Ecliptic Express – Forward Cars
The train screamed across the rails, the old passenger cars rattling like they might fly apart at any moment. Overhead lights flickered with every jolt, shadows lurching across the blood-smeared walls.
Rebecca steadied her pistol, chest heaving as another zombie staggered forward. She forced her breathing under control—just like Jack had told her.
"Don't panic, Rebecca. Just breathe…" she whispered, encouraging herself.
She pulled the trigger. The round cracked through its skull, dropping it instantly.
Jack fired beside her, his shot just as sharp. For the first time since boarding the train, his hands didn't feel like lead. The crushing fatigue dulled, like a weight had been lifted.
He knew why: the new bond skill, Medic's Grace.
The corridor ahead swelled with groans as more corpses pushed forward. Rebecca swallowed, aimed, and fired again. Two more went down, bodies thudding against the floor.
Then the vent exploded.
A black tide of leeches poured through, screeching as they hit the floor in a wet, writhing mass. They swarmed over the windows, the seats, the walls. The air grew thick, vibrating with their collective hiss.
"Oh God!" Rebecca yelped, firing wildly. Jack swung his pistol like a club, smashing them off his arms and legs. Still, more slithered up his body, worming into the seams of his jumpsuit.
"Go!" he barked, shoving Rebecca toward the next car.
She bolted ahead, but the swarm surged between them, filling the narrow corridor. The heavy bulkhead at the junction screeched and began to lower.
"Jack!" she screamed, reaching for him.
He shoved his arm through the narrowing gap, their fingers brushing for a heartbeat.
"Keep moving, Becca!"
The door slammed shut.
The swarm pressed harder, forcing him against the window frame. The cracked glass groaned beneath his weight.
"Rebecca! Keep moving forward—I'll find you!" he roared, before aiming his gun at the window and firing. The rounds shattered the weakened glass.
Rebecca's muffled voice came through the crack, but Jack couldn't make out the words.
Then the glass gave way.
Jack was hurled into the storm of night, tumbling through fog and rain. Branches tore at his skin as he crashed through the trees, rolling down a muddy incline until he slammed hard against a trunk.
Above, the Ecliptic Express thundered on, its headlights vanishing into the mist.
Raccoon Forest
Jack groaned, spitting blood into the mud. His whole body screamed from the fall, every nerve on fire.
The VSS flickered to life:
[VSS]
Health Status: Critical (heavy bruising)
Advisory: Rest recommended
Enhanced Recovery (Tier 1): Active — recovery slowed due to severity of injuries
Cellular Fatigue Debuff: Cleared
Medic's Grace: Deactivated
"At least that damn cellular fatigue is over… but fuck, this hurts," Jack muttered, forcing himself upright.
Through the mist, beams of light cut across the trees. Voices followed—gravelly, clipped, professional.
"Sector clear."
" Sweep the perimeter."
Jack froze, ducking low behind the tree line. Flashlights swept closer, the clink of gear unmistakable. Umbrella soldiers.
He clenched his jaw. He couldn't fight them head-on, not like this. He had one Beretta M9, one full mag, and no strength to waste. Rebecca was still out there, and he couldn't afford to lose her.
Stay quiet. Just move.
He crouched low and slipped between the trees, every step careful, measured. Branches scraped against his boots. He kept the M9 drawn but lowered, finger steady on the guard.
For a few minutes, it worked. He skirted around patrols, moving with the shadows, staying just out of the sweep of their flashlights.
Then his boot cracked down on a stick.
Snap.
"Movement!" one Cleaner barked.
"Shit…" Jack hissed, diving behind a mossy log. Bullets ripped through the bark, spraying woodchips across his arm.
"Well, there goes sneaking…" he muttered.
Jack popped up, firing two sharp shots. One Umbrella soldier went down, the others scattering for cover. He rolled into the mud, returning fire from a crouch. Every shot counted, every movement precise.
When the last man fell silent, Jack staggered forward, chest heaving. He quickly looted the dead for weapons and ammo.
His haul: an M4 rifle customized for Umbrella use, two spare magazines for his pistol, and three full magazines for the rifle.
Before he could search further, the fog thinned—and the forest opened into a clearing.
A small village lay ahead, tucked at the base of the mountain.
What had once been neat rows of cabins was now a ruin. Windows smashed, doors kicked in, rooftops caved from fire damage. Umbrella insignias still clung to the walls in faded paint.
Jack frowned. "Umbrella employee housing?"
He moved cautiously into the ruins, pistol sweeping corners. The smell hit him first—burned wood, gun oil, and rot. Bodies lay slumped against doorframes and gutters, some still wearing Umbrella lab coats, others in plain civilian clothes. Half-eaten.
And some were still moving.
A guttural groan rattled from a far cabin. A pale figure staggered into the street, jaw sagging, blood streaking its chin. Another followed from a doorway, then another from behind a collapsed fence.
Jack steadied his pistol, jaw tight. "Here we go…"
He cut them down with a tight burst from the M4, each report echoing through the empty streets.
By the time he reached the far side of the village, he was breathing hard. A low, reinforced building loomed ahead, sturdier than the rest, with barred windows and a rusted Umbrella logo above the door:
Guardhouse – Sector 12
Jack shouldered the door open. The interior stank of mold and gunpowder, but the walls were intact and the furniture still in place. A lantern flickered weakly in the corner. Someone had been here recently.
On the central desk lay a stack of files, stained but legible. Jack flipped one open.
[Umbrella Security Division – Field Notes]
Canine B.O.W. – Cerberus Project
Strength: High mobility, pack tactics.
Weakness: Skull integrity low—sustained head trauma disables.
Control: Unstable. Release protocol restricted.
Experimental Arthropods
Species: Infected wasps, leeches, centipedes.
Threat: Swarm potential high.
Not recommended for open terrain—containment risk extreme.
Heavy B.O.W. Development (Prototype)
Designation: Classified
Status: Deployed on a limited basis for purge operations
Notes: Armored variant designed for direct field suppression. Effective in high-resistance zones. Do not engage without proper clearance.
He skimmed the last page, his brow furrowing. "Armored variant? Suppression?" He shook his head and shoved the papers back into the drawer. "Sounds like one nightmare I don't ever want to meet."
He rifled through drawers, scattering old maps and ration wrappers, until his fingers closed on something solid. A small brass key, Umbrella's logo stamped into the handle. A tag dangled from it, the ink faded but legible: Motor Pool – Unit 03.
Jack's lips curved into a thin smile. "That'll do."
Rebecca POV – Ecliptic Express (After Jack's Fall)
Rebecca slammed her palms against the cold steel of the bulkhead. Her chest heaved, her ears still ringing with the echo of Jack's last shout.
"Jack… don't worry. I'll find you," she whispered, voice breaking.
But there was no answer—only the screech of the train and the guttural moans of the infected in the cars ahead.
She clenched her pistol, forcing herself to stand. "Please stay alive, Jack…" she whispered again, steeling her resolve.
Swallowing her fear, Rebecca stepped forward, deeper into the train.