He hit the creature as hard as he could, shoving the
heel of his hand into its throat. It leaped away,
landing on the mesh wall and clambering back up to
the ceiling.
Wesker pulled himself up and stumbled on, fresh
waves of pain and nausea washing over him. The air
was too hot, the turbines loud and relentless in their
spinning, throbbing frenzy, but he could see the
door to the back now, the door that led to the
completion of his mission.
All of the S.T.A.R.S., dead, blown into orbit while I
escape, fly away a rich man. . .
He flung the door open and made his way toward
the small, glowing screen in the back corner. It was
quieter here, cooler. The massive machines that filled
the chamber hummed softly at him, their purpose
quite different than that of the ones outside. These
were the machines that wanted to help him regain his
control.
The noise from the open door behind him seemed
far away as he reached the glowing screen, his fingers
numb as they touched the keyboard beneath.
He found the keys he needed, the code spilling out
across the monitor in soft green after only a few
mistakes. A sexy, quiet voice informed him that the
countdown would begin in thirty seconds. Dizzy, he
tried to remember the setting for the timer. The
system would trigger automatically in five minutes,
but he had to reset it, give himself time to get
reoriented and make his way to the outside.
Behind him, something screamed.
Wesker whirled around, confused-and saw four of
the mesh-monkeys running at him, lashing out with
long, curved hands as they reached him. Terrible pain
shot up through his legs and he fell, crashing to the
hard steel floor.
This can't happen.
One of the creatures jumped onto his chest and
suddenly Wesker couldn't breathe, couldn't even raise
his weak arms to push it away. Another tore into his
left leg, ripping away a thick chunk of flesh with its
hooked claw. The third and fourth screamed in savage
glee, dancing around him like dark, vicious children,
lifting their claws as they pranced on squat legs.
Somehow, there was blood in his eyes, and the
world was spinning away, screams and hisses and
incredible, searing heat blurring his vision, his
mind.
Tyrant has come.
Wesker could feel it, could feel the presence of
something vast and powerful touching him. Grinning
through the pain, he searched for it through the red
haze of his failing vision, wanting more than anything
to see it slaughter his attackers in a glory of perfect
motion, but he could only make out the immense
shadow that seemed to flood over him, through him,
could only imagine that the powerful, magnificent
warrior was reaching down to lift him from his
torment. . .
I control let me seeeee. . .
Darkness stole his hopes away, and Wesker thought
no more.
". . . S.T.A.R.S. Alpha team, Bravo, anybody -
- you can't answer, try to signal! I'm running out of fuel,
do you read? This is Brad! Repeat-S. T.A.R.S. Alpha
team ..."
Rebecca hit the button, talking fast. "Brad! There's a heliport at the Spencer estate, you have to get to the
heliport! Brad, come in!"
There was a high, whining squeal and Rebecca
heard what must have been the word "copy" - but the
rest was lost.
"I copy?" or, "Do you copy?"
There was no way to know. Frustrated and worried,
Rebecca held on to the radio tightly, hoping that he'd
heard her.
Suddenly, a shrill alarm blared into the silent room
through some hidden speaker in the ceiling. Rebecca
jumped, staring around the cold chamber helplessly.
There was a buzzing click from inside the door that led to the heliport and she hurried over, grabbing the
handle and pulling it open. It had unlocked.
A cool, female voice began to speak, slowly and
clearly over the jangling alarm.
"The triggering system has now been activated. All
personnel must evacuate immediately or process deac-
tivation. You have five minutes. The triggering system
has now been activated. . ."
As the recorded message repeated, Rebecca stood
in the open doorway and watched the open ladder
shaft, her blood racing, waiting to see Chris emerge
from the levels below.
He'd only been gone a few minutes, but their time
had just run out.
TWENTY
JILL AND BARRY RAN FROM THE ELEVATOR
back toward the main hall of B3, the cool voice
informing them that they had four and a half minutes.
They hit the open corridor at a dead run, sprinting
around the corner and saw Chris Redfield
halfway up the metal stairs.
"Chris!" Jill shouted.
He spun around, his face lighting up as he saw them
dashing toward him.
"Hurry!" he shouted. "There's a heliport on Bl!" Thank God!
Chris waited until they reached the base of the
stairs and then ran ahead, rushing around the walk-
way and holding open the door that led to the ladder.
