Rain hammered Raccoon City's streets, washing the blood on the asphalt into pale smears. Buildings burned in the distance, smoke mixing with the downpour.
Ryan and Jill burst from the alley behind the apartment into the open.
All communications were dead. Phone lines, cell towers, internet, all down. Raccoon City had been abandoned overnight.
The streets were gutted. Overturned vehicles choked every road at odd angles, storefronts smashed open, debris scattered through standing water that reflected both firelight and the shambling dark shapes wading through it. Rain, the low drone of the undead, the distant groan of collapsing concrete.
Zombies were everywhere. Some leaned against burning lampposts, their skin charred black, still twitching with mechanical persistence. Others lay half-pinned beneath wrecked cars, severed limbs trailing in the floodwater, gurgling out wet, guttural moans. Clusters of them gathered at intersections, heads rotating without purpose, hunting for the scent of something still alive.
"Comms are gone." Jill moved low along a row of abandoned vehicles, shotgun tight against her shoulder, voice steady despite everything. "Phones, networks, all of it. We're on our own."
Ryan scanned the chaos ahead, eyes sharp and unhurried. "We're too exposed up here. Street-level is a death trap." He glanced at her. "Follow me. We're heading for the subway station."
Jill blinked. "The subway? You're sure about that?"
"Underground tunnels offer better cover, fewer infected. Stay on the surface and we get boxed in." He kept it short. "Subway entrance first. Then we figure out our next move."
After everything they'd survived together, she didn't need convincing.
"Alright. Lead the way."
They pushed forward single-file, picking through the wreckage.
Infected wandered the streets in loose packs. Stiff-legged, skin gone the color of wet ash, eyes clouded and vacant. Nothing behind them but hunger. They drifted out from side streets, from under cars, from the hollowed shells of shops. Some had dark blood crusted around their mouths. Others wore shredded clothing over wounds that should have killed them twice over. Low, rasping snarls rose from their throats as they closed in. Rain streamed off rigid bodies and did nothing to slow them down.
Jill fired first.
The shotgun blast ripped through the downpour and dropped the nearest zombie flat. She racked the slide, aimed, fired again. Fluid, mechanical, precise. Pure S.T.A.R.S. training on display.
Ryan was right behind her.
He raised his weapon and squeezed. No hesitation, minimal aim correction. The round punched clean through a zombie's forehead and sent it crumpling backward.
"Your shooting's come a long way." Jill spared him a sidelong glance, a note of approval in her voice.
"Didn't want to slow you down." He smiled.
The corner of her mouth twitched upward before the tension snapped back into place. "Stay sharp. There's plenty more."
Frantic footsteps erupted from a nearby alley mouth.
A man stumbled out, soaked to the bone, face drained of all color. His clothes were torn, his eyes wild with terror. He ran full tilt, glancing over his shoulder every other step like something was right on his heels.
Jill recognized his face and stopped dead.
"Brad?"
He whipped around. The moment he saw her, he froze. Then he lurched toward her.
"Jill! It's really you!" Brad's voice cracked, breath coming in ragged gasps. "I thought you were dead!"
She closed the distance and gave him a quick once-over, frowning. "What are you doing out here? Are you hurt?"
He waved her off between heaving breaths, still shaking. "I'm fine! Got cornered by a pack of zombies in the alleys, barely fought my way out!" Fear bled through every word. "That thing... it's right behind me! It's been hunting us. Hunting S.T.A.R.S. specifically!"
Ryan stood to the side, expression unchanged.
None of this surprised him. Brad showing up in this part of the city was something he'd already anticipated. The only thing he hadn't expected was how badly the man had been run down, or how early their paths would cross.
"The big guy?" Jill's face hardened.
"That's it!" Brad's voice shook. "It's not a normal zombie. Bullets barely scratch it. It won't stop until every last one of us is dead!"
Jill took a slow breath and turned to Ryan, the question clear in her look.
He'd already thought it through. Another person meant more risk, more noise, a slower pace. But Brad was Jill's teammate. Leaving him behind wasn't an option.
"Bring him." Ryan's voice was low and firm. "We can't stay here. Subway station. Now."
Jill nodded and grabbed Brad's arm. "You're coming with us. We're heading underground to find a way out."
"The subway's still running?" Brad steadied himself against her grip.
"Don't know yet. But staying up here is a guaranteed death sentence." Jill left it at that.
Ryan raised his weapon and picked off the zombies that the gunfire had drawn in, each shot precise, carving a path through the converging dead. "Keep moving. Pick up the pace. Stay close."
The three of them plunged into the storm together.
High above, helicopter silhouettes cut through the clouds. Searchlights swept across the city's carcass in wide, indifferent arcs, their rotor noise swallowed by wind, rain, and distant explosions. They weren't dropping supplies or deploying rescue teams. Just watching.
Ryan took point, clearing the road ahead. The rain did nothing to dull his focus. His eyes caught every threat before it materialized, dropping targets while shielding the two behind him.
And somewhere in the darkness at their backs, heavy footsteps fell in a slow, steady rhythm.
Getting closer.