ploded. In a blast of curled steel and igniting gases,
the creature's head was obliterated, disappearing like
a popped balloon. Almost simultaneously, a wave of
steaming gore hit Leon, bits of tooth and bone and
shredded, smoking flesh clapping over him like a
thick wet blanket.
Gagging, his ears ringing and arm bleeding, Leon
sat up as the headless carcass settled to the floor, the
legs crumpling beneath the brainless weight of the
reptilian monster. He pressed his blood-covered hand
against the wound, exhausted, sick, in pain and as
deeply satisfied as he'd felt in quite some time.
"Gotcha, you dumb shit," he said, and smiled.
When Ada came jogging up the corridor a moment
later, that's how she found him staring at his handi-
work in dazed and dizzy triumph, bloody and bleed-
ing and grinning like a little kid.
TWENTY-THREE
LEON WAS WEARING A WHITE UNDERSHIRT
beneath his uniform; Ada tore it into strips and
bandaged his arm with it, fashioning a kind of sling
for him to wear once she'd slipped his ruined shirt
back on. He'd lost enough blood to be dazed, almost
helpless, and Ada used his mild shock to explain
herself as she tended to him, feeling mildly shocked
herself by the complex emotions that warred inside of
her.
"... and I thought she looked familiar. I thought
I'd met her through John, and I almost caught up to
her, but she must have slipped past me. I got lost in
the tunnels, trying to find my way back..."
Nothing of truth, but Leon didn't seem to notice,
just as he didn't seem to notice the gentle, careful way
she touched him, or the very slight tremor in her
voice as she apologized for a third time, for leaving
him behind.
He saved my life. Again. And all I have to give him in
return are lies, calculated deceit in exchange for his
selflessness...
Something had changed for her when he'd taken the
bullet instead of her, and she didn't know how to
change it back. Even worse, she didn't know that she
wanted to change it back. It was like the birth of a new
feeling, some emotion that she couldn't name but that
seemed to fill her up; it was unsettling, uncomfort-
able - and yet somehow, not altogether unpleasant.
His clever solution to the problem of the nearly
invincible crocodile - the creature that she'd only
just been able to hold at bay, in spite of her best
efforts - had made the unnamed feeling even stron-
ger. The hole in his arm was only a flesh wound, but
from the streaks of fresh blood across his smooth
chest and stomach, she knew that it had been hurting
bad - draining him, killing him as he'd worked to
save her ass.
Get rid of him now, her mind hissed, leave him,
don't let this affect the job - the job, Ada, the mission.
Your life.
She knew it was what she had to do, that it was the
only thing to do, but when he was fixed up as best as
she could manage, and her pathetic cover story had
been told, she conveniently forgot to listen to herself.
Ada helped him to his feet and led him away from the
gut-splattered scene of the monster reptile's demise,
spouting off some nonsense about having found what
looked like an exit when she'd been lost.
Annette Birkin was gone; as soon as Leon had led
the crocodile out of the dump, she'd scaled the ladder
and checked - and seen that Annette had retained
enough sense to start up the fans and lower the bridge
before running, effectively blowing Ada's other op-
tions for escape. The woman was possibly psychotic,
but not a moron - and although she'd been wrong
about Ada's source of purpose, she'd been dead on as
to the purpose itself. To wrap the mission, Ada would
have to get to the lab as quickly as she could, before
Annette could do anything ... final - and Leon, si-
lent and stumbling Leon, would add to her time by
half.
Drop him! Lose the weight, you're not a nursemaid,
for Chrissake, this isn't you, Ada...
"I'm thirsty," Leon whispered, his breath warm across her neck. She looked up into his gore-stained,
blinking face and found that the voice inside was
easier to ignore this time. She'd have to leave him, of
course, in the end there would have to be a parting of
the ways ... but not yet.
"Then we'll have to find you some water," she said, and steered him gently in the direction she needed
to go.
Sherry woke up in the dark, a terrible, bitter taste in
her mouth, a river of cold gunk tugging at her clothes.
There was a rumbling sound all around her, a sound
like the sky was falling, and for a second, she couldn't
remember what had happened or where she was -
- and when she realized that she couldn't move, she
panicked. The thundering sound was fading, fading
and then gone, but she was stuck in some awful
stinking river, pressed against cold, wet hardness, and
she was alone.
She opened her mouth to scream - and then re-
membered the screaming monster, the monster and
then the giant bald man, and then Claire. Remember-
ing Claire stopped her from screaming; somehow, the
image of her was like a soothing touch, easing through
the blind terror and allowing her to think.