Jill and Barry made it to the top and sped through,
the computer telling them that they had four minutes,
fifteen seconds to get away.
Barry went up the ladder first and Jill followed,
Chris right behind. They piled out into Bl. Jill saw
that Rebecca Chambers was standing at the emergen-
cy exit, her youthful face tight with anxiety.
Chris hustled her through the door and the four of
them ran through a winding concrete hall, Jill praying
silently that they'd have time to clear the estate.
I hope you burn here, Wesker.
There was a large elevator at the end of the corridor
and Barry slammed the gate open, holding it as they
rushed inside. He jumped in after them. They had
four minutes even.
The elevator seemed to crawl upward and Jill
looked at her watch, heart pounding as the seconds
ticked past.
Not gonna make it, we'll never make it.
The lift hummed to a stop and Chris yanked the gate open, the cool air of early morning sweeping over
them and the sweet, wondrous sound of a helicop-
ter overhead, circling.
"He heard me!" Rebecca shouted, and Jill grinned, feeling a sudden wave of affection for the rookie.
The helicopter port was huge, the wide, flat space
surrounded by high walls, a circle of yellow paint on
the asphalt showing Brad where to set down. Barry
and Chris both waved their arms frantically, signaling
the pilot to hurry as Jill looked at her watch again. A
little over three and a half minutes remained. More
than enough time. . .
CRASH!
Jill whirled around, saw chunks of concrete and tar
fly into the air and rain down over the northwest
corner of the landing pad. A giant claw stretched up
from the hole, fell across the jagged lip
and the pale, hulking Tyrant leaped out onto the
heliport, rose smoothly from its agile crouch . . . and
started toward them.
What the hell is that?
It had to be eight feet tall, parts of its giant body
mutilated and deformed, its grinning face focusing on
them even as it stood up. It moved toward them at a
slow walk, the massive claw of its left arm flexing.
No time, Brad can't land.
Chris targeted the dark, tumorous thing on its chest
and fired, pulling the trigger five times in rapid
succession, three of the rounds finding their mark.
The other two were within an inch of the pulsing
Redness ... and the creature didn't even slow down.
"Scatter!" Barry yelled.
The S.T.A.R.S. split, Jill pulling Rebecca to the
farthest corner from the towering monster, Chris
sprinting toward the southern wall. Barry stood his
ground, pointing his Colt at the approaching beast.
Three .357 rounds slammed into its belly, the
thundering shots echoing against the high concrete
walls.
The creature suddenly sped up, running toward
Barry, drawing its giant claw back
and as Barry dove out of the way, the thing swept
past him in a running crouch, bringing its claw up as if
throwing a ball underhand. Its talons gouged the
asphalt, ripping through it as though it was no more
solid than water.
As soon as the monster was past, it stopped run-
ning, turning almost casually back to watch Barry
scramble to his feet and fire again.
The bullet took out a fleshy chunk of its right
shoulder. Thick blood coursed down its wide chest and joined the dripping, open mass of its stomach.
Overhead, the Alpha 'copter still circled, unable to
Land and there was still no sign that the immense
creature felt the injuries. It started its run again,
dropping its terrible, inhuman hand down as it went
for Barry just as his revolver clicked on empty.
Barry sprinted away, but the charging monster
veered with him and its sweeping claw
glanced against his side, tumbling him to the ground.
Barry!
Chris raced toward the creature, firing into its back
as it bent down over the fallen Alpha. Barry was
scrambling backwards, his vest shredded, his eyes
wide with terror and it must have felt the sting of the bullets
because it turned, fixing its emotionless stare on
Chris. Barry staggered to his feet and limped quickly away.
We don't have any time!
Chris emptied the clip, the last several rounds
hitting it in the face. Pieces of tooth flew from the
creature's lipless mouth, spattering to the asphalt in a
rain of white and red. The creature didn't seem to
notice as it started to run toward him at incredible
speed.
Jill and Rebecca were both firing, shouting, trying
to turn its attention away from Chris but it was
already fixated, pounding toward him and drawing its
claw back - wait for it.
He dove to the side at the last possible second and
the monster went flying past, its claw mulching the
asphalt where he'd just been standing.
Chris ran, the horrible awareness dawning on him
that the seconds were slipping past and that they
couldn't kill it in time.
