"Hah?"
"What could possibly be in there?"
Rebecca yanked her collar out of Havel's grip, puffing out her cheeks in annoyance. Despite her bravado, her hand drifted to her holster, unsnapping the retention strap of her Samurai Edge. Her mouth was hard, but her body was honest.
The grisly scene at the jeep had planted a seed of fear in her heart.
"..."
"If you don't believe me," Havel said, releasing her, "feel free to knock. I'll be right behind you."
He stepped back, gesturing for her to take point. Since they were inevitably going to face zombies, it was better to let the rookie get her first scare out of the way now while he covered her.
"Hmph..."
"Fine! I'll open it!"
Provoked by his casual tone, Rebecca stomped up the metal stairs. She grabbed the handle of the passenger car door and twisted.
Click-clack...
The heavy mechanism disengaged. She slid the door open.
Thud...
"AHHH!!!"
The moment the door slid back, exactly as Havel predicted, a jump scare was waiting.
A blood-soaked corpse, face twisted in agony and clothes tattered, toppled out of the doorway. It fell directly into Rebecca's arms.
"Get off!"
She shrieked, dodging backward. Without her support, the body flopped onto the gravel with a wet slap.
It wasn't a zombie—yet.
It was just a corpse. Its skin was pale and desiccated, like a dried husk. The flesh was riddled with small, circular puncture wounds. It looked like a mummy that had been drained of every drop of fluid.
The handiwork of the leeches. As hematophagous creatures, they preferred fresh blood over meat.
"What... what is this?!"
Rebecca stared at the dried-up body, her legs trembling. She was incoherent with shock. Who dies blocking the door like that? It felt like a prank.
Havel glanced at the blood smeared on the inside of the door window.
Poor guy, he thought. Must have been trying to escape when the leeches swarmed him. He died clawing at the handle.
And now, thanks to Rebecca, he had delivered his final surprise.
Havel didn't waste time on the corpse. He kicked it aside and stepped into the train.
"Coming, rookie?"
Rebecca, shaken but not wanting to be left alone in the dark, grabbed the strap of Havel's backpack and followed him inside. Her grip on her handgun was so tight her knuckles were white. This wasn't training anymore.
Tap... Tap...
Inside the car, the scene was a tableau of hell.
Blood was splattered across the luxury seats, the windows, and the ceiling. Several bodies lay slumped in the aisle and across tables. Like the one outside, they were shriveled and pale, their eyes wide open in frozen screams.
"Oh god..."
Rebecca covered her mouth, fighting back a sob. The sheer scale of the slaughter was overwhelming.
"Who did this?" she whispered. "A person? An animal? What happened here?"
She looked at Havel, expecting him to be shocked too. But he was calm. Cold, even. He scanned the car as if he were looking for something specific.
"Havel...?"
Before he could answer, a sound broke the silence.
Crack... Snap...
It sounded like dry twigs breaking. Or bones grinding together.
Urrgh... Huhhh...
A low, guttural moan drifted through the car.
On the floor, the "dead" bodies began to move.
Limbs twisted at unnatural angles. Spines snapped back into place. Like rusty engines sputtering to life, the corpses pushed themselves up. Their movements were jerky and uncoordinated.
They opened their mouths, letting out long, rattling breaths. Their eyes—cloudy, white, and pupil-less—rolled toward the source of fresh meat.
They began to shuffle toward Havel and Rebecca.
"..."
"What the hell is that?!"
Rebecca's worldview shattered. She was a woman of science. Dead people stayed dead. They didn't stand up and groan. Her brain short-circuited.
Her legs gave out, and she fell backward, landing hard on her butt. Her gun clattered to the floor. She scrambled back, crab-walking away from the advancing nightmares.
It wasn't funny. It was pure, primal terror.
But terror has a way of blinding you.
Snap...
Graaagh!
Behind her, another corpse she hadn't noticed lurched up from a seat.
"AHHH!!!"
Rebecca felt a cold, clammy hand grab her shoulder. She spun around to see a zombified conductor leaning over her, his jaw slack, teeth snapping inches from her neck.
