the bookshelves that she wanted to take. Stepping nimbly through the dark clutter, she hooded the flashlight with one hand and trained the narrow beam at the corner where the shelf had been. The Umbrella team had knocked the whole thing over but apparently hadn't bothered to go through the books themselves. God only knew what they'd been looking for in the first place. Clues as to where the renegade S.T.A.R.S. were hiding, probably; after the attack at Barry's house and the disastrous mission at Caliban Cove, she no longer had any illusions about Umbrella simply ignoring them. Jill spotted the book she wanted, a rather lurid-looking paperback entitled Prison Life; her father would have laughed. She picked it up and rifled through the pages, stopping when the light fell across Dick Valentine's crooked grin. He'd sent the picture along with one of his more recent letters, and she'd tucked it into the book so that she wouldn't lose it. Hiding important things was a habit she'd gotten into young, one that had just paid off yet again. She let the book drop, the need to hurry suddenly forgotten as she gazed down at the photo. A faint smile played across her lips. He was probably the only man she knew of who looked good in the bright orange jumpsuit of a maximum security pen. For just a moment, she wondered what he'd think of her current predicament; in a roundabout way, he was responsible, at least for her getting involved with the
S.T.A.R.S. in the first place. After he'd been sent up, he'd urged her to get out of the business, even saying that he'd been wrong to train her as a thief…
… so I take a legit job, actually working for society instead of against it and people in Raccoon start dying. The S.T.A.R.S. uncover a conspiracy to create bioweapons with a virus that turns living things into monsters. Obviously nobody believes us, the S. T.A.R.S. that can't be bought by Umbrella are either discredited or eliminated. So we go underground, try to dig up proof and come up empty-handed as Umbrella contin-ues to screw around with their dangerous research and more good people are killed. Now we're off on what will probably be a suicide mission to Europe to see if we can infiltrate the headquarters of a multibillion-dollar cor-poration and stop them from destroying the goddamn planet. What would you think, I wonder? Assuming you'd even believe such a fantastic tale, what would you think? 'You'd be proud of me, Dick,' she whispered, scarcely aware that she'd spoken aloud and not at all sure if it was the truth. Her father wanted to see her in a less perilous line of work, and compared to what she and the other ex-S.T.A.R.S. were currently up against, burglary was about as dangerous as ac– counting. After a long moment, she carefully placed the photo into a pocket of the backpack and looked around at the broken remnants of her small home, still thinking about her father and what he'd say about the strange path her life had taken; if things went well, maybe she'd be able to ask him in person. Rebecca Chambers and the other survivors of the Maine mission were still in hiding, quietly networking through the
S.T.A.R.S. organization for support and waiting to hear what she and Chris and Barry could tell them about Umbrella's headquarters. The official HQ was in Austria, although they all suspected that the minds behind the T- Virus had their own secret complex elsewhere – which you won't find out if you don't get your ass in gear; the guys are gonna think you stopped to take a nap. Jill shouldered the bag and took a final look around the room before moving toward the back door, through the kitchen. There was a lingering scent of rotten fruit in the dark air, coming from a bowl of apples and pears on top of the refrigerator that had long since disintegrated into mush. Even though she knew better, the smell caused a chill to run up her spine; she hurried for the closed door, trying to block out the sudden vivid flashes of memory of what they'd found at the Spencer estate…
… rotting as they walked, reaching out with wet and withered fingers, faces melting with pus and de– cay -
'Jill?'
She barely contained a cry of surprise at the sound of Chris's soft voice just outside. The door opened, Chris silhouetted against the darkness by a distant streetlight. 'Yeah, right here,' she said, stepping forward. 'Sorry it took me so long. Umbrella's been through here with a bulldozer.'
