Resident Evil Volume 3 Chapter 29


 and then he heard it, and that tiny, despairing

whisper was obliterated by the sound.

The sound of heavy machinery stirring to life,

somewhere up ahead. Not far ahead.

Train!

Faster, legs distant, rubbery, lungs working, heart

pounding - one way or another, it was almost over.

 

THIRTY-TWO

CLAIRE BURST INTO THE TRAIN, HOLDING A

giant rifle and with one leg covered in blood, barely

pausing to hit the controls to the door before running

for the engineer's booth. Sherry knew that they were

in trouble, that it was going to be close, so she didn't waste time asking questions; she followed, relieved

beyond measure that Claire was okay but keeping it to

herself.

Okay, she's okay and we're going now...

A small, tinny version of the intercom voice and

alarms blared out of the tiny room's control board.

"There are two minutes until detonation."

Claire had dropped the oddly shaped rifle and was

hitting buttons, throwing switches, her attention fixed

on the console. A giant mechanical hum suddenly

enveloped them, a growing, whining rumble that

made Claire grit her teeth; Sherry couldn't tell if it

was a smile, but she smiled as she felt the train

lurch and start to move, taking them away from the

platform.

Claire turned, saw Sherry standing behind her, and

tried to smile. Claire rested one hand on Sherry's

shoulder, but didn't say anything - so Sherry didn't

either, waiting to see what would happen.

The train started to go faster, sliding past dimly lit

halls and platforms, the tunnel in front of them dark

and empty. Sherry let the warmth of Claire's hand

remind her that they were friends, that whatever

happened, Claire was her friend...

... and she saw a man, a policeman, stumble into

view ahead on the left, and then the train was gliding

past him, his eyes wide and searching and desperate

in his dirty face.

"Claire!"

"I see him..."

Claire turned and ran out of the booth, her foot-

steps clattering through the metal train car, sprinting

to the door. She hit the control and the door slid open,

the booming, grinding sounds of the subway billowing

into the closed space.

"Leon!" she screamed. "Hurry!"

She jerked back suddenly, a wall sliding by, and

spun around looking as desperate as the man -

- Leon - had. After another second she turned back

and closed the door.

"Did he make it?" Sherry asked, realizing that Claire couldn't possibly know, even as the words

came out of her mouth.

Claire came to her and put an arm around her, as

the train kept going faster and her face knotted with

worry...

... and the voice in the intercom told them they had

one minute left...

... and the door in the back of the car opened. In

stumbled Leon, his arm wrapped with a shredded,

stained bandage, his hair matted with dark, dried goo, his eyes bright and blue in the mask of dirt.

"Full throttle!" he shouted; Claire nodded, and Leon blew out a heavy breath. He staggered toward

them, the train shifting back and forth, speeding now,

rocketing through the tunnel. He put his arm around

Claire, and Claire hugged him tightly.

"Ada?" Claire whispered. "Ann ... the scientist?" Leon shook his head, and Sherry saw that he might

cry. "No. I didn't - no."

". . . thirty seconds until detonation. Twenty-

nine . . . twenty-eight. . ."

The woman's voice kept counting down, the num-

bers seeming to come twice as fast as they should, and

Sherry buried her face in Claire's warm side, thinking

about her mom. Mom and Dad. She hoped that

they'd gotten out, that they were safe somewhere,

but they're probably not. They're probably dead.

Sherry could hear Claire's heart pounding, and she

hugged her friend tighter, thinking that she would

think about it later.

". . . five. Four. Three. Two. One. Sequence com-

plete. Detonation."

For a second, there was no sound at all. The alarms

had finally stopped, and the clattering movement of

the racing train was all there was to hear

and then there was an explosion, a muffled

sound, a shoomp sound that kept going, growing,

becoming huge.

Sherry closed her eyes and the train rocked sud-

denly, horribly, and they were all thrown to the metal

floor as bright, burning light flickered through the

window, as the sounds of a car crash blasted all

around them, heavy thumps raining over the roof

and the train kept going. It kept going, and the

light went away, and they weren't dead.

The blinding flash dissipated, faded, and Leon felt

the tension leaking out of his body. He rolled onto his

side, and saw Claire sitting up, reaching for the hand

of the young girl next to her.

"Okay?" Claire asked the girl, and the child nod- ded. Both of them turned to him, their faces express-

ing what he felt - shock, exhaustion, disbelief, hope.

"Leon Kennedy, this is Sherry Birkin," Claire said, saying the words carefully, the slightest accent on

"Birkin." He got the message even without the inten- sity of her gaze, nodding his understanding before

smiling at the girl.

"Sherry, this is Leon," Claire continued. "I met him when I had just gotten to Raccoon."