Got sucked into a drain hole, and now I'm ... some-
where else, and screaming won't help.
It was a brave thought, a strong thought, and it
made her feel better to think it. She pushed herself
away from the hardness at her back, treading the dark
water, and discovered that she wasn't stuck at all; she
had been up against a row of bars or openings in the
rock, and the force of the current had held her there,
held her, and probably saved her from drowning. The
disgusting goop was flowing around her, tinkling and
burbling like a regular old stream, not nearly as strong
as before - and the bad taste in her mouth meant that
she must have swallowed some of it...
Thinking that opened up the rest of her memory.
She'd been floating along and then had gotten twisted
somehow, and had gulped some of the horrible,
chemical-tasting liquid and freaked out - passed out,
she thought.
At least the noise had stopped, whatever that had
been, a sound like a moving train, maybe, or a giant
truck, roaring away ... and now that she was more
awake, she realized that she could see. Not very much,
but enough to know that she was in a big room filled
with water, and there was a tiny, feeble shaft of light
coming down from high above.
There has to be a way out. Somebody built this
place, they had to have a way out. . .
Sherry swam a little farther into the big room, and
kicking, she felt the toes of her shoes glance off against
something hard. Something hard and flat. Feeling
stupid for not thinking of it already, she took a deep
breath, lowered her legs and stood up. The water
was all the way up to her shoulders, but she could
stand.
The last traces of panic slipped away as she stood in
the middle of the room, turning slowly, her eyes
finally getting the most from the weak light and saw
the ladder shape against the far wall. She was still
scared, no question, but the sight of the shadowy
rungs meant she'd found the way out. Sherry lifted
her feet and paddled toward the ladder, proud of how
she was handling herself.
No screaming, no crying. Just like Claire said.
Strong.
She reached the ladder and pulled her knees up to
the bottom rung, a few inches above the surface. She
got her feet beneath her and started to climb, grimac-
ing at the thick, slimy feel of the metal bars beneath
her pruned fingers. The ladder seemed to go on
forever, and when she risked a look down to see how
high she'd gone, she could only see a tiny, shimmering
patch of the water's lapping top where the light hit it
directly. She could see the source of the light, too - a
narrow slit in the ceiling, not much higher than where
she was.
Almost to the top. And if I fall, I won't get hurt.
There's nothing to be scared of.
Sherry swallowed heavily, willing the thought to be
true, and looked up again.
A few more rungs, and when she reached up for the
next, her hand touched a bumpy metal ceiling. She
felt a burst of accomplishment, pushing at it with one
hand - and it didn't move. Not at all.
"Shit," she whispered, but it didn't sound annoyed, the way she'd hoped; the word sounded small and
lonely, almost like a plea.
Sherry hooked an elbow through the rung she was
holding, touched her pendant for luck, and tried
again, really pushing this time. Straining with all of
her might, she thought she felt it give, just a little,
but not anywhere near enough. She lowered her hand,
cursing silently this time; she was trapped.
For several minutes she didn't move, not wanting to
go back down into the water, not wanting to believe
that she really was stuck, but her arms were getting
tired, and she didn't want to jump, either. Finally, she
started down, much more slowly than she'd come up.
Each step lower was like admitting defeat.
She was perhaps a third of the way back to the
water when she heard the footsteps overhead - a light
thumping at first, more of a vibration than anything,
but then quickly redefined into separate steps, getting
louder. Then closer and getting louder still, ap-
proaching the top of the pit where she'd awakened.
Sherry gave about a second's thought to ignoring the footsteps and then scrambled up the ladder,
deciding that it was worth the risk; it might not be
Claire, or even anyone who meant her well, but it
could be her only chance at escape.
She started shouting before she got back to the top.
"Hello! Help, can you hear me? Hello, hello!"
The footsteps seemed to pause, and as she reached
the ceiling again, still calling out, she hit the metal
several times with her fist.
"Hello, hello, hello!"
Another smack with her decidedly sore hand and
suddenly she was hitting air, and a blinding light was
in her face.
"Sherry! Oh, my God, sweetie, I'm so glad you're
okay!"
Claire, it was Claire, and Sherry couldn't see her
but was nearly overwhelmed with delight at the sound
of her voice. Strong, warm hands helped her up,
warm, damp arms were hugging her tightly. Sherry
blinked and squinted, and started to be able to make
out the features of a vast room through the brilliant
white haze.
"How did you know it was me?" Claire asked, still holding her.
