Classified Information

Chapter VI
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Leon ran. There was an exit in sight; a service lift at the end of the tunnel, but they were gaining, always gaining. He dove behind a slab of concrete, trying to slow his breathing as he scrambled for his next move. The dogs darted past him, continuing for a dozen yards or so before realizing where he was, turning to face him.

He should have expected the dogs. If zombies had survived, there was no reason to believe that the Cerberus weren’t alive and well. Well, not alive. He could see that they, too, seemed to be affected by the G-Virus. Even in the darkness, he could spot bulging, tumor-like eyes on two of them.

The lead Doberman growled menacingly, approaching slowly, flanked by the other two. But the first was the easiest; the eye was growing right out of the side of its face, and Leon fired a single round to watch it crumple to the ground. The other two dogs raced toward him immediately. They were so damn quick. Just another reason to hate them.

There was no way to escape them. Fortunately, being as eager as they were to attack him, they ran into each other, sparking a small feud between them. He scooted away as they bit and tackled each other angrily. It wasn’t until he was sprinting for the elevator that they noticed him and gave chase. Leon ran, jumping and tumbling over obstacles in his path, but it was never enough. He could hear them gaining.

Leon reached the elevator and scurried inside, throwing the gate closed behind him. The dogs jumped in a last ditch attempt, and pushed their heads in. Leon held the door against them, frantically refusing to let them get any more of their bodies inside. The elevator controls, directly behind him, were just out of reach as long as he held the door against the hounds. They barked and gnashed their jaws, trying to clasp just the tiniest bit of him. Leon spotted the eye-tumor on one of the dogs: it was growing out of the thing’s tongue. He waited for it to bark again, taking aim from only about a foot away. The dog’s face exploded when he fired, and he had to purse his lips and close his eyes to avoid any blood.

The last dog flinched away from the exploding head, and Leon took his chance and jumped for the button. The elevator whirred to life and began to move. The dog, seeming to realize it had missed it’s chance, leapt at him again, trying desperately to push it’s way into the elevator. Still, only it’s head made it inside, and it was lifted by the face as the elevator began to rise. It continued to roar and snap it’s jaws, even as the wall came down, and began to crush the undead animal’s head. Leon looked away, trying to stomach the bone crunching sound it made.

When he looked back, there was no severed dog head, as he had expected, but a gratuitous pile of blood and gore. He sighed. Catch it’s head in the elevator, he thought wryly. Yet another way to kill a zombie. He’d have to add it to the list.

…

It started to rain as they reached the main street of the town. It was dark, unnaturally so, with no moonlight to see them. Jill wasn’t surprised. It was fitting to their surroundings.

They continued down the street in Y-formation, with Sheva and Claire up front while Jill brought up the rear. The three of them together were more than capable of handling anything any other squad might be tasked with, but she still felt hopeless. This was where nightmares took place. If there was another outbreak, she didn’t see them making it out alive.

Their orders were to finish Chris’ job: plant the charges and get out. Locating him was secondary. At least, it was to the B.S.A.A. The three of them had other plans. They weren’t leaving until they found him.

“If you find him,” Wesker chided within Jill’s mind. She ignored him.

A small walk brought them to the police station. It was still standing, albeit a ghost of it’s former self. Jill felt as though she might hyperventilate as she began ascending the cracked stone steps; her life had been so different the last time she had been inside. Just a step ahead of her, Claire was shaking, obviously feeling something similar. The younger girl looked back, catching Jill’s eye and nodded determinedly; they had to go through with this.

The doors were open, and the three of them stepped inside. Their field lights were the only source of illumination in the impenetrable darkness. Jill stepped ahead of the other two. She still remembered the ins and outs of the building.

“Follow me,” she said, slipping back into the lead agent role seamlessly. The other two nodded, flanking both sides behind her. They followed her through each door and down each hallway. There were bloodstains and bodies, long since dried. Claire remembered some of them specifically, attacks and narrow escapes. She wanted to cry. Sometimes the walls would groan, or the floor would creak, and the three of them would draw arms immediately, ready to defend against something that wasn’t there.

Finally they reached their destination. A small, uninteresting door in one of the hallways; an office. The faux gold name plaque read: Captain Albert Wesker.

“Wesker…?” Sheva said, her voice shocked. “He used to work here?”

“Yeah,” Jill said distantly. “He was our squad leader. Didn’t Chris ever tell you?”

“No… I mean, Chris mentioned that he knew Wesker, but…” she trailed off.

“Well,” Jill said, taking a knee in front of the door. She reached into her pocket and produced a lock pick. “He was the leader of our special police unit. But we discovered during the mansion incident that he was secretly working for Umbrella.” She frowned at the lock she was trying to pick, frustrated. She could hear him laughing in her head. “He’s tampered with it. Go figure. Back away from the door.”