"Get away! GET AWAY!"
Survival instinct took over. Rebecca lashed out, kicking the zombie square in the chest with both feet.
Thump!
The zombie stumbled back, crashing into a seat.
Rebecca scrambled for her gun. Her trembling hands found the grip. She brought it up, squeezed her eyes shut, and pulled the trigger.
BANG!
BANG! BANG!
Orange muzzle flashes lit up the dim car. 9mm rounds punched into the conductor's chest, shredding his uniform. By sheer luck, one round struck him in the forehead.
His head snapped back, black blood spraying the window. He collapsed and didn't move again.
"Haa... Haa..."
Rebecca gasped for air, the gun smoking in her hand. She stared at the body, her mind racing.
"Havel! Havel, where are you?!"
She suddenly remembered she wasn't alone. She turned around, shouting for her partner.
She was answered by a thumbs-up.
"Nice work, girl. You've got guts," Havel said calmly. "Though next time, keep your eyes open. Headshots only. Body shots just waste ammo."
"Wait... Havel! Behind you!"
Rebecca screamed, pointing. Three more zombies were shuffling down the aisle toward him, their arms outstretched.
"I know."
Havel didn't even turn his head. He racked the slide of his M1897.
Ch-chk.
He spun around, leveling the shotgun at head height.
BOOM!
The roar of the 12-gauge was deafening in the confined space.
Buckshot tore through the lead zombie, vaporizing its head in a mist of red and gray. The headless body crumpled instantly.
[Ding!][Eliminated Zombie. +1 Point.]
The system notification chimed sweetly in his ear.
Just like a game, Havel thought, grinning behind his mask.
Ch-chk. BOOM!
Ch-chk. BOOM!
He worked the pump with rhythmic precision. One shot, one kill. He moved down the aisle like a reaper, blasting every moving corpse into oblivion. He didn't stop at the moving ones; he put insurance rounds into the ones on the floor, just to be safe (and to farm points).
Within seconds, the car was silent again, save for the smell of cordite and rot.
Havel sat down on a blood-free seat and began reloading shells into the tube.
Click. Click. Click.
Rebecca stared at him, wide-eyed. He was covered in blood spatter, calmly reloading amidst a massacre.
"Havel!"
She grabbed his arm. "What is going on? You know something, don't you? You brought all these guns... you knew this would happen!"
She wasn't stupid. His preparedness, his knowledge of the "headshots only" rule, his calmness—it all pointed to one thing.
Havel sighed. He looked at the clever girl. He couldn't tell her he was a transmigrator.
"It's a virus," he said simply.
"A virus?"
"Yes. What you just saw... the dead rising... it's not magic. It's biology. It's a viral outbreak."
"Umbrella Corporation has been researching biological weapons. They were trying to unlock the secrets of life, of immortality. This virus... it reactivates dead cells. It jump-starts metabolism."
"But there's a flaw. The metabolism is too fast. It burns energy at an insane rate. That's why they're hungry. That's why they eat flesh. They are starving on a cellular level."
"The virus destroys the higher brain functions, leaving only the primitive drive to feed. They feel no pain. They have no fear. The only way to stop them is to destroy the brain."
He paused, letting the information sink in.
"They aren't 'undead' in the mythical sense. They are infected humans kept alive by a pathogen. But for all intents and purposes... they are zombies."
Rebecca listened, horrified. As a chemist, the explanation made terrifying sense. A metabolic accelerant that caused necrosis and cannibalism... it was scientifically plausible.
"Wait..." she frowned. "How do you know all this? This must be top secret."
Havel coughed.
"My uncle."
"Your uncle?"
"Yeah. He was a researcher for Umbrella here in Raccoon City. He worked on a small part of the project. A few weeks ago, he got fired—scapegoated for the initial leak. Before he left town, he warned me. He told me to pack my bags and run. He said Raccoon City was going to become hell on earth."
"I didn't leave. But... I prepared."
He patted his shotgun.
"Looks like Uncle was right."