Chapter Text
The five-day orientation officially ended at 14:30 today. You expected it to be the same as RCU’s new student orientation, a welcome tour with goodies and free food, but Umbrella had made theirs grueling. Not only did you have to leave campus and stay at a hotel near another Umbrella location (a whole six-hour drive south of Raccoon City), but there you would learn the ways of their lab systems, receive identification clearance, and a uniform required for each day of internship.
It was finally over, and you could breathe again. You hadn’t had the time to stay in contact with your friends back on campus, nor had you done the required readings for your classes. Luckily, because the internship is such an integrated program with the university, all students who leave for the orientation are granted full immunity and exemption from assignments missed.
The fun part was that anyone who completes the orientation and officially makes it to the real internship portion receives a memorabilia necklace. A core memory of your first two years at Raccoon City University was being insanely jealous of all the students wearing their pendants around campus. It was a symbol of status and perseverance; getting accepted into the program was competitive, especially for biology students.
You get all your paperwork signed and processed, grab the small jewelry box stamped with Umbrella’s title, and make the short walk back to the hotel building down the street. Tonight, you planned to pack everything up and stock up on a few snacks and water for the return to campus. The drive wasn’t too bad; it was a straight shot on the interstate with plenty of rest stops along the way.
Once back in the hotel room, you set down your school bag onto the bed and flop down, staring at the ceiling fan and pondering your potential future. You’re still in disbelief that you’ve made it this far, that you did this. It’s only then that you remember you promised to update your friends.
[Three new messages]
Valorie - September 29, 1998
Valorie - September 27, 1998
Amelia - September 26, 1998
You begin reading with Amelia’s message. She’s a newer friend, someone you met at the beginning of this semester. She also got into the internship program, but due to feeling ill, she did not make it to orientation.
How is it going over there?? I’m so jealous. My fever still hasn’t gone down, but I’m feeling a lot less…achy. I feel like I dodged a bullet, though. Remember that football game Josh wanted to take me to? Well, he went without me! Took a whole other girl, too. I broke up with him the day after. Anyway, apparently, there was some fight right before the game ended. There’s been a lot of violence in the city…my parents are debating making me come home :(. Hope you’re doing great! Get back to me soon.
You had an icky feeling about Josh ever since Amelia started dating him. It’s unfortunate your gut feeling proved true, but you can’t help feel a little proud that you were correct. You wait to write a response and move on to Valorie’s messages.
First of all, what happened to updating me on the orientation? So much has been happening here, so I figured I’d send an update from my end. Amelia had to go to the hospital this morning. She’s okay, don’t worry, but she was acting weird. Lashing out. I chalked it up to grief from breaking up with Josh. Speaking of, we were right about him.
That’s besides the point. My criminology classes have been covering recent cases in the city, and let me tell you…it’s crazy. I don’t think I’ve seen the cops so active since we began university. Everyone on campus is saying it’s something with a gang. I don’t know.
Update me on your end! I’m so curious about how you’re doing.
You don’t think much about the state of Raccoon City. Large cities always have their issues, and as long as it doesn’t affect RCU and Umbrella, then whatever it is, you can ignore it. You click on the final email sent around 23:00 yesterday.
Don’t come back.
Your brows furrow. Don’t come back? What could that possibly mean? You exit the email tab and search for the latest news on Raccoon City. There’s an article about the sports game ending early, but nothing else that would warrant your best friend telling you to stay away.
There’s a knock on your room door. Odd, because you don’t really have acquaintances, but not impossible due to all the RCU students being down the same hall. You peek through the viewer and see one of the guys from orientation.
“Hel—”
“Can you drive us back to RCU? Tonight?”
He’s fidgety, picking at the skin around his nails and shifting his weight between feet.
“Uh…”
“I know it’s a long drive, and this is out of nowhere, and we don’t even know each other—You’re the only one with a car, the others took the train.”
“Okay, slow down. Why?”
He’s pleading, staring at you with glossy brown eyes as he tries to control his rambling. “My mom called, and I only saw the voicemail when we got back to our rooms. She was, like, distressed or something? I heard screaming, and, and, like, weird noises? I don’t know! I have a bad feeling. She told me to stay away—”
“She said that?” You cut in.
