– not seeing this -

The creature's rounded head dropped back, the wide jaw opening, a ropy stream of dark drool pour– ing out and splattering over what was left of the cop. It extended its tongue, eely and pink, the rough surface shimmering wetly as it slithered out. And out. And out, the snaking tongue uncoiling and whipping from side to side, so long that it actually trailed through the ripped flesh of the corpse. Still frozen, Claire watched in horrified disbelief as the incredible tongue snapped back up, flicking drop-lets of blood through the shadowy air. The entire process had taken only a second, but time had slowed to a crawl, Claire's heart beating so fast that every– thing else was in slow motion – even the creature's drop to the wooden floor, its body flipping in midair so that it landed in a crouch atop the mutilated cop. The creature opened its mouth again and screamed…… and Claire was finally able to move as the bizarre, hollow shriek erupted from the monster, able to point her weapon and fire. The thunder of nine-millimeter rounds drowned out the howl that echoed through the tight hallway, bam-bam-bam…… and still screaming that chilling, trumpeting cry, the creature was thrown back, its claw-tipped arms flailing. Its spasming legs kicked up bloody chunks of the eviscerated body; Claire saw a ragged flap of scalp, one ear still attached, fly across the hall and smack into the wall with a wet slapping sound, sliding down…… and the creature got its legs beneath it somehow and flopped forward in a boneless lunge. It spidered toward her, lightning fast, gripping the wood floor with its terrible claws and howling. Claire fired again, unaware that she was also screaming as three more rounds hit the scuttling thing, ripping through the gray matter that protruded from its open skull. She was going to die, it would be on her in less than a second and its massive talons were only inches from her legs…… and as suddenly as the attack had come, it was over. Every part of the sinewy body quivered and shook as liquid gray dribbled from its burbling head, the thick claws tapping wildly against the wood floor in a frantic tattoo. With a final whispering whine, the creature died. There was no mistaking it this time. She'd blasted through its brain, it wasn't going to get up again. She stared down at the monster, her shocked mind digging for something to relate it to, some animal or even a rumor of an animal that came close, but she gave it up after a few seconds, recognizing it as a lost cause. This was no natural creature, and as close as it was, she could finally smell it – the odor was not as pungent as the zombies', it was a bitter, oily smell, somehow more chemical than animal…

… and it could smell like chocolate-chip cookies, who gives a shit? Raccoon City's got monsters, it's time to stop being so goddamn surprised when you see one of them.

The chiding tone of her mind's voice wasn't partic– ularly convincing. As much as she wanted to feel brave and determined, to step over the monstrous creature and get on with things, she just stood for a moment and for that moment, she thought very seriously about going back to the S.T.A.R.S. office, going inside, and locking the door behind her. She could hide, hide and wait for help, she could be safe…

Decide, then. Do something, one way or another, stop this wavering and whining, because it's not just you anymore. Will Sherry be safe? Do you want to survive at the cost of her life?

The moment passed. Claire took a careful step over the raw red flesh of the creature and crouched down next to the cop's remains, using the muzzle of the handgun to push a torn piece of bloody uniform aside. She swallowed down bile as she poked through the rotten flesh and bone, working not to think about who the cop had been or how he had died. Nothing, and she now had only seven bullets left, but she refused to panic, letting the disappointment fuel her determination instead. If she could search one bloody mess, she could search another. With a last look at the dead animal-thing, Claire stood and walked quickly toward the end of the corridor, her decision made: no hiding and no more running from the fear. At the very least, she could take a few of the monsters with her, raising Sherry's chances of escape. It would be better to die trying than not to try at all. She wouldn't waver again.

FIFTEEN

Leon found ada in the kennel, straining to lever up the rusted manhole cover that the reporter had told them about. She'd turned up a crowbar from somewhere and had it wedged beneath the thick iron plate, her well-defined biceps lightly sheened with sweat as she worked the bar. She'd managed to raise the cover about an inch, but let it drop back into place as he walked in, the metallic clang loud in the cold, empty room. Before he could say anything, she lay the crowbar on the cement floor and looked up at him with a strained half-smile, brushing at her rust-dirty hands.

"I'm glad you're here. I don't think I'm strong enough to do this by myself…"

He hadn't been sure before, but the helpless look she gave him cinched it; she was playing him, or trying to. He'd known Ada for all of twenty minutes, but he doubted seriously that she'd ever been helpless about anything.

"Looks like you're doing just fine," he said, holster-ing the Magnum but not making any move toward the manhole. He crossed his arms, frowning slightly. He wasn't angry, just curious.

"Besides, what's the hurry? I thought you wanted to talk to the reporter. About John, your Umbrella friend."

The woman-in-distress look melted away and her delicate features turned cool and hard, but not in a bad way; it was as though she was letting her real self show, the strong and self-assured Ada he'd first met. Leon could tell that he'd surprised her by not rushing to her aid and was glad to see it; he had enough to worry about without being manipulated by a mysteri– ous stranger. She'd been very careful to avoid his questions, but it was time for Ms. Wong to explain a few things. Ada stood up, meeting his gaze evenly. "You heard him – he wasn't going to tell us anything. And with this place as dangerous as it is, I don't really want to stand around waiting for him to develop a con-science…" She dropped her gaze, her voice softening."… and I don't even know if John's in Raccoon. But I do know that he's not here – and I want to leave before the station's completely overrun."

It sounded good, but for some reason, he had the feeling that she was holding something back. For a few seconds, he struggled to think of a polite way to get her to open up – then decided to hell with it; under the circumstances, social graces would have to be suspended.

"What's going on, Ada? Do you know something that you're not telling me?"

She looked at him again, and again, he had the feeling that he'd surprised her, but her cool, dark gaze was as unreadable as ever. "I just want to get out of here," she said, and the sincerity of her tone was impossible to deny. If he didn't believe anything else she'd said, he had to believe that much.

And I wish it was that easy, but there's Claire, and even Ben, our asshole friend, and God knows how many others… Leon shook his head. "I can't leave. Like I said, I may be the only cop left around here. If there are still people in the building, I have to at least try to help them. And I think it'd be best if you came with me."

Ada gave him another one of her half-smiles.

"I appreciate your concern, Leon, but I can take care of myself."

He didn't doubt it, but he also didn't want to see her abilities tested. Granted, he was pretty untested himself, but he'd been trained to deal with crisis situations, it was his job.

And be honest with yourself – you lost Claire, you couldn't help Branagh, and Ben Bertolucci could give a rat's ass for your protection skills; you don't want to fail with Ada on top of all that. And you don't want to be alone.