Resident Evil. Retribution (30 page)

Lony nodded. Chung said nothing.

Jack went outside, blinking blearily around in the first gray light. Chung joined him.

“Kind of scared?” Chung asked.

Jack shrugged. “More disappointed.”

Chung nodded. “First people—bad people.”

“And I killed one. Never killed a real person before.”

“All this is a reminder,” Chung said, “That there is more than one kind of living dead. There are those who are not infected. Who are not mad cannibals. But they, too, are soulless. They surrendered their soul—it was eaten by their selfishness. We try to have compassion for them, but we must preserve life—good human life. We must preserve those who have not abandoned their souls…” He shrugged. “You did the right thing. It is not so Buddhist, to kill such men. But it is what I believe we had to do. It’s not always possible to be perfectly compassionate.” He said, again, “There is more than one kind of living dead…”

Jack was staring out to sea. Was that another boat, out there? Or some kind of big flotsam?

“What’s that? Sticking up out there?” He raised his binoculars to his eyes. “Oh, man! Chung—I think that’s a submarine!”

“We’re on the ground again?” Alice asked, waking up. The quiet of the helicopter, the muting of its engines, had awakened her.

She had said it aloud, but Becky—sitting on the cot’s edge—had watched her lips.

“More fuel,” she signed.

“I hope it’s safer than the last place…” Alice unstrapped herself from the cot and got up, not feeling as much pain as the last time. She stretched, and the girl handed her a can of chocolate-flavored nutritive fluid. She drank deeply, looking out the port.

They were up high—perhaps a rooftop. Curious, she went to the hatch, down the ramp, and they walked out into the cool morning. Wind blew across the ravaged buildings of a city. She heard a muted growling, the moaning of the Undead, far below.

They were on an aluminum-sheathed surface. A circle was painted there—a helipad, she suspected. Fuel tanks stood to one side. The guards in paramilitary togs stood near the tanks, and a technician was monitoring the refueling at the rear of the helicopter.

“This was an old Umbrella building,” Jill said, smiling wryly as she walked around the back of the helicopter. “Wesker’s helipad in this area…”

“We’re in D.C.?

“Not yet. We’re going to wait here a while, refuel, and then go to the LZ in Washington. This is Baltimore.”

“Why the wait? It doesn’t take that long to fuel.”

“There have been developments, and they’re trying to establish a safer LZ for us. We might be here an hour or two, even three, but we’ll be heading over there today.”

“Jill…” Alice stepped up close, and lowered her voice. “Look—do we really want to follow through on this?”

“Ada’s up and about. Leon, too. You want to get into it with them? Especially her—she’s a pretty tough chick. Not to mention…” She looked at the guards.

Alice shrugged.

“I like Ada. I don’t want to fight her unless I have to. But if I have to…”

They were speaking in low tones, barely audible even to each other.

“She’s determined to take us to Washington, D.C, Alice,” Jill said. “I know how you feel. Wesker’s there. But supposedly he wants to be an ally.”

“Until he doesn’t need us,” she replied. “Then what? Jill, the guy tried to eat me. Tried to actually, physically,
consume
me.”

“I know. I heard.” Jill laughed softly. “Yeah, that’ll put you off a person, alright. But think of it this way—what’s left out there?” She gestured vaguely to include the whole world. “Where would we go? We’d be up against hell, wherever we went. At least there’s some kind of base to work from in D.C. And maybe if Wesker’s there, we’ll find the opportunity to take him down for good. If we wait for the chance, you know?”

Alice thought about it. It was logical. But the revulsion she felt was strong.

Becky walked up to them then.

“What are you talking about?” she signed.

Alice smiled, and replied.

“Talking about where to go now.”

“Did you decide?” she asked.

“I guess we’ll go see… the White House.”

Tom was up on the “sail,” the submarine’s conning tower, gazing almost rapturously at Santa Catalina. Dori and Judy climbed up the ladder to stand beside him.

“Ladies, look at that!” He waved with a flourish. “I think that’s Catalina, right there! I don’t see any Undead, and if it’s clear of them… Oh, that’d be too much to hope for.”

“I’d love to get off this—” Judy began. But she didn’t finish saying it. She was interrupted by a bullet.

The shot cracked off one of the transmission fixtures on the conning tower. They heard the echoing bang of the shot a moment later.

