Rain beat down on Raccoon City without mercy, flooding the streets ankle-deep in water stained pink with blood. Fires guttered in distant buildings, their glow barely visible through the rain.
Ryan led the way with his Desert Eagle drawn, moving fast and sure between overturned cars and rubble. His X-ray perception spread outward, mapping every zombie in range. He raised the pistol, fired, raised it again. Clean, efficient kills. The heavy-caliber rounds obliterated skulls on impact, clearing a path for the two behind him.
Jill kept pace at his flank, shotgun up, picking off infected that slipped through on the sides. Rain had plastered her blonde hair to her cheeks. Her eyes never stopped moving.
Brad followed close behind. He was a helicopter pilot, not a ground fighter, but he'd survived the Arklay Mountains. He'd seen what came after the mansion. His face was bloodless now, his breathing shallow, clothes soaked through, but he held himself together and kept up.
"Bar up ahead." Ryan locked onto a small pub on the street corner. "We duck in, regroup, then push for the subway station."
"Got it!" Brad said through clenched teeth.
The three of them dropped low and wove through the shambling dead. Ryan's Desert Eagle boomed in steady rhythm, every shot finding its mark. Jill covered the flank in seamless coordination. Brad gripped his handgun and stayed ready, pulling his weight without complaint.
A few dozen meters of sprinting. Tense, but clean.
They reached the bar's entrance.
"Inside, now!"
Ryan shouldered the door open. Jill and Brad slipped through after him. Brad spun and grabbed the door, hauling it shut.
The door was an inch from closing when three zombies lunged from the shadows on either side, drawn by the noise. They threw themselves at the gap, clawing for Brad.
Too close. Too fast.
Brad's eyes went wide and he stumbled back. Rotting fingers raked past his shoulder, missing by a hair.
Jill swung her shotgun up, but there wasn't time.
Ryan stepped between Brad and the doorway, wrist snapping level. The Desert Eagle barked twice.
The first two zombies dropped with their skulls blown apart. The third made it through the gap. He sidestepped its claws and put a round through its head at point-blank range.
Almost simultaneously, Jill threw her weight into the door and slammed it shut.
The three of them dragged a heavy oak bar counter across the entrance and braced it against the frame, sealing the outside world out.
Silence settled over the bar. Nothing but the sound of three people trying to catch their breath.
Brad slumped against the wall and exhaled long and slow. His back was drenched in cold sweat.
Jill studied him, her tone carrying a weight that went beyond the words. "Where have you been hiding? After the city went to hell, you dropped off the map completely."
A bitter smile crossed his face. He wiped rain from his eyes, voice low and spent. "Things started going wrong five or six days before the outbreak hit."
He paused. He hesitated. "It started with a few bizarre attacks on the outskirts. The assailants were stiff, biting people, tearing at them with their teeth. The news buried it hard. Called them violent incidents. Nothing more."
"I was still pulling normal shifts at the helipad. Only thing I heard was from you guys after you got back. That what happened in the mountains was way worse than anything in the official reports. Hospitals were filling up with bite victims, wounds that wouldn't heal, tissue rotting on the bone. But the brass kept a lid on everything."
"Three days before it blew, attacks started happening downtown. I watched a civilian snap in the middle of the street. Tackled a passerby and started biting. Cops shot center mass and it did nothing. Had to go for the head." He swallowed. "That's when I knew these weren't people anymore."
Jill's brow furrowed. "The department had no contingency plan at all?"
"Nothing." Brad shook his head, voice hollow with exhaustion. "I'm a pilot. I had no authority to act. All I could do was watch Umbrella personnel in hazmat suits going in and out of the precinct and the hospitals. The atmosphere kept getting stranger by the day."
"The day before the outbreak, power and water started cutting in and out across the city. Comms got spotty. I knew something was coming, so I spent the whole night checking over my chopper, trying to stay ready for an evac order." His jaw tightened. "The order never came. Everything just... collapsed."
"Dawn of the first day, screaming and gunfire everywhere. Infected pouring out of every direction. The whole city was overrun in hours. I couldn't even get near the helipad. All I could do was run. I've been hiding ever since."
Jill's expression darkened. "It was a cover-up from the start. By the time it broke open, nobody could get out."
"Every road out of the city is blocked," Brad said, dropping his voice. "Not by police. Armed personnel. I tried to approach once. They weren't rescuing anyone. They opened fire the second I got close. Nobody leaves Raccoon City."
"And the water supply." He pressed on. "The tap water tasted off the day before the outbreak. I didn't drink it. Found out later that entire neighborhoods went down after drinking from the tap."
Jill's fingers tightened around her shotgun. "They put the virus directly into the water system..."
Brad shuddered.
"There's something else. Not a zombie. Something far worse. Tall. Thick skin, almost like armor. Regular bullets don't even scratch it. Doesn't feel pain, doesn't slow down, and it's fast."
Jill's face changed. "You've encountered it?"
"More than once." His voice trembled. "It can tell we're S.T.A.R.S. It targets us specifically. I've watched teammates die right in front of me... It ignores the zombies. Only goes after the living. Only goes after us."
Jill drew a sharp breath.
"What the hell did Umbrella create..." she murmured.
Brad's throat worked. The color had drained completely from his face.
Last time, in the Arklay Mountains, he'd come back at the final moment. Flew the chopper in and got them out. But this time the entire city was the nightmare, and there was nowhere left to fly.
"After what happened in the mountains, I told myself I'd never face anything that terrifying again." His voice was hoarse. "Raccoon City is a hundred times worse."
"I've been running from hole to hole, and I can't keep it up much longer."
Jill looked at him. "What's done is done. You're with us now. You're not alone anymore."
She turned to Ryan. "We rest here, then move for the subway station. Underground gives us cover and keeps us clear of the worst of it."
Brad took a deep breath and nodded.
He looked at Ryan, gratitude plain on his face. "I owe you one. Back at the door, another second and I wouldn't have made it."
Ryan shook his head. "Don't worry about it. We're safe for now. Focus on getting your strength back."
Outside, the rain eased. The city's wailing never did.
Three survivors of the Arklay incident, sitting in a cramped bar on a dead street, resting while they still could.