Resident Evil: Exodus - The Tale of Elza Walker

Chapter 24 - Rescue

ASIDE - Download and read the complete novel at your leisure by cutting and pasting the link below in your Internet browser!
https://www.mediafire.com/file/f7o02jbrx2pszp6/exodus_revised_draft_v501.rar/file

--------------------

The lone soldier stumbled out of the doorway and onto the loading dock. His weapon was held very loosely. It seemed as if it were ready to fall out of his scorched and bloodied hands at any moment. His uniform was not in much better shape, with large parts of it blackened, bloodied, in tatters, or various combinations of the three. His bandolier, body harness, and webbing were in ruins, and it was a miracle that the backpack transmitter he carried still worked. He was helmetless, and his injured face sported a large bloody gash across his forehead, ending at the right temple of his soot and blood covered face.

The soldier staggered down the nearby stairs, then followed the wall for only a dozen paces before he collapsed to his knees. With an effort he raised himself, using his weapon to brace his unsteady arms and legs. He staggered on for a dozen or more paces or so, then fell again. This time, he did not try to get up. Instead, he rolled over and willed himself to crawl to the double-wide cantilever door only a few paces away, whose shiny surface seemed to beckon him like a signal. Once there, he propped himself into a seated position as best as his ebbing strength would let him, leaning back against the door and looking out over the large concrete-covered space before him. It would be perfect for a helicopter pickup, he thought, if he could just find the strength to make the call. His weapon fell out of his hands and off to one side, forgotten and unnoticed, as he reached a bloodied hand up to his likewise bloodied head. On it rested what might have been a headset at one time, but was now only a jangle of wires and plastic half-hanging off of the right side of his head. He fumbled with it, then found the key stud with his flagging fingers and pressed it.

"C— .... con— .... control ..." the man rasped. "Con— .... control ... eh— ... ech— ... Echo ... Team ... con— ... control ..."

It was the last thing the soldier ever said. Without another sound, his eyes rolled up into his head and he slumped over. His body quivered one last time, then lay still.

The wind whistled through the trucks in the truck yard and across the parking lot towards the loading dock on the other side, scattering dust and assorted debris in its wake. It even ruffled the tattered uniform and blood-splattered hair of the now-dead soldier propped up against and off to one side of the center of the the double-wide door. It was the only thing that moved him, for he would move no more. Even the occasional quiver that told of one infected with the T-virus was absent from his lifeless body ... and that was a good thing indeed.

The soldier was at peace now. His duty was done, and he had died in the service of God and country. He would never know if the overall mission had succeeded, of if any other of his comrades had somehow survived that final fearsome fight with those things, or even if any had escaped as far as did he. His lifeless hands would no longer hold the 7.62mm FN Ordinance MC-51 submachine gun that now lay ownerless beside him. His sightless eyes would never see the wire that led from his mangled headset to the transmitter still strapped to his back. It was a transmitter for which the antenna was broken off at the base, and thus unable to send or receive beyond a very short distance. He would never know that his last call, his last cry for help, had never made it out of Raccoon City.

Yes. Perhaps it was for the best.

"Jesus God Almighty," Rita said, as she knelt beside Kevin looking over the body. "This poor bastard's been through hell. No wonder he's dead. It's a miracle he even made it this far, what with all those injuries."