The train screamed through the storm-dark night, steel plates at the connections groaning as the cars twisted against one another.
Leon stood outside the engine cab, his heavy armor pinning him securely to the violently swaying floor.
Ahead, more than a dozen blood-smeared zombies were packed into the narrow aisle like sardines, arms reaching for him.
Leon held the 161-kilogram Doorstop one-handed and leveled the broad blade horizontally.
Muscles in his back and waist tightened beneath the black armor as his thick right arm whipped the slab of dead steel across the chests of the three zombies in front.
All three bodies reacted as though struck by a speeding truck.
Sternums collapsed into pulp and the corpses flew backward into the horde, blasting an empty lane through the packed aisle.
Then—the aluminum ventilation duct overhead burst apart.
A writhing black mass poured down like a waterfall and landed directly in Leon’s path.
Thousands upon thousands of mutant leeches, each as thick as a finger, writhed across the waterlogged carpet.
They rapidly crawled toward the center, layering themselves over one another.
Within seconds, the revolting mass of soft-bodied creatures rose in front of Leon and assembled itself into a two-meter humanoid with neither skin nor facial features.
One arm, built from countless leech bodies, snapped outward into a thick tentacle and whipped toward Leon’s head.
Leon did not give up so much as half a step.
He tilted his neck slightly.
The slimy tentacle slapped across his heavy black shoulder plate, leaving only a broad smear of foul yellow-green mucus without so much as scratching the steel.
“What sewer did these lunatics dig this disgusting thing out of?” His muffled voice sounded beneath the visor.
Leon’s left boot burst through a puddle as his waist twisted sharply in the opposite direction.
The black-steel greatsword swept a savage half-circle through the cramped carriage.
The Doorstop had no edge, but when that much mass moved that fast, cutting was unnecessary.
The blunt black slab struck the leech creature squarely in the waist.
The aggregate body caved inward and burst.
Huge patches of leeches exploded into meat and splattered across windows and walls.
The two-meter humanoid was smashed cleanly in half.
Its upper body hit the floor and dissolved into a carpet of frantic, writhing bodies.
Several drops of corrosive yellow fluid splashed across the viewing slit of Leon’s helmet.
He clicked his tongue in disgust, planted the greatsword on the floor with one hand, and used the other to release the armor clasp beneath his chin.
The heavy black faceplate swung open.
Leon snapped his damp side-parted fringe off his forehead, wiped mucus from the helmet’s edge with the back of his armored hand, then pressed the radio switch at his neck.
“Medic, where are you?” He spoke loudly into the microphone while raising one steel boot and stamping apart the leech head that had already begun trying to reassemble.
“Did your academy’s riot-control manual cover soft-bodied animals that play jigsaw puzzles on the floor?
These terrorists have criminally bad taste.
They’re assembling sewer bugs into security guards.” Static crackled through his headset, mixed with Rebecca’s rapid breathing from inside the ventilation duct.
“You maniac!
Those aren’t just bugs!
They’re a mutant aggregate!” Her voice sounded close to breaking.
“I’ve seen them before…
physical attacks don’t work.
As long as living pieces remain, they’ll re-form!
You have to burn them—incendiaries, gasoline, anything!” “I have more than two hundred kilos of iron on me and no lighter.” Leon closed the visor, settled the Doorstop back on his shoulder, and strode over the mangled leeches toward the rear.
“Forget me.
Focus on your job.
How far are you from the controls?” “I dropped out of the duct.
I’m in the last car!” Her reply came through static—and then a gunshot exploded over the radio channel.
The Remington 870’s roar cut even through the noise of the speeding train.
“Ah!
Get off me!” Rebecca’s scream stabbed through the earpiece, followed by an animal’s shrill death cry.
Outside the rear control room, several huge mutant Dobermans had smashed through a side window and lunged in, jaws dripping slime.
Rebecca braced against the control console, arms numb from the shotgun’s recoil.
Through the smoke, one zombie dog lay collapsed beneath the panel with half its skull blown away by buckshot.
She was just reaching for the red brake lever when a figure dragged itself from the shadows at the car connection.
Rebecca raised the shotgun and swept the flashlight beam over its face.
Her pupils contracted.
Her breathing stopped.
The man in the S.T.A.R.S.
combat uniform was Edward Dewey, Bravo Team’s heavy-weapons specialist.
But Edward’s abdomen had been ripped open.
A long length of gray-white intestine dragged down his thigh.
Black-purple veins webbed across the familiar face, his left eye bulged outward, and a mouth coated in black blood opened in an animal groan.
“Edward…
no.
No…” Rebecca’s hands shook violently, the shotgun muzzle sinking against her will.
She had managed to fire on unknown zombies, but the thing in front of her had been joking with her only yesterday.
She bit her lip until it hurt.
Tears spilled free as her legs weakened and she backed away step by step until her spine struck the cold metal console.
“Don’t come any closer…
please…” “Medic, report!” Leon’s hard voice snapped over the radio, heavy footsteps clearly audible behind it.
“Why did you stop firing?
If something’s giving you trouble, blow its head apart!” “He’s my teammate!” Rebecca shouted into the microphone at her collar, voice breaking as Edward came closer.
Her finger was locked around the trigger, but she could not pull it.
“It’s Edward!
I can’t shoot him!
