Through the question - able miracles of modern science, most of the new weapon subjects weren't even remotely human, and the virus turned them into killing machines. Chaos had ensued. The base commander, that creepy maniac Alfred Ashford, hadn't done a damned thing to organize, so it had been up to the ranking soldiers to lead. The prisoners were obviously useless but there had been enough grunts on the ground to launch a tremen - dously unsuccessful defense and counterattack; his own boys had fallen as quickly as the rest of them, wiped out on their way to the heliport by a trio of OR1s, the cur - rent T-virus breed of choice. All that training lost in just a minute or two. The OR1s were particularly nasty, violently aggressive and ex - tremely powerful. Fortunately, only a few of those had es - caped... but then, a few was all it took. Bandersnatches, the grunts called them, because of the long reach. Funny, that his team had been so careful to avoid infection, don - ning custom filter masks even as the first bombs hit - and yet they were taken out by a form of the virus, anyway.
At least it was over fast, before they even knew how much trouble they were in, he thought, envying them their hope, He hurt, he was exhausted, and he'd seen things that he knew would haunt him for the rest of his life, however long that might turn out to be. They were the lucky ones.
Rockfort had become a hell on Earth. The man-made virus was a short-lived airborne and had dispersed quickly, only infecting about half the island's popula - tion... but the new carriers had promptly chomped down on most of the other half, spreading the disease. Some had escaped early on, but between the infected and the freed BOWs, getting out had become a bleak option. The entire island was overrun.
Maybe that's the way it should be. Maybe we all got what we deserved.
Rodrigo knew he wasn't an evil man, but he didn't kid himself, he wasn't exactly one of the good guys, either. He'd turned a blind eye to some very bad shit in exchange for some very good pay, and as much as he'd like to shift the blame around, he couldn't deny his own small part in the apocalypse that now surrounded him. Umbrella had been playing with foe... but even after Raccoon City had gone down, even after the disasters at Caliban Cove and the underground facility, he'd never really considered that something might happen to him or his team. Another walking corpse wandered past his temporary shelter, a reasonably fresh shotgun blast where his jaw should have been. Rodrigo instinctively ducked lower and again had to struggle not to pass out, the fresh pain shockingly intense. He'd broken ribs before; this was something else, something internal. Liver laceration, maybe, a sure killer if he didn't get help. Assuming his amazingly bad luck streak held up, he'd bleed out in - ternally before something ate him... His thoughts were wandering, the pain had gone deep and as much as he wanted to rest, there was the girl, he couldn't forget about her. He was close now, so close. One of the guards had knocked her unconscious before she got her physical exam or prison issue, and that had been just before the attack. She should still be in the iso-lation cell, the underground entrance just past the flam - ing helicopter debris.
Almost finished now, then I can rest.
Most of the barely-human virus carriers had moved away from the fiery crash, following some primal in - stinct, perhaps. He'd lost his weapon somewhere along the way, but if he ran behind the standing headstones at the west wall... Rodrigo eased himself into a sitting position, the pain getting worse, making him feel nauseous and weak. There should be a bottle of hemostatic liquid in the holding area's first aid kit, which would at least slow any internal hemorrhaging - although he thought he was prepared to accept death, as much as anyone could be prepared.
But not until I get to the girl. I captured her, I brought her here. My fault, and if I die, she dies, too.
In spite of all the horror he'd witnessed that day, the comrades he'd lost and the constant, gnawing terror of suffering a truly ghastly death, he couldn't stop thinking about her. Claire Redfield had blood on