Chapter 89: Welcome to Raccoon City

September 29, 1998, 20:17. Northwest outskirts of Raccoon City, Interstate 15.

*Static—*

Static mixed with the sound of rain drifted out from the old car radio, intermittent, like someone scratching glass with their fingernails in the dark.

"I'm really not joking, okay? I saw it with my own eyes..." The man's voice on the other end of the line was shaking violently, thick with tears, and the sound of breaking glass could be heard faintly in the background.

The host chuckled mockingly, his tone as flippant as if he were telling a dirty joke: "Oh, I believe you, brother, I believe you. Just, tell everyone about it."

"Last Friday night, I was leaving the bar to go home when a woman walked toward me. She was staggering a bit, so I, I... I thought she was drunk..."

The host immediately started jeering, whistling exaggeratedly: "Whoa, whoa, ho ho ho... Hey, wait a second. Tell me the truth first, how much did you actually have to drink that day?"

"I... I didn't drink at all..."

"Stop pretending," the host laughed even harder. "Who leaves a bar at three in the morning without having a drink? Do you think I'm stupid?"

"Will you just listen to me?" The man's voice suddenly rose, filled with the desperation of someone on the brink of a breakdown. "She kept getting closer, and I took a look. You guys should have seen it—her eyes, her nose, her... her whole face, it was like it was rotting! Like a corpse, a walking corpse!"

The middle-aged man in the driver's seat scoffed and tossed the double beef burger he'd just bitten into onto the greasy wrapper. Ketchup splattered from the burger, leaving a dark red mark on his oil-stained overalls like dried blood.

"Hmph, sounds like he's talking about my wife," he muttered, scratching his scalp. "She walks around with a dead expression every day; she's worse than that walking corpse."

The broadcast continued, the man's voice now breaking into sobs: "I've never seen anything so terrifying. I can't even sleep after going back... As soon as I close my eyes, I see that face..."

"Alright, calm down, friend, calm down," the host's voice finally softened a bit, but it was still clearly dismissive. "You need to be a bit tougher, okay? Don't let yourself get scared witless, you get me? It was probably just some drunk hobo who fell into a ditch."

"Hah, you're right about that. If you're frozen by these... things, they... they might bite you. I saw it with my own—"

*Static— Crackle—*

The radio signal was suddenly cut off by intense interference, leaving only the piercing sound of static echoing in the small cabin.

"What the hell? I was just getting to the good part!" The man irritably slapped the radio's casing and twisted the tuning knob a few times, but all he got was more noisy static.

He cursed and turned off the radio. The cabin instantly fell silent, save for the pitter-patter of rain hitting the windshield and the dull roar of the tanker truck's engine.

The rain was getting heavier.

Raindrops as large as beans slammed against the glass, merging into streams that flowed down, blurring the view ahead into a shimmering mess of light and shadow.

The highway was deserted in the dead of night. Only this fuel-laden tanker truck traveled alone, its headlights like two weak scalpels, barely cutting through the thick darkness.

The man let out a long yawn, tears welling in his eyes. He had been driving for twelve hours straight, and his eyelids felt as heavy as lead.

"Haaa... I need to get some sleep..." He rubbed his eyes and reached for the cigarette pack on the passenger seat.

Just then.

A blurry figure suddenly appeared within the beam of the headlights.

It was a long-haired woman in a tattered dress, standing in the middle of the road with her back to the truck, motionless, like a statue drenched by the rain.

"Holy crap!"

The man's eyes widened, and he slammed on the brakes instinctively.

The tires shrieked on the slippery road, leaving two long, black skid marks. The massive inertia caused the tanker to slide for over ten meters before finally coming to a stop. The gasoline in the tank sloshed around with a dull thud.

The man's heart pounded wildly. He leaned against the steering wheel, gasping for breath for a long time before pushing the door open and jumping out, still shaken.

"Ah... damn it..."

