Chapter 73: Flames and Cages

September 24, 1998, 7:00 PM.

The night sky over Raccoon City was stained a murky orange-red by fires burning everywhere.

Since the riot broke out at Warren Stadium this afternoon, fire alarms had been blaring incessantly across the city.

Gas stoves knocked over by the infected sparked apartment fires, panicked drivers plowed into gas pumps at service stations, and flammable materials in abandoned warehouses were ignited by stray bullets; thick smoke, like a giant black hand, slowly tightened its grip on the crumbling city.

All twelve fire trucks from the Raccoon City Fire Department were deployed, their red emergency lights flashing frantically on the dark streets, their sirens drowning out the sporadic gunfire and screams in the distance.

Firefighters rushed into the infernos gripping high-pressure hoses, only to often encounter staggering silhouettes in the thick smoke; those infected, driven out of buildings by the flames, would snarl and lunge at any living thing, turning what should have been firefighting missions into life-and-death struggles.

The fire dispatch channel was already in a state of chaos, with the shouts of captains, the screams of crew members, and the roar of high-pressure hoses all intermingling.

"Squad 3! The fire at the Ennerdale Street apartment building is out of control! There are still civilians trapped inside!"

"We can't! We're surrounded! The entrance is crawling with those maniacs! They've bitten through our hoses!"

"Dispatch! The Fox Street gas station has exploded! Requesting backup! Repeat! Requesting emergency backup!"

Meanwhile, at R.P.D. Headquarters, Deputy Chief Raymond stared intently at the map of Raccoon City on the wall, his knuckles white from gripping it.

Nearly three hours had passed since the riot at the stadium began. Of the three groups of officers sent out, less than a third had returned, and the reports coming over the radio were more desperate with each passing minute.

The infected gathered at the stadium had already broken through the cordons and were spreading along the streets toward residential areas, numbering over three thousand.

Chief Irons remained locked in his office without a word, leaving the command of the entire police department to fall squarely on the shoulders of the Deputy Chief.

"Deputy Chief, we can't wait any longer!" A young officer slammed his hand on the desk; his uniform was still stained with blood from the front lines at the stadium. "Those things are almost at Ennerdale Street! If we don't find a way to stop them, the residential areas to the west are finished! The rest of us can't hold them back!"

Raymond's gaze was fixed on the intersection of Ennerdale Street and Fox Street on the map. It was a junction of two straight main roads, flanked by abandoned shops and ending at a closed railway bridge—a natural kill zone.

He took a deep breath and made a decision bordering on madness: "Mobilize all remaining C4 and high-explosive grenades in the department. Also, take those two fuel tankers the municipal engineering team left at the station and drive them both to the middle of Fox Street."

The officer's pupils contracted sharply. "You're going to use explosives?! There are still civilians who haven't evacuated!"

"We have no other choice," Raymond said, his voice raspy and his eyes bloodshot.

"Use sirens to lure the horde from the stadium to Ennadale and Fox Street, trap them at the intersection, and detonate the explosives. It's the only way we can clear out a horde of this scale right now."

He paused before adding, "Detach a team to cordon off the surrounding blocks and run a continuous broadcast loop, telling all survivors to gather immediately at the evacuation point next to the Apple Inn. We will coordinate the evacuation. Move fast; we have less than an hour."

The orders were issued, and the few remaining mobile officers in the station immediately sprang into action. No one knew what kind of tragedy this desperate demolition plan would ultimately lead to.

7:30 PM, Downtown Raccoon City, Js Bar.

Warm yellow light barely fended off the darkness outside the window, the wooden bar top was polished to a shine, and the television on the wall was broadcasting the Raccoon City evening news—though the original entertainment program had long since been replaced by an emergency news bulletin.

Alyssa sat in a corner of the bar, her fingers flying across her laptop. A thick stack of interview drafts was scattered across the table—all the investigations she had been following for the past six months regarding the Arklay Mountains attacks and various scandals involving the Umbrella Corporation.