Even in the bare light she could see the half grin on his boyish face. 'We were starting to think the zom-bies got ya,' he said, and although his tone was light, she could hear real concern beneath it. Jill knew that he was trying to ease the tension but couldn't find it in herself to smile back. Too manypeople had died because of what Umbrella had un– leashed in the woods outside of town; if the spill had happened closer to Raccoon… 'Not funny,' she said softly. Chris's grin faded. 'I know. You ready?'Jill nodded, although she didn't feel particularlyready for what lay ahead. Then again, she hadn't felt ready for what they were leaving behind, either. In a matter of weeks, her concept of reality had undergone a massive shift, turning nightmares into the common– place.
Evil corporations, mad scientists, killer viruses. And the walking dead… 'Yeah,' she said finally. 'I'm ready.'Together, they stepped outside. As Jill closed the door behind them, she was suddenly struck by a strange and ominous certainty that she would never set foot in the house again, that the three of themwouldn't be coming back to Raccoon City at all…
… but not because anything happens to us. Some-thing will happen, but not to us.
Frowning, hand on the doorknob, she hesitated for a moment and tried to make sense of the bizarre thought. If they survived the recon, if they were successful in their fight against Umbrella, why wouldn't they come back to their homes? She didn't know, but the feeling was uncomfortably strong. Something bad was going to happen, something…
'Hey, you okay?'
Jill looked up at Chris, saw the same concern on his youthful face that she'd noticed earlier. They'd gotten pretty close in the last few weeks, although she suspected that Chris might like to get a bit closer.
Oh, and you don't?
The sense of impending unpleasantness was alreadyfading, other confusions and uncertainties stepping in to take its place. Jill shook herself mentally and nodded at Chris, letting the feelings go. The flight to New York wasn't going to wait for her to indulge in self-analysis… or to worry about things that she couldn't control, imagined or otherwise.
Still, that feeling… 'Let's get the hell out of here,' she said, and meant it. They moved out into the night, leaving the house dark behind them, as lonely and silent as a tomb.
TWO
OCTOBER.3, 1998
Twilight had settled across the mountains, painting the jagged horizon in shades of purple dusk. The winding blacktop snaked through the gath-ering darkness, surrounded by shadowed hills that towered into the cloudless sky, stretching toward the first faint glimmerings of starlight. Leon might have appreciated the majestic view a bit more if he wasn't so goddamn late. He'd make it to his shift on time, sure, but he'd been hoping to get settled into the new apartment first, take a shower, get something to eat; as it was, he might have time to hit a drive-through on his way to the station. Changing into his uniform back at the last rest stop had saved him a couple of minutes, but basically he was screwed.
Way to go, Officer Kennedy. First day on the job and you'll be picking cheeseburger out of your teeth during roll call. Very professional.
His shift started at nine and it was already just after eight; Leon let his boot ride a little heavier on the gas, even as his Jeep whipped past a sign that told him he was half an hour away from Raccoon City. At least the road was clear; except for a couple of semis, he hadn't seen anyone for what felt like hours. A nice change, considering the traffic tie-up just outside of New York that had cost him most of the afternoon. He'd actu– ally tried to call the night before to leave a message with the desk sergeant that he might be late, but there'd been something wrong with the connection.
Nothing but a busy signal.
What little furniture he had was already moved into a studio apartment in the working-class but basically decent Trask district of Raccoon City, there was a nice park not two blocks away, and it was only a five– minute drive to the station. No more gridlock, no more overcrowded slums or random acts of brutality. Assuming he could survive the embarrassment of showing up to his first shift as a full-blown officer of the law without having unpacked his bags, he was looking forward to living in the peaceful community. Raccoon is about as far removed from the Big Apple as you can get, thank you very much – well, except for the last few months. Those murders…
In spite of himself, he felt a tiny thrill at the thought. What had happened in Raccoon was horri-ble, of course, sickening, but the perps had never been caught and the investigation was really just getting started. And if Irons liked him, liked him as much as the heads of the academy had liked him, maybe Leon would get a chance to work on the case. Word had it that Chief Irons was kind of a prick, but Leon knew his training had been top-notch – even a prick would have to be a little impressed. He'd graduated in the top tenth, after all. And it wasn't like he was a stranger to Raccoon City, since he'd spent most of his summers there as a kid, when his grand– parents were still
