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Above Raccoon City
The shockwave hit like a wall of solid air.
The helicopter lurched sideways, rotors screaming, everyone thrown against their restraints. Through the windows, the mushroom cloud rose—a pillar of fire and smoke climbing toward the heavens, spreading into that distinctive, terrible shape.
"Hold on!" Matt shouted, fighting the controls.
The aircraft spun, losing altitude. Warning lights flashed across the instrument panel. They were going down—
Marcus closed his eyes, extended his telekinesis. He felt the helicopter's mass, the forces trying to tear it apart, the shockwave still buffeting them. With effort that made his head pound, he steadied the aircraft. Just enough. Just barely.
The helicopter shuddered, wobbled, then found equilibrium. The rotors caught proper air again. Matt regained control.
They climbed away from the blast, leaving Raccoon City to burn.
Behind them, through the rear windows, everyone watched the city disappear. The mushroom cloud dominated the sky—a monument to corporate evil and three hundred thousand dead.
"Jesus," Kaplan breathed. "We really did that. We survived a nuclear bomb."
"Barely," J.D. said. She was gripping Ryan's hand so tight her knuckles were white.
Jill stared at the cloud, face grim. "All those people. My city. Just... gone."
Alice held Angela tighter. The little girl had her face buried in Alice's shoulder, not looking. Dr. Ashford sat in his wheelchair, tears streaming silently down his face.
Marcus opened his eyes. The telekinetic effort had cost him, but they were alive. Flying. Free.
For now.
"Fuel's low," Matt announced. "We've got maybe an hour of flight time. Less if we push it."
"Head northwest," Marcus said. "Away from the blast zone. Find somewhere remote to set down."
They flew in silence, the mushroom cloud shrinking behind them until it was just a smudge on the horizon.
Mount Acre - One Hour Later
The helicopter touched down in a clearing, engines sputtering. Matt killed the power and the rotors wound down with a dying whine.
"Out of fuel," he said unnecessarily. The gauge read empty.
They emerged into morning sunlight—ten refugees from a dead city, carrying nothing but weapons and terrible knowledge.
"We need to move," Marcus said. "Umbrella will track this helicopter. They'll be here within hours."
"Where do we go?" Terry asked. Her camera was still around her neck, still recording. Some habits died hard.
"Nearest city. Blend into the population. Disappear before they find us."
Dr. Ashford nodded slowly. "And then? What's our plan?"
"We expose them," Alice said firmly. "We tell the world what Umbrella did. What they're still doing."
Marcus caught her eye. He knew how that would play out. He'd seen it in the original timeline. But sometimes people needed to try, needed to fight, even when the outcome was predetermined.
"Then let's go," he said.
They disappeared into the woods, heading for civilization.
Behind them, the empty helicopter sat in silence—a breadcrumb for Umbrella to follow.
Three Hours Later
Dr. Isaacs stepped out of the Umbrella transport, flanked by security. The helicopter sat exactly where tracking said it would be. Empty. Cold.
"They're gone," a technician reported. "At least two hours head start."
Isaacs stared at the woods beyond. Somewhere out there, his prize was walking free. The man who could fly.
He pulled out a tablet, watched the surveillance footage again. The man rising into the air. Impossible and yet undeniable.
"Issue a global manhunt," Isaacs ordered. "Alice and the unknown subject. Top priority."
"Sir, with the outbreak spreading—"
"Find them. Whatever it takes."
The Alice cloning program was already underway. But this flying man? He was unique. Irreplaceable.
And Isaacs would have him.
One Month Later - Somewhere in North America
Marcus typed rapidly, eyes locked on the computer screen. Around him, the private laboratory hummed with quiet equipment—a hideout they'd secured after weeks of running.
Dr. Ashford worked at an adjacent station, surrounded by research notes and chemical formulas. The old man had been invaluable—his knowledge of the T-virus was encyclopedic.
"The antidote formula is complete," Ashford said, exhaustion evident in his voice. "Triple-checked. It works."
"Good." Marcus saved the file, then began the encryption process. "Because we're out of time."
The world was dying.
It had started slowly—the way Umbrella intended. Small towns. Rural areas. Villages in remote regions. By the time major cities noticed the spread, infection vectors were everywhere.
Marcus and his team had tried to sound the alarm. They'd contacted journalists, uploaded videos, reached out to government officials. Terry had footage of everything—the zombies, the Hive, the Nemesis units, even the nuclear strike.
None of it mattered.
Umbrella controlled the narrative. Raccoon City was a "nuclear power plant accident." The zombie videos were "faked propaganda designed to damage Umbrella's reputation." The corporation owned enough media outlets, enough politicians, enough influence to bury the truth.
