Only then did he struggle, his shocked gaze turning
to Griffith, his body twisting and flailing. One of
Alan's arms seemed to give a little, but he had a good,
tight hold on the fighting Hispanic.
Griffith smiled into his face, shaking his head.
"Relax," he said soothingly. "In just a few moments, you won't feel a thing."
Slowly, too slowly, they backed toward the chamber
they'd started in, the lizard-creatures following, care-
ful not to step into view, screaming their terrible song.
John kept thinking of Karen and Steve, led off to God
knew where by the Umbrella doc, and wished desper-
ately that the monsters would just charge. He felt the
moments slipping by, moments that may have already
cost Karen her only chance, moments in which Steve
might be fighting for his life...
Come on, you stupid shits! We're right here, free
lunch! Come on!
They'd tried yelling, tried firing and stamping their
feet, but the creatures wouldn't take the bait. Once,
David had tried to fake them out, the three of them slipping back around a corner and when the big
lizards had skulked through the tunnel after them,
they'd jumped back around and started blasting. John
got a single round into one of them, and they'd seen
that there were only two of the beasts left, but both
had gotten to cover before any serious damage had
been done, and hadn't fallen for the ploy again.
"Sly bastards," John snarled for about the twenti- eth time, backing up as quickly as he could. "What the hell are they waiting for?"
Neither Rebecca nor David answered, since they'd
already discussed it, talking over the creeping shrieks
of the stalking monsters. They were waiting for the
three of them to turn around.
After what felt like an eternity of slow motion, of
backing through the empty tunnel one sliding step at a
time, they heard the distant, familiar sound of the
cavernous chamber they'd left - muffled waves and
thundering vibrations as background to the echoing
howls.
Thank God, thank God, how long? Fifteen, twenty
minutes?
"When we get into the open, flank the tunnel,"
David said tightly. "I'm going to turn and run, draw them out..."
Rebecca shook her head, her young features
pinched with worry. "You're a better shot than I am, and I can run faster. I should do it."
They had almost reached the chamber. John shot a
glance at David, could see him struggling with the
decision and finally he nodded, sighing.
"Right. Run as fast as you can, back for the stairs to
the lighthouse. We'll pick them off as soon as they're
too far along to turn around."
Rebecca blew out sharply. "Got it. Just say when." John could feel the change in the air just behind
him, the drafts that swirled around the underground
chamber fluttering against the back of his neck. An-
other step and they were surrounded by open space.
John quickly side-stepped, standing between the
tunnel they'd just backed out of and the one next to it.
He saw David get into position, Rebecca standing
perfectly still in the mouth of the passage...
"Go!"
Rebecca spun and ran, sprinting away, and John
tensed, Beretta held close to his face, listening for the
rising shrieks, the pound of feet...
"Now!" David shouted, and they both swung into the passage, firing.
Crack-crack-crack-crack!
The howling monsters were less than six meters away and the heavy rounds smashed into them, great,
bloody holes exploding through their rubbery skin,
bone and watery red splattering wildly.
The shrieks died beneath the thundering bullets,
neither of the reptilian things making it as far as the
opening. Two strange bodies fell still, crumpling to
the stone floor in ragged heaps.
As soon as they stopped firing, Rebecca came
jogging back into the chamber, her cheeks flushed, her
eyes flashing with urgency.
"Let's go," David said, and then the three of them were running into the passage that Kinneson had
disappeared into, the lost time lending a desperation
to their flight.
John finally let the fear slip inside, giving up the
angry frustration he'd suffered through their back-
ward crawl.
Karen, be okay. Please, don't let anything have
happened to her, Lopez...
The tunnel turned, angled down, the three of them
curving with it, terror for their friends and teammates
driving them faster. John swore to himself that if they
were all right, if there was still time for Karen, if they
could all make it out of this alive, he'd give anything.
My car, my house, my money, I won't screw anyone
else till I get married, I'll clean up my act and walk the
straight and narrow...
It wasn't enough, and he didn't know why anyone
would want it, but he'd sacrifice anything, do what-
ever it took.
The passage swerved again, still sliding down and
they tore around the corner...
...and there was a wide open set of doors, a tiny
passage between the outer and inner, a giant and
dimly lit room behind it. Steve leaned against the
frame, holding his Beretta, his face pale and blank.
"Steve! What happened, what..." David started, but the look on Steve's face as he turned to watch
them approach, the terrible emptiness there, made
them all stop in their tracks. Even as his mind
searched to deny it, John's heart filled with a horrible,
aching loss.