"Didn't. But I couldn't get out by myself, and I
heard walking. . ."
Sherry looked around at the big room that Claire
had pulled her into, feeling stunned amazement that
Claire had heard her at all. The room was huge,
spanned by a series of thin metal catwalks laid out in
diagonals and the section of floor that she'd come
out of was at the farthest corner of the darkest part of
the room, the panel that Claire had lifted only a
couple of feet across.
Man. If I hadn 't knocked, or if she'd been going any
faster...
"I'm very glad it's you," Sherry said firmly, and Claire grinned, looking just as happy and amazed as
Sherry felt.
Claire knelt in front of her, her smile fading a little.
"Sherry - I saw your mom. She's okay, she's alive..."
"Where? Where is she?" Sherry blurted, excited by the news, but feeling a kind of nervous uncertainty
tensing her muscles suddenly, making it hard to
breathe.
She looked into Claire's worried gray eyes, and saw
that she was thinking about lying again - that she was
trying to figure out the best way to tell her something
unpleasant. Even a few hours ago, Sherry might have
let her do it, too...
... but not anymore. Strong and brave we have to be...
"Tell me, Claire. Tell me the truth."
Claire sighed, shaking her head. "I don't know where she went. She was scared of me, Sherry. I
think she thought I was someone else, someone bad or
crazy. She ran away from me, but I'm pretty sure she
came this way, and I was trying to find her again when
I heard you calling."
Sherry nodded slowly, struggling to accept the idea
that her mother had been acting weird - weird
enough for Claire to try and sugar-coat it.
"And you think she came in here?" Sherry asked finally.
"I can't be positive. I also ran into this cop, Leon,
before I saw your mother; I met him when I first got to
the city, and he was in one of the tunnels I went
through after you disappeared. He was hurt, he
couldn't come with me to look for you - so after your
mom took off, I went back to get him, but he was
gone."
"Dead?"
Claire shook her head. "Nope. Just gone - so I backtracked, and as far as I can tell, this is the only
way your mom could have gone. But like I said, I'm
not sure. . ."
She hesitated, frowning, gazing at Sherry thought-
fully. "Did your mom ever tell you about something called the G-Virus?"
"G-Virus? I don't think so."
"Did she ever give you anything to hold onto, like a
little glass container, something like that?"
Sherry frowned back at her. "No, nothing. Why?" Claire stood up, putting her hand on Sherry's
shoulder and shrugging at the same time. "It's not really important."
Sherry narrowed her eyes, and Claire smiled again.
"Really. Come on, let's see if we can figure out where
your mom went. I bet she's looking for you."
Sherry let Claire lead the way, wondering why she
was suddenly sure - almost certain, in fact - that
Claire didn't believe what she was saying. . . and
wondering why she couldn't find it in herself to ask
any more questions about it.
The factory machine lift, like the tram, was exactly
where Annette had left it. The margin had surely
tightened, but she was still ahead of the spies, of Ada
Wong and her ragged little friend ...
... lies, telling me lies like they all tell lies, as if
losing William, suffering such pain and loss isn't
enough to shame them...
She fumbled the control key out of her torn lab coat
pocket, leaning heavily against the mounted controls
as she inserted the key and turned it. Her shaking
fingers touched the activation switch and a trail of
lights appeared on the console, too bright even in the
moon-filled darkness. Cool autumn air brushed over
her aching body, a friendly, secret wind that smelled
like fire and disease ...
... like Halloween, like bonfires in the dark when
they brought out their dead, burning the pestilent flesh
of the plague-riddled bodies...
Four squealing, blaring honks sounded into the
night sky, the massive elevator room telling her that it
was time to go. Annette staggered up the gray and
yellow steps, unable to remember what she'd been
thinking about before. It was time to go, and she was
so, so tired. How long had it been since she'd slept?
She couldn't remember that, either.
Hit my head, yes? Or just sleepy, may haps...
She'd been exhausted before, but the relentless pain
of her injuries had sent her to some delirious place
that she'd never imagined could exist. Her thoughts
came in spiraling, uneasy bursts of feeling that she
couldn't seem to sort through, at least not to her
satisfaction; she knew what had to be done - the
triggering system, the subway gate opening, the hiding
in the shadows and waiting to heal, but the rest had
become some strange, disjointed grouping of free
association, as if she'd taken some drug that had
overloaded her senses, and would only let her think a
bit at a time.
It was almost over. That was something she could
hold on to, one of the only constants in her muddled
mind. A positive and somehow magical phrase that
she could still see, no matter how blind she became
