Resident Evil Legends Part Five: City of the Dead

By Andreas Leachim

Based on the Resident Evil video game series by Capcom. Their worst fears have been realized: the deadly T-virus has reached Raccoon City, turning most of the city's residents into bloodthirsty zombies. Two newcomers arrive in town and find themselves thrown into a nightmare. Claire Redfield is looking for her brother Chris, and Leon Kennedy is a former Army Ranger coming to join the RCPD. Together with a young girl named Sherry Birkin and a mysterious woman named Ada Wong, they must escape the police station, which has become a death trap. Meanwhile, Jill Valentine wakes up to discover the entire city in ruins, and must fight to make it out alive. Along the way she will meet with a young UBCF soldier named Carlos Oliveira, and also encounter a terrifying, indestructible creature known only as the Nemesis. Can any of them escape the city of the dead?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Andreas Leachim
• Release date: Jul 3, 2016

Andreas Leachim

Andreas Leachim is seven feet tall and has six fingers on each hand. He speaks 22 languages. He won the Academy Award for Best Picture, the Nobel Prize in Chemistry, and the Cy Young Award all in the same year. He once climbed Mount Everest while juggling a pair of flaming chainsaws. He is allergic to other human beings.

Book preview

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.

Chapter 2

Man, it stinks down here, Charlie said, stepping away from the ladder. He sniffed the air and made a disapproving face, shining his flashlight around as his partners came down after him. A rat scurried along the other edge of the sewer tunnel, disappearing into darkness.

Steve and Benny came down the ladder. All three of them wore dingy orange overalls and white hard hats. A leather satchel hung over Steve’s shoulder and a tool belt full of wrenches clanged at his hip. He shined a flashlight into the recesses of the dark tunnel.

You always say it stinks, Benny said, rubbing his hands together. Figure you’d be used to the smell by now.

I’ll never get used to it, man.

It’s not so bad, Steve said. You ever been to the sewage treatment plant? Now that place smells horrible. I can’t even describe it. It just smells like mildew down here.

You’re just cranky cause we got stuck on third shift, Benny said.

Tell me about it, Charlie said. Should be asleep in my bed right now.

Together, they walked down the tunnel, their dirty work boots scuffing loudly on the wet concrete, their flashlights piercing the damp darkness. Charlie kicked a stray soda can into a puddle of murky brown water.

Two hundred feet down the tunnel, they came to an electrical box with rusted edges and a huge padlock hanging on the door. Benny dug out his keys and jingled them loudly in his hand while Steve pointed his flashlight on them.

You always do this, Steve said. Why don’t you label the damn things?

No fun in that, Benny said, flipping through the huge ring of keys.

Charlie sniffed again, still thinking that it stunk down in the sewers no matter what Steve said. The combination of stagnant water, mildew, mold, rotting garbage, and rat droppings just seemed overpowering to him. He swung his flashlight left and right, aiming the beam of light down the long, curved tunnel. Water glistened on the walls, dripping in places.

You hear that? he asked.

Benny found the key he wanted and stuck it into the padlock. The door to the electrical box opened with a rusty squeak. Hear what? he asked.

I dunno, Charlie said. Sounded like somebody splashing in the water.

Steve chuckled. Wouldn’t want to splash in this water. Who knows what might be floating in it? He pulled a voltage reader out of his satchel and traced his finger on the electrical diagram on the inside of the box.

Yeah, Benny said. This place ain’t exactly a public swimming pool.

Charlie was about to say something when all three of them were shaken by the sound of a tortured scream echoing down the entire tunnel. The sound echoed in their ears and froze the blood in their veins. Charlie staggered backward, his flashlight shaking in his hand, making the light seem to flicker as if the battery was dying.

Jesus, what the hell was that? Steve asked, stepping away from the box, aiming his flashlight as well. Benny looked over his shoulder and then glanced back behind them.

I don’t know, Charlie whispered. He took a step backward, nervously pawing at his chin. Listen, let’s get out of here. Let’s call the cops.

You heard that scream? Benny asked. Maybe somebody got hurt.

That wasn’t no person screaming.

Steve walked a few steps down the tunnel and shouted, Hey! Is someone down there? His voice reverberated down the tunnel, repeating the question half a dozen times before it faded into eerie silence.

I’m out of here, Charlie said, turning around and walking quickly past Benny, who grabbed his arm.

Come on, man. You’re freaking out.

