Wesker eased up to the corner and looked down the
hall, just in time to see Jill Valentine disappear
through the metal doors, a burst of hissing mechani-
cal noise echoing through the corridor before they
closed.
How did she make it through the Hunters? Jesus!
Apparently he'd underestimated her . . . and she'd
been alone, too. If she was that good, the Ma2s might
not kill her, and she had effectively just blocked him
from the triggering system. He wouldn't be able to
deal with the creatures that roamed the maze like
walkways and put a stop to her prying. . .
Frustrated, Wesker scooped up the sample case and
walked quickly down the hall, back toward the hy-
draulic doors that led to the main corridor of level
three. If she made it back out, he'd just have to shoot
her; it would only delay his escape by a few minutes.
Still, it was an unexpected curve, and as far as he was
concerned, it was too late in the game for surprises. Surprises pissed him off, they made him feel like he
wasn't in control. . .
I AM in control, nothing is happening here that I
can't handle! This is MY game, my rules, and I will
accomplish my mission without any interference from
that little thief-bitch.
Wesker stalked out into the main corridor, saw that
Jill had managed to take out a few more of the
wizened, withered scientists and technicians that
wandered the basement labs. Two of them lay just
outside the door, their skulls blown into arid powder
by what looked like shotgun blasts. He kicked one of
them angrily, his boot crunching into the corpse's
brittle ribs, the dry snap of bone loud in the silence -
- except that suddenly, he heard heavy boots com-
ing down the metal stairs from B2, the hollow clump
echoing through the hall. And then a rough, hesitant
voice calling out.
"Jill?"
Barry Burton, as I live and breathe.
Wesker raised his weapon coolly, ready to fire when
Barry stepped into view and then lowered it
thoughtfully. After a moment, a slow grin spread
across his face.
EIGHTEEN
JILL EASED INTO THE STEAMING, HISSING
room, a thick smell of grease in the heated air. It was
some kind of a boiler room, and a big one; heavy,
thrumming machinery filled the large chamber, sur-
rounded by winding catwalks. Massive turbines spun
and pounded, generating power in a steady whine as
hidden ducts spat out steam at short intervals.
She moved slowly into the poorly lit chamber,
peering down one of the railed walkways into the
fluctuating shadows cast by the towering generators.
From where she was, she could see that the place was
a labyrinth of paths, twining around the giant blocks
of noisy machinery.
The source of the estate's power. That explains how
they managed to keep it a secret for so long, they had
their own little city out here, totally autonomous,
probably had their food shipped in, too.
She turned down the narrow walk to her right,
watching uneasily for any more of the strange, pale
zombies that she'd seen in the corridors of B3. The
path seemed clear, but with the movement and noise
created by the turbines. . .
Something ripped at her left shoulder, a sudden,
violent slash that tore open her vest and scraped the skin beneath.
Jill spun and fired, the roar of the shotgun drowning
out the hissing machines. The blast hit metal, pellets
ricocheting into the empty walk. There was nothing
behind her.
Where?
A lunging, blade-like claw sliced the air in front of
her face, swooping down from above.
She stumbled back, staring up at the steel mesh of
the ceiling and saw a dark shape skitter out of the
shadows, hooking its way across the grate incredibly
fast, curving claws at its hands and feet. She caught a
glimpse of thick spines around its mutant, flattened
face and then it turned and ran into the thrumming
shadows of the power room.
There was a door at the end of the walk and Jill
sprinted toward it, heart racing, the pounding whine
of the generators thundering in her ears.
She was five feet from the door when she saw the
moving shadow position itself in front of her. She
raised the shotgun and leaned back -
- more of them!
There were two of the creatures overhead, squat,
terrible things with vicious, curving hooks instead of
hands. One of them dropped down suddenly, hanging
by clawed feet to swipe at her with its bladed arm.
Jill fired and the creature screeched, the blast
hitting it in the chest. It fell from the ceiling with a
clatter, thick blood oozing out of the ragged wound.
She turned back toward the entrance and ran,
hearing the patter of claws against the mesh overhead.
Another of the aberrant monkey-like things swung
down in front of her, and Jill ducked, afraid to stop
running. The thing's strange arm whistled past her
ear, missing her head by less than an inch.
The metal doors were in front of her. Jill crashed
into them, slapping one handle down and stumbling
back into the cold stillness of the corridor. The door
closed on the furious, shrill cry of one of the mon-
sters, rising high over the sounds of the working
machines.