Sherry returned his smile, a weary, too-adult smile

that seemed out of place; she was too young to smile like that.

One more rotten deed to lay at Umbrella's door,

innocence stolen from a child. . .

For a few seconds, they just sat there on the floor,

staring at one another, smiles fading all around. Leon

hardly dared to hope that it was really over, that they

were leaving the terror behind. Again, he saw his

feelings mirrored in front of him, in Sherry's worried

brow and Claire's tired gray eyes...

... and when they heard the distant squeal of metal

coming from somewhere at the back of the train, he

didn't see any surprise. A rending, tearing screech

followed by a heavy, somehow stealthy thump and

then nothing.

Should've known it isn't over...

"Zombie?" Sherry whispered, the word almost lost in the gently clattering sound of the speeding train.

"I don't know, sweetie," Claire said softly, and for the first time, Leon noticed that her left leg was ripped

to shit, blood oozing from several ragged scratches;

he'd been too amazed at his, at their narrow escape to

see it before.

"How about I go take a look?" Leon said, taking his cue from Claire, keeping his voice mild and even; no

point in scaring Sherry any worse. He stood up,

nodding toward Claire's leg.

"Sherry, why don't you stay here with Claire, keep

an eye on that leg? I'll see if I can find some bandages

while I'm checking things out; don't let her move,

okay?"

Sherry nodded, her small face intent with purpose

that again was too old for her years. "Got it."

"I'll be back in a minute," he said, and turned

toward the back of the swaying train, praying that it

was nothing at all and knowing better, as he reached

for the Remington and went to see.

Leon opened the door, the sounds of the rolling

train amplified for a second before it closed behind

him. Claire couldn't see him enter the next car from

her position on the floor, and wished she'd been in

shape to go with him; if there was something else on

the train, Sherry wasn't safe, none of them were -

- don't think like that, it's nothing. It's over -

- like it was over with Mr. X?

"What should I do?" Sherry asked, pulling Claire away from the disheartening thoughts. "Direct pres- sure, right?"

Claire nodded. "Yeah, except we're both pretty grimy, and I think it's starting to clot. Let's see if Leon

comes back with something clean ..."

She trailed off, her thoughts going back to Mr. X. There was something nagging at her but she was a

little dizzy from the blood she'd lost...

... G-Virus. It wanted the G-Virus before.

Why had Mr. X come to the subway platform? Why

had it been trying to get inside the train, unless...

Claire struggled to get up, fighting her swimming

head and the throbbing pain in her leg.

"Hey, don't move," Sherry said, a look of deep distress in her eyes. "Leon said to stay still!"

She might have been able to overcome her physical

problems, but seeing Sherry on the edge of panic was

too much; if there was some G-Virus creature on

board, if that was why Mr. X had come, Leon would

have to face it alone. She couldn't leave Sherry. If

Leon didn't come back, she'd have to figure out how

to detach their train car, or stop the train so they

could get off before the creature could get to them...

Claire shut the thoughts off, forcing a smile for

Sherry. "Yes ma'am. I just wanted to make sure he got through the second car..."

She could see the relief sweep across Sherry's face.

"Oh. Well, forget it, I'm taking care of you now, and I

say you stay still."

Claire nodded absently, hoping that she was wrong,

hoping that Leon would be back any second -

- Bam! Bam! Bam!

The thunder of the Remington was loud and clear.

Sherry grabbed her hand as two more shots blasted

the hope from Claire's fuzzy mind, as the train sped

through the dark.

The second car was clear, the same wide-open space

that Leon had entered the train by, all dusty steel and

not much else. Whoever had designed the escape

vehicle had obviously figured the Umbrella employ-

ees would have to be packed in like sardines.

Just us three, though - and our stowaway...

There was nothing to see, but Leon moved slowly

nonetheless, carefully scanning the shadowy corners

and steeling himself for whatever was in the last car.

Whatever it was, it couldn't be as bad as the thing that

had jumped him in the cargo room, the Birkin-thing,

if that was what it was. The thought that the creature

had anything at all to do with Claire's young friend

was deeply unsettling, even obscene. A monster and a

madwoman, both destroyed, both parents of the little

girl. . .

He reached the back of the dim and rocking train

car and peered through the door, pushing all other

thoughts aside as he tried to make out anything at all

in the last car. Darkness, and nothing else.

Hell.

Maybe there wasn't anything to see, but he had to

look. He felt his heart start to pound fresh adrenaline

through his body, felt his weariness fall away. Noth-

ing, it was surely nothing, but it felt bad. Wrong.

Last thing, very last thing. . .

He took a deep breath and opened the door, step-

ping into the loud, whipping breeze of the outside,

holding on to the rail. The rattle of the train drowned

out the thumping of his heart as he moved to the last

Post a Comment

0 Comments