Alyssa looked up, her gaze falling on the television screen. The female anchor's face appeared normal as she reported in a steady tone:

"At 2:00 PM today, the Raccoon City Sharks versus the Oudek Thunder football season opener at Warren Stadium was forced to an emergency termination due to a large-scale riot triggered by the sudden, out-of-control behavior of some fans.

As of now, the police have dispatched over 50 officers to the scene to maintain order. The city government reminds all citizens not to travel to the affected area and to stay indoors as much as possible."

"Fans losing control? Who would believe that?" Alyssa frowned and took a sip from her water glass.

The bar door was suddenly slammed open.

A bloody, tattered transient stumbled inside. Half of his face had been chewed into a gory mess, a murky and frantic snarl escaped his throat, and his clouded eyes locked onto the female customer closest to the door.

"Hey! What are you doing! Get out!" Will immediately grabbed the baseball bat from under the bar and rushed forward.

He tried to push the transient out, but the man possessed startling strength, shoving aside the tables and chairs in his way to lunge at the female customer.

In his desperation, Will struck the transient's back with the bat, but the man seemed completely oblivious to the pain. He spun around and bit down hard on Will's left arm.

"Ah—!" Will let out a cry of agony as blood instantly soaked his shirt. Customers in the bar screamed in terror; some dove under tables, while others scrambled toward the restrooms.

Alyssa stood up abruptly, grabbed a metal desk lamp from the table, and slammed it hard against the transient's head.

With a dull thud, the transient's movements faltered. Will took the opportunity, enduring the searing pain to push him out the door with all his might.

Alyssa rushed forward, slammed the wooden door shut, and with the help of several male customers, pushed a heavy solid-wood liquor cabinet behind the door to brace it firmly.

Almost simultaneously, the sound of frantic scratching against the glass and the low snarls of countless zombies came from outside.

Through the fogged glass windows, they could see distorted, decaying faces staring at the living people inside, frantically battering against the doors and windows.

Will leaned against the bar, clutching his bleeding left arm, his body shaking uncontrollably.

He looked at the two deep teeth marks on his arm, then at the zombies outside, his face as white as a sheet.

Cindy hurried over, pulling a first-aid kit from under the bar. She took out some iodine and gauze, intending to treat his wound.

"Don't touch me." Will pulled his hand back sharply, his voice trembling with despair. "Those things... it's contagious. If you're bitten, you'll turn into a monster just like them, right?"

Cindy's movements froze, her throat feeling as though it were blocked, unable to speak.

She had seen those who were bitten; they all eventually turned into the same kind of infected as the ones outside. There were no exceptions.

But seeing the pain in Will's eyes, she could only grit her teeth and say softly, "Let's just bandage the wound first. Don't think too much. We're safe for now; the door is braced tight, and they can't get in. The police will be here to save us soon."

Just then, a loudspeaker on the street crackled to life. It was a continuous R.P.D. announcement, the cold electronic voice echoing through the empty street:

"This is an emergency notification from the Raccoon City Police Department. Traffic control and hazard disposal are about to be implemented in the areas surrounding Ennerdale Street and Fox Street. All survivors are requested to gather immediately at the temporary evacuation point next to the Apple Inn for coordinated evacuation.

Repeat: all survivors please gather at the temporary evacuation point next to the Apple Inn immediately. This area will be sealed in 20 minutes."

8:00 PM sharp.

The asphalt of Ennerdale Street was soaked in blood. Raymond leaned against an overturned police car, breathing heavily.

His left arm had been torn open by a zombie, leaving a wound so deep the bone was visible. An officer was tying a tourniquet tightly around his upper arm, his fingers trembling.

The planned ambush had devolved into a slaughter. While he and the remaining twelve officers were setting the explosives, they were ambushed by a horde that had flanked them from a side alley. Three officers responsible for the wiring were torn apart on the spot, and the pre-laid remote detonation lines were ripped into pieces by the charging zombies.

"Deputy Chief! The western line has collapsed! They're breaking through!"

A young officer roared as he pulled the trigger of his Shotgun, blasting away a zombie that had lunged close, but in the next second, more staggering figures emerged from the smoke, completely submerging him.