She sagged against the door, gasping
and saw Barry Burton standing midway down
the chilled, silent hall. He hurried toward her, an
expression of deep worry on his rugged, bearded face.
"Jill! Are you alright?"
She pushed away from the door, surprised. "God, Barry, where have you been? I thought you'd gotten
lost in the tunnels."
Barry nodded grimly. "I did. And I ran into some trouble trying to get out."
She saw the splatters of blood on his clothing, the
rips and tears in his shirt, and realized that he must
have come across more of those walking green night-
mares. He looked like he'd been through a war.
Speaking of. . .
Jill touched her shoulder, her ringers coming away
bloody. It was painful but shallow; she'd survive.
"Barry, we've got to get out of here. I found some
papers upstairs, proof of what's been going on. Enrico
was right, Umbrella's behind all of this and one of the
S.T.A.R.S. knew about it. It's too dangerous to keep
looking around, we should get those files and head
back to the mansion, wait for the RPD."
"But I think I found the main lab," Barry said.
"Downstairs, there's an elevator at the end of the hall.
There are computers and stuff. We can get into their
files, really nail 'em."
He didn't seem excited by the find, but Jill barely
noticed. With the information they could get from
Umbrella's database: names, dates, research mate-
rial. . .
We can find out everything, present the investigators
with the whole, messy package. . .
Jill nodded, grinning. "Lead the way."
The tunnels had been a cold, miserable maze, but
the map had led them through quickly. Rebecca and
Chris had reached the first basement level, both of
them shivering and wet - and not a little freaked out
by the dead creatures they'd passed along the way.
The Umbrella scientists had been disgustingly cre-
ative in their approach to making monsters.
Chris rattled the door that supposedly led to the
heliport, but it was solidly locked, an emergency sign
next to it implying that it could only be opened by an
alarm system. He'd hoped to send Rebecca out with
the radio while he searched for the others.
He looked down the narrow stairwell and sighed,
turning to her. "I want you to stay here. If you stand by the elevator, you should be able to pick up Brad's
signal from outside. Tell him where we are and what
happened - and if I'm not back in twenty minutes,
get back to the courtyard and wait there until help
comes."
Flustered, Rebecca shook her head. "But I want to go with you! I can take care of myself, and if you find
the lab, you'll need me to tell you what you're looking
at."
"No. For all we know, Wesker already killed the
other S.T.A.R.S. and is looking to finish the job. If
we're the last ones, we can't risk both of us getting ambushed. Somebody has to survive and tell people
about Umbrella. I'm sorry, but it's the only way."
He smiled at her, putting a hand on her shoulder.
"And I know you can take care of yourself. This isn't
about your competence, okay? Twenty minutes. I just
have to see if anyone else made it."
Rebecca opened her mouth as if to protest further
and then closed it, nodding slowly. "Okay, I'll stay. Twenty minutes."
Chris turned and started down the ladder, hoping
he could keep his promise to come back. The captain
had successfully deceived them all, acting the part of
concerned leader for weeks while the people in Rac-
coon City had died and all along he'd known why.
The man was a sociopath.
It seemed that Umbrella had created more than one
kind of monster. And it was time to find out how
much damage he'd done.
Barry couldn't bring himself to look at Jill as they
took the elevator down to B4. Wesker would be
waiting for them at the bottom, and Jill would find
out that he had been helping the captain all along.
He'd killed three more of the violent, springing
creatures down in the tunnels before making it to the
lab only to run into Wesker, who had insisted that
he lure Jill down to B4 and assist him in locking her
up. The smiling bastard had reminded Barry of his
family's situation and promised again that it was the
last thing he'd have to do, that after Jill was safely
locked away he'd call his people off -
- except he's said that every time. Find the crests and you're free. Help me in the tunnels, you're free.
Betray your friend. . .
"Barry, are you okay?"
He turned to her as the elevator stopped, looking
miserably into her concerned, thoughtful eyes.
"I've been worried about you ever since we got to
the mansion," she said, laying a hand across his arm. "I even thought - well, never mind what I thought. Is
something wrong?"
He pulled the gate open and raised the mesh outer
door, an excuse to look away. "I ... yeah, something's wrong," he said quietly. "But now's not the time. Let's just get this over with."
Jill frowned but nodded, still looking concerned.
"Okay. When this is over, we can talk."
You won't want to talk to me when this is over.
Barry stepped out into the short hallway and Jill
followed, their boots clanking across a steel grate. The
hall turned to the left just ahead and Barry slowed down on the pretense of checking his weapon, letting
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