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Jill and Teri turned sharply toward the noise, their instincts on edge. Out of the shadows stepped Alice, calm and unflinching, her gaze sweeping the ruined corridor with the same measured precision she carried into every fight.
Alice's eyes found Angela almost immediately, narrowing as though she sensed something no one else could. "You…" her voice dropped, weighted with recognition and something more.
Before anyone could ask what she meant, a thunderous crash shook the floor.
Bang!
A figure came hurtling through the air and slammed hard into the ground. Dust and gravel scattered. Then, a mocking voice broke the silence.
"Hah, almost made daddy kick the bucket. That was way too close."
The group froze.
"Wu Yang…!" Teri gasped. Her face lit up with relief as she sprinted toward him. The man lay battered and dirt-streaked, but very much alive. She clasped his shoulders with trembling hands, overjoyed. "You're alive! You're really all right! I thought you were gone… this is too good."
Jack—Wu Yang to those who knew him—grinned despite his condition, flashing that reckless spark in his eyes.
"This bastard was just pretending to be dead," Jill muttered, though her own lips betrayed a smile.
Alice's mouth curved slightly upward as well. "Looks like someone's happy."
She studied Angela again, her sharp eyes never missing a detail. "You must be Angela. You and I… feel strangely alike."
Jill tilted her head. "Wait, do you two know each other?"
Alice shook her head. "She's infected." Her tone was calm, clinical. "Deeply infected."
Angela shifted uncomfortably.
Jill frowned, scanning the girl from head to toe. No wounds, no blood. Nothing to suggest infection. "How do you know that?"
Angela raised her chin, answering for herself. "Because she's infected too."
A tense silence followed.
Jill's face hardened. "What? You're infected?" She glared at Alice, frustration in her voice. "And when were you planning to tell us?"
Alice crouched in front of Angela, ignoring Jill's anger. "Let me see."
Angela pulled back. "No."
Alice's expression softened, though her words carried quiet authority. "You know I won't hurt you. Let me look."
After a pause, Angela hesitantly extended her arm. Alice rolled up her sleeve with practiced care. On Angela's pale skin was the unmistakable mark of an injection—a circular needle scar, fresh but precise.
Alice reached into Angela's backpack and retrieved a small iron case. She opened it, revealing a metal syringe and a vial filled with vivid green liquid that seemed to glow faintly even in the dim light.
"This…" Alice's voice dropped. "This is the anti-virus serum. The T-Virus antidote."
Jill's jaw dropped. "There's actually an antidote? That's… impossible."
Jack stepped closer, his voice breaking the moment of awe. "Don't get too excited. The serum only works in a narrow window. If the infection's too advanced, or if someone's already turned into a zombie, it's useless."
Alice's eyes locked onto Angela. "Where did you get this?"
Angela's expression grew wistful, voice trembling as though she were reliving old wounds. "My father made it for me. He was sick… and he knew that one day, I would be too. When I was very young, I could hardly walk. I needed a cane just to move. The doctors said I would only get worse, never better. My father refused to accept that. He searched for a cure, a way to change me."
Jack gave a humorless smirk. "That cure was the T-Virus."
Angela nodded. "Later… people came. They stole my father's work."
"The Umbrella Corporation?" Jill's tone was sharp, accusatory.
Angela lowered her eyes. "My father wasn't an unprincipled man. He never imagined it would be twisted into this nightmare."
Teri placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "This isn't your fault. The blame lies with Umbrella."
Thump!
The sudden noise snapped everyone to attention. Soldiers in black combat gear emerged from the shadows, rifles trained on the group.
Alice's stance shifted instantly, ready to fight.
"Don't shoot! Don't shoot—they're with us!" L.J. burst forward, waving his arms. "He's like you—made a deal with that doctor. Look, he's even got a daughter."
From behind the soldiers, a man stepped out, tall and battle-worn. His voice was calm but firm. "I'm Carlos. Looks like we're partners now."
Jill eyed him carefully. "You're S.T.A.R.S., right? Another one came through earlier."
"Was it Nicholai?" Carlos asked quickly.
"Dead," Jack replied bluntly. "Eaten by the dogs." He shrugged, as if it were nothing.
Carlos froze, grief flashing across his face. He staggered slightly, coughing violently into his hand. "Nicholai… cough, cough…"
Jack's eyes narrowed, reading him instantly. "You've been bitten. And yet you're still breathing. Guess that's what we call protagonist luck."
L.J. nearly jumped out of his skin, stumbling backward. "Hold up, hold up—you've been bit?! And you didn't say anything? Man, I was standing right next to you!"
Carlos scowled, breath ragged. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Alice's voice cut in, calm as ever. "It means today's your lucky day. That's all."
Jack jerked his head toward the exit. "Enough talk. Let's move."
—
A cracked school telephone rang nearby. Alice lifted the receiver.
"We found your daughter," she said flatly.
"I know. Put her on," Dr. Ashford's voice replied.
"No. Not yet. First tell us how we get out."
"There's a helicopter prepared," Ashford said urgently. "It departs in forty-seven minutes. Before that, the city will be destroyed. That aircraft will be the last to leave Raccoon City."
Alice's eyes narrowed. "And I'm guessing it wasn't meant for us."
"No. It has another assignment. But the security will not be heavy."
"Where is it?"
"Let me speak to my daughter first."
Alice exhaled, realizing he wouldn't say more without hearing her voice. She handed the phone to Angela, who clutched it tightly and spoke softly with her father.
When she finished, she returned the receiver. Alice listened briefly.
"The helicopter will be at City Hall," she announced. "We should leave immediately."
—
Later, the survivors crammed into a vehicle. The city outside was eerily quiet, its streets emptied by death and fear.
Inside, space was tight. Jack and Jill ended up pressed together in the same seat, shoulder to shoulder. Wu Yang, of course, looked entirely too pleased by the arrangement.
Jill shot him a glare. "Stop shaking." His leg bounced wildly, jittering like a motor.
Jack raised his hands in mock innocence. "I've had ADHD since I was a kid. You understand, right?"
Jill's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Keep it up and I'll cut your leg off."
Jack smirked, shaking his head dramatically. "No way. Jill Valentine, in my heart, would never be that cruel." His head tilted too far during the gesture, and before he realized it—smack—his lips brushed Jill's cheek.
Jill froze instantly, her body stiffening like stone. Her breath caught in her throat.
Jack blinked, realizing what had happened, but his grin never faded.
"Wu Yang…" Jill's voice was low, cold as ice. Her eyes locked onto his with deadly seriousness. "Do you know how the word death is spelled?"