"Do we have to?" she asked.
Claire sighed. '"Fraid so. But look at the bright Side - no sane monster would follow us through
that."
Sherry smiled. It wasn't particularly funny, but she
appreciated what Claire was trying to do - it was the
same as covering up Mr. Irons's body, or telling her
that her parents were probably safe.
She's trying to shield me from how bad things really
are...
Sherry liked that, so much so that she was already
dreading the moment when Claire would leave her for
good. Eventually, she would; Claire had a whole life
somewhere else, her own friends and family, and once
they got out of Raccoon, she would go back to
wherever she came from and Sherry would be alone
again. Even if her parents were okay, she would be alone ... and though she wanted very much for them
to be safe and well, she wasn't looking forward to the
end of her time with Claire.
She was only twelve, but she'd known for a couple
of years that her family was different from most. The
other kids at school had parents who spent time with
them, had birthday parties and went on camping
trips, and had brothers and sisters and pets. She'd
never had any of those things. She knew that her
parents meant well, and that they loved her, but
sometimes, she felt like no matter how quiet and good
and self-sufficient she was, she was still in their way...
"You ready for this?"
Claire's soft, pretty voice brought her back to the
situation, reminding her that she needed to be more
alert. Sherry nodded, and Claire stepped down into
the dark, dirty water, reaching back to help her.
The water was cold and greasy, and came up to
Sherry's knees; it was gross, but not puking bad.
Claire motioned toward the big metal door to their
left with her new gun, looking as disgusted as Sherry
felt.
"Looks like we're going to. . ."
A loud noise from the balcony cut her off, and they
both looked up, Sherry instinctively moving closer to
Claire as the noise came again. It sounded like foot-
steps, but too slow and too loud to be normal...
... and Sherry saw a man in a long, dark coat walk
into view, and felt her mouth go dry with fear. He was
a giant, maybe as tall as ten feet, and his bald skull
gleamed as white as a dead fish belly. She couldn't see
him clearly because of the angle, but she could see
enough - and she could feel that he was bad, that
there was something very wrong and bad about him.
It radiated off of him like sickness.
"Claire?" she squeaked, her voice breaking as the giant man stalked across the balcony, as he started to
turn toward them - slowly, so slowly, and Sherry
didn't want to see his face, didn't want to see the face
of a man that could frighten her so deeply by just
walking onto a balcony...
"Run!"
Claire grabbed her hand and the two of them ran,
splashing through the thick water toward the sealed
door. Sherry concentrated on not falling, on praying
that the door would open -
- don't be locked, don't be locked! -
- and on not looking back, not wanting to see what
the giant, bad man was doing. The door was close but
it seemed to take forever, each second stretched out as
they fought against the weight of the cold and oily water.
They stumbled to the hatch and Claire found its
control, slamming at the button in a kind of panic
that made Sherry even more afraid. The door split in
the middle, one half sliding up into the ceiling and the
other slipping beneath the rippling waves.
Sherry didn't look back, but Claire did. Whatever
she saw made her leap through the door, pulling
Sherry off her feet and hurtling into the long, dark
tunnel that lay behind the hatch. As soon as they were
through, Claire fumbled at the wall and the door slid
closed behind them, sealing them into the dripping
darkness.
"Don't move and be quiet," Claire whispered, and in the very dim light that came from somewhere up
ahead, Sherry could see that she was holding the gun
out in front of her, trying to search the heavy shadows
for any new threats. Sherry obeyed, her heart pound-
ing, wondering who, what that man had been - it was
the man Claire had asked her about before, that much
was obvious, but what was he? People didn't get that
big, and Claire had been scared, too...
Clink.
A metal noise, soft and muffled from the wall
behind her and Sherry felt the water around her feet
start to move suddenly, a swift rush of current that
pulled on her legs, pulled her off balance...
... and she stumbled, tripped, plunging face-first
into the cold and nasty water as the current got
stronger, sucking her backwards. Sherry reached out,
trying to find something, anything, to hold on to, and
felt slimy stone whip beneath her clutching fingers as
the waters rushed her away, away from Claire.
- can't breathe -
Sherry kicked wildly, twisting her body, her eyes
stinging from the bad water and managed to take a
breath as her head broke the surface, as she realized
that she was in a tunnel, a pitch black shaft no bigger
than the vents from the station. The swift waters
carried her along, Sherry taking deep gasps of the foul
air overhead, forcing herself not to struggle against
the relentless power of the hissing liquid. The tunnel
had to end somewhere and wherever it came out,
she had to be ready to run.
