September 24, 1998.
9:00 p.m.
“Status?” Raymond studied the officers around him, face grim.
Police cars using roof-mounted loudspeakers had drawn nearly every zombie in northern Raccoon City toward Ennerdale Street.
The explosives were already in position.
Once the detonator was assembled and armed, they could wipe out the concentrated horde in a single operation.
The blast would probably destroy the police vehicles as well, but that was unavoidable.
As long as the officers got out in advance and stayed clear of the explosion, that was enough.
Even so, the sight of the horde surging down the street like a wave made Raymond’s heart leap into his throat.
He had accepted the possibility of dying in the line of duty from the day he put on the uniform.
Accepting death in theory was one thing.
Watching it approach in the form of thousands of infected bodies was another.
Anyone who had a choice wanted to live.
But right now, the only way forward was to step toward danger rather than away from it.
The chief was gone, so Raymond had to command the department himself.
Maybe Irons was already dead.
Either way, this operation had to succeed.
If it failed, an infected population this enormous would pour south and overwhelm the remaining districts.
Raccoon City would lose its last pockets of safety.
It was time for Raymond to fulfill his duty as a police officer.
“Deputy Chief!
The first barricade is down!
The infected are pushing toward the second line!
Officers are engaging stragglers that got through!” The bad news came quickly.
To maximize the operation’s chances, Raymond had established three defensive layers.
The first was a dense barrier of street barricades designed to physically slow the horde.
Behind it stood a second wall formed from police cars parked bumper to bumper, using their weight to block the road.
The third line consisted of armed officers—including Raymond himself—whose job was to create a concentrated field of fire and buy the demolition crews enough time to finish.
The first line had already collapsed.
With so many zombies packed together, some climbed over the vehicles and exposed themselves above the crowd, making easy headshots for the officers on the third line.
For the moment the defense still looked manageable, and Raymond had stockpiled as much ammunition as the department could spare.
He nevertheless understood that the second barricade would not hold for long.
They needed another fallback plan now, not after the cars started moving.
“Pull the demolition teams back!
Increase the distance from the horde and establish a new work position behind the next line.
The charges must be completed.
Contact the other teams and confirm their placement status!” The communications officer immediately checked the remaining groups.
Raymond had divided the operation into four separate teams, each responsible for a section of Ennerdale Street.
The objective was to destroy every infected mass gathered along the avenue stretching east to west across the city.
There was no realistic alternative location; few other streets were wide enough to contain a horde of this size.
Any civilians still trapped in the surrounding blocks would almost certainly die in the blast.
Fortunately, the R.P.D., Brad from S.T.A.R.S., and Carlos from the U.B.C.S.
had already evacuated survivors from the area to Raccoon Central Station.
Only because of that could the police even attempt an operation on this scale.
“All other teams report their explosives are in position!” The update arrived moments later.
“Good.
Have them regroup on the central section.
Concentrate everyone we have and hold the line!” Raymond understood that being rescued once was luck.
Expecting someone to save you every single time belonged in a superhero comic.
Reality wasn’t like that.
Most of the time, people had to save themselves.
And failing to receive a miracle was never an excuse to surrender, blame everyone else, or give up hope.
He tightened his grip around his shotgun.
Raymond had always assumed that, by the time he retired, the old partner in his hands would have spent its career dealing with violent criminals and drug-crazed suspects.
Instead, here they were together in a scene straight out of a Hollywood disaster movie.
The unreality of it almost made him laugh.
Some instinct told Raymond the next few minutes might become the most extraordinary moment of his entire life.
“Chief!
Second line is breached!
Some of the infected are mutating!” There was always room for something to go wrong.
Even after combining their forces, the officers hadn’t anticipated zombies deprived of normal prey turning on one another.
Those that consumed enough flesh began developing into Crimson Heads.
Their skin flushed dark red, their strength and speed jumped dramatically, and elongated nails formed into claws.
Working alongside the rest of the horde, the faster mutants began overturning police cars.
An officer reacted quickly enough to shoot one vehicle’s fuel tank, triggering an explosion.
It still wasn’t enough.
The horde seemed endless.
Zombies kept stumbling and running through the flames toward the third line.
Worse, some infected retained enough residual memory to interact with objects from their former lives.
One tore a nearby fire hydrant assembly apart and released a torrent of water, gradually extinguishing part of the burning barrier created by the wrecked vehicles.
