Resident Evil Volume 2 Chapter 2

narrowed slightly that he was sizing her up.

Even a few weeks ago, the careful scrutiny would

have made her horribly self-conscious. She was the

youngest S.T.A.R.S. member ever to be accepted for

active duty, and knew that she looked it—but if

anything positive had come from the incident at the

Umbrella lab, it was that she no longer cared much

about things like social embarrassment. Facing down

a house full of monsters tended to put things in

perspective that way. Besides which, being stared at

had gotten pretty routine since then.

She gazed back at him impassively, studying him in

return. Jeans, a nice shirt, running shoes. He also

wore a hip holster with a nine-millimeter Beretta, the

S.T.A.R.S. standard-issue sidearm. He was tall, may-

be a full foot over her five-foot three-inch frame, but slender, with a physique like a swimmer's. He was

almost movie-star handsome, a high, weathered brow

and finely chiseled features, short, dark hair and a

piercing gaze that sparkled with intelligence.

"You must be Rebecca Chambers," he said. He had a British accent, his words clipped and somehow

polished. "You're the biochemist, is that right?" Rebecca nodded. "Working on it. And you are . . ." He smiled wider, shaking his head. "Forgive my manners, please. I hadn't expected . . . that is, I..."

He stepped around Barry's low coffee table and

extended his hand, flushing slightly. "I'm David Trapp, with the S.T.A.R.S. Exeter branch in Maine,"

he said.

Rebecca felt cool relief wash over her, the

S.T.A.R.S. had sent help instead of calling, fine by

her. She shook his hand, stifling a grin, knowing that

her appearance had thrown him. Nobody expected an

eighteen-year-old scientist, and while she'd gotten

used to the surprised looks, she still took a kind of

mischievous pleasure at catching people off guard.

"So, are you like the scout or something?" she asked.

Mr. Trapp frowned. "Sorry?"

"For the investigation—are there other teams al-

ready here, or did you come to check things out first,

get the dirt on Umbrella . . ."

She trailed off as he shook his head slowly, almost

sadly, his dark eyes glittering with an emotion she

couldn't read.

It came out in his voice, heavy with frustrated

anger—and as the words sank in, Rebecca felt her

knees go watery with a sudden anxious dread.

"I'm sorry to have to tell you this, Ms. Chambers. I

have reason to believe that Umbrella has gotten to key

members of the S.T.A.R.S., either by bribery or

blackmail. There is no investigation—and no one else

is coming."

A look of confused terror passed through the girl's

light brown eyes and just as quickly was gone. She

took a deep breath and blew it out.

"Are you sure? I mean, did Umbrella try to get to

you, or ... are you positive?"

David shook his head. "I'm not absolutely certain, no—but I wouldn't be here if I wasn't. . . concerned

about it."

It was a bit of an understatement, but David still

wasn't past the shock of seeing how young she was,

and felt an almost instinctive desire not to alarm her

any further. Barry had mentioned that she was some-

thing of a child genius, but he hadn't really expected a child. The biochemist wore high tops and cut-off

denim shorts rolled at the knee, topped by a shapeless

black T-shirt.

Get past it; this child may be the only scientist we

have left.

The thought rekindled the anger that had been

burning in David's gut for the past few days. The

story that had been unfolding since Barry's call wasn't

a pretty one, filled with treachery and lies—and the

fact that the S.T.A.R.S., his S.T.A.R.S., were in-

volved . . .

Barry walked into the room with a glass of water

and Rebecca took it from him gratefully, swallowing

half of it in one gulp.

Barry shot him a glance and then turned his atten-

tion to Rebecca. "He told you, huh?"

The girl nodded. "Do Jill and Chris know?"

"Not yet. That's why I called," Barry said. "Look, no point in going through this twice. We should wait

for them to show up before we get into specifics."

"Agreed," David said. He generally found that first impressions were the most telling, and if they were

going to be working together, he wanted to get a feel

for the girl's character.

The three of them sat, and Barry started to tell

Rebecca how he and David had met back in

S.T.A.R.S. training when they were both much young-

er men. Barry told a good story, even if it was only to

kill time. David listened with half an ear as Barry

related an anecdote about their graduation night,

involving a rather humorless drill sergeant and sever-

al rubber snakes. The girl was relaxing, even enjoying

the story of their childish prank—

—seventeen years ago. She would have been cele-

brating her first birthday.

