Chapter 91: Consciousness Returns

September 29, 1998, 21:12, Nest 2, Isolation Lab B-317

Excruciating pain was the first signal of returning consciousness.

It felt as if countless red-hot steel needles were being driven into her bone marrow simultaneously, or as if her entire body had been violently torn apart and then haphazardly sewn back together with needle and thread.

Chloe snapped her eyes open, her blood-red pupils suddenly constricting. Her first instinct was to raise her hands to protect her chest and abdomen.

Her fingertips brushed against rough bandages, beneath which lay the uneven texture of newly healed skin.

She froze.

Fragmented memories surged back like a tide: the cold alloy floor of NEST, the G1 William's hideous giant claw, the crisp sound of flesh tearing, Jill's heart-wrenching screams, and that final, rapidly spreading darkness before her eyes.

"Am I... dead?"

Chloe murmured softly, propping herself up on the cold metal lab table. She looked down at her body; her combat uniform was covered in dried bloodstains.

Her arms, shoulders, and chest were riddled with dense bullet hole scars of varying depths, clearly only recently healed.

It wasn't a dream.

She really had been torn in half by the G1 and survived. But she didn't yet know what the cost was.

Chloe looked around.

This was an isolation laboratory of about twenty square meters. The walls were made of cold alloy, and there were no windows, only a single pale fluorescent light buzzing overhead.

The room contained only a lab table, a metal cabinet, and a discarded security camera. The camera's wires had been cut, dangling uselessly against the wall.

This wasn't the NEST lab she and Jill had visited.

This was a place entirely foreign to her.

Chloe stood up and stepped onto the floor. A wave of intense dizziness hit her, and she stumbled, grabbing the edge of the lab table for support.

Something was wrong; her body felt incredibly heavy.

It was as if she were filled with lead, every step requiring immense effort. That previous feeling of being light as a feather, able to easily leap over a three-meter wall, had vanished. It was replaced by a deep-seated exhaustion and heaviness, like walking on the seabed hundreds of meters down.

She clenched her fists, trying to summon the viral energy within her. But nothing happened; the virus in her body seemed to be dormant, showing no reaction.

"What's going on?"

Chloe frowned and walked to the alloy door of the laboratory. She pushed hard, but the door didn't budge. She raised her foot and kicked the door with all her might.

"Thud!"

There was a dull thud, but the alloy door didn't even have a dent.

In the past, that kick would have been enough to smash through an ordinary iron door. But now, her strength wasn't even a tenth of what it used to be.

Someone had injected her with something.

Chloe realized immediately. It was the Umbrella Corporation; no one else would do this.

Chloe leaned against the door, her heart sinking. What about Jill? How was Jill?

The last image she saw was Jill, whom she had pushed away, appearing to shout something at her.

Had Jill... already...

Chloe didn't dare think further. She bit her lower lip hard, only forcing herself to calm down once she tasted blood.

No. Jill is so strong, she'll be fine.

She will definitely come looking for me.

Chloe took a deep breath and surveyed the lab again. She carefully checked every corner, including the vents and drains, but found no exit. This was a completely sealed cage.

She walked to the metal cabinet and opened it. It was empty, containing only some discarded test tubes and needles.

No weapons, no communication equipment, not even a drop of water.

Chloe leaned weakly against the cabinet, staring at the closed alloy door.

She felt helpless once again, much like during her eight years of imprisonment. But back then, she had no one to rely on and could only endure in silence. Now that she had someone she cared about, she began to feel anxious.

She reached up to touch her neck; the small pendant Jill had bought for her was gone.

Only a faint mark from the cord remained.

"Jill..."

Chloe whispered the name, her voice carrying a trace of imperceptible trembling.

You must wait for me.

I will definitely get out and find you.

21:20 Spencer Memorial Hospital

Military boots stepped onto the waterlogged corridor floor, making a splashing sound. Carlos entered the hospital with Jill on his back. The smell of disinfectant mixed with the heavy stench of blood and decay permeated the air. Emergency lights flickered with a dim red glow, casting distorted shadows along the hallway.

Carlos kicked open a hospital room door and quickly scanned the area. The room was clean, with no zombies, and the windows were tightly shut. He carefully placed Jill on the hospital bed, his movements so gentle he feared waking her.