He ran to the front of the truck and looked by the glare of the piercing headlights. The woman had fallen to the ground, and the rainwater beneath her was stained deep red, flowing slowly along the cracks in the road. Her body was twisted at a bizarre angle; she was clearly dead.

"I'm finished! This is bad..." The man's face was pale as he rubbed his hands together incessantly, muttering over and over, "What do I do... what should I do now? I'll go to jail... I have a wife and kids to support..."

He looked around nervously.

The highway on this rainy night was deserted. No headlights in the distance, no houses by the roadside. Only endless darkness and the sound of rushing rain.

"No one saw... no one saw..." he whispered to himself, unconsciously taking off his baseball cap to reveal a shiny, balding head. Rainwater ran down his forehead, mixing with cold sweat and dripping onto the ground.

He gritted his teeth as a terrible thought occurred to him.

If he just threw her into the ditch by the road and drove off, no one would ever know it was him.

Yes, that's what he'd do.

What he didn't know was that just as he made up his mind, the woman who should have been dead was slowly crawling up from the ground.

Her neck was tilted at an impossible angle, and large chunks of flesh were falling from her face, revealing the stark white bone beneath. Her cloudy, grayish-white eyes stared fixedly at him, and her mouth let out a wheezing sound, like a broken bellows.

Twenty minutes later

Raccoon City border, Shell gas station

"Welcome to the Jungle! We got fun and games!

We got everything you want, honey, we know the names!"

The roar of Guns N' Roses blasted from the jeep's speakers, making the doors vibrate slightly.

Leon tapped his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat. The wipers moved back and forth in time with the music, clearing away the rain that kept falling on the windshield.

He had been driving for over seven hours, heading south all the way from Chicago with almost no rest. But he didn't feel tired at all; the sense of justice in his heart burned like a fire, driving him forward.

The fuel gauge needle on the dashboard had dropped below the red line.

Leon looked ahead. In the heavy rain and darkness, a lit-up gas station sign was particularly conspicuous, like a lonely island.

"Perfect, time for some gas." he said to himself, turning on his blinker and slowly pulling into the station.

The gas station was deserted.

The gas pumps stood silently in the rain. The glass doors of the convenience store were tightly shut, and it was pitch black inside without a single light. The entire station was eerily quiet, save for the sound of rain and the faint rumble of thunder in the distance.

"Where is everyone? That's strange," Leon muttered, pushing the door open and stepping out. The cold rain immediately soaked his hair and shirt.

He walked to the pump and inserted the nozzle into the fuel tank. Gasoline sloshed into the tank with a monotonous sound. While waiting for the tank to fill, Leon looked around warily.

Something was wrong.

It was too quiet.

At this hour, there should be at least one employee on duty. And on the ground...

Leon's gaze suddenly froze.

A trail of dark red blood started from near his feet and stretched all the way to the glass door of the convenience store. It had faded slightly under the wash of the rain, but it was still clearly visible.

Leon's heart leaped into his throat. He put down the fuel nozzle, tiptoed to the door of the convenience store, and gently pushed the glass door.

The door wasn't locked; it opened with a creak.

"Hello? Anyone here?" Leon called out in a low voice.

No one responded.

The store was pitch black, except for a dropped flashlight on the floor that was still on, its weak beam illuminating a small area ahead. Products from the shelves were scattered all over the floor—chips, drinks, and magazines were everywhere, as if a violent struggle had taken place.

Leon picked up the flashlight and swept the beam around. The cash register drawer was pulled open, cash was scattered on the floor, the computer screen was shattered, and there was even more blood on the ground.

He gripped his handgun tightly and continued further inside.

"Is anyone there?"

Just then, he heard a faint groan.

Leon immediately shone the flashlight toward the source of the sound.

A young clerk in a convenience store uniform was curled up in a corner, sitting with his back against the wall. There was a massive wound on his neck, and blood was gushing out, staining his clothes deep red. His face was as pale as paper, and his lips were trembling; he was no longer able to speak.