Sheva and Claire did as ordered. Jill took a step away as well, lifting her pistol and aiming for the knob. She fired, and the entire doorknob fixture buckled, the wood around it splintered. They heard the door creak open just an inch. Hesitantly, Jill stuck her foot out and kicked the door open.

As it swung open, there was a deafening blast; Claire screamed. The wall opposite Wesker’s office was peppered with shotgun blast. Jill slowly, carefully, peeked her head around into his office. Propped up on his desk was a double barrel shotgun, rigged to go off should anyone enter. A going away present for anyone trying to trace the mansion incident back to him.

“How astute of you, Jill,” Wesker’s voice was irritated, much to her amusement. She stepped into his office.

“What a clever bastard,” Sheva said, following Jill into the office. Claire brought up the rear, her eyes wary and distrusting of her surroundings.

“He always was,” Jill agreed. “Look around, you two. There’s got to be a way under the city from in here. Some sort of secret passage leading to the facilities down there.”

“Wait a second,” Sheva said hesitantly. “There’s a biohazard down there. You heard the briefing. You want to go down there?”

“Yes,” Jill replied shortly, rifling through papers on Wesker’s desk, mindful of the shotgun. Her name was on a few of them. “Chris reported the outbreak, so if it’s underground, then that’s where he is. We can plant the charges while we’re down there. An explosion from the underground facilities will bring this city collapsing down on itself.”

Sheva nodded silently. Just as she made to turn and look for anything conspicuous, they both heard a grating dry sound. They both watched as the back wall of Wesker’s office slid away, revealing a service elevator. Jill and Sheva both turned around to face Claire, who was smiling knowingly, a small book in her hand. She waved it as she spoke.

“I just pulled it off the shelf, and wouldn’t you know it? A switch! Lucky me.”

…

Chris stepped out of the lift, mindful to step over any of the gore that was left of the tentacle thing. It was another level of the facility, a cargo room, judging by all the other elevators. Crates and tables and stacks of papers were strewn all about the large room, setting Chris on edge. These places always seemed so vast, so labyrinthine; he never felt safe in them.

He secured the area, checking every corner for anything living or threatening. It seemed safe. All the while, he kept an eye out for a map for anything that pointed the way out. There was nothing. With a sigh, he dropped to a knee, taking several instruments from his vest. Might as well set up another charge.

He finished, about to smile at his work, when he heard a mechanism hum to life. He was up immediately, his gun trained. It was one of the elevators. He saw the lights above it, flashing floor by floor, creeping closer and closer to his current level. His mind returned to the woman, Annette, and her naked dead body, and her strange diet and her disgusting living tentacles. He hoped and prayed that it wasn’t her. But who else?

The elevator slowed to a screeching halt, and the door was thrown open immediately, a gun trained at Chris’ head.

“Drop your weapon!”

The cry echoed in unison. Chris lowered his weapon slowly, his target mirroring his action. It couldn’t be…

“Leon…?”

Leon had a strange look on his face. It was almost disbelief, but not quite. Chris couldn’t place it. After a moment, the look was gone, replaced with a small, shy smile. Chris couldn’t help but smile back.

“Chris…” he said quietly. “You’re alive.”

“Just barely,” he said, trying to return a sense of normalcy to the situation. He was thrilled to see Leon alive, but something about this encounter was strange, more sentimental than it should’ve been. He scratched the back of his head nervously. “I, uh-I thought you were dead, too.”

Leon’s grin broadened.

“Not this time.” He stepped out of the elevator, approaching Chris. Chris felt the sudden strange urge to back away, to not let Leon reach him, although he couldn’t say why.

“Well,” he floundered. “Let’s just get out of here. We’re on a higher level of the facility now, so there might be an exit.” He looked around and saw the door out the room. He started for it, not checking to see if Leon was following. He was a few feet from it when he felt a hand grasp his wrist, pulling him around. It was Leon, standing alarmingly close to him.

“What?” he asked, annoyed, anxious. He backed away to gain some space, feeling his back hit a wall. Leon closed the gap, his eyes level and locked with Chris’. There was a look in them that Chris couldn’t read.

“Leon, I’m glad you’re okay, but you’re acting pretty damn weird.”

Leon said nothing, only leaned forward a little more, his eyes closing.

“What the fuck are you-”

It was all Chris could muster before Leon’s mouth pressed against his, locking his lips in a deep, passionate kiss.

…

Ada blinked, and looked again. It was still there. Was Leon doing what it looked like he was doing? She never would have guessed that she’d be seeing it. She felt heat rise in her cheeks as she experienced a flush of girlish embarrassment. She felt ten years old again, watching something that she oughtn’t. But she didn’t plan on looking away. Something this interesting deserved more thorough investigation.

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Here's the next chapter. I hope you're all enjoying it so far. "fluffiebunny," "Death Valley Queen," and "Elithae," thanks for the reviews; always encouraging. A special thanks to "JJ's berry" for the kick in the pants, because this wasn't going to write itself. Let me know what you think so far, and enjoy! Until next time!