Damn right, I’m freaking out. I’m telling you, that scream did not come from a person.

Then what was it, the boogeyman?

I don’t care, I’m leaving.

Steve ignored the two of them and squinted his eyes, trying to make out a strange shape far down the sewer tunnel, just at the edge of his flashlight’s effectiveness, barely illuminated but still visible. The shape moved slightly, and the faint ray of light revealed something. Steve’s breath caught in his throat and the beam of light wavered as his hand began to shake. Steve was no biologist, but he knew with a terrifying certainty that the creature faintly outlined by his flashlight was not something natural. It wasn’t human, it was something else, something that belonged in a horror movie.

What the ...? Steve whispered, his eyes growing wide. He backed up and stumbled right into Benny and Charlie, before trying to push past them. Go, go, he insisted. Let’s get out of here.

Why? Benny asked, annoyed. What did you ...

The creature loped out of the darkness like a nightmare bursting forth into reality, its human shape distorted by the long arms, shredded clothing, glowing eyes, and a huge pulsing eyeball on its shoulder. It shrieked madly, saliva streaming from its twisted mouth, and its huge arms swung toward the three workers.

Jesus Christ! Charlie screamed, pushing Benny aside and taking off down the tunnel. His work belt clanked hard on his thighs and his hard hat toppled from his head, clattering to the ground behind him. Water splashed under his feet as he ran, his lungs gasping for breath.

Screams behind him, human screams. He dared not look back, running toward the ladder that led to the surface. He screamed himself then, over and over, praying that the other workers atop the sewer entrance could hear him.

Help! he screamed. Help me!

Something huge landed directly behind him, shaking the ground, and then he was propelled into the air as if struck by a speeding car. He cartwheeled through the tunnel, cracking his head against the concrete ceiling, the tools in his belt flying in all directions like pieces of shrapnel. With a sickening crunch, he landed in a heap, limbs twisted at grisly angles. He gurgled helplessly, feeling blood in his mouth. Gasping for air, he could no longer feel his legs. Blood seemed to flow freely out of his mouth, down the side of his face, his labored breath making bubbles in the torrent of blood.

Help me ... he breathed. But no one was there to help him, and even if someone heard his cries, there was nothing they could do anyway.

***

Johnny Tuesday had only just gone to sleep, but he was awakened by the sound of scratching on the floor underneath his bed. He rolled over on the old, stained mattress and sighed. He had no blanket, just the shabby coat he usually wore, but he wrapped his arms tighter around himself and tried to fall back asleep. The scratching sound continued, more urgent than before, and he finally gave in and sat up in bed.

He walked over to the edge of the loading dock and flipped a switch on the wall, turning the large overhead lights on. He didn’t like using the lights, because he was worried the building owners would know someone was there if they saw the electric bill go up. Of course, Johnny had been staying there for over eight months now, since the company went bankrupt and the building became abandoned, and no one had shown up to evict him yet. He hoped no one ever would, because he had nowhere else to go.

The loading dock was empty except for a stack of old wooden pallets and some metal racks, empty now. The only other piece of furniture was an old mattress on a plain metal frame, which Johnny found leaning against a dumpster a few months before. He brought it here and it was the nicest bed he had ever owned. It was much better than the pallets he previously slept on.

When his eyes became accustomed to the bright lights, he could see a pair of rats running around under the bed. He found rats in the building all the time, and he usually paid them no mind. But they usually did not interrupt his sleep.

Go away, rats! he yelled at them, but they did not listen.

He picked up a broken plank of wood from one of the pallets and smacked it against the floor a few times to scare the rats off. Normally, that did the trick, but for some reason, these rats did not seem scared by him.

Johnny got onto his knees and swung the piece of wood under the bed, knocking one of the rats clear out from under it. The small animal slid a few feet away from the bed and scratched at the floor. Johnny went over to it and hit it with the piece of wood.

To his amazement, the rat barely seemed to notice. It just sat there on the floor, scratching over and over like a broken toy. Johnny could see cuts and bite marks along its back and down its tail.

He walked back over to the bed and reached down to swing the plank of wood at the other rat. It squeaked at him angrily and jumped onto the piece of wood, climbing right up to his hand before he could pull away. He shouted in surprise as the rat jumped onto his hand and sunk its teeth into his thumb.

