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Must be the ke
Claire took a few steps farther in, focusing worriedly on the simple and somewhat flimsy lock holding the door closed – and saw the three uncaged zombies just as the first was reaching for her, its gaping mouth dripping with saliva and some other dark fluid, its bony fingers stretching out to touch her. She'd been so intent on the caged creatures, she hadn't realized that there were more of them. She reflexively dropped her weight and snapped her left leg into its chest, a solid and effective side kick that knocked the creature back. She could feel her boot sink into its deteriorating flesh but didn't have time for dis– gust, already bringing the 9mm up…… and with a thin metallic crash, the ke
–the barrels! One of them was marked flammable, same trick I used in Paris…
Claire dove for cover behind the Dumpster, switching the gun to her left hand as she landed. The target marked in her mind's eye, she came up shooting, only her arm curling around the Dumpster as the confused zombies teetered and searched, moaning hungrily…
Bam! Bam! B…… KA-BLAM!
The Dumpster slammed into her right shoulder, knocking her over backward. She curled into a ball on her side, ears ringing, as jagged, burning shreds of metal rained down from above, clattering atop the Dumpster, a few of them landing on her left leg. She slapped them off, scarcely able to believe that it had worked, that she was still alive. She sat up, pushing herself into a crouch, looking out at what remained of her assailants. Only one of them was still whole, leaning heavily on the ke
Except they were people not so long ago. People with families and lives, who hadn't deserved to die in such terrible ways, no matter what evils they may have com-mitted. She looked down at the poor burned bodies, feeling almost sick with pity and a low but insistent fever of hatred for Umbrella.
Claire shook her head and did her best to let it go, aware that allowing herself to carry all that pain might make her hesitate at some crucial moment. Like a soldier at war, she couldn't afford to humanize the enemy… al– though she had no doubts as to who the real enemy was, and she hoped fervently that Umbrella's leaders would all burn in hell for what they'd done. Not wanting to be surprised again, she carefully and thoroughly checked the passage's shadows in her evalu– ation of next-step choices. In the back of the ke
Steve jumped when he heard the explosion outside, reflexively looking around at the small, cluttered office as though expecting the walls to crumble. After a few beats he relaxed, figuring it was probably just another heat blast, nothing to worry about. Ever since the attack, the unchecked fires burning throughout the prison com-pound occasionally rolled over something combustible, a canister of oxygen or kerosene or whatever, and then ker-blooey, another explosion. It was just such a blast that had kept him alive, actu– ally – he'd been knocked out by a flying chunk of wall when an oil barrel had blown up, the debris covering him completely, hiding him. When he'd finally come to, the big zombie chow-down was pretty much over, most of the prison guards and prisoners already dead… Bad train of thought. He shook it off and returned his attention to the computer screen, to the file directory he'd stumbled across while trying to find a map of the island. Some dumbass had written the pass code number on a sticky note and slapped it on the hard drive, giving him easy access to some obviously secret stuff. Too bad most of it was dull as dishwater – prison budgeting, names and dates he didn't recognize, information about some kind of special alloy that metal detectors couldn't pick up… that one was kind of interesting, considering he'd had to walk through a two-way lockdown metal de– tector to get to the office, but three or four well-placed bullets to the mechanism had taken care of that. Good thing, too; he'd found one of the main gate emblem keys tucked in a desk drawer, which would definitely have triggered a lockdown on his way back through.
All I need is a goddamn map to the nearest boat or plane and I'm history. He'd pick up the chick after he cleared a path, too, play the knight in shining armor…… and she'd undoubtedly be appreciative, maybe even enough to want to… A name on the file directory caught his eye. Steve frowned, peering closer at the screen. There was a folder labeled Redfield, C… as in Claire Redfield? He tapped it up, curious, and was still reading, totally ab– sorbed, when he heard a noise behind him. He scooped his gun off the counter and spun around, mentally kicking himself for not paying better atten– tion and there was Claire, her own weapon pointing at the floor, a slightly irritated look on her face. "What are you doing?" she asked casually, as if she hadn't just scared the crap out of him. "And how did you get past the zombies outside?" "I ran," he answered, a
"You might want to tell him that Umbrella's got him under surveillance," he said, stepping back so she could read what was on the screen. Apparently Redfield was in Paris, though Umbrella hadn't managed to locate his exact whereabouts. Steve was glad that he'd run across a file that meant something to her; a little gratitude from a pretty girl was always a good thing. Claire sca