Chapter 74: False Dawn

September 24, 1998, 20:47, Ennerdale Street.

The soaring flames gradually dimmed, and wisps of white smoke still rose from the scorched asphalt road. The air was thick with the pungent smell of gunpowder, decay, and charred flesh.

Marvin stood at the edge of the huge crater formed by the explosion, looking at the car wreckage overturned by the shockwave and the scattered fragments of zombies at his feet. The police cap in his hand was crumpled out of shape.

Deputy Chief Raymond West's body was never found. The temperature at the center of the explosion was enough to melt steel. The man who had blocked the horde with his own body and personally pressed the detonator left behind only a deformed, scorched police badge embedded in a fragment of a utility pole.

"Sergeant! All survivors from the South District's Third Block have been gathered at the temporary shelter!" a young officer ran over, his face still stained with ash, his voice trembling with the relief of survival. "Medical staff are bandaging the wounded. Most people only have superficial injuries, and no new infected have been found."

Marvin nodded, bent down to pick up the deformed badge, wiped the stains off with his sleeve, and carefully placed it in his inner police uniform pocket. He looked up toward the temporary shelter area nearby.

A dozen police cars and ambulances were parked along the street, their flashing red and blue lights casting flickering shadows on the surrounding buildings.

Medical staff in white coats moved among the survivors, bandaging wounds and distributing water and biscuits.

Officers had set up a perimeter with caution tape, scanning the dark alleyways vigilantly with rifles in hand.

The survivors of the ordeal sat together in small groups; some were sobbing quietly, some were comforting each other, but most stared blankly at the ruins before them.

But gradually, a relaxed atmosphere began to spread through the crowd.

"Thank goodness, we're finally saved..." a woman holding a child let out a sigh of relief, gently patting the frightened child in her arms. "I thought we were all going to die there."

"Yeah, the police are reliable after all. They blew those monsters away in an instant."

A young man wearing a Sharks jersey chimed in. His arm was wrapped in bandages, but a smile appeared on his face. "It seems things aren't so bad. Once the army arrives tomorrow, they'll be able to clear out all these monsters."

"That's right, the city government definitely won't abandon us. The radio said they've mobilized all surrounding police forces for backup. Order will be restored by tomorrow morning."

These words spread among the survivors like a plague. People who had just survived a life-and-death catastrophe desperately needed hope to sustain them.

They preferred to believe this disaster was just an accidental violent riot, believing that as long as the police and army came, everything would be fine.

No one wanted to think about what those biting 'madmen' actually were, nor did anyone want to wonder why the city's communications were completely cut off, or why, until now, they hadn't seen a single outside rescue team besides the local police.

Kevin leaned against the door of a pickup truck, holding an unopened bottle of mineral water, coldly watching the survivors who wore relaxed smiles.

His shotgun was slung over his shoulder, the barrel still stained with wet black blood. The earlier explosion had ruptured his left eardrum, and his ear was still buzzing.

"They really think the crisis is over," Alyssa said in a low voice as she walked up to him.

Her face was covered in dust, her normally tidy hair was a mess, but she still tightly gripped the USB drive containing the evidence of Umbrella Corporation's crimes. "So naive."

Kevin didn't speak, only twisted open the water bottle and took a long swig. The cold liquid flowed down his throat into his stomach, but it didn't dispel the chill in his heart at all.

He thought of his friends torn apart by zombies in Js Bar, of Deputy Chief Raymond's final charge into the horde, and of the sea of fire still burning in the direction of the stadium.

The crisis was nowhere near over.

The crisis had only just begun.

"Sergeant Marvin," Mark walked over, his fire axe tucked into his belt, the blood on the blade having congealed into a dark black. "What do we do next? Do we go to the shelter with these survivors?"

Marvin shook his head, his gaze fixed on the darkness deep within the city. There were no lights, no sounds, only an endless silence like a gaping maw waiting to swallow every living thing.

"The shelter isn't safe," Marvin's voice carried an unmistakable exhaustion. "There are too many people, too densely packed. If even one infected person slips in, the place will fall completely within an hour. Besides, Umbrella Corporation's people are definitely still in the city; they won't let anyone who knows the truth go."