Ow! Let go! Johnny shouted, swinging his hand. The plank of wood flew from his grasp and clattered to the floor. He swung his hand left and right frantically as the rat held on, biting deep into his finger. Finally, with a scream of pain, he shook the rat off and it flew across the room, smacking right into the wall.

Blood poured from the torn skin and dripped onto the floor, and Johnny winced in pain, pinching his thumb with his other hand to try and stop the flow. The rat took a piece of his flesh with it when he shook it off. He looked over at the rat, and to his amazement, it was still moving around. In fact, it was scurrying towards him.

When he glanced back at the other rat, he saw that it too was coming in his direction. So were the four other rats that appeared from behind the pallets. Suddenly, Johnny felt very outnumbered. He ran to the door and left the building, not even bothering to turn the lights off after him.

Stupid rats, he muttered. He took a dirty handkerchief from his pocket and tied it around his thumb, wincing again in sharp pain. He would come back in the morning, when the sun was out, and find whatever holes the rats were coming through and fill them up. The stupid rats weren’t going to bother him again.

He walked down an alley adjacent to the building and found a blocked off doorway that he could snuggle down in to catch some sleep.

***

Thomas Duckett came awake as his wife Carla gently shook his shoulder. He mumbled sleepily and looked at the glowing red numbers on the alarm clock on their nightstand.

Honey, wake up, Carla said, shaking his arm again.

I’m awake, he muttered. It’s two-thirty in the morning, honey.

I hear someone on the back porch.

What?

Listen, Carla whispered. Someone is on the back porch.

Thomas listened carefully and heard a quiet thump and the unmistakable sound of someone stepping on the loose board right behind their back door. He sat up in bed and was immediately awake. There was someone out there.

Do you hear it? Carla asked nervously.

Yeah, Thomas replied. I hear it.

He slid out of bed and crept over to the window. Their bedroom was on the back side of the house and the window looked into the back yard. Very carefully, Thomas slid the edge of the curtain aside and looked toward the back porch. The rear porch light was on, as always, and Thomas could clearly see someone standing right next to the back door. The intruder faced the other way, so Thomas could not see his face, but he wavered unsteadily on his feet, as if a slight breeze might tip him over.

Their house was on the very edge of Raccoon City, and his backyard ended where the Arklay Forest began. None of his neighbors lived very close by. He didn’t know anyone who would have any possible reason to trespass on his property at this time of night. With that in mind, Thomas moved away from the window and walked over to their bedroom closet.

Is someone there? Carla asked, holding the blanket up to her neck.

Thomas opened the closet and dug around quietly in a small plastic chest on the floor, taking out a small wooden box containing his personal firearm. Some guy standing on the back porch. Looks like he’s drunk or something.

What are you going to do?

I’m going outside to scare him off. I want you to call the cops right now.

As Carla fumbled with the phone, Thomas loaded a clip into the pistol and flipped off the safety. While surely no expert with guns, he bought it for home safety a few years before and fired it a few times at the local shooting range, so he knew enough to use it properly.

Wearing just a pair of loose pajama pants, he walked through the house and went out the front door as quietly as possible. The front porch light was on as well, and there was no one in front of the house. In bare feet, he walked across the lawn and around the side of the house.

He took a deep breath and held the gun firmly in his hand. If the trespasser was a burglar, he would have already broken into the house. He wouldn’t just be standing stupidly on the back porch. Thomas assumed he was some homeless drunk or maybe a drug addict just wandering around. He was prepared to just scare the man off, but he wasn’t going to take any chances.

He edged around the side of the house and aimed the gun at the man standing on his back porch. The light above his head illuminated his blue work shirt and trousers, like the outfit a mechanic or janitor might wear.

Don’t move, Thomas said loudly.

Right away, the man on the porch jerked up at Thomas’ voice and turned around to face him. His face was filthy dirty, smeared with grime, and the look on his face was completely blank, like some kind of store mannequin. He opened his mouth and let out a soft groan that raised the hairs on the back of Thomas’ neck. The man took one step down off the porch.

I said don’t move, Thomas said louder, the gun trembling in his hand.

The trespasser did not seem to her him, or if he did he just ignored it. He staggered forward on clumsy legs, staring blankly forward like a robot, mouth agape. Thomas took an unsteady step backward.

I said don’t move!

The man kept coming, one awkward step at a time. When he had traversed half the distance to Thomas, he lifted one arm and moaned again.

Don’t come any closer! Thomas shrieked.