"Cough... cough cough..."

Jill let out a violent fit of coughing and snapped her eyes open. But she couldn't see anything; her vision was a blur, filled only with countless swaying dark shadows.

A burning, searing pain radiated from her shoulder. The virus was rampaging through her veins, driving her body temperature to a terrifying high.

"Chloe... no..."

She reached out, trying to grab something, but caught only empty air.

Her consciousness felt as if it were sinking into the cold depths of the sea, repeatedly replaying that nightmarish scene at Clock Tower Square: Nicholai carrying the unconscious Chloe, turning to disappear into the dark alley.

While she lay in the cold rain, her body paralyzed, able only to watch helplessly, unable to do a thing.

Again.

She had lost Chloe again.

The first time was at NEST, where she watched Chloe be torn in half by G1 and could only flee in tears. The second time was at Clock Tower Square, watching Chloe be taken by Nicholai, still powerless to stop it.

"I'm sorry... Chloe... I'm sorry..."

Jill's body convulsed, tears sliding from the corners of her eyes and mixing with sweat to dampen the pillow.

Carlos knelt down and used his sleeve to gently wipe the cold sweat from her forehead. Seeing Jill in such pain made his heart tighten.

"Jill, hang in there!" he whispered, his tone as firm as a vow. "I'll get the vaccine to save you. You'll be fine, I promise."

He pulled a first-aid kit from his tactical backpack, briefly treated the wound on Jill's shoulder, and wrapped it tightly with bandages.

After finishing, Carlos pulled out an encrypted walkie-talkie, walked to the window, and pressed the talk button.

"Tyrone, Tyrone, come in."

"Copy, Carlos. How is it on your end? Is Jill okay?" Tyrone's voice came through the radio, with the faint sound of gunfire in the background.

"Not good. She's infected with the T-Virus and has a severe fever. We're running out of time. Where is Bard?"

"He should be in the lab behind the hospital. Stay calm, you're almost there."

"Alright, copy that." Carlos hung up the radio and looked back at Jill on the bed.

She was still unconscious, her brow furrowed tightly, her mouth still murmuring something incessantly.

Carlos sighed and reached out to gently smooth her brow.

He checked the rifle in his hands, confirming a round was chambered. Then he glanced out the window; the distant city center was engulfed in flames, and the roars of zombies rose and fell in the distance.

Carlos took a deep breath, turned, walked out of the room, and gently pulled the door shut.

The corridor was pitch black, save for the flickering dim red light of the emergency lamps. He gripped his rifle and cautiously headed toward the stairwell.

21:37 Raccoon City Police Department, Main Entrance

Cold rain lashed against Leon's face. He reached back to close the heavy iron gates of the police station, shutting out the roars of the zombies outside.

The iron gate closed with a loud "Clang," and the bolt slid into place.

Leon panted heavily. He looked back at the closed iron gate, and a strange thought suddenly flashed through his mind.

Thirty years from now, he would personally push open this very gate he had just closed.

What would this place look like then?

Leon shook his head, driving the nonsensical thought from his mind. Now was not the time for such things.

He turned and looked at the massive police station building before him.

It was a typical Gothic structure, with tall stone pillars, pointed archways, and dim lighting.

He pushed open the wooden doors. The main hall was terrifyingly empty, with only the sound of rain dripping onto the floor, making a pitter-patter sound.

"Is anyone here? Is anyone in here?"

Leon raised his voice and shouted.

His voice echoed through the empty hall, but there was no response.

Dead silence.

Leon gripped his handgun tightly and cautiously moved forward. His boots clicked against the marble floor, the sound exceptionally sharp in the silent environment.

He walked to the reception desk and found a computer still on, its screen displaying the station's surveillance system.

Leon leaned in, moving the mouse to switch between various camera feeds.

Corridors, offices, interrogation rooms, the parking lot... everywhere was a mess and devoid of people. Bloodstains and scattered documents were everywhere, and some room doors stood wide open, revealing pitch-black interiors.

"How can there be no one?" Leon frowned, his unease growing stronger.

Just then, one surveillance feed caught his attention.