“Yeah. Seemed pretty adamant about it.”
“I got an email from my friend telling me the same thing. Are we sure we want to—”
“We have to, don’t we? Everyone is taking the morning train tomorrow, but there are supposedly delays. I can’t wait.”
“What’s your name?”
“Lewis.”
You give him your name in return. “Okay, Lewis, I need to get fuel and pack my stuff, but—”
“I’ll meet you down at the lot in ten.”
“Oh. Sure.”
“And I’ll cover all the fuel.”
He runs to his room, the door left ajar across the hall, before you can reply. He doesn’t need to cover the expenses; your parents already do. You’d let him buy snacks, though.
Packing goes quickly as you shove everything into the tiny carry-on suitcase you brought, leaving the important items in your backpack. What could be happening in Raccoon City to warrant such urgency? Is it really that bad? There’s a weird feeling in your stomach, one that practically screams at you to listen to what Valorie sent.
No matter. Whatever happened cannot be too bad. You’ll have to return eventually, as everything precious is left in your dorm room. You linger a moment before deciding to fish for the small jewelry box. The necklace inside is simple: the Umbrella logo as a pendant with your assigned identification number engraved on the back.
You take a second to admire it next to your ID card. The picture they took wasn’t your favorite, but it felt so official that it did not matter. Not wanting to part ways with your new favorite items, you clasp the necklace around your neck and keep the card tucked into your front pocket. It was far too cold to be wearing shorts, but time was ticking closer to your meeting with Lewis. Quickly, you open your suitcase and slip into leg warmers and a cropped hoodie.
You’re just driving. You don’t need to be concerned with your attire.
It’s three hours into the trip when you regret this. You and Lewis stopped for more fuel (because your old Jeep has horrible mileage, especially when the man is urging you to speed), and he secured a Redbull for you as motivation. The caffeine helped tremendously, but also caused your leg to bounce in anticipation.
Sometime after the stop, the check engine light comes on.
“It’s fine. I probably just didn’t tighten the gas cap all the way. It happens.”
Apparently, it was not just the gas cap, because thirty minutes outside the city, the Jeep came to a rough stop on the side of the road. You don’t know anything about cars, nor do you have the reader to plug in and see what the issue is.
Lewis pops the front open, but doesn’t see anything that stands out as wrong.
“There’s a station maybe twenty minutes up ahead; we can ask someone.” He suggests while looking at the unfolded map.
You down the rest of your favorite Redbull and remove a few items from your bag, leaving them behind in the back row of seats. You and Lewis decide to leave your luggage bags in the trunk.
The sun had set an hour ago, leaving the road dark and gloomy with a thin layer of fog. It isn’t too late, only a quarter past 21:00. It is humid, though, so only ten minutes into your brisk walk do you tie your hoodie around your waist. The two of you don’t talk. There is a drizzle of cold rain hitting your exposed skin; you decided to pull your hair up into a ponytail to avoid dealing with it being damp.
The Mizoil station comes into sight, and you nearly sigh in relief. You’re exhausted, warm and chilly at the same time, and starving.
“I don’t see anyone,” Lewis says as he walks towards the door into the store.
You, on the other hand, are captivated by your surroundings. You’ve stopped at this very station many times on your drives between home and school, but it has never been so desolate before. The lights overhead flicker.
Left abandoned, and the star of your attention, is a green Jeep. A model only a few years newer than your own, yet similar enough to appreciate it. The fuel pump is left in and the vehicle is unlocked, keys left on the front seat. There is a box of files on the passenger side that you almost want to snoop through.
You came here for help, not breaking into someone’s car.
“Ohhh, we have to go.”
Lewis runs through the door and over to your side. There’s a trail of bloody boot prints he left behind. It’s then that you notice there’s a lot of blood on the concrete.
“Why…? We need—”
And then someone leaves the store. A mangled body, one that looked as if a corpse a month old had suddenly become reanimated. Flesh melts off its chin; you can’t tell if the person is male or female.
It’s wrong.
“It’s…Halloween soon…” You mutter, all while taking a few steps back and bumping into the side of the abandoned Jeep.