With the final obstacle weakened, the smell and sight of fresh living flesh drove the horde into a frenzy.
Several dozen police officers were a significant force under ordinary circumstances.
Against hundreds, thousands—possibly tens of thousands—of infected, they suddenly looked painfully small.
Every officer raised a weapon and fired.
Under the dense barrage, zombies fell continuously.
The police were disciplined enough to aim for the head, but every body that dropped was replaced by another pushing forward from behind.
The infected showed no concept of comradeship and no fear when the creatures in front of them died.
They felt no pain, displayed no hesitation, and moved like animals stripped down to a single abnormal instinct.
“Looks like I made it in time.” Fortunately, the underground laboratory wasn’t far from the police station.
Huo Xiu reached Ennerdale Street before the line collapsed.
This time the R.P.D.
was better prepared than in the original course of events, and there were no civilians left nearby who needed protection, allowing the officers to hold considerably longer.
The S.P.F.
officer Huo Xiu had saved earlier was still among them and recognized his voice immediately.
“Leave this to us!
Go help evacuate civilians!” Raymond knew this was the man who had saved one of his officers, and he knew Huo Xiu worked for Umbrella.
But even if he was Umbrella personnel, what could a single man do here?
Ammunition was finite, and he’d arrived alone.
Huo Xiu had already done the R.P.D.
an enormous favor.
Raymond refused to stand by and let a stranger sacrifice his life helping them a second time.
The department hadn’t earned that kind of debt.
“Deputy Chief, would you hold my hat for a moment?” Huo Xiu removed it and handed it to Raymond, then took off his gloves and tucked them away.
He didn’t explain himself, but the absolute confidence in his voice made Raymond hesitate.
Huo Xiu sounded as though he genuinely believed he could handle what was coming.
“Keep your demolition crews working.
Don’t worry about me.
I’ll buy you the time you need.” What happened next shattered Raymond’s understanding of the human body.
Huo Xiu walked past the officers forming the third defensive line and directly faced the oncoming horde.
When the first zombie reached him, he seized it by both legs, lifted the entire body off the ground, and started swinging it like a weapon.
A few seconds later, apparently deciding one wasn’t enough, he grabbed a second.
He wielded the zombies with such force that human flesh might as well have become a pair of legendary war clubs.
Every sweep smashed a broad section of the horde aside.
When one “weapon” became too mangled to remain useful, Huo Xiu hurled it forward like a bowling ball, knocking down another cluster of infected, then reached into the crowd and selected two fresh volunteers.
The absurd routine somehow held the horde at a perfectly controlled distance—close enough to terrify the officers, never close enough to reach them.
It was the solution Huo Xiu had settled on.
Strength was his greatest advantage.
The zombies couldn’t meaningfully hurt him, but killing thousands one by one would still be tedious.
So he needed a weapon.
And what weapon was more plentiful in Raccoon City than zombies themselves?
They offered reach, and when accelerated by Huo Xiu’s strength, they inflicted more than enough damage.
One swing could clear a crowd.
When the body broke, he could throw it away and grab another.
For the past few days, Raccoon City had possessed a nearly inexhaustible supply.
Raymond was deputy chief for a reason.
Even confronted with something this insane, he recovered quickly.
Maybe some people really are born freakishly strong.
Or perhaps Umbrella had developed some kind of new enhancement technology.
The company had military contracts, after all.
Whatever the explanation, this was the opportunity they had needed.
“Detonator is ready!
Charges are live!” At last the demolition team delivered the news Raymond had been waiting for.
“All right!
Fall back!” Reinforcement vehicles assigned for extraction had already arrived.
Once again, Huo Xiu had saved an enormous number of police lives.
As Raymond withdrew, one sentence from their earlier conversation returned to him.
“Better stay alive long enough to give the rookie a proper welcome, right?” Raymond had taken it as a joke at the time.
Now he found himself wondering whether Huo Xiu genuinely had come back because of that.
Whatever the reason, the man had saved Raymond and dozens of officers.
So before arming the detonator, Raymond made absolutely certain Huo Xiu received the warning.
Huo Xiu had no objection to leaving.
Once he reclaimed his hat from Raymond and climbed into one of the retreating vehicles, he watched fire erupt across Ennerdale Street behind them.
The tidal horde vanished beneath successive explosions until, at last, the avenue fell silent.
“Next stop…
the hospital.”