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, DESPER-
ately 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 & 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 ...
... and why are you assuming anything?
As Leon took the corner of Ash and Third a little
too quickly, the realization finally hit him that the
station itself might be crawling with corpses. Every-
thing was happening so fast, he just hadn't considered
the possibility. He straightened out the car and let up
on the gas, trying to come up with an alternate plan as
calmly and rationally as he could. Maybe there was an organized defense at the station, but it wasn't easy
to feel hopeful with the stink of decay so heavy in the
air.
We have three-quarters of a tank, more than enough
to make it over the mountains; we could be in Latham
in less than an hour.
They could drive by the station and if it looked
unfriendly, just get the hell out of town; sounded good
to him. He started to tell Claire, see what she
thought when the horrible smell of slaughter washed over
him and something lunged out of the back seat.
Claire screamed and the monster that had been in
the squad car all along grasped Leon's shoulder with
icy hands, its flyblown breath gusting into his face. It
snatched at his right arm, pulling it toward its drool-
slick teeth with inhuman strength.
"No!" Leon shouted as the car veered wildly to the right, jumping the curb and sliding toward a brick
building. The creature was unbalanced, losing some
of its grip; Leon jerked the wheel but too late to avoid
the wall completely. Metal shrieked and a brilliant
flash of sparks illuminated the groping hands and
leering, ghoulish grin of their passenger as the speed-
ing car shot back out into the street.
The dead thing swung its eager arms at Claire, and
without thinking, Leon slammed on the gas and
pulled a hard right. The car fishtailed, the back end
crunching against a parked pickup truck in another
burst of fiery sparks. The drooling corpse fell back
into the padded seat but immediately pulled itself
forward again, gnashing its teeth and clawing for the
girl. . .
The squad car sped down Third, Leon trying to
control the wheel as he grabbed his weapon and half-
turned, holding the Magnum by the barrel. He didn't
think to take his foot off the gas, couldn't think
of anything except that the zombie was about to sink
its teeth into Claire's struggling shoulder.
He brought the heavy weapon down and across its
face, the butt sliding across flesh that peeled away in a
thick flap. Blood gushed from the wound as the grips
crushed into its nose, cartilage separating from bone
with a wet crunch. Gurgling, the creature clutched at
its bleeding head and Leon just had time to feel a
second's triumph...
... when Claire screamed, "Look out!"
and Leon looked up to see that they were about
to crash.
Leon hit the zombie with his gun and Claire in-
stinctively flinched from the splatter of blood, her
horrified gaze finding that the street they were on was about to end.
Look out!"
She caught just a glimpse of his white knuckles on
the wheel, his clenched jaw...
... and the car was spinning, screeching, buildings
and streetlights flashing by so fast that all she saw was
a blur, and then...
BAM!
There was an explosion of sound, of glass shattering
and metal compressing as the cop car slammed into
something solid, throwing Claire against her safety
belt. The impact hurled the zombie forward at the
same time, and Claire reflexively threw her arms up as
the dead thing crashed through the windshield -
- and then everything was still. There was only the
ticking of hot metal and the sound of her own heart
thundering in her ears. Claire brought her arms down
and saw that Leon had already recovered, was already
staring at the bloody, broken mess sprawled across the
hood, its head hanging mercifully out of sight. It
wasn't moving.
"You okay?"
Claire turned and looked at Leon, suddenly having
to fight off a semi-hysterical laughing fit. Raccoon had
been taken over by the living dead and they'd just
been in a serious car wreck because a corpse had been
trying to eat them. All things considered, "okay" was
not the first word to come to mind.
At the sight of Leon's sincere and stricken expres-
sion, the urge to freak out passed. He looked on the
edge of a fit himself; allowing her devastated nerves
free reign wouldn't help anything.
"Still in one piece," she managed, and the young cop nodded, seeming relieved.
Claire took a deep breath, feeling like it was the first
she'd taken in hours, and looked around at where
they'd ended up. Leon had managed a complete 180
at the very end of the street where it T-ed, the
obviously totaled squad car facing back the way
they'd come. There were no zombies in the immedi-
ate vicinity, but Claire had the feeling that they
wouldn't have long to find cover; from what she'd
seen so far, most if not all of Raccoon had been
affected by - by whatever it was that had happened.
She held the handgun tightly, trying to get her tangled
emotions under control.
"We ..." Leon started to say something and then
stopped, his eyes widening as he stared at the rear-
view mirror. Claire looked behind her ... and for a
second, could only think that at some point since
she'd left the university, she'd been cursed.
Cursed. Somebody wants me dead, that's all there is
to it.
A semi was barreling down the street, still several
blocks away but close enough for them to see that it
was out of control. The truck veered back and forth,
smashing against a blue pickup parked on one side of
the street and then plowing under a mailbox on the
other. Claire realized with numb horror that it was a
tanker - and from the way the haul was sliding dan-
gerously at each frantic swerve, the driver had a full
load. In the split-second that it took to digest that
information, to pray that it wasn't gas or oil, the
tanker had halved the distance between them. She
could actually see the flames painted across the dark
green cab, but even then it wasn't real until Leon
broke their stunned silence.
"... maniac's gonna ram us," he breathed, and then they were both stabbing at the seat-belt releases,
Claire praying that the crash hadn't locked them
somehow ...
The sound of the belts letting go were inaudible
beneath the rising monolithic growl of the oncoming
tanker and the echoing crunch of cars being side-
swiped left and right. It would be on them in a
heartbeat.
"Run!" Leon shouted, and then she was pushing her way out of the squad car, cool air against her
sweaty skin and the scream of the truck's engine
blocking out everything else.
She took three giant running leaps and then felt as
much as heard the impact, the asphalt shaking be-
neath her feet even as the crash of rending metal
thundered behind her.
One more flying step, and ...
KABOOM!
... she was being pushed, shoved roughly off her feet
by an incredible pressure wave of heat and sound. She
managed to kick off against the ground as the tanker's
explosion turned night to day in one brilliant instant.
An awkward shoulder roll, grit biting into her heat-
blasted skin, and she landed behind a parked car in a
gasping heap.
There was a brief, clattering rain of smoking debris,
and Claire was on her feet, stumbling back into the
street to search the towering flames for some sign of
Leon. Her heart sank. The tanker, squad car, and
what had once been a hardware store were all envel-
oped in an inferno of chemical fire, the street com-
pletely blocked by the mass of twisted, burning
destruction.
"Claire ..."
Leon's voice, muffled but audible through the wall
of curling flame.
"Leon?"
"I'm okay!" he shouted. "Head to the station, I'll meet you there!"
Claire hesitated for a second, staring down at the
handgun she still held tightly in one shaky hand. She
was afraid, scared of being alone in a city that had
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