neath her shaking hand...
... and the train was moving, sliding away from the
platform, away from the indestructible un-man and
into the black.
Annette sat in the staff bunk room on level four,
waiting for the mainframe to respond to the power-up
and debating whether or not to initiate the P-Epsilon
sequence. Once the fail-safe system was triggered, all
of the connecting corridor doors would unlock, and
those doors that were electronically powered would
open. The creatures that had been trapped these last
days would be free to roam, and most of them would
be hungry...
... hungry and hot, bleeding pure virus from their
clotted flesh ...
She didn't want to run into any unpleasantness
upon her departure, but as the first lines of code
spilled across the screen, she decided against running
the sequence. The P-Epsilon gas was an experiment
anyway, something a couple of the microbiologist
techs had worked up to appease the Umbrella
damage-control staff. If it worked, it would knock out
the Re3s and all of the human carriers that had been
infected by the initial airborne - the first wave - en-
suring her a safer trip to the escape transport tunnel;
but the spies were coming, and Annette didn't want to
make things easy for them. She'd heard the lift being
recalled as she'd stumbled her way to the synthesis
lab - which was fine, great, they'd be just in time for
the finale, and she wanted them fighting for their
lives as she sped away from the facility, away from
the brilliant explosion that would consume the
multibillion-dollar facility...
... and it'll burn, it'll all burn and I'll be free of this
nightmare. Endgame and I win. Umbrella loses, once
and for all, the sneaking, murdering animal bas-
tards...
She felt good, awake and aware and in very little
pain; she'd meant to go straight to the nearest com-
puter outlet upon her return to activate the fail-safe
even before collecting the sample, but she'd barely
been able to see straight as she'd stumbled off the lift;
she'd been afraid of forgetting something - or worse,
of falling and being unable to get up again. A trip to
the meds locker in the synthesis lab had fixed all that;
already, the terrible pain was a distant memory, along
with the bizarre, deluded thought processes that had
made it so hard to concentrate. When her little
cocktail shot wore off, she'd pay for the temporary
reprieve, but for the next couple of hours, at least, she
was as good - she was better - than new.
Epinephrine, endorphin, amphetamine, oh my!
Annette knew she was high, that she shouldn't
overestimate her abilities, but why shouldn't she feel
happy? She grinned at the small computer in front of
her and started to tap in the codes, her fingers flying
over the keys, feeling like her teeth would crack as the
synthetic adrenaline pounded through her dilated
veins. She'd made it back to the lab, William had
come back, and the sample, the very last viable G-
Virus sample in the facility, was tucked into her
pocket. She'd hidden it in one of the fuse cases before
she'd gone looking for William, and picked it up on
the way to the staff room...
... 76E, 43L, 17A, fail-safe time... 20, vocal
warning/power cut, 10, personal authorization,
...Birkin...
... and that was it. Annette couldn't stop grinning,
didn't want to stop as she lightly stroked the "enter"
key, the triumph a hot and liquid joy spinning
through her numb and tattered flesh. One touch, and
there was nothing on earth that could stop it. In ten
minutes, the taped warnings would start to run, and
the transport lift would shut down, cutting the facility
off from the surface; in fifteen, the audio would begin
the countdown - five minutes to reach the minimum
safe distance by train, another five and...
Boom. Twenty minutes before the explosion. More
than enough time to get to the tunnel and power up the
train, no matter what is loosed; enough time to speed
away from the ticking dock, beneath the city streets,
through the isolated foothills at the outskirts of Rac-
coon. Enough time to get to the end of the track, walk
out into the private plot of land, turn around and see Umbrella lose it all.
As the clock ticked to zero, the plastique fail-safe
charges in the laboratory's central power core would
be activated. Even if all but one of the twelve explo-
sive packets failed, that one blast would be enough to
set off the secondary charges that were built into the
walls themselves; Umbrella's fail-safe system had
been designed to take it all down. The lab would
become an inferno, blasting up into the dead city,
visible for miles and she'd be there to see it, to
know that she'd done what she could to make things
right.
This is for you, William. . .
The thought was bittersweet... for some time,
they hadn't enjoyed their relationship as husband
and wife. William was so brilliant, so devoted to the
work, that the pleasures of synthesis and development
had taken the place of the perks of married life. She
had come to recognize his genius, to learn the joy of
supporting him without the nuisance of relationship
struggles, but now, her finger resting on the end to it
all, she found herself suddenly wishing very much
that there had been more between them in the last few
years, more than her adoration for his incredible gifts,
his appreciation of her assistance...
