Resident Evil: Exodus - The Tale of Elza Walker

Chapter 6 - Rebel

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The door to the Kennels flew open as Rita barrelled inside in a low crouch, gun aimed and at the ready. Total silence greeted her. No sound of claws rapping on the floor, no ominous growling or snarling, no vicious infection-aggravated barking. Nothing. She looked to the left. There was a short hallway which dead-ended a few dozen feet away, but it was blocked by an overturned wheelbarrow. It had been wedged against the door to what was probably the isolation kennel, she guessed, but something had forced a opening in the bottom of the bars and apparently escaped. Rita tried not to think about it as she now looked the other way. Directly ahead and to her right was a metal storage cabinet sitting inside a wall recess only slightly larger than itself. One of its doors hung to one side, held open by a half-eaten sack of dog food, with the rest spilled across the floor and around a turn to the right. That was where the actual dog pens were. If the other two K-9s were anywhere, they were probably still in there and they were probably infected. Were they asleep? Or were they just playing possum, waiting for her to make the turn so they could jump her and rip her throat apart? Only one way to find out. Rita breathed in deeply, then dashed around the turn, gun raised and ready to fire.

She saw neither one of the remaining K-9s. The Kennels were empty after all. The doors to all six pens were open, however, and there was a large pool of blood on the floor. It came from the bloody mess that was propped up in front of a large crate against the far wall, a mess which had been an RPD officer at one time, but was hardly recognizable now save for what remained of the bloody uniform. Powerful virus-enhanced jaws had been given free rein with the body, and what was left now would have done any top-notch Hollywood horror movie proud. Rita came very close to throwing up again at the sight of that savagely mutilated form. The fact that there weren't any more infected dogs in the Kennels to worry about had at least one good side. It gave her time to steel herself against that gory spectacle. Rita swallowed hard and did her best to keep from gagging. Once she had herself under control again, she gritted her teeth and moved in to investigate.

It was fairly obvious what had happened. The dogs had jumped the officer as soon as he had turned the corner. They had cut off his only route of escape and then backed him against the crate, each leaping and attacking in turn. That was why the man's pistol and what remained of his right hand and forearm were lying off to one side. The slide on his SiG nine millimeter was actually bent slightly, and the crumpled end of the barrel showed multiple teeth marks. Once they had finished with him, they had then used his almost perfectly positioned body as a means of climbing up and onto the crate. After that, it was a simple matter of getting at the connecting vent to the Firing Range. The ruined remains of the protective cover still hung from one screw, looking for all the world like it had been twisted open by someone latching onto it with a pair of snips and then both rotating away and cutting with them simultaneously. Rita shook her head. What the T-virus was doing to anyone and anything infected by it was incredible. If it wasn't for the gory after-effects ... well .... She now believed she understood why Umbrella had been so interested in developing it. Even so, it had its horrible price. The remains of the body she now gingerly searched was but one small example of the fee being exacted from Raccoon City for that knowledge.

Rita knelt down and used a loose and fairly clean scrap from the body's uniform lying loose to one side to wipe the blood off of its name badge. S. DEETS. Rita nodded and sighed sadly. Steve Deets had been both the chief jailer and the old station's K-9 handler, like good old Tony Wilson over at the new one. They had been much alike, these two, save in their preference for canines. Tony preferred Dobermans. Steve's choice was German Shepherds, the traditional choice for police dogs for many years. They had often joked about it with each other whenever the staffs of the two station houses got together on occasion, with Tony calling Steve "old-timer" and Steve refering to Tony as a "modernist." They had also shared the same fate, as both had been killed by the very pets they loved so much. So sad. So very sad.