Claire burst into the train, holding a giant rifle and with one leg covered in blood, barely pausing to hit the controls to the door before running for the engineer's booth. Sherry knew that they were in trouble, that it was going to be close, so she didn't waste time asking questions; she followed, relieved beyond measure that Claire was okay but keeping it to herself.
      Okay, she's okay and we're going now…
      A small, tinny version of the intercom voice and alarms blared out of the tiny room's control board.
      "There are two minutes until detonation."
      Claire had dropped the oddly shaped rifle and was hitting buttons, throwing switches, her attention fixed on the console. A giant mechanical hum suddenly enveloped them, a growing, whining rumble that made Claire grit her teeth; Sherry couldn't tell if it was a smile, but she smiled as she felt the train lurch and start to move, taking them away from the platform. Claire turned, saw Sherry standing behind her, and tried to smile. Claire rested one hand on Sherry's shoulder, but didn't say anything – so Sherry didn't either, waiting to see what would happen. The train started to go faster, sliding past dimly lit halls and platforms, the tunnel in front of them dark and empty. Sherry let the warmth of Claire's hand remind her that they were friends, that whatever happened, Claire was her friend…… and she saw a man, a policeman, stumble into view ahead on the left, and then the train was gliding past him, his eyes wide and searching and desperate in his dirty face.
      "Claire!"
      "I see him…"
 
      Claire turned and ran out of the booth, her foot-steps clattering through the metal train car, sprinting to the door. She hit the control and the door slid open, the booming, grinding sounds of the subway billowing into the closed space. "Leon!" she screamed. "Hurry!" She jerked back suddenly, a wall sliding by, and spun around looking as desperate as the man -
      –Leon – had. After another second she turned back and closed the door. "Did he make it?" Sherry asked, realizing that Claire couldn't possibly know, even as the words came out of her mouth. Claire came to her and put an arm around her, as the train kept going faster and her face knotted with worry…… and the voice in the intercom told them they had one minute left…… and the door in the back of the car opened. In stumbled Leon, his arm wrapped with a shredded, stained bandage, his hair matted with dark, dried goo,
      his eyes bright and blue in the mask of dirt. "Full throttle!" he shouted; Claire nodded, and Leon blew out a heavy breath. He staggered toward them, the train shifting back and forth, speeding now, rocketing through the tunnel. He put his arm around Claire, and Claire hugged him tightly. "Ada?" Claire whispered. "Ann… the scientist?"Leon shook his head, and Sherry saw that he might cry. "No. I didn't – no."… thirty seconds until detonation. Twenty-nine… twenty-eight…"
      The woman's voice kept counting down, the num– bers seeming to come twice as fast as they should, and Sherry buried her face in Claire's warm side, thinking about her mom. Mom and Dad. She hoped that they'd gotten out, that they were safe somewhere, but they're probably not. They're probably dead. Sherry could hear Claire's heart pounding, and she hugged her friend tighter, thinking that she would think about it later.
      "… five. Four. Three. Two. One. Sequence com-plete. Detonation."
      For a second, there was no sound at all. The alarms had finally stopped, and the clattering movement of the racing train was all there was to hear and then there was an explosion, a muffled sound, a shoomp sound that kept going, growing, becoming huge. Sherry closed her eyes and the train rocked sud– denly, horribly, and they were all thrown to the metal floor as bright, burning light flickered through the window, as the sounds of a car crash blasted all around them, heavy thumps raining over the roof and the train kept going. It kept going, and the light went away, and they weren't dead. The blinding flash dissipated, faded, and Leon felt the tension leaking out of his body. He rolled onto his side, and saw Claire sitting up, reaching for the hand of the young girl next to her. "Okay?" Claire asked the girl, and the child nod-ded. Both of them turned to him, their faces express– ing what he felt – shock, exhaustion, disbelief, hope. "Leon Kennedy, this is Sherry Birkin," Claire said, saying the words carefully, the slightest accent on "Birkin." He got the message even without the inten– sity of her gaze, nodding his understanding before smiling at the girl. "Sherry, this is Leon," Claire continued. "I met him when I had just gotten to Raccoon."
