City of the Dead by Perry S. D. Resident evil (Game)

Author:Perry, S. D.,Resident evil (Game) [Perry, S.D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781781161852
Publisher: Random House Publisher Services
Published: 2012-08-08T01:35:00+00:00

SEVENTEEN

Ada ran into the cell block only a step behind Leon, just in time to see the reporter stumble out of his cage and fall to the floor. “Help him!” Leon shouted, and ran past Bertolucci to check out the cell. Ada stopped in front of the gasping reporter but ignored the command, waiting to see if whatever had gotten to him was going to spring out of the open cell—

—he was behind bars, how did this happen—

She waited, weapon pointed after Leon as he leapt in front of the open cell, her heart pounding—and saw the bewilderment on his youthful face, the open surprise. The way his gaze searched the cell told her that it was empty. Unless the attacker was invisible…

Not a chance. Don’t even start thinking like that, don’t let it get to you.

Ada knelt next to the reporter, taking in immediately that he was in a bad way—dying bad. He’d crumpled into a half-sitting position, his head against the bars of the cell adjacent to his. He was still breathing, but it wouldn’t be long before he stopped. Ada had seen the look before, the far-seeing gaze and the trembling, the pallor—but what she didn’t see was how, and that scared her. There were no wounds. It had to be a heart attack, maybe a stroke—

—but that scream.

“Ben? Ben, what happened?”

His flickering gaze fixed on her face, and she saw that the corners of his mouth were cracked and bleeding. He opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a rasping, unintelligible croak.

Leon crouched down next to them, looking as confused as she felt. He shook his head at her, an unspoken answer to her unasked question; there was apparently no sign of what had happened.

Ada looked down at Bertolucci and tried again. “What was it, Ben? Can you tell us what happened?”

The reporter’s shaking hands crawled up his body, resting across his chest. With a visible effort, he managed to whisper a single word.

“…window…”

Ada wasn’t reassured. The cell’s “window” was hardly a foot across, maybe six inches wide, and set eight feet off the floor—nothing more than a ventilation hole that opened into the parking garage. Nothing could have gotten through—at least nothing that she’d heard of or read about, and that meant that there were dangers she wasn’t prepared against.

Bertolucci was still trying to speak. Both Ada and Leon leaned closer, straining to catch his painful whispers.

“…chest. Burns, it… burns…”

Ada relaxed just a bit. He’d seen or heard something outside of the cell, something that had kicked off a massive coronary; that, she could accept. A pisser for the journalist, but it would save her the trouble of killing him herself…

He reached out suddenly and grasped her forearm, staring up at her with an intensity that surprised her. His grip was weak, but there was desperation in his wet eyes—desperation and some frustrated sorrow that inspired not a little guilt for what she’d been thinking.

“I never told… about Irons,” he breathed, obviously struggling to hang on to life, to get it all out.

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