It was the camera for the east corridor.

On the screen, an officer in uniform was fighting a retreating battle. The handgun in his hand continuously spat fire as he shot at the zombies chasing him. But there were too many zombies, and he was quickly being cornered.

That police officer backed up to a shutter door and pounded on it forcefully, but it wouldn't open. He looked back in despair at the approaching zombies, then suddenly turned his head toward the security camera.

His face was covered in blood, and his eyes were filled with despair.

“David! Is Marvin there? Please answer!” he shouted at the camera, his voice hoarse. “I found a way out! Requesting immediate backup! East Hallway! Repeat! East Hallway!”

After speaking, he pulled out a notebook and waved it in front of the camera lens.

Leon stood up abruptly.

“I have to find that man.”

Without a moment's hesitation, he turned and headed toward the east side. Leon ran to the eastern shutter door and pulled the switch on the wall.

The shutter door creaked and groaned as it slowly rose.

But just as it rose high enough for a person to crawl through, it suddenly jammed and stopped moving.

Large English letters were spray-painted in red on the shutter door: KEEP OUT!

Leon shone his flashlight behind the shutter door.

It was pitch black inside, so dark he couldn't see his own hand. The flashlight's beam could only illuminate a few meters ahead; scattered debris and overturned tables and chairs were everywhere.

A strong smell of blood hit him, making Leon's heart skip a beat, but he didn't back down.

He took a deep breath, bent down, and crawled through the gap in the shutter door.

The inside was even worse than he had imagined.

Corpses were everywhere—both officers and civilians. They had died gruesome deaths; some had their throats torn open, while others had been chewed beyond recognition. Blood soaked the carpet, making it sticky to step on.

“My God...”

Leon covered his mouth, struggling to keep his stomach from churning. He had never seen so many bodies before.

He gripped his flashlight and handgun tightly, moving forward with caution.

The corridor was eerily silent, save for the sound of his own footsteps and breathing.

After rounding a few corners, he arrived at the entrance to the Guardroom.

“Open the door! Hurry! Open up!”

A faint cry for help came from inside the Guardroom.

Leon immediately pushed the door open and rushed in.

The Guardroom was a mess, with tables and chairs overturned. There was another shutter door at the far end, and the cries for help were coming from behind it.

“I'm coming to save you!”

Leon ran to the shutter door and pulled it up with all his might.

The shutter door rose slowly. As soon as a small opening appeared, a blood-stained hand reached out from inside, grasping wildly.

“Save me! Help me!”

“Grab my hand!” Leon reached out and gripped the hand tightly.

“I've got it! Pull me out, quick!”

“Give me your other hand too!”

Just then, a bone-chilling sound of tearing and biting came from the other side of the shutter door.

“Argh—!!!”

The person inside let out a blood-curdling scream.

Leon felt the strength in the hand he was holding suddenly vanish.

He gave a sudden, forceful tug.

*Squelch—*

He only pulled out half a body.

Blood sprayed all over Leon.

“How can this be?!”

Leon stumbled back a few steps, his face pale.

The half-corpse on the floor was the same officer he had just seen on the monitor. His lower half was gone, and blood continued to pour from the wound.

Leon's hands were shaking.

He saw that the officer was clutching a black notebook tightly in his hand.

Leon knelt down and carefully pulled the notebook from his hand.

The cover of the notebook was stained with blood. Inside were drawings of strange stone statues and several lines of scribbled diagrams—methods for deciphering the Goddess Statue in the police station lobby.

This was the paper he had held up to the camera earlier.

Leon closed the notebook and tucked it into his pocket.

Just then, he heard a low growl coming from outside.

The corpses that had been lying on the floor had stood up at some point. Their cloudy eyes were fixed on Leon as they stumbled toward him.

“Damn it!”

Leon turned and ran.

He rushed to the shutter door he had crawled through earlier and bent down to get out. At that moment, a cold, rotting hand suddenly grabbed his ankle.

A massive force dragged him backward. Darkness instantly enveloped him as a zombie snarled and lunged at him.

In that critical moment...

A powerful hand suddenly grabbed Leon's arm and yanked him out.

“Watch out!”

Before Leon could react, he heard a loud clang.

He looked up.

