Resident Evil: City of the Dead by S. D. Perry

Author:S. D. Perry
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Horror, video game, sci-fi, Zombies
ISBN: 9780671024413
Publisher: New York ; Pocket, 1999.
Published: 1999-05-01T06:00:00+00:00

". . . 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.

"He's ... working for Umbrella ... all this time. The zombies ... are Umbrella, research ... and he covered up the murders but I couldn't ... prove it all, yet...

was going to be my ... exclusive."

Bertolucci closed his braised-looking eyelids, breathing shallowly as his fingers fell away from her arm, and she felt a surge of pity for him in spite of herself.

The poor dumb jerk; his big secret was that Umbrella was into bioweapons and that Irons was on the take. It would have been a big scoop, too, but apparently he hadn't even been able to get any hard evidence.

He doesn't know dick about the G-Virus, he never did - and he's going to die regardless. Talk about a shit deal.

"Jesus," Leon said softly. "Chief Irons..."

Ada had all but forgotten how clueless the young cop was. He was obviously new, but a couple of times he'd seemed so perceptive that she'd been taken aback; the kid wasn't just a testosterone case, there was definitely something going on upstairs...

... knock it off already, he's not much younger than you. The reporter's about to kick and you need to be on your way, not worrying about Officer Friendly...

Bertolucci spasmed suddenly, his hands clutching at his chest as he moaned, a sharp, tortured cry of agony. His back arched, his fingers hooked into claws...

... and the moan went liquid as blood started to stream from his mouth in a burbling gout. Choking and shaking, Bertolucci's limbs convulsed violently, droplets of crimson spraying out with each racking cough...

... and Ada saw red blossom across his rumpled white shirt beneath his scrabbling hands and heard the thick, wet crack of breaking bone. She leapt back as Leon grabbed for the reporter's hands, not sure what was happening but absolutely positive that it was not a heart attack.

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