Barry felt blood seeping from his thigh, the top
several layers of his skin sliced neatly away by the
Tyrant's brutal swipe. The pain was bearable; the
knowledge that they were going to die wasn't.
We 'II blow up if we don't get chopped to pieces first.
Tyrant turned its attention to Jill and Rebecca, both
of them firing again at the seemingly invulnerable
monster. It started its smooth, easy walk toward
them, still indifferent to the bloody holes in its body.
Shotgun blasts hit it in the legs and chest, nine
millimeter bullets speckled its pasty flesh, and it
didn't falter, kept on walking.
Wind whipped down over Barry as the roar of the
helicopter's blades suddenly got louder. He heard a
screaming shout come from above.
"Incoming!"
Barry stared up at the 'copter, hovering only twenty
feet from the ground and saw a heavy black object fly out of the open
door on the side, hitting the tar with an audible thud.
Chris was closest. He ran for it.
The Tyrant had almost reached Jill and Rebecca.
The two of them split, each headed in a different
direction and the creature turned toward Jill without
hesitating, tracking her with its strange, fixed gaze.
"Jill, this way!" Chris screamed.
Barry spun and saw that Chris had the bulky
rocket launcher propped on his shoulder.
Yes!
Jill veered toward Chris, the Tyrant close behind.
"Clear!"
She leaped to one side and rolled as Chris fired, the
whoosh of the rocket-propelled grenade almost lost to
the thundering beat of the 'copter's rotors.
The explosion wasn't. The grenade hit the Tyrant
square in the chest and in a burst of incendiary light
and deafening sound, it blew the monster into a
million smoking pieces.
Even as tattered shreds of flesh and bone hailed
down over them, Brad lowered the 'copter back
toward the ground and the four S.T.A.R.S. ran for it.
The rails hadn't touched yet as Jill dove into the open
cabin, Chris and Rebecca and Barry all throwing
themselves in after her.
"Go, Brad, now!" Jill screamed.
The bird lifted into the air and sped away.
TWENTY-ONE
THE CALM, FEMALE VOICE FELL ONLY ON
inhuman ears.
"You have five seconds, three, two, one. System
activation now."
A circuit that ran the length and width of the estate
connected.
With an earth-shaking thunderclap of motion and
sound, the Spencer estate exploded. Devices went
off simultaneously in the basement of the mansion,
beneath the reservoir, behind a plain, uninterest-
ing fireplace in the guardhouse and in the third
level of the basement laboratories. Marble walls
tumbled down over the disintegrating floors of the
fine old mansion. Rock collapsed and concrete
blew into a fine blackened dust. Massive fireballs rose
up into the early morning sky and could be seen from
miles away in their few brief seconds of brilliant life.
As the incredible peal of booming sound rolled
across the forest and died away, the wreckage started
to burn.
EPILOGUE
THE FOUR OF THEM WERE QUIET AS BRAD
piloted the 'copter back toward the city, and though
he had a million questions, something about their
silence didn't invite conversation. Chris and Jill were
both staring out the hatch window at the spreading
fire that had been the estate, their expressions grim.
Barry was slumped against the cabin wall, looking
down at his hands like he'd never seen them before.
The new girl was quietly moving among them, treat-
ing their wounds without saying a word.
Brad kept his mouth shut, still feeling crappy about
taking off earlier. He'd been through hell since then,
flying around in circles and watching the fuel gauge
slowly drop. It had been a total nightmare, and he had
to take a piss like nobody's business.
And then that monster. . .
He shuddered. Whatever it had been, he was glad it
was dead. It had taken all of his nerve not to fly away
the second he'd laid eyes on it and as far as he was
concerned, he deserved a little consideration for man-
aging to kick the launcher out the door.
He glanced back at the silent foursome, wondering
if he should tell them about the weird call he'd gotten
over the radio. Right after the rookie had screamed
something about a heliport through the static, a clear,
solid signal had come in, a male voice calmly giving
him the exact coordinates. The guy had been listening
in, which was weird, but the fact that he knew the
location well enough to give Brad directions was
downright spooky.
He frowned, trying to remember the mystery man's
name. Thad? Terrence?
Trent. That's it, he said his name was Trent.
Brad decided that it would keep for another day.
For now, he just wanted to go home.
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