A Black police officer in uniform was using the jammed shutter door to smash the head of the zombie that had grabbed his ankle.

The zombie's head was crushed like a watermelon.

“You're safe... for now...”

The Black officer said, panting heavily. He clutched his stomach, his face pale and his forehead covered in cold sweat.

“Thank you...” Leon said, standing up, still shaken.

“Marvin Branagh.” The officer reached out, his voice weak. “Acting Chief of the Raccoon City Police Department.”

“Leon Kennedy.” Leon shook his hand. “There was another officer, but I... I couldn't save him.”

Marvin glanced behind the shutter door, his eyes dimming.

“That was Elliot.” He sighed, reaching out to pull Leon up. “Come on, I know you tried your best. Things like this happen every day here.”

Marvin led Leon back to the police station lobby.

He pulled a clean tactical uniform from a weapon locker and handed it to Leon. “Change into this; your clothes are filthy. Here’s some ammo, too. Take it.”

Leon took the uniform and nodded.

Once Leon had changed, Marvin led him to a temporary medical area behind the reception desk. There was a worn-out sofa; Marvin clutched his stomach and slowly sat down.

He poured Leon a glass of water and then told him everything that had happened in Raccoon City from the beginning.

Umbrella Corporation's virus leak, the spread of the T-Virus, the appearance of the zombies, and Chief Irons' incompetence.

Leon listened quietly, his expression growing more solemn.

He finally understood why the entire city had become like this.

“Now I'm the only one left in the whole department,” Marvin said, leaning back on the sofa and closing his eyes wearily. “Everyone else is either dead or gone. I should have left too, but I couldn't. There are still many survivors waiting for me to save them.”

Looking at Marvin's pale profile, Leon couldn't help but ask, “Does anyone know how this all started?”

Marvin's gaze fell on the computer screen nearby. He twitched the corner of his mouth, offering a bitter and helpless smile. “No idea. Honestly, just remember one thing: be extremely careful here, or you won't make it out alive.”

Leon looked down to check the ammunition in his handgun, stuffing a spare magazine into a pocket of his tactical vest. He sighed and spread his hands. “I was supposed to report for duty last week, but the station sent a notice telling me not to come yet. If I had arrived sooner, maybe...”

“Don't think about 'what-ifs',” Marvin interrupted him, reaching for the blood-stained black notebook on the table. “You're alive, Leon. That’s what matters most.” This was what Elliot had traded half his life for; the edges of the pages were still stained with wet blood.

Leon stood up straight, gripped his gun, and looked at Marvin with a determined gaze. “Alright, Lieutenant. I’m ready.”

“If all goes well, you'll find a way out.” Marvin opened the notebook, pointing to Elliot's scribbled diagrams of the statues and passage markers. “The officer you met earlier, Elliot, spent three days investigating. He believed there's a secret passage under the Goddess Statue in the lobby that leads out.”

Leon's eyes lit up, his voice filled with unmistakable joy. “That’s great! Once I find the passage, I’ll take you to a hospital immediately. Your wound can't wait any longer.”

But Marvin shook his head and handed him the notebook, his tone calm to the point of being cruel. “No. My situation isn't important right now.”

“Lieutenant, I can't leave you here alone!” Leon protested, taking a step forward.

“That's an order, rookie!” Marvin's voice rose sharply, followed by a sharp intake of breath as the movement agitated his abdominal wound. He steadied himself, his tone softening but remaining firm. “Save yourself first, understand? I want to go with you, but in my current state, I'd only hold you back.”

He paused, then pulled out a well-preserved Tactical Knife from behind him and held it out to Leon. “By the way, you’ll find this useful.”

Leon quickly waved his hands and stepped back. “No, I can't take that.”

“Take it!” Marvin shoved the knife into his hand without allowing for argument, gripping Leon's wrist firmly. His gaze was sharp and heavy. “Remember, don't be soft-hearted like me. If you see one of those things, I don't care if it's wearing a uniform—don't hesitate. Either blow its head off or turn and run. Understand?”

Looking into Marvin's bloodshot but exceptionally determined eyes, Leon gripped the cold Tactical Knife tightly and nodded firmly. “Understood, Lieutenant.”