Rebecca gave a tight nod and they hurried to the door, greeted by a gruesome scene.

Stepping over mutilated corpses, Rebecca surveyed the carnage, shock widening her eyes. "Who are they? They're not special forces."

Through the shattered front glass, the train barreled onward, passing through a metal gate into a tunnel. The door on the left was ripped from its hinges. Billy frantically tried the panel controls to no avail.

"The whole circuit is fried," he growled in frustration. "The train is going full speed and there's no way to stop it."

Rebecca paled, panic creeping into her voice. "What? What do you mean?"

"Hold on tight," Billy warned grimly, yanking the emergency brake.

The train wheels sparked violently as the movements grew more erratic. Rebecca's breath came in panicked gasps. "No, no, no! Shit, shit, shit!"

"Keep your shit together!" Billy barked. "You should brace for impact."

Rebecca spiraled into panic, circling the cabin and muttering to herself deliriously. "No, please, there must be something I can do, there must be something..."

"REBECCA, YOU'RE NOT HELPING!" Billy roared.

Rebecca froze, clarity returning to her terrified eyes. "Helping, helping, impact...impact!" Her gaze fixed on the dead soldiers. "The soldiers, the helmets!"

Billy's eyes lit up in realization. "Damn, good thinking! We should grab their guns too."

They hastily collected the helmets and weapons from the corpses. Rebecca replaced the missing ammo in her vest with magazines from the soldiers. Billy pulled on one of their armored vests.

"Now we run as far from the cabin as possible," Billy directed urgently. "Maybe we'll minimize the impact."

The duo nodded to each other, a silent agreement passing between them as they broke into a run. Their boots pounded against the metal floor of the train car, momentum carrying them forward. But they only made it halfway down the length of the baggage car before the entire train jerked violently. The shriek of metal on metal rent the air as the train derailed, disconnecting from the sparkling rails. Unmoored, the train continued accelerating into the yawning darkness of the tunnel ahead, scraping and crashing deafeningly against the curving walls.

In an instant, the train overturned, the force slamming Billy and Rebecca sideways. Fiery debris rained down as entire cars detached and crumpled.

Billy hauled himself through a warped opening, blinking against grit and fumes. Reaching down, he gripped Rebecca's outstretched hand and dragged her up beside him. They stood atop the mangled wreck, hearts hammering, gulping lungfuls of smoky air. Blood trickled from Rebecca's temple where her visor had cracked against her helmet. Billy's fatigues and vest were torn, knuckles scraped raw. But alive. They were alive.

"Billy, are you all right?" Rebecca's voice quavered with concern as she inspected him. "Let me take a look at you."

Billy waved her off brusquely. "I'm fine. We have to move. This tunnel doesn't feel any safer than the train."

Rebecca persisted, features pinched with worry. "Are you sure? You could have a concussion or a fracture, even if you don't have any immediate symptoms."

"I said I'm fine," Billy growled. "Let's get away before something explodes."

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Ahead loomed a huge steel gate, tinged with rust and corrosion. At one end, nearly obscured, stood a sheet metal door. They passed through the gate to find themselves at the top of a set of steps. Below lay what appeared to be ancient sewers, the foul water a lurid greenish hue, reeking of decay. Rust devoured the walls and ceiling in scabrous splotches.

Rebecca recoiled. "My God, are we really going to do this?"

Billy's lip curled sardonically. "Killing zombies is fine, but is getting your shoes wet too much for the crystal princess?"

Without waiting for a reply, he vaulted down into the fetid mire, the water pooling around his knees. Rebecca steeled herself and followed, nose wrinkling against the stench.

"I need to contact the station," she said firmly. "They can send a helicopter with a team to rescue us."

"Yeah, sure." Billy's sarcasm echoed off the dank walls. "I can imagine how happy they'll be to see me. No thanks, doll."

Rebecca continued muttering to herself as they sloshed forward. "If I can find a station with a strong enough frequency, I could send them my location."

Billy shook his head in exasperation. "You do realize you're talking to yourself, right? Like on the train? You sound crazy."

Lost in thought, Rebecca pressed on. "It should be a place at altitude, a communications center in a tower, or maybe a security wing."

A wet, ragged cough sounded from somewhere ahead in the winding sewer tunnels. Rebecca moved toward the noise, but Billy seized her arm.

"What do you think you're doing?" he demanded.

"Someone might be hurt. I've got to help." She tried to tug free.

Billy's grip tightened. "Someone might try to eat your brains. Where's your sense of self-preservation?"

Rebecca lifted her chin defiantly. "Where's your sense of duty, Coen?"

Wrenching her arm from his grasp, she turned her back on him and continued forward, heedless of his warnings. The cough came again, closer this time. As they rounded a corner, a man in a blood-spattered white coat lay slumped against the wall. Rebecca crouched beside him.

"Sir, are you all right? Can you hear me?"

The man's neck was concealed by one blood-slick hand, his stare vacant as he mumbled hoarsely. "Leave..."

"It's alright." Rebecca kept her voice calm and steady. "I'm going to treat you. It's going to be alright, okay?"

"...Too late." His hand dropped away, exposing a raw, septic bite on his neck.

"Rebecca..." Billy's voice held a note of warning.

"Help me stop the bleeding," she pleaded urgently. "Maybe I'll still-"

"He's dead, Rebecca." Billy's tone brooked no argument.

Shoulders slumping, Rebecca rocked back on her heels. As Billy rifled through the man's coat, she read the name tag pinned there. "Dr. Shaun Everett." With a quick jerk, Billy tore it off and thrust it into his pocket. Straightening, he headed for a set of stairs leading up out of the sewers. After a long look at the doctor's corpse, Rebecca followed, confusion and dread curdling in her stomach.

"What's going on here?" she wondered aloud. "That man had a human bite mark on his neck."

Billy's response was matter-of-fact. "Zombies, probably."

Rebecca bristled at his dismissiveness. "Those are people sick with some kind of virus, not the living dead."

"Who act like zombies and eat people like zombies." Billy didn't slow his stride.

Rebecca hurried to catch up. "But how?"

"That's why you're here, isn't it?" Billy cast a sardonic look over his shoulder. "To solve the Scooby mystery."

The dim greenish light filtering in through the small window high on the brick wall did little to illuminate the cluttered room. Billy and Rebecca moved cautiously between the rows of metal shelves, their footsteps echoing softly against the concrete floor. Billy's eyes scanned the dusty assortment of tools and equipment-sewer maintenance supplies, cleaning products, mismatched props from old theatre productions. A large ring of keys caught his attention, hanging enticingly from the locked door of a nearby supply cabinet.

"Hey, look at this," Billy said, picking up a yellowed map off a nearby table. He unfolded it, tracing his finger along the outlines of corridors and rooms. Meanwhile, a man observed the two intruders on a monitor in his lab, their grainy black and white images captured by one of the facility's many security cameras. With a scowl, the doctor reached over and pressed a button on the console.

"I have two intruders in the maintenance room, one female and one male," said crisply into the intercom. "Take care of them before they poke around too much."

The voice on the other end hesitated. "It'll take a few hours to send a team from Raccoon City, sir."

The Doctor' scowl deepened, his impatience growing. "What about Delta team? They're minutes away."

Another pause. "Only one survived, sir."

"Why am I just finding out now?" He snapped.

"We tried to brief you, sir," the voice replied nervously. "You said you didn't want any interruptions."

The man in a lab coat waved a hand dismissively even though no one was there to see it. "Send the team, send the sole survivor." He terminated the call with an irritated jab of his finger.

"Useless" he grumbled under his breath.