      Sherry returned his smile, a weary, too-adult smile that seemed out of place; she was too young to smile like that.
      One more rotten deed to lay at Umbrella's door, innocence stolen from a child…
      For a few seconds, they just sat there on the floor, staring at one another, smiles fading all around. Leon hardly dared to hope that it was really over, that they were leaving the terror behind. Again, he saw his feelings mirrored in front of him, in Sherry's worried brow and Claire's tired gray eyes…… and when they heard the distant squeal of metal coming from somewhere at the back of the train, he didn't see any surprise. A rending, tearing screech followed by a heavy, somehow stealthy thump and then nothing.
      Should've known it isn't over… "Zombie?" Sherry whispered, the word almost lost in the gently clattering sound of the speeding train. "I don't know, sweetie," Claire said softly, and for the first time, Leon noticed that her left leg was ripped to shit, blood oozing from several ragged scratches; he'd been too amazed at his, at their narrow escape to see it before. "How about I go take a look?" Leon said, taking his cue from Claire, keeping his voice mild and even; no point in scaring Sherry any worse. He stood up, nodding toward Claire's leg.
      "Sherry, why don't you stay here with Claire, keep an eye on that leg? I'll see if I can find some bandages while I'm checking things out; don't let her move, okay?"
      Sherry nodded, her small face intent with purpose that again was too old for her years. "Got it." "I'll be back in a minute," he said, and turned toward the back of the swaying train, praying that it was nothing at all and knowing better, as he reached for the Remington and went to see. Leon opened the door, the sounds of the rolling train amplified for a second before it closed behind him. Claire couldn't see him enter the next car from her position on the floor, and wished she'd been in shape to go with him; if there was something else on the train, Sherry wasn't safe, none of them were -
      – don't think like that, it's nothing. It's over -
      –like it was over with Mr. X? "What should I do?" Sherry asked, pulling Claire away from the disheartening thoughts. "Direct pres-sure, right?" Claire nodded. "Yeah, except we're both pretty grimy, and I think it's starting to clot. Let's see if Leon comes back with something clean…"
      She trailed off, her thoughts going back to Mr. X.
      There was something nagging at her but she was a little dizzy from the blood she'd lost…
      … G-Virus. It wanted the G-Virus before. Why had Mr. X come to the subway platform? Why had it been trying to get inside the train, unless…
      Claire struggled to get up, fighting her swimming head and the throbbing pain in her leg. "Hey, don't move," Sherry said, a look of deep distress in her eyes. "Leon said to stay still!" She might have been able to overcome her physical problems, but seeing Sherry on the edge of panic was too much; if there was some G-Virus creature on board, if that was why Mr. X had come, Leon would have to face it alone. She couldn't leave Sherry. If Leon didn't come back, she'd have to figure out how to detach their train car, or stop the train so they could get off before the creature could get to them… Claire shut the thoughts off, forcing a smile for Sherry. "Yes ma'am. I just wanted to make sure he got through the second car…"
      She could see the relief sweep across Sherry's face.
      "Oh. Well, forget it, I'm taking care of you now, and I say you stay still."
      Claire nodded absently, hoping that she was wrong, hoping that Leon would be back any second -
      – Bam! Bam! Bam! The thunder of the Remington was loud and clear. Sherry grabbed her hand as two more shots blasted the hope from Claire's fuzzy mind, as the train sped through the dark.
      The second car was clear, the same wide-open space that Leon had entered the train by, all dusty steel and not much else. Whoever had designed the escape vehicle had obviously figured the Umbrella employ– ees would have to be packed in like sardines.