Still, she had put her questions on hold at Barry's

request, even though David knew she had to be

anxious about what he'd told her. The ability to

retrain one's focus so quickly was an admirable trait,

one that he'd never fully mastered.

He'd been able to think of little else since his own

call to the S.T.A.R.S. AD. David's devotion to the

organization had made the apparent betrayal all the

more bitter, like a bad taste in his mouth that

wouldn't go away. The S.T.A.R.S. had been David's

life for almost twenty years, had given him all the

things he'd lacked growing up—a sense of self-worth,

a sense of purpose and integrity.

And just like that, the lives of dedicated men and

women, my life and life's work simply tossed aside as if

it meant nothing. How much did that cost? How much did Umbrella have to pay to buy the S.T.A.R.S.'s

honor?

David shook the anger, focusing his attention on

Rebecca. If all he'd learned was true, time was short

and their resources were now severely limited. His

motivations weren't as important right now as hers.

He could tell by the way she held herself that she

wasn't the shy or submissive type, and she was

obviously bright; her eyes fairly sparkled with it.

From what Barry had told him, she'd acted profes-

sionally throughout the Spencer facility operation.

Her file suggested that she was more than qualified to

work with a chemical virus, assuming that she was as

good as the reports said—and assuming she has any desire

to put her life in further danger.

That was going to be the sticking point. She hadn't

been with the S.T.A.R.S. for very long, and knowing

that they'd sold their people out probably wasn't

going to overwhelm her with feelings of confidence for

the job ahead. It would be just as easy for her to step

out of the game now. For that matter, it would be the

intelligent choice for all of them.

There was a knock at the door, presumably the

other two Alphas. David's hand drifted down to the

butt of his nine-millimeter as Barry went to answer.

When he walked back in leading the S.T.A.R.S. team

members, David relaxed, then stood up to be formally

introduced.

"Jill Valentine, Chris Redfield—this is Captain

David Trapp, military strategist for the Maine

S.T.A.R.S. Exeter branch."

Chris was the marksman, if David remembered

correctly, and Jill something of a covert B&E special-

ist. Barry said that the pilot, Brad Vickers, had

skipped town shortly after the Spencer incident. No

great loss, from what he could gather; the man

sounded distinctly unreliable.

He shook hands with both of them and they all sat

down, Barry nodding toward him.

"David's an old comrade of mine. We worked

together on the same team for about two years, right

after boot camp. He showed up on my doorstep about

an hour ago with news, and I didn't think it could

wait. David?"

David cleared his throat, trying to focus on the

significant facts. After a pause, he began at the begin-

ning.

"As you already know, six days ago, Barry placed

several calls to various S.T.A.R.S. branches to see if

any word had come from the home office about the

tragedy that occurred here. I received one of those calls. It was the first I'd heard about it, and I've since

found out that the New York office hasn't contacted

anyone about your discovery. No warnings or memos.

Nothing has been issued to the S.T.A.R.S. regarding

the Umbrella Corporation."

Chris and Jill exchanged looks of concern.

"Maybe they're not done investigating," Chris said slowly.

David shook his head. "I spoke to the assistant director myself the day after Barry called. I didn't tell

him about the contact, only that I'd heard rumor of a

problem in Raccoon, and wanted to know if it had

any merit."

He looked at the assembled group and sighed

inwardly, feeling like he'd already gone over it a

thousand times.

Only in my mind, searching for another answer. . .

and there isn 't one.

"The AD wouldn't tell me anything outright," he continued, "and he told me that I should remain quiet about it until official word came down. What he would

say was that there had been a helicopter crash in

Raccoon City—and what he implied was that the

surviving S.T.A.R.S. were trying to lay blame on

Umbrella, angry over some sort of funding dispute."

"But that's not true!" Jill said. "We were investigat- ing the murders, and found..."

"Yes, Barry told me," David interrupted. "You

found that the murders were the result of a laboratory

accident. The T-Virus that Umbrella was experiment-

ing with was released somehow and it transformed

the researchers into mad killers."

"That's exactly what happened," Chris said. "I know it sounds nuts, but we were there, we saw

them."