Jill get in front of him.
They turned the corner and Jill froze, staring into
the muzzle of Wesker's raised Beretta. He grinned at
them, his sunglasses hiding his eyes, his smile smug
and leering.
"Hello, Jill. Nice of you to drop by," he said
smoothly. "Nice work, Barry. Take her weapons." She turned her startled gaze to him as he quickly
plucked the shotgun from her hands, then reached
around to unholster her Beretta, his face burning.
"Now get back up to Bl and wait for me by the exit.
I'll be up in a few minutes."
Barry stared at him. "But you said you just wanted to lock her up."
Wesker shook his head. "Oh, don't worry. I'm not going to hurt her, I promise. Now get going."
Jill looked at him, confusion and fear and anger
playing across her face. "Barry?"
"I'm sorry, Jill."
He turned and walked around the corner, feeling
defeated and ashamed - not to mention terrified for
Jill. Wesker had promised, but Wesker's word meant nothing. He'd probably kill her as soon as he heard
the elevator doors close, but what if I'm not in the elevator?
Maybe I can still do something to keep her alive. . . . Barry hurried to the lift and opened the gates,
then slammed them closed and pushed the operation
switch, sending it back to B3 without a passenger.
Moving silently, he edged back toward the corner,
listening.
". . . can't say I'm all that surprised," Jill was
saying. "But how did you get Barry to help you?" Wesker laughed. "Ol' Barry's got some trouble at home. I told him that Umbrella has a team watching
his house, waiting to kill his precious family. He was
only too happy to help."
Barry clenched his fists, his jaw tight.
"You're a bastard, you know that?" Jill said.
"Maybe. But I'm going to be a rich bastard when all
this is over. Umbrella is paying me a lot of money to
clean up their little problem, and to get rid of a few of
you goddamn snooping S.T.A.R.S. in the process."
"Why would Umbrella want to destroy the
S.T.A.R.S.?" Jill asked.
"Oh, not all of them. They've got big plans for some
of us, at least those of us that want to make a profit.
It's you sniveling do-gooders that they don't want,
the red-white-and-blue, apple pie, all that happy
bullshit. The way Redfield's been running around,
mouthing off about conspiracies, you think Umbrel- la didn't notice? It has to stop, here. This whole place
was rigged to blow up just in case of an accident
and the Tyrant virus escaping qualifies. Once you're
all dead and this facility's destroyed, no one will be
able to get to the truth."
Son-of-a-bitch was going to kill all of us.
"But enough about Umbrella. I had you brought
down here for a little experiment of my own. I want to
see how our most agile team member stands up
against the miracle of modern science. If you'll just
step through that door."
Barry flattened himself against the wall as Wesker
stepped back, part of his shoulder coming into view.
He put his hand on his Colt and drew it out slowly.
"I can't believe that you're doing this," Jill said. "Selling out to protect a bunch of unethical corporate
blackmailers."
"Blackmailers? Oh, you mean Barry. Umbrella
wouldn't bother with blackmail. They can afford to
buy people just as easily. I made all that up to get him
on board."
Barry slammed the butt of his Colt into Wesker's
skull as hard as he could, dropping him like a ton of
bricks.
NINETEEN
JILL STARED IN ASTONISHMENT AS WESKER
suddenly stopped talking and crumpled to the floor
and Barry stepped into view, staring down at
Wesker's body with a look of intense hatred, Colt in
hand.
She crouched down next to Wesker and pried the
Beretta from his fingers, tucking it into her waistband.
Barry turned to look at her, his eyes swimming with
apology. "Jill, I'm so sorry. I never should have believed him."
Jill stared at him for a moment, thinking about his
daughters. Moira was Becky McGee's age. . .
"It's okay," she said finally. "You came back, that's what matters."
Barry handed her back her weapons, and they both
gazed down at Wesker's sprawled form, still breathing
but unconscious. He was out cold.
"I don't suppose you have any handcuffs on you?"
Barry asked.
Jill shook her head. "Maybe we should check out the lab, there's bound to be some cable or cord we can
use. Besides, I'm kind of curious about this 'miracle
of modern science' he was talking about..."
She turned and found the switch that operated the hydraulic door, noting the biohazard symbol painted
across the front. The door slid open and the two of
them stepped inside.
Wow. . .
It was a huge, high-ceilinged chamber lined with
monitoring consoles, cables snaking across the floor
and connecting to a whole series of standing glass
tubes. There were eight of the tubes lined up in the
center of the room, each of them big enough to hold a
grown man. They were all empty.