"Are you alright?" Leon walked over quickly, crouching down to check his wound.

The clerk looked up, staring at Leon with bloodshot eyes, then trembling, reached out a hand to point at the warehouse door nearby.

"Inside... there's someone inside..." he said with his last bit of strength, then his head tilted to the side, and he stopped breathing.

Leon's heart sank sharply.

"Don't move, I'll come back to help you." He stood up, holding his flashlight and handgun, and cautiously walked inside.

Passing through a narrow corridor, he saw the warehouse door was ajar, leaving a crack.

Leon took a deep breath, reached out, and gently pushed the door open.

"Freeze!"

A loud shout came from inside the warehouse.

Leon immediately raised his gun, aiming inside.

In the corner of the warehouse, a police officer wearing an Arklay uniform was attempting to subdue a man who had his back to him.

"Officer, do you need help?" Leon asked out loud.

The officer turned his head, paused when he saw Leon, and said, "Sir, step back. I'll handle this."

At that very moment of distraction.

The man who had his back to them suddenly spun around violently.

Leon's pupils constricted sharply.

That was no madman.

His face was rotted beyond recognition, one eye had fallen out and was dangling from his cheek. He opened his mouth, revealing a mouthful of yellowed, sharp teeth, let out a beast-like roar, and lunged at the officer.

The officer was caught off guard and was tackled to the ground instantly.

"Ah—!"

The officer let out a scream. The zombie lowered its head and bit deeply into his neck. Blood spurted out, splattering everywhere.

"Hey, stop! Let him go! Let go right now!" Leon shouted, aiming his gun at the zombie.

But the zombie didn't react at all; it was frantically tearing at the officer's neck, making a bone-chilling chewing sound. A few seconds later, the officer's struggles ceased.

Leon felt his stomach churn. He had never seen such a terrifying scene.

"Don't move, I'm armed!" he warned again.

The zombie slowly raised its head, a piece of bloody flesh hanging from its mouth, its cloudy eyes fixed on Leon. Then it released the dead officer and staggered toward Leon.

Leon didn't hesitate and pulled the trigger.

"Bang!"

The bullet hit the zombie's thigh precisely.

The zombie stumbled, but didn't fall. It didn't even flinch, continuing to walk toward Leon.

"How is that possible..." Leon's expression changed. He fired another shot, hitting the zombie in the chest.

The zombie still didn't stop.

Leon felt a chill rise from the soles of his feet. He wanted to turn and run out of the warehouse, but discovered that the door behind him had been shut at some point.

"Damn it!"

He pulled hard on the door handle; the door was locked tight.

Meanwhile, at the gas station entrance.

The roar of a Harley-Davidson motorcycle approached from a distance.

Claire rode her Harley, speeding through the rainy night. She was wearing a bright red leather jacket, and the rain had soaked her ponytail, sticking it to her cheeks and neck.

Seeing the illuminated gas station sign ahead, Claire breathed a sigh of relief.

She twisted the throttle and drove into the gas station.

She parked the motorcycle next to the phone booth, took off her gloves, and walked inside. She inserted a coin and dialed her best friend, Amy.

"Hello, Amy, it's me."

"Claire! Thank god you're still alive! Where are you? The news says Raccoon City has been sealed off by the military, and no one is allowed in!" Amy's voice on the other end was tearful and extremely anxious.

"I'm at the border of Raccoon City, about to go in." Claire leaned against the glass of the phone booth, watching the pouring rain outside, "You know I'll be fine."

"How can you be fine! It's hell in there now! Claire, listen to me, come back immediately!"

"I can't go back," Claire's voice became firm, "Chris is still inside, I have to find him."

"But..."

"Alright, don't worry." Claire interrupted her, "Once I find Chris, I'll come back. Then I'll treat you to ice cream."

