion?
Full throttle, she said full throttle...
The train would have to be fast. And he had ten
seconds left to get to it, as the strange elevator
continued its smooth, unhurried trek down into the
dark.
The door slid shut and Sherry was safe. For the
moment. Claire's thoughts had kicked into overdrive,
spinning through her limited options in a flash.
Can't let him knock it off the tracks...
She knew she couldn't hope to injure the creature,
but she might be able to distract it long enough for
them to get away. She wished she'd bothered to show
Sherry the simple controls for the train, wished that
the train was already moving, taking Sherry to
safety -
- but I didn't and we have to go NOW.
The recorded message was counting down the final
ten seconds to reach a safe distance. As the smoking
remains of Mr. X dealt another hammering blow to
the dented subway wall, Claire aimed for its mutant
head and fired.
Five shots, four of them smacking into the bizarre
material that made up its flesh, about where a hu-
man's ear would be. The fifth went wide, and as the
explosive thunder echoed through the shadows of the
chill platform, the thing that she'd dubbed Mr. X
turned slowly toward her.
Now what?
The recorded female voice distracted her for a split-
second, as Mr. X took a single step toward her, a
lumbering, monstrous step that pulled it out of the
shadows.
". . . three. Two. One. Safe distance minimum now
required. Self-destruct will occur in five minutes.
There are now five minutes until detonation."
The alarms still blared, but at least the voice had
shut up. She wouldn't have noticed in any case, her
wide-eyed gaze fixed on the creature. It was hideous,
all the more so for its still humanoid shape, like a
mockery of reality, of sanity. In spite of the charred,
smoking patches that covered most of its body, its
unnatural flesh hadn't lost its elasticity; the reddish
matter beneath the burns flexed and contracted like
real muscle. It looked like a skinned giant that had
crawled from beneath a burning building - and if it
had suffered from its molten metal bath, she couldn't
see it. Another mighty step, and the arms rose, the
barred gate was ripped down, the iron bars were
crashing to the concrete.
Slow at least, at least there's still that...
It was the only thing she had going for her. Claire
sprinted for the subway door, still afraid, but the
smoking monster was slow, powerful but unable to
really move...
... and suddenly, Mr. X wasn't just walking any- more. The creature bent at the waist, bent its knees
and pushed off the ground in a dynamic lunge
that tore gouges in the concrete, its deformed feet
propelling it toward her at a full run.
Claire didn't think. She dodged right and took off
past the hunched, loping monster, running as fast as
she could. It almost got her anyway, its reflexes faster
than fast - as if losing its facade of skin had freed it
somehow, the liauid metal oaring it down to its core
strength. As she leapt over the broken gate and into
the shadows, she heard the screech of not-flesh fingers
raking across the cement, saw that Mr. X had brought
one mighty arm up, slashing through the air where
she'd been only a second before. It meant to disem-
bowel her -
- but why, no G-Virus, no reason -
Claire ran deeper into the echoing darkness as the
intercom system calmly informed her that they had
four minutes left.
"There are now four minutes until detonation..."
Shit shit shit!
Just when he thought he might have a stroke from
the frustration, the elevator had finally stopped. Leon
jerked at the handle to a thick metal door, tensing
himself to run...
... and the door opened into one wall of a passage, a
sterile concrete corridor lit by flickering overhead
bars. And there were no signs telling him which way
to go.
Left or right?
The few seconds that he hesitated could cost him
his life - he still had any chance at all.
He'd heard once that when faced with a choice,
most people instinctively turned in the direction of
their dominant hand. With the crappy luck he'd had
throughout his long, long night in Raccoon, he de-
cided to go the other way.
Left. Leon ran, his boots pounding the floor, won-
dering if he should even bother.
* * *
Not far past the broken gate, Claire saw a walkway
that crossed over the train, the stairs hidden by deep
shadow...
... and she heard the pounding of Mr. X behind as
it started after her, each running step a violent slap of
mutant flesh against cement. The terror drove her on,
her feet hardly touching the ground, not caring if she
ran head-on into a wall in the deepening dark. Maybe
that would be best, it was tremendously powerful, it
was fast, it was impossible to kill - she didn't stand a chance if it caught her...
... and the steps were getting louder, faster, she
heard the ripping scrape of its clawed fingers plowing
up concrete. She had maybe a second before that hand
tore into her...
... and she dodged right again, throwing herself into
a well of darkness just past the stairs. Mr. X flew past,
a mammoth, hulking blur, and she actually felt the
wind from his moving hand whisper against her leg as
she hit the cold floor.
Sharp pain shot up her arm, her elbow cracking
hard against the cement. She ignored it, jumping to
her feet, searching for the monster in the dark.
Can it see, does it see me?
Her hand found an angled wall to the right, cement
against her back and on the left. She was in the space
beneath the stairs, and she had no idea where the
impossibly silent X was; the shadows wouldn't help
her if it could see in the dark.
She ran her hands over the walls, found a switch
and punched it. The texture of shadow changed as
dim light filtered down from somewhere above and
she saw the monster less than fifty feet away just as it
turned, its thick red gaze scanning evenly across the
deserted platform...
... and finding her. Marking her. The only sound
was a soft crackling coming from its still-smoking
flesh - until it took a step for the stairwell, and
cement crunched beneath one purpled leg.
Six or seven shots left, get the eyes...
Claire stepped quickly out of the shadows and
raised Irons's gun, squeezing the trigger, backing
toward the stairs.
Bam-bam-bam...
... and X was positioning itself for another attack,
the bullets smashing into its melted face, two of them
ricocheting from the matter of its skull as it aligned to
her position.
... bam-bam...
