There was a creature, its size already a true nightmare, despite its distance. It crawled around, seemingly unaware of their presence, its body moving with a slight twitch.
"On the count of three- we shoot it down." They both aimed straight at the mutated abomination; his aim steady, hers wavering from fear. "One - Two - Three-" Two gunshots echoed across to narrow hall; the eight-legged monster came crashing down, a greenish substance oozing from each bullet wound.
"I think we pissed it off-" She took a step back, as the giant spider lunged at them. Several more gunshots followed: he targeted the legs, hoping to slow it down, while she aimed for the eyes.
"God- there's smaller ones too!?" She jerked at the sight; about two dozens hatched from the large one, each crawling with speed towards their very first meal.
"Just step on them-" His reply was instinctive. Her eyes widened, realizing he wasn't joking. With much hesitation, she fought against her fear; stomping each one before any could creep up her legs. Moments passed, for what felt like an eternity in hell. He emptied his clip, and eventually put an end to this phobic encounter. They both leaned against the wall, trying to catch a break. A few minutes passed, with Anaka occasionally glancing at the twitching yet dead arachnid next to her.
"That handprint on the door-" She eventually spoke. Her expression creased, unsure on what to make of it. She shook her head, reloaded her weapon, and straightened herself up. "Let's just focus on getting out first... away from all this." Her body became frigid, as she stepped past the spider.
He took the lead, and continued along the rundown corridor; a straightforward path with no further incident, but a few rather aggressive rats, giving chase, prompting them to pick up the pace. Following a solid twenty minutes, they reached yet another door, locked with a numeric keypad.
"Another print..." She pointed at the door panel.
"On the keypad too-" He noticed dry blood on four numbers. "That cuts down on the possible combinations..." He tested his luck with a few tries. 1279... 1297... 2179... 2197-
"112197" She suggested. "November 21st, 1997... that's when Ruben was admitted to Raccoon General Hospital." He input the numbers; a beeping sound followed by a click, and the way forward opened up.
"Good thinking." He replied with a warm smile and a pat on the arm, before stepping in. A small office greeted them: cheap furniture filled the room, coarkboards, posters and random papers covered the walls, along with yet another bloody print on the door, small drops leading to it. There was an old broken radio and a handgun magazine on a patio table, and a thick book on a disheveled armchair. Upon examination, it appeared to be a worker's journal, with entries dating back six years ago.
"Stoneville's Library was converted into a hospital, around the same time Raccoon General Hospital was built..." She browsed through the first pages. "With very - specific - directives... such as additional underground levels, its own power grid, and a network of maintenance shafts linking the building to several locations around town."
"Umbrella's doing." He guessed, yet her expression said otherwise.
"I'm not sure-" She continued reading. "I can tell you that a lot of money and secrecy went into the whole thing... but I'm not convinced this is only Umbrella's work..." His eyes frowned at her words. She stored away the journal, and refocused her attention to a plaque siding the door opposite to whence they came in from. He joined her side, and noticed the mini map.
"So we did leave hospital ground... and we ended up-" He traced with a finger. "Somewhere..."
"The old tram graveyard- I think." The name of the street did ring a bell. "On the outskirt of the city..."
He scouted the room one more time, picking up the bullets and a first aid kit from under the armchair, before heading back to the door. "Let's get some fresh air-" She nodded in agreement, and followed him out of the stale office.
She guessed right, as they stepped out to a large open area: it was a mix between scrapyard and the final resting place for well over thirty tram cars, with piles of metal junks scattered all around, rusty oil barrels as homes for rodents and strays. The sky had a somber hue, a certain cold in the air despite being an average summer forenoon. The rainfall from yesterday had left several puddles, the smell of moist soil and rust providing a not so fresh feeling. No one seemed around, the muddy ground free of any traces of work activities, but one barely visible track caught her attention. From the office, and leading through the labyrintine yard, were two sets of prints: one from normal size shoes, one from small bare feet.
"They were here..!" She followed the trail. "They made it out- Dr Nolhan and Ruben passed through here- they must have..." Her heartbeat increased, her eyes focused only on the fading lead.
"We missed them by only a few hours..." He recalled the date mentioned in the last recording. "Hey-" He noticed her fraught expression. "If it can put your worries at ease- I think the doctor purposely left those handprints... made it look like an injury to most- and a clue for you... like the code for the door- he knew you'd figure it out." There was some logic behind his words, for a faint smile appeared on her face. "I honestly think they're both ok- made it out of Stoneville, to..."
"To Mavens Falls." She knew. "An outfitter camp about twenty five miles from here: closed during off season, and very well hidden... just not sure how he planned to get there."
"So... what are you gonna do now?" The unknown laid before him, for he knew their path would eventually branch out. What am I gonna do now..?