“He…It…It bit me!”
Lewis pulls up his sleeve and reveals a nasty-looking wound, and blood is dribbling down his hand.
“Okay! Um…Get in.”
He moves the box of paperwork to the back seats and slams the door shut behind him. Meanwhile, you remove the fuel pump and tighten the gas cap. Suddenly, more people show up. They come down the road and begin to close in on the station.
“Hurry!” Lewis is practically shouting as you fumble with the keys.
The person…creature?… The thing that attacked Lewis slams on the driver’s side window. It spreads blood and other fluids on the glass. You grimace before finally slotting the keys in, and the engine roars to life. You aren’t risking stalling, not in this situation, so you slam on the gas and barely let off the clutch.
You burn the tires, but you manage to steer out of the station with minimal swerving.
“I think we should turn around.” You say, adjusting the rearview mirror to make sure nothing is following.
“Are you kidding?! I’m going to bleed out if we don’t find a hospital!”
He got bitten on his wrist, his other hand applying pressure to try and lessen the amount of blood loss.
“Lewis, I have a horrible feeling about—”
“Look. We’re already in the city. Keep driving.”
You frown as you pass the Welcome to Raccoon City sign. You always loved returning to the city, but this time it felt wrong. Corrupt.
“Where do we even go?” You squeak out, constantly glancing over at Lewis.
“Anywhere. The police. The hospital. Campus. Just…anywhere.”
His head lolls back against the headrest, breathing getting heavier. It’s beginning to stress you out. Are zombies real? Is that what bit him? Oh god, is he…?
There’s a loud explosion in the distance. You instinctively slam on the brakes. The rain had gotten worse as you entered the city itself. It’s hard to see, and everything is just causing so much stress and panic.
You take the side roads that border the city to try and avoid anything that may be happening on the main roads. Personally, you have never been to the RPD, but that seems like the safest bet. The hospital is too far north, and the campus is too far east. If the rest of the city is being attacked like this, then it’s simply too risky.
Zombies aren’t real, you tell yourself. But Lewis was bitten. Valorie and Amelia wrote about the strange violence in their emails. Those people were not okay.
Everything inside of you screams to turn around and get the hell away from Raccoon City.
“I don’t think I can drive any further…”
The road ahead is littered with debris and abandoned vehicles. You are still a considerable distance away from anything important, but for now, you’re away from any suspicious individuals.
“My mom’s house isn’t too far from here; we can walk,” Lewis suggests, already unbuckling his seat belt and opening the door.
You aren’t too fond of the idea of traversing the city without the safety of the Jeep, but you don’t think you have another choice. It could be worse, you think, you could be entirely alone.
The rain has worsened as well; everything was uncomfortable. You slide into your hoodie, but find that when the material is slowly dampening, it is not a pleasant feeling.
“How is the arm?” You break the silence.
It’s been like this for two blocks. Lewis is in the lead, rounding his corners with caution before briskly walking across intersections. You stay behind him.
“I have a first aid kit back home. I think it’ll be okay.”
“You don’t think it’s weird or anything? Some zombie-looking person biting you?”
He stops. “Zombies aren’t real,” and then he continues.
“I know, but it sure looked like it.”
He doesn’t say anything else. It’s almost as if his demeanor has shifted ever since the gas station. Yes, stress can do that, but he went from anxious to having a short temper far too quickly.
Okay, so you don’t want to be around Lewis anymore. That would mean going on your own and risking getting caught by a zombie (because that’s somehow the most logical explanation for what is happening) with zero backup. You suppose that option is still leagues better than being stuck with a random man who gives you a foul feeling.
You still have your school bag resting on your shoulders. There’s a protein shake and a bag of trail mix, and your Walkman in case you need music to hype you up. Unfortunately, though, your bag is not water-resistant, and the map you had tucked inside is now destroyed.
Lewis turns around a corner, and you make the rash decision to go the opposite way. You don’t remember what street the RPD was located on. You swore it was down Ennerdale Street, a vague memory from reading the pamphlets they sell everywhere for tourists, but couldn’t it also be Central Street? Prague Avenue? You really should have gotten out of your dorm room more.