He paused and looked at Kevin and the other three: "You four come back to the station with me. The RPD headquarters is sturdy enough, has plenty of weapons and supplies, and an independent power system. It's the safest place in the city right now. We need to reinforce the station's defenses and wait for real rescue."

Cindy nodded, her eyes red, clearly still grieving for Raymond's sacrifice. "Alright, we'll go with you."

"Notify all officers on patrol to retreat to the station immediately!" Marvin ordered decisively. "Abandon all outer blocks and concentrate all forces on defending R.P.D. headquarters! Tell everyone that from now on, no one is to leave the station without my command!"

"Yes, sir!"

The officer immediately turned and ran to relay the orders. Marvin watched his back and let out a deep sigh.

He looked up at the night sky, where a waning moon was obscured by thick clouds, plunging the entire city into a darkness so deep one couldn't see their own hand.

Meanwhile, in the United States mainland, Virginia, the Pentagon, Underground Operations Command Center.

Cold fluorescent lights illuminated a massive tactical map, with screens flashing various data and signals.

A dozen high-ranking officers in military uniforms sat around a conference table, looking grimly at the satellite images of Raccoon City displayed on the main screen.

In the images, most of Raccoon City was plunged into darkness, with only scattered fires burning throughout the city. Two massive hotspots at Warren Stadium and Ennerdale Street were particularly conspicuous.

"General, we haven't received any signal from Dr. William Birkin for a full 36 hours," an intelligence officer stood up and pointed to a red dot on the screen.

"The last communication was at 10:32 the night before last. Dr. Birkin claimed he was under attack by unknown armed militants and requested extraction. After that, all communication with the Nest was cut off."

Sitting at the head of the table was Army General Hank Sherman. He wore a crisp uniform, his face expressionless. He looked at Raccoon City on the screen, his fingers tapping lightly on the table.

"What does Umbrella Corporation have to say about this?" General Sherman asked, his voice low and authoritative.

"Umbrella Corporation headquarters claims that a group of terrorists attacked their research facility in Raccoon City, causing a chemical leak that triggered the civil unrest."

The intelligence officer answered, his tone carrying clear disdain. "They say they've dispatched their own security forces to Raccoon City to assist in maintaining order and have requested that we do not intervene."

"A chemical leak?" a Major General scoffed. "Who are they kidding? A chemical leak can cut off a whole city's communications overnight? It can make over thirty thousand people slaughter each other in a stadium?"

"It's obvious the G-Virus has leaked," General Sherman spoke slowly, his gaze sweeping over everyone present.

"That madman William Birkin... at this point, he's either dead or has been infected by the G-Virus."

Silence fell over the briefing room. Everyone knew what the G-Virus meant. It was a biological weapon even more terrifying and contagious than the T-Virus; once out of control, the consequences would be unthinkable.

"General, what do we do now?" a Colonel asked. "Should we immediately dispatch troops into Raccoon City to evacuate civilians?"

"Evacuate civilians?" General Sherman shook his head, his eyes cold. "It's already too late. According to satellite data, at least 70% of Raccoon City's population has been infected. Sending troops in now to evacuate civilians would only allow the virus to spread to other cities."

He paused, his tone becoming resolute: "Immediately dispatch troops to blockade the entire city of Raccoon City. Do not let a single survivor out. Furthermore, send a Delta Force detachment by helicopter into Raccoon City.

Their mission is singular: find William Birkin and recover the G-Virus sample. If Birkin has been infected, kill him on sight and bring back his body."

"And the civilians?" the Colonel couldn't help but ask. "Are we just going to watch them die there?"

General Sherman glanced at him, his eyes devoid of any pity. "In the face of the virus, there are no civilians. Anyone attempting to leave Raccoon City is to be shot on sight. This is top secret, and it is an order issued personally by the President."

"Yes, sir!"

Everyone stood up and gave a standard military salute. They all knew that from this moment on, Raccoon City had been completely abandoned. This city of one hundred thousand people was about to become a massive tomb.

"Delta Force will arrive over Raccoon City at 3:00 AM on September 26," General Sherman said coldly, looking at Raccoon City on the screen. "Tell them: mission priority, regardless of cost. They must get the G-Virus before Umbrella Corporation does."