She was at the stairs, sidling up a step, the rounds
useless, Mr. X starting its lurching run. It would be on
her before she could turn, before she could get up the
steps.
- I'll die -
- but at least I'll hurt it first -
Mr. X took one - two powerful strides, halving the
distance between them as Claire aimed, determined
to make the last shots count. She would die, and her
only regret was for Sherry, her only wish that she
would be able to incapacitate the nightmare X before
it killed her.
She fired, and the monster's left eye exploded, a
burst of inky fluid splattering its wretched, inhuman
face.
Yes!
Mr. X veered to its right, not stopping but not
coming straight at her anymore - it would still hit the
base of the stairs - too close! - she had to try for the other eye and she had about two seconds left...
Claire aimed, found her mark, and...
... click!...
... there were no bullets left, and the monster was
slamming into the base of the steps, the smell of
roasted meat washing over her as it raised its giant
hand up, and its giant, terrible body was all she could
see.
Claire rolled down the concrete stairs, hunching
herself into a ball and screamed
as Mr. X's ragged clawed fingers
raked across her left thigh, and a distant voice told her
that they had three minutes left.
THIRTY-ONE
HE'D GONE THE WRONG WAY. TWISTS AND
turns in the cold and empty hall had led him to a
storage room - a dead end.
"There are now three minutes until detonation."
Leon turned back the way he'd come, and with
what felt like the very last of his strength, forced
himself into a stumbling run. He was too exhausted to
feel disappointed, to worry about his impending
death, to wish that things were different; it took all of
his energy just to keep moving.
He'd make it or he wouldn't; either way, he didn't
think he'd be surprised.
Claire hit the floor at the base of the stairs and
leapt to her feet, blood running down her leg in a hot
pulse of stinging pain. She staggered away, nothing
broken, but she knew her clawed leg was just the begin-
ning of what it would do to her, a prelude to the real
pain.
Mr. X was still bent over the railing of the steps, but
as she stumbled away, back toward the broken gate of
the platform, the monster pushed itself off. It turned
its immense body in her direction, the open blackness
of its empty eye socket drooling out some dark and
ichorous liquid. It would compensate for its altered
senses, she was sure - it would compensate, realign,
run at her again - and would slaughter her like the
merciless machine it was, there was nothing she could do to stop it.
At least I'll die in the explosion...
Claire tripped on the metal bars of the gate, barely
catching herself, blood pattering to the ground as she
staggered another step, please let it be quick... "Here! Use this!"
Claire spun, saw that Mr. X was positioning itself
for its killing strike - and saw the silhouette high
above, on the walkway over the train. A woman's
voice, a woman's shape, the shadowed figure throwing
something -
- who -
- that clattered across the concrete, landing be-
tween her and Mr. X. It was metal, it was silver,
she'd seen them in movies, it was a machine gun
and Claire ran for it. Another final hope, another
chance, however slim, that she and Sherry would
survive.
She reached the weapon, dropped, saw X pushing
itself toward her, the thunder of its steps shaking the
ground and she scooped up the heavy gun, kicking
against the floor and rolling onto her back, her
shaking hand finding the trigger, her body moving to
accommodate the weapon. Stock on the ground, arms
twisted around the cold metal, aiming -
- please please -
The monster was only a step away when the spray of
bullets crashed out of the gun, a clattering, rattling
string of tiny explosions that shook Claire's entire
body and whammed into the gut of the beast, the
sheer force of so many rounds stopping it in mid-
stride and pushing it back.
- tattatattatatta -
She felt the vibrating metal trying to shake itself
free of her grip, so she held it tighter, the butt of the
weapon tapping against the floor at a manic pace. The
bullets were still pounding into the creature's abdo-
men, so fast and so many that she couldn't hear her
own gasping cries of fury and pain and exaltation...
... and Mr. X was trying to move forward, but a
strange thing was happening, a strange and beautiful
thing. Its gut was being shredded by the endless stream
of rounds, its midsection gaining depth and texture,
black fluids coursing down its lower half from the
ragged, growing wound. X's mouth was open, an
empty hole like its eye socket - and like the socket,
thick liquid was pouring out, obscuring its pitiless
face.
- tattatattatat -
Claire held on, directing the hail, watching the
creature try to stand against the pulsing, crashing spray. Watching it bleed. Watching as it seemed to
condense, its massive body crumpling, its torso sink-
ing down.
The bullets still flying, Mr. X raised its arms
and split in two.
Claire took her finger off the trigger as X's upper
body toppled to the cement, a wet slap of heavy meat,
and its legs collapsed, falling to one side, more strange
blood gushing from both halves. Pools of shiny black
grew around the massive pieces of its broken body,
forming stinking puddles. The creature was dead
and even if it wasn't, it didn't matter anymore. Unless
it could pull itself across the floor as fast as she could
run, her battle with the terrible mystery that had been
Mr. X was finally through -
- hell with all that, no time, MOVE!
Claire was on her feet in a second, ignoring the
squelch of blood in her boot and the pain that had
caused it, her gaze searching the upper platform for
her unknown savior. No one was there, and she didn't
know if another minute had ticked by, the warning
lost in the gunfire.
"Hey!" Claire shouted, backing toward the subway car. "We have to go, now!"
No answer, no sound but the ringing in her ears and
the echo of her trembling words. If she wanted to save
Sherry . . .
Claire turned and ran.
* * *
"... two minutes until..."
Leon pushed himself to go faster, the twining
tunnel a blur of gray that spun past his aching,
breathless perception. He'd lost all track of the turns
and twists of the corridor and was rapidly losing
hope, a voice in the back of his mind telling him that
maybe it would be best to stop, to sit and rest
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