The radio was filled with nothing but static and intermittent screams. The promised reinforcements were nowhere to be found.

Raymond looked at the dense, seemingly endless horde at the end of the street, then at the five remaining wounded officers whose ammunition was nearly exhausted. A flicker of despair crossed his eyes.

"Gather all the grenades here." He gritted his teeth and reached for the detonator at his waist—the last backup manual trigger. "I'll stay behind to connect the lines. You take the wounded and retreat south. Save as many as you can."

"No! If we leave, we leave together!"

"Don't argue!" Raymond roughly pushed away the officer trying to pull him, his voice raspy but filled with an unquestionable resolve. "If these thousands of zombies break through to the residential areas, the entire South District is finished. I am the Deputy Chief; this is my responsibility."

Just then, the piercing roar of a car engine came from the street corner.

A modified pickup truck crashed madly into the rear of the horde, the massive impact sending a dozen zombies flying.

Mark swung the steering wheel hard, the pickup carving an arc across the road and forcing a gap right through the cluster of corpses.

"Hold on tight!"

Kevin pushed the door open and jumped out, wielding a hunting rifle he had found in the bar's security room, firing repeatedly at the closing zombies.

Alyssa followed behind him carrying a box of ammunition, accurately tossing magazines to every officer with an empty gun.

"What are you doing here?!" Raymond looked at the group of people who had suddenly appeared in shock.

"The bar fell; we had nowhere else to go." Kevin blew the head off a zombie with a single shot, tilting his head to avoid the splashing rot-blood, his tone still slightly abrasive. "Couldn't just watch you idiots get eaten alive."

Mark grabbed a fire axe leaning against the truck and severed a zombie's neck with one swing. He said solemnly, "Cindy, get the wounded in the truck! Kevin, cover the left flank! Alyssa, help them reload!"

The group instantly formed a tacit coordination. Cindy nimbly helped the wounded officers into the bed of the pickup, Alyssa moved between the cover points handing out bullets to the empty-handed officers, and Kevin and Mark held the entrance to the demolition point from either side.

But there were simply too many zombies. The continuous snarls came from all directions, the pickup's headlights had been smashed by the zombies, and the chassis rattled under the impact of their bodies. They were about to be surrounded.

"No more time!" Raymond snatched the fire axe from Mark's hand and shoved him toward the truck bed. "The detonation line is under telephone pole number three. Connecting the red and black wires will set it off! Go, now!"

"Deputy Chief!"

"Go!!"

Raymond spun around and charged into the lunging horde, swinging his fire axe. He used his body to block the zombies swarming toward the telephone pole, blood splattering across his uniform.

In the final moment before he was tackled by the zombies, he reached out and pressed the two bare wires together with a death grip.

"BOOM—!!!"

A deafening explosion instantly swept through the entire street. Towering flames dyed the night sky blood-red, and thousands of zombies were reduced to ash in the violent shockwave as scalding debris rained down like hail.

The pickup truck burst out of the blast radius, and everyone instinctively looked back. Ennerdale Street had become a sea of fire, and Raymond's figure had long since vanished into the roaring inferno.

Kevin's hand tightened around the hunting rifle, his veins bulging. He turned his head away and wiped the soot from his face forcefully, saying nothing.

Alyssa leaned against the truck bed, her shoulders trembling slightly, while Cindy held a wounded officer, her tears falling silently.

Ten minutes later, the sound of sirens finally approached. Marvin arrived at the scene with the last of the police department's reinforcements. Looking at the devastated street and the corpses everywhere, he removed his cap and bowed deeply.

"Clear the scene, help the wounded." Marvin's voice carried an unmistakable exhaustion. He looked at the group in the pickup truck and nodded solemnly. "Thank you. If it weren't for you, our losses would have been much worse."

Kevin didn't respond, only looking up toward the distant, smoke-shrouded Warren Stadium. The firelight reflected on his face; his former arrogance and disdain had vanished, replaced by a heavy silence.

The night grew deeper as the residual heat from the explosion faded. But the nightmare of Raccoon City had only just begun.