The gun went off suddenly, and the trespasser jerked sideways as the bullet ripped into his shoulder. He almost lost his balance but quickly regained it, wobbling back and forth and staring down at the hole in his shoulder. He said nothing, and then returned his attention to Thomas and took another threatening step forward.

Thomas held the gun in both hands and pulled the trigger, the gun jumping up, the recoil hurting his wrists. He fired again and again, each bullet hitting the man in the janitor outfit right in the chest. Fabric split apart and spurts of liquid burst from the bullet holes, but the man just kept walking forward, barely even noticing the gunshots. Each burst of light from the gun barrel reflected on his lifeless white eyes and illuminated the grime on his face, which Thomas realized was not dirt at all, but dried blood.

When the gun clicked empty, Thomas was too afraid to move. The trespasser came at him, arms outstretched, and lunged right at his throat. Thomas screamed as the man bit into his throat, and tried to fight him off. But it was far too late for that. He fell backwards, the man falling down right on top of him, biting further into Thomas’ neck, tearing into the flesh and splashing blood.

***

The paramedics pushed a gurney through the doors and into the emergency room, the motionless body of a city utility worker lying on top, his entire body splashed with blood. Nurses pulled the gurney to a hospital bed and quickly moved the body. The man’s shirt was ripped open to show several long gashes across his torso and on his arms as well. One of the nurses placed an air pump over his mouth and began squeezing it, taking his pulse.

Hey, can you hear me? the nurse asked, touching the side of his face. Anyone know this guy’s name?

Benjamin. That’s what the medics called him.

Ben? Ben, can you hear me? What happened to him?

No idea. They said he was attacked by some kind of animal.

What kind of animal did this? A mountain lion?

Dr. Gary Winslow came into the room, pulling on his rubber gloves. A white face mask dangled from around his neck. What do we have here? Tell me what’s going on.

We have blood loss and tissue damage, maybe internal injuries as well, one of the nurses said. Pulse is weak and breathing is shallow. They said it was an animal attack.

Get him an IV drip, stat. Get him hooked up.

Winslow ran a finger across Benny’s bloody chest and did a quick visual examination of his external injuries. No head trauma, just the cuts here. They don’t look very deep, but he may have broken ribs though. Once we get him stabilized, we can –

Just as they attached him to the life support equipment, the heart monitor beeped loudly and then blared its alarm for cardiac arrest. The nurse with the air pump put her hand to Benny’s throat and cried out, No pulse!

The nurses scrambled as Winslow rushed over and began emergency CPR, putting his hands together and pressing hard on Benny’s chest. The blood made it slippery and Winslow’s hands slid unsteadily across the gashes.

We got nothing! a nurse shouted. No pulse, no breathing!

Get the defibrillator ready!

They pushed the tray next to him and he grabbed the two paddles in bloody hands. Winslow shouted, Clear! before pressing the paddles to Benny’s chest and hitting the trigger, blasting a shock of electricity into the body. Benny jerked up off the bed and landed flat, the heart monitor still blaring its high-pitched alarm. There was no response, so Winslow hit him again with the paddles, but the result was the same. Someone finally hit the silence button on the alarm.

Winslow leaned against the edge of the bed as the nurses looked on in dismay. He shook his head and set the defibrillator paddles back on the cart.

Okay, he said slowly. I’m calling time of death at exactly two-forty-nine in the morning.

What do you think happened? a nurse asked.

I have no idea. Cardiac arrest caused by severe bodily trauma. I wish we had some idea what caused these injuries.

There are some police here, a nurse said. I think they might know more.

The doctor glanced at the body. Too late for him. He shook his head again and walked out of the room, pulling his gloves off and tossing them into the wastebasket.

One of the nurses pulled the sheet up from the bed and covered Benny’s body. The other two nurses disconnected the life support monitors and tried to start cleaning up. One of Benny’s arms slid off the bed and dangled over the edge.

Poor guy, the nurse said, gently taking the arm to put it back on the bed. As soon as she touched it, Benny’s arm twitched and he grabbed onto her hand.

She screamed and tried to pull away as Benny’s jerked upright, the white sheet fluttering to the side. He stared at her with insane eyes and pulled her arm toward him, groaning with his teeth bared. The other nurses shouted in surprise and ran to the bed to push him back down.

Doctor! Get back here!

Benny shoved the nurses aside and bit down hard on the other nurse’s arm. She screamed and tried to pull away,