You cross the street into a little alley that stays tucked away into the darkness and slide down the wall, dropping your bag and taking out the strawberry protein shake. The drive had left you weak and tired, and honestly, you were not in the right state to pull an all-nighter.
Rain dribbles down from your hair onto your cheeks, and the damp fabric of your hoodie now feels like too much you handle. You take it off and tie it around your waist once more.
But what now?
Someone calls your name. Lewis. You scramble up and nearly trip on your bag as you stare at him. He doesn’t look all right. His skin is paler than it was before, and he stands lopsided like he can’t balance.
His eyes are the worst. The once blue color was now replaced by a murky gray.
“Hey…Uh, hi?”
His head tilts to the side, and if he attempts to speak, the words are replaced with a breathy moan.
In your panic, you stupidly abandon all the items you had left on the ground and run down the alley. Lewis lunges after, but slips due to his unsteady balance, giving you enough advantage to find your bearings.
The fact that Lewis was bitten and then became weird is enough for you to believe that this is indeed a zombie outbreak. In that case, you need supplies. Weapons. A new partner who is preferably not infected. If you could find the police station, surely all of that would be available.
You stumble over something and fall to the ground. The leg warmers you had on protected your knees, but they became wet and dirty from the impact. You groan and push yourself up, glancing behind to see what the object was. A steel pipe. It felt like divine timing to quite literally stumble upon the very item you needed most.
The texture isn’t the best; rusty metal met with wet palms, but you feel relieved to have something of use. Would it be worth backtracking to retrieve your items? Possibly not. A backpack could weigh you down, and there are a bunch of convenience stores you could rob for water and food.
Quite the criminal you have become: stealing a random Jeep, and now plotting to rob stores. That’s what an apocalyptic scenario can do to a person.
You know you have lingered for far too long when you hear Lewis catching up. It’s unfortunate he met the fate that he did, but you haven’t known him enough to feel guilt. Is this the same fate your friends shared? Amelia’s sickness…Could it have been this?
Would it be worth it to return to campus?
No, absolutely not.
You keep running. Lewis was such a small issue compared to what you see now, so many people gathered and wandering the streets. They’re all like this. Infected. You stand there for a moment, the wind blowing the light remnants of the rain into your face, clutching onto your steel pipe as you contemplate which route to take.
Oh, how you hope the RPD is west of your location. You have no other choice; there are far too many zombies for you to continue east. Your biggest regret of the night is not accepting Lewis’s offer, because you got free snacks, but leaving that protein shake behind. Surely the RPD has a working vending machine. You pat your pockets only to realize your wallet is in your bag, the only card on your person is the Umbrella one.
Umbrella! Surely they can fix this! Maybe you could even help, take some credit for yourself, and be set for life. You smile down at the necklace before snapping back to reality.
You find yourself running down Ennerdale and meeting a labyrinth of cars, the zombies hot on your tail. There’s no time to think, just do. You make it to the gates of the RPD, lucky you, but the gate is shut. Locked. Shit.
The zombies close in, there is no chance of turning back, but you can’t continue forward. So, you do something dumb.
You toss the pipe through the gate and waltz around to the fence. The metal isn’t placed in a way for you to easily climb, but the adrenaline in your body makes you feel like you can do anything right now. The material cuts into your palms as you pull yourself up. You use the concrete pillar next to the fence as leverage, managing to make it up to the top, only to get stuck on the spikey decorations as you swing your leg around.
One of the zombies manages to grab your ankle, causing you to get pulled down on your left side with one of the spikes pushing into your stomach uncomfortably. You kick and kick, but it just won’t let go. By some miracle you gain enough leverage to pull your leg further from the creature and swing it over the top, but the amount of force you used to do so causes you to completely lose balance and fall off the fence.
Your breath is knocked out of you as you slam down onto your back, just barely missing landing on your pipe. At least you’ve made it.
It hurts to stand up, but you push through it, grabbing your pipe and stumbling a few steps as you head towards the grand doors of the RPD. You may be going about things horribly, but it all seems to work out.
You don’t know what you expected to find in the RPD. Perhaps you envisioned survivors camped up with weapons and plenty of rations, anything but what you see right now. It’s empty, utterly devoid of life and the undead.