      Just us three, though – and our stowaway…
      There was nothing to see, but Leon moved slowly nonetheless, carefully scanning the shadowy corners and steeling himself for whatever was in the last car. Whatever it was, it couldn't be as bad as the thing that had jumped him in the cargo room, the Birkin-thing, if that was what it was. The thought that the creature had anything at all to do with Claire's young friend was deeply unsettling, even obscene. A monster and a madwoman, both destroyed, both parents of the little girl… He reached the back of the dim and rocking train car and peered through the door, pushing all other thoughts aside as he tried to make out anything at all in the last car. Darkness, and nothing else.
      Hell. Maybe there wasn't anything to see, but he had to look. He felt his heart start to pound fresh adrenaline through his body, felt his weariness fall away. Noth– ing, it was surely nothing, but it felt bad. Wrong.
      Last thing, very last thing…
      He took a deep breath and opened the door, step-ping into the loud, whipping breeze of the outside, holding on to the rail. The rattle of the train drowned out the thumping of his heart as he moved to the last car, opened the door, and stepped into darkness. Immediately, he raised the shotgun, all of his senses telling him to run as the door slid shut behind him. He reached back, slapping for a light switch. Dark-ness, but there was a powerful smell like bleach or chlorine, and there was the soft sound of wetness, of movement… A single bare bulb flickered on in the middle of the car as he found a button, and he thought for just a second that he'd lost his mind. A thing. A creature that wasn't even vaguely hu– manoid, except for a strange, pulsing tumor protrud– ing from one side, a slick orb that looked very much like an eye.
      Birkin.
      The creature was a giant, stretching blob of dark, slimy matter, spanning the width of the car; Leon couldn't tell how tall it was. The Birkin-thing had thick streamers extended out, tentacles of wet and elastic goo attached to every part of the space in front of it – the ceiling, walls, and floor. And as Leon watched, the alien beast pulled itself forward, the dark limbs contracting, bringing the mass of the body a few feet ahead of where it had been. Not crazy. He was seeing it, seeing the brackish, moving colors of black and green and purple in its tentacles as it stretched out again, the viscous materi– al latching to the metal of the car somehow, dragging the blob a few more feet ahead. The body itself was nothing so much as a gaping maw, a wet cave that still had teeth…… and that would reach him pretty soon if he didn't snap out of his disgusted stupor. Leon aimed into the giant hole of its mouth and pulled the trigger, pumping in another round, firing, pumping, firing…… and then the shotgun was empty, and the giant semi-liquid thing was still moving steadily forward. He didn't know how to kill it, didn't know if the rounds had even damaged it. His mind raced for an answer, for a solution that would end the terrible life
      of the G-Virus monster. He could detach the last car, fire through the pins and chains that held it together, if he could find the locking mechanism…… and it would still be alive. Still living and chang-ing in the blackness of the tunnel, becoming something new. The stretching elastic of its nebulous form inched forward, and Leon reached back for the door control. He'd have to try unhooking the cars, there was no other choice -
      – unless -
      He hesitated, then unholstered his Magnum and pointed it at the impossible mass. At the strange tumor that peered out of a slit in its rubber flesh, the eye that had been in every form that Birkin had taken. Careful aim, and……BAM! The effect was immediate and total, the heavy round piercing the rheumy sphere – and a hissing, screaming whine or whistle pouring out of the toothed maw, like nothing on Earth, like the howl of some– thing mechanical and insane. The tendrils of un– formed matter shrank inward, turning black, shriv– eling…… and the thing imploded, pulling in on itself, withering into a steaming black mass less than a quarter its original size. Like a deflated beachball, the gelid blob wrinkled and shrank, collapsing into a flattening thickness, drooling itself into a wide puddle of bubbling slime. "Suck on that," Leon said softly, the last bubbles popping, the pool a dead and inanimate thing. He watched it for a few moments, thinking about nothing at all and finally turned to join the others, to tell them it was over. First day on the job, he thought. "I want a raise," Leon said, to no one at all, and couldn't help the grin that broke across his face, a tired, sunny grin that faded quickly… but for the few seconds he wore it, Leon felt better than he had in a very long time. Leon was back, and had found a jumpsuit that he tore into pieces and used to bind up Claire's leg. All he'd said was that they were safe now, although Sherry had seen him and Claire exchange a look – – one of those "we-shouldn't-talk-about-it-right-now" looks. Sherry was too tired to take offense. She snuggled into Claire's arms, Claire stroking her hair, the three of them not talking. There was nothing to say, or at least not for a little while. They were alive, on a train thundering through the dark – and from somewhere not far ahead, a soft light came filtering in, coming through the window in the control booth, and Sherry thought it looked very much like morning.