"Karen's dead," Steve said softly, then turned and walked into the room
.SIXTEEN
OH, NO...
Rebecca felt a welling rush of sadness inside as she
stared after Steve, John and David both grim and
silent beside her. The blank shock on Steve's face before he'd turned away told them what must have
happened.
Poor Karen. And Steve, what must it have been
like...
They'd found the lab too late. She glanced down at
the key card slot next to the door as she stepped into
the double seal, feeling a horrible sense of futility at
the pointlessness of it all. They'd come to find infor-
mation, only to find tests, only for Karen to get
infected and then to turn against Steve even as
they'd reached the one chance they might have had to
cure her . . .
... but Kinneson. Thurman ...
She stepped through the second door, frowning.
The laboratory was huge, counters lined with equip-
ment, desks piled incredibly high with stacks of
paper, but it was the open hatch across from them
that first commanded her attention, her gaze immedi-
ately drawn to the thick sheet of plexi or reinforced
glass set into the thick door.
It was an airlock, the inner door standing open.
And behind the second sealed door, past a mesh grate,
the dark waters of the ocean swirled past, bubbles
spinning by. The laboratory was underwater.
The second thing she noticed was the blood, a thick
trail of crimson leading across the concrete floor in
splatters and pools, but ending in a sliding smear.
Steve must have moved a body -
- so much! God, not Karen's...
Steve had walked to the airlock and turned, seemed
to be waiting for them to cross the room. Rebecca
started toward him, her throat tight with sympathy
and swelling tears. John and David were right behind
her, quiet, looking around the vast room -
- when behind them, the door back into the pas-
sage slammed shut.
They spun around, saw Kinneson standing there,
holding a tiny semi-automatic, a .25, pointing it at
them with no expression on his face.
"Drop your weapons."
The low, quiet voice was Steve's.
Rebecca turned again, confused and saw Steve
pointing his Beretta at them, his face as blank as
Kinneson's. Now that she was close enough to the
airlock, she saw the body on the grated floor. It was
Karen, her white face streaked with blood, a gaping
blackness where her left eye had been.
Oh, my God, what's going on...
David stepped toward him, holding his Beretta
loosely, confusion and disbelief in his voice. "Steve, what are you doing? What's happened?"
"Drop your weapons," Steve said again. His voice had no emotion at all.
"What did you do to him?!"
John screamed, turned and fired at Kinneson, the
round punching neatly through his left temple. Kin-
neson crumpled, sagging...
Boom!
The second shot came from Steve's Beretta, hitting
John in the lower back. Blood gushed from the hole
and as he staggered halfway around, Rebecca saw the
dark fluid trickling from his mouth, the dazed disbe-
lief in his eyes...
...and John crashed to the cement, spasming once
before he lay motionless. It had all happened in the
space of a few seconds.
"Drop your weapons," Steve said calmly. He
pointed his semi at Rebecca.
For a moment, Rebecca could do nothing at all. She
stared at Steve in horror, felt tears slipping down her
frozen cheeks, unable to comprehend what had hap-
pened.
"Disarm," David said quietly, letting his slip from his fingers and clatter to the floor.
Rebecca dropped the Beretta, the heavy weapon
falling from her equally heavy fingers.
"Back up," Steve said, still aiming at her chest. "Do as he says," David said, his voice trembling just slightly.
They stepped back slowly, Rebecca unable to take
her eyes from Steve's face, the handsome, boyish face
she'd grown to care about. Now it was only a mask,
worn by a ...
... by a zombie.
They backed into a desk and stopped, watching
dully as Steve moved to pick up their weapons,
Rebecca's mind whirling with more than just horror
and loss. A zombie that could walk and talk like a
man. Like Kinneson. Like Steve.
How? When did this happen?
As Steve stepped away, a pleasant male voice came
out of the corner of the room, from behind a desk.
"All finished, then? My God, what a Greek
tragedy. . ."
The voice was followed by an appearance. A slen-
der, gray-haired man stood up and walked around the
desk, moving almost casually to stand by Steve. He
was in his mid-fifties, his hair long enough to brush at
the collar of his lab coat, his lined face sporting a
beaming smile.
"I'll repeat my instructions for the benefit of our
guests," the man said happily. "If either of them makes any sudden moves, shoot them."
Rebecca knew who he was immediately, knew that
