The atmosphere in the Police Station Lobby was oppressive to the extreme. A few officers huddled around a table, wordlessly inspecting their firearms and loading ammunition. The crisp clinking of metal echoed with agonizing clarity through the dead silence, the muzzles of their guns glinting with a cold light.
Civilians seeking refuge were crowded throughout the Main Hall, huddled close together and whispering in voices so low they were nearly inaudible. Most still clung to unrealistic fantasies, refusing to accept the suggestion of an evacuation. They couldn't bear to leave their assets in Raccoon City, stubbornly believing this was merely a temporary riot. They were convinced the government would soon send troops to suppress it, that Umbrella would step in to handle the situation, and that government forces would arrive to sweep away these Infected, after which their lives would return to normal.
"Let's just wait a little longer; someone will come to save us eventually," a man murmured under his breath. His words sounded less like he was convincing others and more like he was trying to convince himself.
Others stared fixedly at the heavy iron doors and high walls of the Police Station, their entire bodies trembling. They would rather stay guarded within this relatively safe building and wait for a slow death than step out into streets swarming with the Infected. Even with an escort of police officers, they could not overcome their terror of those monsters.
"Going out... is just suicide," a woman said, clutching her child tightly, her voice laced with hysteria.
Only a tiny minority saw through to the truth: the city was falling. They silently packed their personal belongings. Any talk of "rescue" was mere self-deception; if such a thing truly existed, it wouldn't be just these few policemen showing up.
The officers' movements grew more hurried. The sounds of rounds being chambered and equipment being checked rang out sharply amidst the chaos. As the minutes ticked away, Marvin and several officers moved through the crowd, anxiously trying to persuade the civilians who stubbornly refused to leave to face reality. However, he was met mostly with rebuttals and pigheadedness.
Standing not far away, Lear watched those civilians—the ones still arguing with the police and harboring delusions of luck—with a cold gaze, a faint, mocking sneer playing at the corner of his mouth. In his eyes, these people, still fantasizing about rescue and clinging to their property at this late hour, were simply seeking their own graves.
Without waiting for Marvin to waste any more breath, Lear suddenly raised his hand, drew his pistol, and fired a shot toward the ceiling of the Police Station Lobby.
The piercing gunshot exploded through the room instantly. The noisy, clamorous Main Hall fell abruptly silent as all the arguing, whispering, and crying came to a dead stop. Every gaze snapped toward him; even the air seemed to freeze.
Lear holstered his gun, his tone cold, blunt, and devoid of any unnecessary emotion. "I'm only saying this once. In a moment, most of the officers will escort a group of civilians out. Those willing to go have half an hour to prepare. Those who aren't can stay here. But there will only be a few officers staying behind to guard this place. Until we return, no one can guarantee your safety. Make your choice."
With those words, he turned and walked away without the slightest hesitation. On the second floor, Raymond watched the scene and gave a silent nod of approval. The crowd behind him remained silent, the dead air filled only with heavy breathing. A few people gritted their teeth, stubbornly refusing to move, but more of them, weighing their terror against reality, finally bowed their heads. They began silently gathering their meager belongings, preparing to join the evacuation group.
Lear was about to turn and check his gear when his gaze inadvertently swept across a corner of the Main Hall. A small figure stood there alone, looking utterly out of place amidst the frantic crowd. It was Sherry. She was huddled quietly in the corner, her head bowed, her small frame looking exceptionally frail and helpless.
Lear softened his steps as he approached and slowly crouched down in front of her. His previously cold, hard tone turned gentle. "Little girl... I remember you. Sherry, right? I'm Lear." He noticed she was still tightly clutching the little bear he had given her at the Orphanage and asked softly, "Why aren't you getting ready? Do you plan to come with us, or... stay here?"
Sherry looked up timidly. Her eyes, which had been red and swollen from crying back at the Orphanage, looked much better now, but they were still filled with fear and a hint of bewilderment as she looked at Lear. Her lips trembled several times before she spoke in a voice as faint as a mosquito's hum. "I... I don't know... Mommy told me to wait for her at the Orphanage, but that place... it was so scary."
At those words, her small body shook uncontrollably. Her voice grew lower and lower, carrying a suppressed terror. "So many of the grown-ups... they all became so strange. They... they..."