      They saw the aftermath of the explosion from ten miles outside the city, a black and billowing cloud that rose up into the early morning light and hung over Raccoon like a terrible storm or a bad dream, Rebecca thought, a recurring one. Umbrella. She didn't say it aloud, because it wasn't necessary. John and David hadn't gone through the Spencer estate nightmare, but they'd been at the Cove facility, witnesses to what Umbrella was capable of; they knew. Nobody spoke as David stepped up the speed, his knuckles white on the wheel. For once, John didn't crack any jokes about what might have happened. They all knew that it was bad; before Jill, Chris, and Barry had left for Europe, Jill had wired them with her suspicions about another accident, and asked them to keep tabs. When the phone lines had gone down, they'd loaded up the SUV and left Maine to see what could be done. The only question was how many people had died this time.
      Maybe this is the end, finally. A blast like that… Umbrella can't cover this up so easily, not if it's as bad as it looks.
      John finally broke the silence, his deep, mellow voice uncharacteristically subdued. "Fail-safe?" David sighed. "Probably. And if there was a spill, we're not going in; we'll circle the city and then call for help from Latham. Umbrella is surely sending in its cleanup staff already."
      Rebecca nodded along with John. They weren't technically part of the S.T.A.R.S. anymore, but David had been a captain before, and with good reason. They fell back into a tense silence, the dawn-touched trees spinning past the utility vehicle, Rebecca won– dering what they would find…… when she saw the people, staggering up into the road, waving their arms. "Hey…" she started, but David was already hitting the brakes, slowing down as they neared the three– some of ragged strangers. A cop with a bandaged arm and a young woman in shorts, both of them holding weapons, and a little girl in a pink vest that was much too big for her. They weren't infected, or at least not showing signs that Rebecca could see, but they looked like hell nonetheless. With their ripped clothes and their faces pale and shocked beneath masks of dirt, they certainly could have passed for walking death. "I'll talk," David said, his crisp British accent mild but firm, and then they were pulling up beside the Raccoon survivors. David opened his window and killed the engine, the young cop stepping forward as the woman slipped one grimy arm around the little girl's shoulders. "There's been an accident, in Raccoon," he said, and although they were obviously tired and wounded and badly in need of help, there was a wariness in the cop's tone, a guarded, careful note that suggested just how bad things had been. "A terrible accident. You don't want to go there, it's not safe." David frowned. "What sort of accident, Officer?" The young woman spoke up, her mouth a set and bitter line. "An Umbrella accident," she said, and the cop nodded, and the little blond girl buried her face against the woman's hip. John and Rebecca exchanged a look, and David hit the switch to unlock the doors. "Really? Those tend to be the worst kind," he said gently. "We'd be happy to help you, if you'd like, or we could call for help…"
      It was a question. The cop glanced back at the woman, then met David's gaze for several long beats. He must have seen something in David's face that he felt he could trust; he nodded slowly, then motioned for the woman and girl to come forward. "Thanks," he said, the exhaustion finally coming through. "If you could give us a ride, that'd be great." David smiled. "Please, get in. John, Rebecca -
      –would you assist…?"
      John grabbed a couple of blankets out of the back as Rebecca reached for her medical kit, careful not to uncover the rifles tucked next to the wheel well.
      An Umbrella accident…
      Rebecca wondered if they knew how lucky they were to have survived it, but another look into those three exhausted, shell-shocked faces told her that they probably did. They started talking even before David turned the vehicle around and in a very short time, they dis– covered that they had a lot in common, as the child fell asleep and they drove back the way they'd come, leaving the burning city behind.