"Claire..."

"That's it, I'm hanging up."

Claire hung up the phone, pushed open the door of the booth, and walked out.

"Why does everyone think I'll get into trouble?" she muttered, shaking the rain off her hair.

Just then, she noticed the Jeep parked next to the gas pump.

The gas nozzle was still stuck in the fuel tank, the car doors were open, and it was empty inside.

Beside it was a police car, its doors also open, and equally empty.

An ominous feeling rose in Claire's heart.

Just then.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

Several gunshots came from inside the convenience store.

"What's going on?"

Claire immediately became alert. She pulled the small silver revolver from the side pocket of her backpack and disengaged the safety.

She cautiously walked to the entrance of the convenience store and gently pushed the door.

The door opened.

The moment she pushed the door open.

A dark figure aimed a gun at her.

"Don't shoot!" Claire immediately raised her hands and shouted.

"Get down!"

The dark figure shouted.

Claire instinctively crouched down.

"Bang!"

The gunshot rang out right next to her ear.

She heard a dull thud behind her.

Claire slowly turned her head.

A zombie was lying on the ground behind her, shot in the forehead, with blood and brains splattered everywhere. If she hadn't crouched down just now, she would have been the one bitten.

"Are you alright?"

A young man's voice came.

Claire looked up.

She saw a young man in a blue shirt standing in front of her, holding a handgun. His hair was wet, and his face was smeared with dust and blood, but his eyes were exceptionally firm.

"Thank you." Claire stood up and put away her revolver.

"Don't mention it." Leon breathed a sigh of relief and lowered his gun, "It's too dangerous here, we need to leave immediately. The gunshots have already attracted the monsters nearby."

Sure enough, following the gunshots, the sounds of zombies roaring one after another could be heard in the distance. And they were getting closer.

"Follow me!"

Leon grabbed Claire's wrist and pulled her toward the outside.

They ran to the police car, and Leon pulled open the driver's side door: "Get in the car, quick!"

Claire didn't hesitate and immediately scrambled into the passenger seat. Leon followed, sat in, closed the door, and started the car.

Just then, over a dozen zombies rushed out from the darkness and lunged at the police car.

Leon slammed on the gas pedal.

The police car roared and shot forward like an arrow. A few slow-moving zombies were knocked flying and crashed heavily to the ground.

The police car sped out of the gas station, leaving the "Welcome to Raccoon City" sign behind.

The rain was still falling.

The police car sped along the empty road, its headlights cutting through the darkness, illuminating the road to hell ahead.

In the passenger seat, Claire watched the trees and houses flying by outside the window, her unease growing stronger.

"What on earth happened?" She turned her head and asked Leon.

Leon gripped the steering wheel, his eyes fixed tightly on the road ahead, his expression grave: "I don't know either... I was supposed to report to the Raccoon City Police Department tomorrow, but I couldn't get in touch with anyone at the station, so I came early. As soon as I arrived at this gas station, I ran into those... things. I hope my colleagues at the police department can tell me."

"Wait, you're a cop?" Claire looked at him with some surprise.

"Yes," Leon nodded, revealing a somewhat shy smile, "My name is Leon S. Kennedy. And you?"

"Claire, Claire Redfield."

"Do you live nearby?" Leon asked.

"No," Claire shook her head, her eyes dimming, "I'm here to find my brother. He's a police officer too, in the S.T.A.R.S. team. I haven't been able to reach him for days."

"S.T.A.R.S.?" Leon paused, "I heard about them when I was at the police academy. They're the elite police unit."

"Yeah." Claire nodded, "I hope he's okay."

Leon glanced at her and comforted her: "Don't worry, he'll be fine. It's fate that we met, though I don't know what will happen next. But as long as we're together, we'll definitely be able to find him."

Claire looked up, meeting Leon's determined gaze, and felt a little more settled.

The police car continued driving forward, entering the downtown area of Raccoon City.