“Get down!” Tom said, flattening.

They all dropped down, with the periscopes, pipes, and antennae providing good cover.

“Dori, get back inside,” Judy whispered.

“If she tries, she might be too exposed,” Tom said urgently.

“Someone shot at us?” Dori said. Her voice was quavering—that bullet had wounded her hopes.

“Yeah, kid, they did,” Tom said. “That’s the bad news. The good news is, most of the Undead can’t shoot. Would there be Las Plagas on that island? Not hardly.”

“So that means regular people…” Judy said.

“Got to be.” Another bullet cracked by overhead. “And they’re not even trying very hard to hit us. I got a feeling all this is to scare us off.”

Someone yelled from shore. It was too far to hear what they were saying, but the tone wasn’t friendly. Tom peeked over the edge with his binoculars. He could see something that looked like a weathered old concrete bunker, and solar power panels on a multilevel, modern-style house. He panned back and forth, looking at the beaches, what he could see of the harbor.

No movement, except birds.

“There really don’t seem to be any Undead on that island,” he said wonderingly. “They’d be attracted to the noise, and would be out here slaverin’ after us on the beaches.”

“We can’t go to an island occupied by people who want to kill us,” Judy said.

“I don’t think they’re serious,” Tom said. “They really seem to be trying to scare us off. If they were scumbags, then they’d want us to come into the island so they could kill and rob us. Take all our stuff.” He made up his mind. “I’m going to take a chance, here, Judy. I’ve got a feeling about this…”

“Tom—don’t.”

But he got up to a crouch, and rushed to the back of the sail. Climbed down a ladder to the Zodiac-style rubber boat that was tied up there, under a tarp. The conning tower protected him from being seen by whoever was shooting at them. His hands shaking, heart pounding, wondering if he were being a damned fool, he untied the black-rubber boat, and lowered it down into the water. Then he kept hold of it, and slipped down the side of the hull.

It was awkward climbing onto it—he nearly overturned it, but stabilized himself. The battery-powered engine had been provided by Umbrella, and he switched it on—it hummed. He put it in neutral, then unzipped his coveralls, and pulled off his T-shirt. The tee would have to do for a white flag. He put the coveralls back on, skin prickly with the chill wind off the sea.

Tom pulled in the line then took hold of the rudder, put the engine on drive, and took a deep breath. Was it the waves tossing the boat making him queasy—or fear?

“Tom! Wait!” Judy called to him.

“Got to go this alone!” he said. “Hold on…” Then he headed the boat out, over the choppy waves, toward the island, his T-shirt in his right hand.

He got a few yards past the forward end of the sub before they started shooting again. Two rifle shots cracked, the bullets kicking up the water just in front of him. He could see smoke drifting from a firing slit on the bunker. Another muddled yell of warning echoed across to him.

He licked his lips, took the white T-shirt in his right hand, raised it over his head and waved it. He raised his left hand to show it was empty.

“No weapons!” he yelled, loud as he could. “Got no gun here! Peace talk!”

“You shouldn’t even be out of bed, Bim!” Lony said. “Shooting at people… you might have an infection, or you’re gonna get one and we don’t have but a few doses of antibiotics left.”

Lony was sitting stiffly in a chair behind the firing slit of the bunker, his leg bandaged, rifle in hand, glaring out at the sea.

“They’re a submarine,” Jack said. He had come in with Lony. “Why are you shooting at a submarine? I mean, they might shoot a missile at us or something!”

“I saw ’em in the binoculars,” Bim said through gritted teeth. “They’re not military people!” There was sweat beading on his forehead. “Look what happened when those other losers, came to the island. We have to keep everyone away!”

Jack peered through another slit.

“One of them is coming in a boat!”

“Yeah,” Bim growled. “I tried to warn him back. I’m gonna try to hit that boat…”

But then Jack saw someone else, below. It was Uncle Chung, walking across the beach, waving.

“Chung’s down there!” Lony said, looking over Bim’s shoulder. “Hold your damn fire!”

Jack grabbed up his rifle and ran outside, down the path toward the beach. He almost flew down the hillside. Puffing, he reached Chung’s side. Saw that he wasn’t armed. Uncle Chung looked at him disapprovingly.

“You should not be here,” he said. “Not safe yet.”