Claire, please find me, please don't give up on me...
She was lost, blind and deaf, sliding down through
the dark and farther ... and farther away from the only
person who could protect her from the nightmare
creatures that had taken over Raccoon.
Annette no longer doubted that her husband had
escaped the laboratory levels. Not only were half of
the facility entrances unsealed, the fences that sur-
rounded the factory had been breached and the
sewer tunnels, the tunnels that should have been
mostly empty, were crawling with human carriers that
had to have come from outside. Even as advanced as
they'd been in terms of cellular deterioration, she'd
had to shoot down five of them just to clear a path
from the tram to the sewage operations room.
After what seemed an eternity of trudging through
the semi-treated, inky waters of the labyrinthian
system, she came to the platform she'd been looking
for. Annette stepped up into the concrete tunnel,
gazing warily at the closed door a few meters in front
of her. Closed and undamaged, a good sign, but
what if he'd gone through before he'd lost all trace of
human intelligence, before he'd grown into an un-
thinking, violent animal? Even now, he might still
retain something resembling memory; the truth was,
she didn't know. The G-Virus hadn't been tested on
humans yet. . .
. . . and if he did go through? If he made it to the
police station?
No. She couldn't, wouldn't entertain the possibili-
ty. Considering what she did know about the progres-
sive chemophysiologic changes - what he would be
capable of doing if the virus worked the way it was
supposed to - the thought of him getting to an unin-
fected population . . . well, it was unthinkable.
The station is safe, she thought firmly. Irons may be
an incompetent ass, but his cops aren't. Wherever
William is, he couldn't have gotten past them.
She couldn't afford to believe anything else; Sherry
was there, if she'd done what she was supposed to
do and besides being her own flesh and blood
(which, she reminded herself, was reason enough),
Sherry played a very important role in her future
plans.
Annette leaned against one cold and sweating wall,
aware that time was running out but simply unable to
go on without resting for a moment. She'd been
counting on the encoded territorial instinct to keep
him close to the lab, and had been so sure that she
would find him, that her live, human scent would lure
him to her ... but she was almost at the end of the
contained area, and all she'd found were a dozen ways
in which he could have escaped.
And Umbrella will be here soon. I have to get back, I
have to activate the fail-safe before they can stop me.
William deserved to be at peace, but beyond that, destroying the creature that had once been her hus-
band would eradicate all of her doubts about the
success of her objective. What if she blew the lab and
escaped, only to find that Umbrella had captured
him? All of her struggles, all of his work, for
nothing. . .
Annette closed her eyes, wishing that there was an
easy way to make the decision that had to be made.
The fact was, William's death simply wasn't as crucial
as getting rid of the lab. And there was a good chance
that they wouldn't find him, that they weren't even
aware of his transformation...
... and it's not as though I have a choice. He's not
here, he's not anywhere.
She pushed away from the wall, walking slowly
toward the door. She would check the last few tun-
nels, perhaps see if the conference rooms showed any
sign of damage and then she would go back. Go
back and finish what Umbrella had started.
Annette pushed the door open...
... and heard footsteps, echoing through the lonely
corridor from somewhere up ahead; the hall was
shaped like a "T," the sounds melting into them-
selves, making it impossible to tell from which direc-
tion they were coming, but they were the strong,
sure steps of an uninfected human, perhaps more
than one, and that could only mean one thing.
Umbrella. They've finally come.
Rage boiled up through her, making her hands
shake, her lips curl back from gritted teeth. It had to
be them, it had to be one of their murdering spies;
besides Irons and a few of the city officials, only
Umbrella knew that these tunnels were still in use
and that they led to the underground facility. The
possibility that it was some innocent survivor of the
spill didn't cross her mind, and neither did running;
she raised the handgun and waited for the heartless,
murdering bastard to appear.
A figure stepped into sight, a woman in red, and
Annette fired...
... bam, but she was trembling, screaming inside,
and the shot went high. It ricocheted off the cement
wall with a whining, zipping sound, and the woman
was raising a weapon of her own...