September 25, 1998, 1:17 AM. Raccoon City southern outskirts, abandoned airbase.

A dozen UH-60 Black Hawk helicopters sat quietly on the runway, their rotors turning slowly with a low roar. Soldiers in combat gear were quickly boarding, laden with various weapons and equipment, their faces expressionless.

This was the staging area for the UBCS forces. The Umbrella Biohazard Countermeasure Service, a mercenary unit composed of retired soldiers from various countries, totaling 120 men divided into Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, and Delta squads, had all assembled.

Carlos Oliveira leaned against the helicopter door, fiddling with an M4A1 assault rifle, a hint of excitement in his eyes.

He was 22 years old and had once been a Mexican guerrilla fighter before joining the UBCS three months ago. This was his first actual combat mission.

"Hey, Carlos, don't be nervous," a tall black man patted his shoulder and said with a smile. "It's just maintaining order and saving a few civilians, right? Piece of cake. I heard the beer in Raccoon City is pretty good. When the mission is over, I'll buy you a drink."

This black man was Tyrell Patrick, the leader of Delta A-Platoon and Carlos's best friend in the UBCS.

"I'm not nervous," Carlos smiled, chambering a round in his rifle. "I'm just a little excited. Finally, I don't have to waste time on the training grounds every day."

"Don't worry, as long as I'm here, nothing's going to happen to you," Tyrell patted his back.

"Remember our mission: enter the city, rescue trapped civilians, and safely transfer them to the evacuation point in the southern suburbs. Umbrella Corporation has already worked things out with the city government. After this mission is complete, everyone gets a big bonus."

Carlos nodded. Like most other UBCS members, he thought this was just a standard peacekeeping mission.

They were told that a serious riot had broken out in Raccoon City and that some citizens had lost their minds and were attacking others. Their task was to assist local police in maintaining order and rescuing trapped civilians.

No one told them that those 'citizens who lost their minds' were actually zombies infected by the T-Virus. No one told them that the city had turned into a living hell.

Just then, a man in black combat gear with a hideous scar across his face walked over. His eyes were cold, sweeping over the team members like a venomous snake, and everyone instinctively fell silent.

He was Nicholai Ginovaef, the leader of Delta B-Platoon and the most feared man in the UBCS.

It was said he was once an officer in the Soviet Special Forces and had participated in the Afghan War, his hands stained with blood.

Carlos looked at Nicholai, feeling a faint sense of unease. He always felt there was an indescribable murderous aura about this man, as if he hadn't come to perform a rescue mission.

Nicholai ignored the others, walking straight to the end of the runway, taking out an encrypted communicator, and dialing a number.

"Sergei, this is Nicholai," Nicholai's voice was low and raspy, with a heavy Russian accent. "The UBCS forces have all assembled and are ready to enter the city."

Sergei's voice came from the other end of the communicator. He was the supreme commander of Umbrella's security forces and Nicholai's best friend.

"Very good, Nicholai," Sergei's voice was cold.

"Remember your true mission. First, collect all combat data on the BOWs, especially the combat performance of the Nemesis and the Tyrant.

Second, destroy all traces of Umbrella-related experiments and incriminating archives within Raccoon City, especially the residual files in the Nest and the police station."

"Understood," Nicholai nodded, a cruel smile curling his lips. "What about the regular members?"

"Them?" Sergei scoffed. "They're just bait. Let them fight the zombies; it's a perfect way to test the BOWs' combat effectiveness. If they die, it's just their bad luck."

"I see." Nicholai hung up the communication and turned to look at the UBCS members boarding the helicopters. There was no pity in his eyes, only cold murderous intent.

In his eyes, these teammates fighting alongside him were nothing more than cannon fodder used by Umbrella to collect data.

At 1:30 AM, the first Black Hawk helicopter slowly lifted off, flying toward Raccoon City. Following that, a dozen helicopters took off in sequence, their massive roar piercing the silent night sky.

Carlos sat in the helicopter, watching Raccoon City grow closer outside the window. The city was shrouded in darkness, with only scattered fires flickering. He took a deep breath and gripped his rifle tightly.

He didn't know what kind of hell he was about to step into. He also didn't know that this mission would completely change his life.