And they'd turned the survivors into fugitives. Wanted by federal authorities. Terrorists, they called them. Enemies of the state.
The ten of them had scattered after Mount Acre, staying in contact but moving independently. Harder to track that way. Marcus had taken Ashford—the doctor's expertise was too valuable to lose. Alice had Angela, keeping the girl safe. The others moved in pairs, covering ground, staying ahead of Umbrella's hunters.
But the hunters had stopped coming two weeks ago.
Not because Umbrella gave up. Because the outbreak had accelerated beyond containment. The police were too busy fighting zombies to chase refugees. The military was deployed in every major city. Martial law. Quarantine zones. Mass graves.
The world was ending, and Umbrella had won.
Marcus pulled up a news feed. The headlines were apocalyptic:
"INFECTION SPREADS: MAJOR CITIES UNDER QUARANTINE"
"PRESIDENT DECLARES NATIONAL EMERGENCY"
"MILITARY AUTHORIZED TO USE LETHAL FORCE"
"WHO WARNS: GLOBAL PANDEMIC IMMINENT"
Airborne transmission. That was the nightmare. Once the virus mutated to proper airborne form, it spread like wildfire. One infected person in an airport terminal. Then a hundred. Then thousands. Across state lines. Across oceans. Across continents.
By Marcus's estimate, they had maybe two months before every major population center fell. Three months before society collapsed completely. Six months before humanity's survivors numbered in the thousands instead of billions.
Unless someone acted.
Marcus had tried contacting the U.S. government. No response—they were too busy trying to survive, and Umbrella's propaganda had poisoned the well. European governments? In denial, refusing to believe it was as bad as reported. The U.N.? Paralyzed by bureaucracy.
That left one option.
Marcus's fingers flew across the keyboard, executing a program he'd spent weeks developing. His hacking skills were good—better than anything this world had seen. Ten years ahead of current technology, pulled from knowledge that shouldn't exist yet.
He punched through firewalls like they were tissue paper. Government networks, military databases, secure communication channels—all of it opened to him.
He found what he was looking for: the Chinese government's cyber defense network. The Red Client Alliance—their version of the NSA, responsible for protecting national digital infrastructure.
Marcus triggered every alarm they had. Took over their websites, their official portals, plastered messages across their screens in Mandarin:
"GLOBAL T-VIRUS OUTBREAK. RACCOON CITY WAS FIRST. YOU'RE NEXT. READ THIS OR DIE."
Then he dumped everything. Surveillance footage from Raccoon City. Dr. Ashford's research. The T-virus specifications. The infection vectors. The timeline of the outbreak. And most importantly—the complete formula for the antidote serum.
He sat back, watching the digital chaos unfold. The Red Client Alliance was scrambling, trying to kick him out of their systems. Too late. The files were uploading. Replicating across their servers. Impossible to delete now.
A message appeared on his screen—text in English:
"WHO ARE YOU? WHAT IS THIS?"
Marcus typed back:
"SOMEONE WHO WANTS HUMANITY TO SURVIVE. VERIFY THE INFORMATION. PRODUCE THE ANTIDOTE. YOU HAVE THREE MONTHS BEFORE YOUR COUNTRY FALLS. ACT NOW."
Another pause. Then:
"WHY SHOULD WE TRUST YOU?"
Marcus smiled grimly.
"BECAUSE I JUST BROKE THROUGH YOUR SECURITY LIKE IT WASN'T THERE. IF I WANTED TO HARM YOU, YOU'D ALREADY BE DEAD. CHECK THE FORMULA. IT WORKS. SAVE YOUR PEOPLE."
He severed the connection before they could trace him.
Ashford looked over from his station. "Will they listen?"
"Eventually," Marcus said. "After they verify the data. After their own outbreak starts. After they realize they're out of options." He stood, stretching. "The U.S. government is compromised by Umbrella influence. Europe's too fragmented. But China? They've got the infrastructure, the manufacturing capacity, and the authoritarianism to actually implement mass inoculation."
"If they act fast enough."
"If they act fast enough," Marcus agreed.
He thought about the original timeline. How the world had fallen. How fewer than five thousand humans had survived globally. How Umbrella had emerged from the ashes to rule the wasteland.
This time would be different. It had to be.
He'd given them the tools. Whether they used them was up to them.
On the monitor, news feeds continued updating:
"CHICAGO DECLARES MARTIAL LAW"
"LONDON INFECTION SPREADS TO SUBURBS"
"TOKYO REPORTS THOUSANDS INFECTED"
"SYDNEY QUARANTINE ZONES ESTABLISHED"
The countdown had begun.
End of Chapter 56