He might still be saved…” “Is he breathing?!” Leon’s voice closed around that hope like iron pincers.
“Can he say your name?
Look at him.
If he could be saved, he’d be on a stretcher right now—not trying to bite through your throat!” The infected Edward threw both arms wide and lunged.
The stench of rot struck Rebecca’s face.
“If he really was your comrade, then shoot!” Leon roared through the radio with no softness at all, only necessary cruelty.
“Don’t let drug-controlled dead meat disgrace the last dignity he had as a police officer!
Fire now, then pull that goddamn secondary brake lever!” Under the crushing force of the command, Rebecca’s pupils tightened and training finally overwhelmed fear.
She squeezed her eyes shut, clenched her teeth, seated the stock hard into her shoulder, aimed at Edward from point-blank range, and pulled the trigger.
BOOM!
Twelve-gauge buckshot erupted at nearly contact distance.
The blast tore Edward’s chest open and hurled what remained of him backward onto the water-covered steel floor.
Rebecca could not bear to look again.
She turned, seized the red secondary-brake lever with both hands, and dragged it down with everything she had.
“Brake engaged!” she shouted into the radio.
At the same time, only two cars away, the floor beneath Leon suddenly pitched hard to one side.
The steel wheels locked against the rails.
Fountains of sparks erupted as the train screamed beneath the enormous force of deceleration.
“Too fast.
This curve can’t hold us.
We’re about to derail.” Leon dropped his weight and held the Doorstop vertically in front of himself with one hand.
Three zombie dogs had just burst from passenger compartments ahead and were charging with bared teeth.
Leon abandoned wide swings.
With a body weight north of 150 kilograms plus the heavy armor, he became a fully enclosed armored bulldozer.
He used the broad spine of the greatsword as a heavy shield and drove straight into the three rabid animals.
Pure pressure crushed the first dog’s bones the moment it met the slab.
Then a fourth animal burst from the shadows on his right and launched itself at his neck.
Leon reacted instantly.
He released the sword with his right hand.
As the greatsword dropped, his left shot sideways like a piston, seized the mutant dog’s skull, and crushed it in his palm.
He twisted his upper body left with the momentum, right leg whipping up like a steel cable into a textbook spinning agent kick.
His heavy boot smashed another dog’s head and sent it flying diagonally like a penalty kick, flattening it against the window frame.
Leon bent with the follow-through and scooped the fallen greatsword off the floor one-handed.
BANG!
One kick caved in the sliding door to the rear car and tore it free.
Leon charged through the opening.
Rebecca was still crouched by the controls, pale-faced and staring toward the window.
Leon gave her no time to mourn.
His left arm hooked around her waist and hauled her over one carbon-steel-plated shoulder like a sack of grain.
“This train gives terrible service,” Leon said rapidly, completely ignoring Rebecca’s pained grunt as the armor crushed into her stomach.
“Captain Wesker should file a formal complaint with the transportation authority about terrorists who refuse to obey traffic laws.” “Put me down!
What are you doing?
This steel plate is going to break my ribs!” Rebecca protested while staring in horror at the violently tilting view outside.
Both arms instinctively locked around the rim of Leon’s iron helmet.
“Taking you off the train without paying the fare!” Before he finished, the entire express train released a despairing mechanical howl.
The rear cars lost the curve completely and left the rails.
The huge body twisted in midair, rolling toward the black mountain tunnel ahead.
Leon whipped the black greatsword backward and shattered the cracked panoramic glass at the rear of the car.
A heartbeat before the locomotive slammed into the tunnel wall and became a catastrophic fireball, Leon drove both legs down with everything he had and leapt from the twisting carriage with Rebecca still on his shoulder, a black cannon shell fired into the storm.
Wind screamed past them.
Leon forced his waist around in midair, turning the thick carbon-steel plates on his back toward the ground.
BOOOOM—!
The train exploded behind them.
The shockwave drove both bodies down into mud and wreckage.
With Leon’s solid-steel back underneath, the impact carved a trench several meters long through earth and debris.
Friction showered sparks from the back plate, but its absurd thickness absorbed the impact.
Rebecca lay against his rigid chest armor through the violent slide.
Apart from a mouthful of muddy water, she did not suffer so much as a scrape.
Heat and rain poured over them together.
Leon pushed open the visor, moved Rebecca off himself, and used the greatsword to lever himself upright.
He brushed gravel from the chest plate, shook his head, and rearranged his disordered fringe yet again.
Rebecca crawled out of the mud, gasping, and looked past the fire toward the distance.
Her eyes slowly widened.
She could not speak.
Beyond the tunnel lay a broad, shadowed clearing buried beneath the storm.
An enormous abandoned complex loomed there.
Lightning made its sinister exterior seem bitterly cold, while the ruined double doors resembled a mouth waiting to swallow the living.
“W-what is this place?” Rebecca clutched the mud-smeared shotgun.
“How could a facility this big exist this deep in the Arklay Mountains?” Leon rested the heavy black greatsword on one shoulder and let the rain wash over his armor.
He looked up at the enormous unlit silhouette and released a muffled sigh.
“Bingo.
At this size, it has to be the terrorists’ headquarters.” His voice was absurdly calm in the storm.
“Come on, rookie.
Let’s knock on the door, check their utilities, and ask whether they’ve got hot water for a shower.”