Code Veronica - By S. D. Perry Page 0,11
afraid. Fear was for pussies. Steve grabbed for the searchlight handle with his right hand, his left already on the trigger guard of the heavy black rifle. As the door swung open, he swal - lowed dryly and snapped the light on, firing as soon as he had the target piimed down. The weapon rattled out a stream of bullets, the handle jouncing against his hand, rounds kicking up tiny foun - tains of mud. He caught a glimpse of something pink, a shirt maybe, and then his target was diving out of the line of fire, moving way too fast to be one of the canni - bals. He'd heard about some of the monsters Umbrella had cooked up and machine gun or no, he hoped to God he wasn't about to meet one of them. I'm not afraid, I'm not... He tracked right with the searchlight and kept firing, a sudden anxious sweat on his brow. The person or thing was behind the protruding wall near the base of the tower, out of sight, but if he couldn't kill it, he could at least scare it away. Cement chips flew, the high-intensity beam illuminating the lower half of a dead prison guard, mud, and debris, but no target...... and there was a lightning flash of motion from be - hind the wall, a glimpse of pale, upturned face... BAM! BAM! BAM!... and the searchlight shattered, white-hot chunks of glass spraying across the tower room floor. Steve let out an involuntary yell as he jumped back from the machine gun, somebody was shooting at him, and he didn't care if it was pussy, he was about to shit his pants. "Don't shoot!" he shouted, his voice breaking. "I give!" It was dead silent for a few seconds, and then a cool female voice came out of the dark, low and somehow amused.
"Say Uncle."
Steve blinked uncertainly, confused and then re - membered how to breathe again, feeling his cheeks go red as the fear fell away.
"I give," that was totally lame. So much for first im-pressions. "I'm coming down," he said, relieved that his voice didn't break this time, deciding that anyone who could make a joke after being shot at couldn't be all bad. If she was the enemy, he had the 9mm... but friendly or not, there was no way he was going to ask her not to shoot again, that would just make him look worse.
And it's a girl... maybe a pretty one...
He did his best to ignore the thought, no point in get-ting his hopes up. For all he knew, she was ninety-eight, bald, and smoked cigars... but even if she wasn't, even if she was a total hottie, he didn't want to end up taking responsibility for any life besides his own, screw that shit. He was free now. Having someone count on you was almost as bad as having to depend on others... The thought was uncomfortable, and he pushed it aside. Anyway, the circumstances weren't exactly ro - mantic, what with a bunch of diseased monsters running wild and death around every corner. Gross, slimy death, too, the kind with maggots and pus. Steve took the steps to the courtyard two at a time, his eyes adjusting to the post-searchlight dark as he stepped out to meet her. She stood in the center of the courtyard, a gun in hand... and as he got closer, it was all he could do not to stare. She was muddy and wet and about the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen, her face like a model's, big eyes and fine, even features. Reddish hair in a dripping ponytail. An inch or two shorter than him, and about the same age, he thought - he'd be eighteen in a couple of months, and she couldn't be much older. She wore jeans, boots, and a sleeveless pink vest over a tight black half tee, her flat stomach showing, the entire outfit ac - centuating her lean, athletic body... and although she looked tired and wary, her gray-blue eyes sparkled brightly.
Say something cool, play it cool no matter what...
Steve wanted to tell her he was sorry about firing at her, to tell her who he was and what had happened dur - ing the attack, to say something suave and worldly and interesting... "You're not a zombie," he blurted, inwardly cursing even as it came out. Brilliant. "No shit," she said mildly, and he suddenly realized that her