The words caught in her throat and she couldn't go on. She abruptly lowered her head, burying her face against her chest, her thin shoulders hitching as she sobbed.
Lear immediately sensed that her fear wasn't just general; it was the shadow left behind after witnessing horrific sights firsthand. He moved very gently, reaching out slowly to carefully hold the hand that was white-knuckled around the plush bear. Her hand was tiny and cold, shaking incessantly.
"It's okay now, Sherry. It's over," Lear said, lowering his voice to a gentle yet firm tone. "You're safe now. No one here will hurt you, okay?"
He thought back to when he first arrived at the Orphanage. The place had been sprayed with blood, littered with severed limbs and wandering zombies. Even though he had rescued Sherry right after the outbreak started, she must have still seen those bloody scenes—sights that would leave a normal child traumatized for life.
"Stay close to me in a little while, okay? I promise I'll protect you. Once we're out, I'll help you find your mother, alright?" Lear gently stroked Sherry's hair, offering quiet comfort.
Sensing Lear's kindness, Sherry looked up. Seeing his gentle smile, the grievance and helplessness she had been suppressing suddenly burst through the floodgates. She lunged into Lear's arms and began to wail. Her cries grew louder, her thin body shaking violently. The surrounding citizens and officers turned to look, and the atmosphere fell silent for a moment.
Lear didn't push her away or try to hush her. He knew too much had happened today, and that this brave girl simply needed to vent her emotions. He gently patted Sherry on the back. After a long while, Sherry's crying gradually subsided. She lifted her head from Lear's chest, her eyes red and swollen, the tip of her nose a pitiful shade of pink.
She looked at the damp stains her tears had left on Lear's lapel and apologized in a small voice, "I'm sorry... I got your clothes dirty."
Lear smiled gently, his tone light and tender. "It's fine. If these clothes could buy you a little peace of mind, it's a sacrifice well worth it. Do you feel better now?"
Sherry's cheeks flushed a deep red. She lowered her head bashfully, her fingers tightly clutching her teddy bear. She let out a soft "mm-hmm," so faint it was nearly inaudible.
"That's good." Lear ruffled Sherry's hair and gave her a quiet instruction. "Go get ready quickly; we're leaving soon."
Sherry nodded gently and gave her word, her voice finally carrying a rare hint of relief. Watching her obediently step aside, Lear turned and walked toward the gun shop owner, Kendo.
"Are you ready? We're heading out immediately."
Kendo was leaning over, organizing the remaining ammunition. He looked up, slapped the dust off his hands, and replied in a deep voice, "Just about. The weapons and ammo have been distributed to the officers staying behind and those evacuating."
As he spoke, he pulled a long, cylindrical metal object from behind him and held it out to Lear. "This is for you."
Lear's gaze fell upon the long tube, and his pupils constricted slightly. He lowered his voice in shock. "Is this... holy crap! A Grenade Launcher? Uncle Robert, where did you get this? This thing... it's got to be illegal."
Kendo let out a scoff and patted the launcher's casing, his tone utterly indifferent. "What, you planning on arresting me? The source definitely wasn't legal, but with Raccoon City in this state, does the law even matter? I think you really need this beautiful girl right now."
He paused, looking toward the faint sounds of roaring coming from outside the Police Station, his voice turning even grimmer. "You're coming back after you drop off the civilians, right? Take this for self-defense. Against those monsters, it's much more effective than a pistol."
As he spoke, the casual look on Kendo's face faded, replaced by deep, lingering fear. He turned to look at his daughter, Emma, who was waiting obediently nearby, his eyes softening with relief.
"Also, thank you, truly, Lear. If you hadn't whispered for me to keep a close eye on Emma and moved us to the Police Station for shelter at the first sign of trouble, God knows what would have happened to us. I don't care about myself, but I really couldn't lose Emma."
Lear patted Kendo on the shoulder, signaling that no thanks were necessary.
Just then, Elliot sprinted into the Main Hall and whispered a few words into Marvin's ear. Marvin's expression turned solemn as he immediately strode in front of the group, his voice steady.
"The vehicles are all ready. Everyone, move out now!"
(Translated by yourtl.app)