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Leon's hand shook slightly as he pushed open the door, keeping his gun up. He cracked it open just enough to see beyond. There was nothing in the corridor on the other side. At least, nothing he could see. But that didn't mean anything. This place was full of blind spots and that had come back to bite him several times. Literally, unfortunately. Thankfully nothing that had gotten through his jeans yet but it was only a matter of time.
This was supposed to be a simple mission, investigating the man in charge for suspicious activity that was suspected to have terrorist connections. He hadn't been prepared for zombies. But that didn't stop one from breaking down the door and tearing into Harold Steiner's neck like a plate of juicy barbecue.
The old Shulear Mansion had been converted into a museum at the turn of the twentieth century and had been added onto for decades. If Leon ever found out which idiot engineer kept designing these building that had layouts to make hedge mazes jealous and then put secret labs underneath them Leon was going to throw them off of a fifty story building.
He hadn't come armed for this, he'd only expected to prove the guilt of and possibly arrest a fifty years old moderately overweight man. Not enough zombies to overrun a small country. He only had his handgun and whatever spare bullets the museum guards had on hand. Thankfully he had found some on the bodies on the guards of the secret lab that had wondered into the building proper so he wasn't completely defenseless. But it was a near thing.
He was also completely cut off with no chance of backup. But what else was new?
He glanced back over his shoulder to make sure the multitude of zombies he'd barely escaped on the other side of the door on the opposite side of the room he was in weren't following him and then opened the door wider, leaning out to take a more thorough look.
Keeping his steps slow and careful, Leon stepped through the door. He began to creep down the corridor which according to the map he'd found earlier split off into a 'T' intersection. He'd only made it about five steps when a hissing sound echoed down the corridor. Leon froze in place, breath catching and suddenly feeling cold. He hadn't heard that sound since . . .
Since Raccoon City.
There was another hiss and then the Licker rounded the left corner ahead of him, crawling along the ceiling with its massive claws and turning its head this way and that as if in search of something. Leon stared at it with horror, taking in its skinned appearance and exposed brain, this nightmare memory brought back to life.
There was a dull thud against the window directly in front of Leon at the end of the corridor, a very soft sound, the curtain cord knocking lightly against the glass, caught in a breeze that came through a crack in the window. The Licker whipped around and lashed out with a furious hiss, punching the glass and severing the cord with its claws.
Leon stiffened, eyes widening as he watched the attack. This Licker seemed a lot sensitive then the ones he remembered.
How was he going to get past it?
He started to carefully back up the way he'd come, keeping eyes on the Licker. He kept backing away until his back hit the door, he reached backward and turned the handle. He backed up through it, pushing the door open. He breathed a sigh of relief.
Then cried out in pain as he was grabbed from behind and then bent backwards, a zombie chomping down on his shoulder. Leon grabbed his dagger from its place at his hip and swung it around to slam the blade into the undead's eye-socket. He felt the blade break off in the zombie's head and let go of the now useless hilt to shove the body off of him with a grunt, stumbling back. His eyes widened at the sight of two other zombies shambling toward him, the door on the other side of the room falling shut behind them. The one he had shoved was still up and it started for him again, backed by the others.
Leon's mind raced, trying desperately to think of an escape.
One of the zombie's, standing behind the one who attacked, heads lolled forward, revealing a large hole in its skull that showed off the swirly shiny gray matter of its brain.
Exposed brain . . .
Leon shot a quick look back over his shoulder towards the door he had just came through. It was risky. Really risky. But considering there were more zombies behind the other door and he only had five bullets to his name? It was probably his only one.
Leon focused back on the zombies, eyes narrowed. He would have to time this just right or he'd end up as a zombie's snack or Licker Chow. He backed up until he'd reached the door again and laid his hand on the door handle. He forced himself to wait, watching the zombie's approach intently. Just one one step . . . now!
Leon pushed the door open and took a large step backward into the corridor. He took two quick steps back as the zombies stopped the door mid-swing shut and stumbled through in an uncoordinated manner.
Fear speared through him when he heard the Licker moving around almost directly above him. Too close. Way too close!
Leon reared back in panic when one of the zombie suddenly gave a high pitched, inhuman shriek and burst into a run, arms outstretched for him. Leon tried to dodge, backing away quickly, then his right foot slid out from under him when it came down on a puddle of blood.
Leon bit down on his lip hard to stop the yelp that tried to escape him as he hit the floor rear end first, legs splaying out in front of him. He did cry out when the zombie dropped on him, bloody mouth clamping down on the arm he raised to shield his face and shaking the limb like a dog, tearing through the fabric of his shirt sleeve and his flesh as if it was nothing.
Then the Licker dropped from the ceiling with a shriek, long claws impaling through the zombie's torso.
Leon grunted in surprise as the weight of both bodies fell on top of him, features twisting in pain as the tips on the Licker's claws dug into his belly. The Licker growled and bit down on the back of the zombie's head, splaying blood and brain matter all over and into Leon's face.
The other two zombies lunged forward and grabbed at the Licker's legs and back, biting at the creature's exposed musculature.
The Licker shrieked in pain and whipped around, tearing it's claws out of the first zombie's body to slash at its attackers, knocking both back and gutting one of them horizontally. This also freed Leon.
He scrambled out from under the weight of the first zombie, now just a dead body, and dragged himself to his feet. Taking a risk he burst into a run, doubled over and clutching at his stomach as he stumbled quickly away.
He heard the Licker shriek behind him at the sound of his footfalls but no attack came. He rounded the corner to the left and ducked into the first door he came across. He shut the door and collapsed backwards against it, eyes squeezing shut. He gasped for breath, panting as the pain of his bitten arm and the cuts from the Licker's claws spreading a warm unpleasant heat through his body. Hopefully he wasn't infected. That was the kinda irony he'd rather avoid.
“That went better then I hoped.” he muttered under his breath, dragging his eyes back open. It really had. He'd honestly placed his odds of survival very low. Higher then if he'd tried to shoot his way though with his measly five bullets but still. Not good.
Thankfully, after a careful albeit painful examination, Leon found that his wounds weren't as bad as he feared. Well, the cuts from the Licker's claws weren't that deep. The bite on his arm . . . wasn't good. The bite-mark was distinct and deep, the flesh torn from the zombie shaking its head. It was most definitely not good but if he could find a first aid spray and some bandages he at least wouldn't have to worry about infection. Unfortunately he didn't have either on him at the moment. Which meant his arm was nearly useless until he could get it looked after. Down one arm and trapped in a museum full of zombies? Leon was worried about his chances of ever finding the supplies he needed, much less escaping.
He looked up from his arm and glanced around the room he'd sheltered in. It was a small storage closet, the space cramped and cluttered with brooms and mops and buckets and different cleaners. His eyes lit up at the sight of a red box on the second from the top shelf on the storage rack directly in front of him, shoved between a large bottle of bleach and a cardboard box full of boxes of mouse traps. He crossed the two steps and reach up to pull it down. “First aid kit. Now that's a stroke of luck.” he muttered in relief. He opened it up and couldn't help but grin at the sight of the full roll of gauze bandages and a aerosol can of first aid spray. Just what he needed.
Maybe he'd survive this mess, after all.