... and Annette fired again, barn-zip, but suddenly
there was another one, a blurred, flying shape that
leapt in front of the woman, knocking her out of the
way, all of it happening at once...
.. and Annette heard the cry of pain, a man's cry,
and felt a burst of roaring triumph.
Got him, I got him...
But there could be more, she hadn't hit the
woman and they were trained killers.
Annette turned and ran, her dirty lab coat flying,
her wet shoes slapping against the cement. She had to
get back to the lab, fast.
Time had run out.
TWENTY-ONE
LEON STOPPED TO ADJUST HIS SHOULDER
harness, so Ada walked on ahead, musing over how
surprisingly clear the first few tunnels had been. If
memory served, this corridor let out right next to
sewage treatment ops; past that was the tram to the
factory, and then the machine lift to the underground.
Conditions would probably get worse the closer they
got to the labs, but with the trek as trouble-free as it
had been so far, she was feeling optimistic.
Leon had been uncomfortably quiet since they'd
opened the path into the sewers, only talking when it
was necessary - watch your step, hold up a minute,
which way do you think we should go ... she didn't
think he was even aware of the defenses he'd put up,
but she was getting better at reading him. Officer
Kennedy was brave, he was at least above-average in
the brains department, he was a crack shot and he
didn't know dick about women. When she'd blown off
his attempt to comfort her, she'd confused and hurt
him and now he didn't know how to interact with
her. He'd chosen to withdraw rather than risk another
rejection.
Really, it's for the best. No point in leading him on
when it's not necessary, and it saves me the trouble of
ego-stroking. . .
She stepped into the intersection of the empty hall,
thinking about the easiest place to part company from
her escort...
... and saw the woman, just as she fired.
Bam!
Ada felt chips of concrete spray across her bare
shoulders as she brought the Beretta up, a blur of
emotions and realizations flashing through her in the
instant it took to react. She wouldn't be able to return
fire in time, the woman's next shot would kill her,
anger at herself for being so stupid - and recognition.
Birkin!
She heard the second shot - and then she was hit,
shoved out of the way and falling to the cold floor as
Leon cried out in pain and surprise, his warm bulk
landing on top of her.
Ada took a deep breath, shocked and amazed as she understood what had happened, as Leon rolled off of
her and clutched at his arm. She heard running
footsteps and Leon's harsh panting, and sat up.
Oh, my God. No shit.
He'd taken a bullet. For her.
Ada stumbled to her feet, bending over him.
"Leon!"
He looked up at her, jaw clenched against the pain.
Blood seeped through the fingers of his hand, pressed
to his left armpit.
"I'm ... okay," he gasped, and although his face was pale, his eyes clouded with suffering, she thought he
was probably right. It undoubtedly hurt like a son of a
bitch, but it wouldn't - shouldn't kill him.
It would have killed me, Leon saved my life...
And on the tail of that thought, Annette Birkin.
Still alive.
"That woman," she blurted, the guilt hitting her even as she turned to run. "I have to talk to her." Ada took off, sprinting around the corner and down
the hall, the door at the end standing open. Leon
would live, he would be fine, and if she could catch up
to Annette, this whole goddamn nightmare would be
over. She'd studied the file photos, she knew it was
Birkin's wife and if, by chance, the woman wasn't
carrying a sample, she'd sure as hell know where one
was.
She ran through the door and stopped short of
jumping into yet another water-filled tunnel, pausing
just long enough to listen, to scan the surface of the
rippling murk. No splashing sounds, and there were
still lapping waves to the left...
... and a ladder bolted to the wall, leading up to a
fan shaft.
... goes to operations.
Ada plunged into the water and made for the
ladder. There was a hallway farther along, but it was a
dead end; Annette would surely have opted for es-
cape.
She quickly scaled the metal rungs, refusing to let
herself think about Leon (because he was fine) as she
peered through the shaft and saw that it was clear.
Mrs. Doctor was probably still running, but Ada
wasn't going to walk into another bullet.
Through the shaft, a quick peek past the dead,
massive blades of the vent fan at the far end, and back
down another ladder. The giant two-story chamber
that housed the sewage-treatment machines was emp-
ty of life, as cold and industrial and strewn with
equipment as she'd expected. There was a hydraulic
bridge that spanned the room, raised to the level she'd exited on - which meant that Annette must have
gone down via the west ladder, the only other way out.
Ada flipped through her mental maps as she started