“You’re the one came down without a gun.”

“Safer, sometimes. It all depends. That man does not appear to be armed.” He pointed at the man tooling slowly toward them in the black-rubber boat.

“He could have a gun down in that boat, somewhere you can’t see.”

“I don’t think so. I would have…” He shrugged. “Anyway, don’t point your gun at him. Is Bim still preparing to shoot?”

“I think Lony’s got him in hand now. He was pretty freaked out by that bunch that came at us before”

“Yes. And wounded. A big wound.”

They watched as the red-faced, middle-aged man with the broad, smiling mouth came toward them, his little boat bobbing in the surf. Every so often he raised both hands, waving the white flag—it looked like a yellowed T-shirt.

“Don’t shoot!” he called.

“I’m going to cover him, Chung, but I won’t fire unless… you know.”

Chung looked at him, then nodded.

“Very well. It cannot hurt.”

Jack raised the M1, sighted along it.

“Just keep your hands where we can see them and I won’t shoot!” he called.

“No problem!” the man shouted back.

Three minutes more and he was dragging the rubber boat up onto the sand, then turning to face them, breathing hard and smiling.

“Look at you! You don’t look like the criminals Judy was worried about!”

Chung chuckled.

“It’s you we worry about,” he said. “Who are you?”

“Oh, name’s Tom. We stole that submarine! What do you think of that!”

Jack’s mouth dropped open.

“You stole it? From who!”

“Umbrella Corporation. It’s an old Soviet sub. I was barely able to get it moving the right way—but we got it here.”

“How many are you?” Chung asked.

“Just three of us.” Tom looked like he was thinking of adding something more, and then shut his mouth firmly.

“There’s something you just decided not to say,” Chung observed mildly. “Best tell us now.”

Tom sighed.

“There’s some frozen… things in that boat. Las Plagas. I think they’re in some kind of dormant state. I haven’t figured out how to do away with ’em safely like… They’re locked away in a kind of… freezer thing. Under a deck.”

Jack found those remarks hard to digest, but Chung didn’t seem surprised by this.

“Ah. Well. I am convinced you are no danger to us. You may bring the other two over. No one must be armed, not at all. We will not harm you.”

Tom looked at Chung closely, for a long moment. Finally he nodded.

“Okay. If they agree to come, I’ll bring them. I’m going to push to take a chance, ’cause it seems to me… is it true?”

“Is what true?” Jack asked.

“That you have no Undead on this island? I mean, it just seems that way to me. I figure we’d have seen ’em by now.”

“There are none,” Chung said. “We put them all out of their misery.”

Tom nodded, and looked pleased.

“Well, I’ll be back soon as I can…”

“Um, can I come and help?” Jack asked.

“No,” Chung said. “You wait here. With me.”

They waited—Jack in a fever of impatience—and watched as the boat went back out to the submarine. They could see Tom arguing with someone on the big conning tower. Was that a woman up there? They talked for a long time, but at last the boat was on its way back—and with the man were two women.

Chung looked at his nephew and chuckled.

“Strange! You look very pale! Do women frighten you?”

“What? Pale? Fright… what?”

Chung just laughed.

The boat arrived, and Jack and Chung helped Tom pull it partly onto the beach. The two women clambered out, ankle deep in the surf. Impulsively, Jack stuck out his hand to help the younger one come up onto the beach. She stared at him, looked at the rifle over his shoulder, at his face, at his outstretched hand. She was a teenage girl, slender, with large brown eyes. Her lips looked soft and full. Both women, he saw, were wearing sailor suits that didn’t fit them.

At last she took his hand and he helped her onto the beach. She quickly detached her hand from his, and turned to look at the woman. Tom was helping her out of the boat.

“My name’s Jack—this is Chung,” Jack said, looking at the girl. He felt like a hot wind was blowing through him.

She looked at him, and swallowed.

“I’m… Dori.” She said in a small voice. “That’s JudyTech.”

“Judy… teck?”

“I’ll explain that later, kid,” Tom said. “Any more on the island we can meet?”

“Only two others,” Jack said.

Chung frowned, probably not wanting to give Tom that much information. Chung seemed to want to trust these people—but he was being careful.

Jack simply didn’t care.

“Come on,” he said, smiling at Dori. “Come and meet them. And… welcome to Catalina.”