You’ve never actually been inside the station, but you have heard of its extensive history. The statue up ahead is truly a stunning sight, and the lobby is so grand for being a police station. Raccoon City can be remarkable, even if it never had the best reputation. Valorie would mention strange deaths and disappearances in the Arklay Mountains, all stuff covered in her criminology classes. People tended to stay away due to that piece of lore.
You don’t know what to do. There’s a shutter on your right, but it seems stuck downward, and there’s blood painting the pretty polished floors. So, that option does not seem like the best.
“Hello?”
Of course, no response.
You swallow and hesitate when you see an open corridor on the left. You have a steel pipe and the courage of…well, nothing, actually. You freeze up when you’re faced with anything that causes fear. You used to always be envious of movie protagonists that, despite everything, could persevere and grow from their experiences. They have to push through it, right? Once you begin to be brave everything becomes easier.
You’ve got this!
The corridor seems to be the waiting room. It’s well lit and nothing creepy lingers around, so you expect everything will remain as such. It’s when you push open the door through the waiting room do you want to run away.
A few windows are open and the breeze is blowing the curtains ominously. It’s dark, there’s a body at the corner ahead, and weird sounds echo throughout the hall. Okay, that’s a bust. You promptly turn around and head back to the lobby. There’s another door near the waiting room you previously occupied, and luckily this one is unlocked.
Your eyes adjust to the darkness in a few seconds, but a flashlight is high on your priority list if you were to survive this city. The first thing you notice is a string of letters hanging from the ceiling, each blue circle containing a yellow letter.
WELCOME LEON
You slowly step down the stairs into the office itself and investigate the first desk you see, running your fingers along the dust-free wood. The nameplate resting on the desk looks fresh compared to the others around it, Leon S. Kennedy, it says. You decide to pry and read the document on the desk.
Rookie’s first assignment.
Well, that sucks. You feel bad for the guy; it’s his first time as a cop, only to succumb to whatever the hell happened here. Maybe he’s fine, though. Who knows. You haven’t seen anyone alive and well since you crossed city borders. You continue to explore, passing by the desks on a mission to go through the door ahead.
Once again, regret courses through your veins when you see a dead, bloody officer in front of a room labeled “Security Deposit Room”. Great. Brilliant!
“Is he actually dead?” You mumble to no one in particular and lightly kick the guy’s boot.
He stays still.
“Suppose so.”
You turn left, completely ignoring the other rooms you could explore, and oh, what a sight to behold.
Vending machines.
Fully stocked, too.
There are chips and chocolate, soda and energy drinks, everything you could possibly need to get you through this nightmare. The drink machine is a no-go—you don’t have a card, and it isn’t an open-front glass type, but the snack one is, and it’s already been broken into.
Just before you reach past the broken glass for a crispy bag of chips, you hear something. Footsteps; boots crunching over debris littering the floor, and the squelching of walking over liquid.
This is it. A moment of bravery. You clutch the steel pipe with two hands, the raw skin on your palms stinging from the pressure. If you had taken a look earlier, you would have seen some of the skin flaking off, bits of dirt and gravel coating the exposed flesh.
You lean against the wall and glance beyond the corner. You don’t see much, but you do see someone moving, and that is enough for you to feel unsafe. You raise the pipe above your head, figuring you could bring a zombie down if you put your full strength into it.
Before you can chicken out, you step forward to swing the pipe down and—
“Holy shit! Don’t shoot!”
It is not a zombie, but rather a young police officer with his gun raised towards you. The pipe clatters to the ground as you put your hands up. He looks shocked for a moment, processing everything, and then breathes out in relief before lowering his gun.
“Are you okay?” He says calmly. “Sorry, I thought you were…Yeah.”
“Sorry for almost hitting you with my pipe.” An awkward laugh escapes you as you crouch down to retrieve your trusty weapon.”
You began to say something else, wanting to ask about his experience in Raccoon City and how long he’s been here, but see something lumbering behind the blond officer.
“Behind you!”
He responds immediately, whipping around and bringing the zombie down with three precise shots. Damn. You need to keep him around.
“Follow me, we can talk where I know it’s safe.”