Resident Evil Legends Part Five - City of the Dead

Resident Evil Legends Part Five: City of the Dead

  By Andreas Leachim

  Copyright 2016 Andreas Leachim

  Cover art and design by Andreas Leachim

  This is a work of fan fiction based on the Resident Evil video game series. All characters and names and related trademarks are the property of Capcom. The author of this work receives no financial compensation from it and does not seek to infringe upon Capcom’s copyrights in any way.

  Chapter 1

  At approximately 12:45 in the morning, more than three days after he left, S.T.A.R.S. Bravo team member Richard Aiken finally returned to Raccoon City. He did not go there intentionally; he just followed the train tracks and that’s where they led. The distant sounds of civilization and the dim glow in the sky at night attracted his attention, and he spent the past three days walking slowly toward the source of the light and sound. He lost his balance and fell down a few times, but he always got back to his feet and continued walking, not stopping once to rest in the entire three days.

  He could no longer see where he was going. One of his eyes was gouged out and the other was filled with blood, completely blinding him. Most of the left side of his face was gone as well, leaving tattered shreds of skin and flesh hanging off his jaw. As he walked unsteadily forward, the dangling remains of his intestines swung back and forth like miniature pendulums, hanging from his gaping stomach cavity. His ripped and dirty clothing was caked with dried blood and gore, spread from the middle of his abdomen all the way down to his knees.

  Distracted by the sound of a car engine nearby, he staggered away from the railroad tracks and moved through a sparse wooded area to a dirt road heading uphill. He stood for a moment, wavering back and forth, and moaned softly, his head tilted back. A car door slammed, and Richard immediately stumbled in the direction of the sound. He walked up the dirt road, further attracted by voices in the distance.

  The men at the top of the hill did not see or hear him. Clouds in the sky blotted out the moon, and it was nearly pitch dark outside. They chatted casually as one of them pulled out his keys, jingling them loudly, and unlocked the door to the maintenance building. It was for one of the water storage tanks operated by the Raccoon City water utility company. Located on very edge of the city limits, the storage tank contained water directly from the city’s water treatment facility, over a million gallons worth. It was positioned at the top of the hill to allow gravity to create the water pressure necessary to bring the water to the residents of the city.

  “I can’t believe I was stupid enough to leave my cell phone here,” one of the men said as he turned on the lights.

  “You probably won’t need it when we go hunting anyway,” the other said. “I don’t think you’ll get any reception up in the mountains.”

  Their voices were like a homing signal. Richard staggered toward the building, a low groan escaping his lipless mouth. His arms lifted slightly, as if reaching for the sound.

  “Well, I want to call Jack if the hunting is good.”

  “Did you find it yet?”

  The man found his cell phone sitting on top of a small table beside the water meters and pressure gauges along the wall. “Yeah, here it is. I called my boss when I checked the meters this afternoon and left it here.”

  “What is this place again?”

  “One of the city water cisterns.”

  Richard reached the doorway, sensing the men nearby. He tripped on the concrete steps and stumbled just outside the doorway, his knee cracking hard against the edge of the steps. Feeling no pain, he got back up and stepped up into the doorway.

  “Really? My water comes from here?”

  “Probably does. I can show you the tank if you want.”

  “Sure, that sounds cool.”

  In another large room was a large concrete pad with a metal tank lid on top. The two men walked toward it as Richard made his way into the building. The first man undid a pair of large metal clamps holding the lid on and lifted it up. Richard heard the sound and walked forward.

  “Right down there is the city water supply,” the man said, his voice echoing down the wide metal tube leading to the water tank underground.

  “Wow, I’m surprised you can just open it up like that,” his friend said. “Someone could come here and take a piss right into the city’s water.”

  “I hope not,” the man laughed.

  Richard’s foot scraped on the floor.

  “Did you hear that?”

  “What? Is someone here?”

  “I thought I heard –”

  “Oh man, do you smell that?”

  The man walked off the concrete pad and to the door just as Richard got there. His eyes opened wide and he took deep breath to scream, just as Richard grabbed his shoulders and lunged forward, digging his teeth into the man’s soft throat. The attempted scream turned into a bloody gurgle as the two of them fell to the ground, the man’s head striking hard on the concrete. Richard bit down hard on the man’s neck and blood spurted up like a geyser from his severed jugular vein.

  The other man screamed hysterically and ran to Richard, kicking him hard in the side, his foot sliding off the slimy gore of Richard’s eviscerated stomach. Richard reached out violently and grabbed the man’s foot. He stumbled off balance and fell to the ground as well, screaming his head off. He scrambled backwards and grabbed a broom leaning against the wall.

  Richard chewed on the flesh of the dead man’s throat as the other man got to his feet and swung down the broom as hard as he could. The long handle broke right in half, turning it into a jagged spear. Richard barely reacted, and the man frantically jammed the long handle into his back. It pierced Richard’s heart and burst through the front of his chest, coagulated black blood spilling down the sharp end.

  Richard reached out again, grabbing the man’s sleeve. He screamed again, trying to bat Richard’s filthy hand away, but he slipped on his friend’s spilled blood and fell back to the floor. Richard pulled him close and took a bite out of the man’s arm. The man screamed over and over again, striking Richard in vain. He tried to get away but his sneakers found no traction in the widening puddle of blood on the floor.

  Richard lunged at him and bit his face, tearing away a bloody chunk of his upper cheek. The man shrieked helplessly as Richard bit down on his throat as well, tearing through the soft tissue. In another ten seconds, the man was dead. Blood drained out in all directions, as if the two dead men were floating in a pool of it.

  Richard feasted for several minutes until the bodies began to cool off. The entire front of his body was now soaked with slimy blood, his entire face smeared with it. He stood up, the two corpses no longer interesting, and his attention focused on the weird sounds coming from the area in front of him.

  He stepped forward, his feet making bloody footprints up to the lid of the water tank. He bumped the edge of the opening with his knee and could hear the faint echo down the long metal tube. He could hear the sound of water far below.

  He leaned forward, the top half of his body over the edge. Reaching forward, his blood-smeared hands scraped against the inside of the tube. Drawn by the strange sound of the rippling water below, he leaned farther over the edge, and his bloody feet slipped. He toppled over and plunged inside, his body sliding down the tube for fifty feet until he fell from the tube opening and splashed into the cold water of the tank.

  As he sank down into the depths of the tank, unable to float or swim, a red mist of blood emanated from his body. It took less than two hours for the entire tank to become completely infected.