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.Leon's fevered gaze swept thespace behind the counter, stopping on a grease-stained gym bag propped against a stool in the backcorner.Two running steps and he had it, dumping thecontents as he ran back to the pile of clips and loosebullets on the counter.Cleaning equipment rattledacross the linoleum as Leon swept the clips into thebag, ignoring the scattered rounds in favor of theammo drawer.The decayed monster was shuffling toward him,stumbling on the body of the pot-bellied dead man, and Leon could smell how rotten it was.He jerked theMagnum up and leveled it at the creature's face.The head, just like the two outside.With a tremendous, thundering kick, the gurgling,pulpy skull blew apart, thick fluids splattering theshop's walls and display cases in a wet slap.Before thedecapitated mess could crumple, Leon spun anddropped into a crouch by the ammo drawer.Heshoveled the heavy boxes into the nylon sack, hisstomach knotted and shaking from the fear that, evennow, the back alley could be filling up with more ofthem, cutting him off from where he needed to go.Five clips per box, five boxes, get out already.Pushing off from his crouch, Leon shouldered thebag and ran for the back door.From the corner of hisvision, he saw that another creature had made itinside Kendo's; from the crunch of powdering glass,there were more of them filing in just behind it.He opened the exit door and slid through, glancingleft and right as the door settled closed, the automaticlock catching with a soft metallic snick.Nothing butgarbage cans and recycling bins, overflowing withmildewed waste.From where he stood, the alleystretched off to his left and then hooked left again; ifhis internal compass was still working, the narrow,cluttered passage would take him straight to Oak,letting out less than a block away from the station.So far, he'd been lucky; all he could do was hopethat his fortune would hold out, would let him get tothe RPD building alive and in one piece - and, Godwilling, find a heavily armed contingent of peoplewho knew what the hell was going on.And Claire.Be safe, Claire Redfield, and if you getthere before me, don't lock the door.Leon repositioned the leaden weight of the ammoacross his back and started down the dimly lit alley,ready to blow apart anything that got in his way.Claire almost made it without having to shoot; thezombies that trickled out into the streets of Raccoonwere relentless but slow, and the adrenaline pumpingthrough her system made it easy enough to dodgethem.She figured that they were drawn out by thesound of the wreck, then just followed their noses, orwhat was left of them; of the ten or so that had madeit close enough for her to get a good look, at least halfwere in an advanced stage of decay, flesh falling fromthe bone.She was so busy watching the street and trying tosort through all that had happened, she almost ranright past the police station.She'd been to the RPD building twice before to visit Chris, but had neverentered from the back or in the cold and stinkingdark, pursued by malignant cannibals.A crashed copcar and a handful of zombified officers had clued herin, sending her through a small parking lot and somekind of an equipment shed that opened into a tinypaved courtyard - a courtyard where she and Chrishad eaten lunch once, sitting on the steps that led upto the station's second-floor helipad.As simply asthat, she'd made it.Weaving past the two stumbling, uniformed corpsesthat wandered aimlessly across the L-shaped yard waseasy, and it was such a relief to be somewhere sherecognized, to know she was about to be safe, thatshe didn't see the woman until it was almost too late.A wailing dead woman with one limply hanging armand a gore-streaked, shredded tank top, who reachedout from the shadows at the base of the stairs andbrushed at Claire's arm with cold and scabby fingers.Claire let out a strangled yelp of surprise, stumblingback from the creature's outstretched hand andnearly fell into the arms of another one, a tall, broad-shouldered rotting man who had emerged from be-neath the metal stairs, graceless yet silent.She dodged sideways and pointed the nine-millimeter at the man, backed up a step.and felt her calf hit the unyielding railing of theback steps to the roof.The woman was five feet to herright, the torn, bloody shirt exposing one gougedbreast, the hand of her working arm grasping towardClaire.The man was one step from reaching distance,and she couldn't back up any further.Claire pulled the trigger and there was a mammothboom, the gun jerking almost out of her hand.Theright half of the tall man's slack and withered facedisappeared in a burst of dark, liquid streams gushingfrom his shattered skull.She whipped the gun around, tightening her grip asshe aimed for the woman's pallid, moaning face.Another blast of deafening sound and the rising moanwas cut off, the waxen forehead imploding in a sprayof blood and bone chips.The woman went overbackwards, crashing to the pavement like.like a corpse, which she already was.They won'tbe walking away from this one.It was as if everything finally caught up to her atonce, the reality of her situation driven home whenshe'd pulled the trigger.For a moment, Clairecouldn't move.She stared down at the two crumpledsacks of ruined flesh, at the two people she'd just shot,and felt like she was only an inch or two from losing it.She'd grown up around guns, been to shootingranges dozens of times - but with a.22 target pistol,firing at pieces of paper.Targets that didn't bleed, orspew brain matter like the two human beings she'djust.No, a cool voice inside of her interrupted.Nothuman, not anymore.Don't kid yourself and don'twaste time on remorse.Leon could be inside by now,looking for you.And if the S.T.A.R.S.got called in,Chris could be here, too.If that weren't motivation enough, the two zombiecops that Claire had passed when she first hit thecourtyard were on their way, boots shuffling anddragging across the flagstones.It was time to go.She jogged up the stairs, barely able to hear theclang of her steps over the high-pitched ringing in herears.The nine-millimeter blasts had done a tempo-rary number on her hearing - which explained whyshe didn't know about the helicopter until she wasalmost to the roof.Claire hit the second-to-top riser and stopped dead,a whipping wind pounding rhythmically at her bareshoulders as the giant black vehicle hovered intoview, half lost in shadow.It was near the ancientwater tower that bordered the helipad at the south-west corner, though she couldn't tell if it had justtaken off or was coming in to land.Couldn't tell and didn't care."Hey!" she shouted,raising her left hand into the air."Hey, over here!"Her words were lost in the blowing dust that swirledacross the rooftop, drowned out by the steady chop ofthe 'copter's blades.Claire waved wildly, feeling likeshe'd just hit the lottery.Somebody came! Thank God, thank you!A blaring searchlight snapped on from the midsec-tion of the hovering bird, scrawled across the roofand was going in the wrong direction, away from her.Claire waved more frantically, drawing in breath tocall out again [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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