Barry reached down and scooped up a handful of
cable, digging into his pocket for a knife while Jill
walked toward the back, gazing at the technical and
medical equipment and stopped, staring, feeling
her jaw drop.
Against the back wall was a much larger tube, a
least eight or nine feet tall, hooked up to its own
computer console and the thing inside filled it, top
to bottom. It was monstrous.
"Jill, I got the cable. I. . ."
Barry stopped next to her, his words faltering as he
saw the abomination. Silently, they both walked to-
ward it, unable to resist a closer look.
It was tall, but proportionally correct, at least
through the broad, muscular torso and long legs; those
parts appeared human. One of its arms had been
altered into a cluster of massive, dragging claws,
hanging past its knees, while the other seemed ordi-
nary, if overly large. There was a thick, bloody tumor
protruding from where its heart would be, and Jill
realized, staring at the bulbous mass that it was the
thing's heart; it was pulsing slowly, expanding and
contracting in slow, rhythmic beats.
She stopped in front of the tube, awed by the
abomination. She could see lines of scar tissue snak-
ing across its limbs, surgical scars. It had no sexual
organs; they'd been cut away. She looked up at its face
and saw that parts of the flesh there had also been
removed; the lips were gone, and it seemed to grin
broadly at her through the sliced red tissue of its face,
all of its teeth exposed.
"Tyrant," Barry said quietly.
Jill glanced over at him, saw him frowning down at
the computer that was hooked to the tube by multiple
cables.
She looked back at the Tyrant, feeling nearly over-
whelmed by pity and disgust. Whatever it was now, it
had once been a man. Umbrella had turned him into a
freakish horror.
"We can't leave it like this," she said softly, and Barry nodded.
She joined him at the console, looking down at the
myriad switches and buttons. There had to be a
switch that would put an end to its life; it deserved
that much.
There was a set of six red switches in a row along
the bottom and Barry flipped one of them down.
Nothing seemed to happen. He glanced at her, and
she nodded for him to continue. He used the side of
his hand to flip all of them.
There was a sudden, dull thump...
They both whirled around, saw the Tyrant pull back
its human hand and hit the glass again. Cracks
webbed out from the impact, though the glass had to
be several inches thick.
"Oh . . . SHIT!"
Barry grabbed her arm as the creature drew its
bleeding knuckles back for another blow.
"Run!"
They ran, Jill wishing to God that they'd left it
alone, panic welling up from deep inside of her. Barry
slammed his hand down on the door control and it
slid open as behind them, glass shattered.
They stumbled through the door, terrified, Barry
hitting the lock and saw that Wesker was gone.
Wesker stumbled toward the power room, his head
pounding, his limbs feeling strangely distant and
weak. He felt like he was going to throw up.
Goddamn Barry . . .
They'd taken his gun. He'd come to as they'd
walked into the lab and reeled toward the elevator,
cursing them both, cursing Umbrella for creating such
a screwed up mess, cursing himself for not simply
killing the S.T.A.R.S. when he could have.
It's not over. I'm still in control. This is my
game. . .
The sample case was down in the lab, probably
being destroyed right now by one of those idiots.
Tyrant, too. That magnificent creature, powerless
without the adrenaline injections, dead. They'd shoot
him in his sleeping heart, he'd die without ever tasting
battle. . .
Wesker reached the door to the room and leaned
against it, struggling to catch his breath. Blood drib-
bled out of his ears and he shook his head, trying to
clear it of the strange fog that had settled into his
brain.
He didn't have the tissue samples, but he could still
complete his mission. It was important, very impor-
tant that he complete his mission. It was about
control, and control was his game.
. . . triggering system, watch out for monkeys . . .
The Ma2s, he had to be careful. Wesker opened the
door and pitched forward, the ground seeming too far
away and then too close. The machines were hissing at
him, whining and hissing in the hot, oily air. His hand
found the railing and he pulled himself toward the
back of the room, trying to hurry but finding that his
legs weren't interested.
A claw shot down from above and tore into his
scalp, yanking away a clump of hair. He felt warm
liquid trickle down the back of his neck and stumbled
on, the pain in his head sharper now.
Took my gun, stupid, stupid assholes took my
gun. . .
He reached the door and had just managed to get it
open when something heavy landed on his back,
knocking him into the next room. He fell on the cold
metal floor and a terrible shriek sounded in his ear.
Thick talons punctured the skin on his back and
Wesker slapped at it, at the grinning, screaming thing
that was trying to kill him.
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