This is our last kiss, my love. This is my contribution
to the work, my final loving act for what we shared.
Yes, that was right, that was the feeling. Annette
pressed the key, her heart singing, and saw the locked
code flash across the monitor in glowing green.
"I respectfully tender my resignation," she said softly, and started to laugh.
TWENTY-FIVE
THE DARK SLID PAST THE MOVING PLAT-
form, metal darkness bathed in murky orange light,
and whatever had punched through the wall of the
transport was gone. Leon had edged his way around
the enclosed room twice, and seen nothing at all,
heard nothing but the smooth hum of the working
motors.
When the creature finally howled from the shadows
atop the roof, and Leon snapped the shotgun up, what
he saw actually made him freeze. In the second it took
him to really see it, his vengeful fury blew away like so
much dust, replaced by an absolute bone-chilling awe.
Holy shit...
The thing was still shrieking, its head thrown back,
the brutal, gurgling scream like the voice of hell in the
moving dark. It had been a man, once - arms and legs, shreds of clothing still hanging from its hulking
body - but everything human about it had changed,
was still changing as it bellowed its rage into the cold
black, and Leon could only stare.
Its body was swollen and rippling with strange
muscles, the bare chest puffed and bloated with its
endless scream. Its right arm was six inches longer
than the left, the stained bone claws jutting from the
pulsing hand. And the bulbous moving tumor in its
right bicep looked like nothing so much as an eyeball
the size of a dinner plate, jerking wetly from side to
side as if searching...
... and the scream was changing, too, getting deep-
er, rougher, the shaggy face falling forward and
melting into its chest. Like hot wax, like a movie
effect, the creature's head flowed into its upper body,
disappearing smoothly into the inflamed and greedy
skin...
... and at the same time, another face was forming,
growing, rising up from the back of its neck with a
horrible snapping sound, like fingers being broken.
Slitted eyes cracked open, a bony red hole of a mouth
forming, taking up the furious cry with a new voice...
... and Leon squeezed the trigger in denial, a denial
of the monster's unholy existence.
Boom!
The shot hit its chest, and a thick, purplish blood
sprayed out, cutting off the creature's scream, but
that was all it did. The monster's new face angled
toward Leon, the domed head tilting...
... and it hopped down onto the platform, landing
in a half-crouch on legs as big around as Leon's chest.
It took one jumping, crooked step forward and was
close enough for Leon to smell the strange, chemical
musk that poured from its glistening skin and see
that the wound on its chest had stopped bleeding, that
the strange flesh was eating the tiny holes.
The creature raised its mighty claw and Leon
stumbled backwards, pumping another round and
firing as the talons came down...
shhink!
... and sparks flew up from the metal rail as the shot
blasted into the creature's stomach, more purplish
fluid spattering from its body. The almost point-blank
range of the heavy round barely fazed the towering
monster. It took another step, and Leon backed away,
pumping another roun...
... and he tripped on the steps that led up to the
transport room, tripped and fell on his ass, the round
going high over the creature's bullet-shaped head.
One more step and it would be on him - - I'm dead -
- except it didn't take the step. Instead, it turned
toward the railing, its bizarre head tilting, the pits of
its rudimentary nostrils flaring...
... and silently, almost gracefully, it leapt over the
edge of the platform, out into the passing darkness.
For a moment, Leon didn't move. He couldn't, he
was too busy trying to understand that the monster
hadn't killed him. It had smelled or sensed some-
thing, it had broken off the attack that it most
certainly would have won and had jumped off the
moving transport.
I'm not dead. It's gone, and I'm not dead.
Why, he didn't know, and couldn't begin to guess.
Accepting that he was alive was enough and a short
time later, maybe no more than a few seconds, his
knotted thoughts and senses told him that the trans-
port was slowing down, that the shaft was getting
lighter, the blackness washing to gray.
Leon crawled to his feet and went to check on Ada.
Sherry had heard the monster from far away, from
somewhere deep in the giant hole, and felt even more
scared than she had when the giant - Mr. X, Claire
called him - had come into the train station. Claire
had said it probably wasn't even the monster, that it
was most likely some machine problem, but Sherry
wasn't convinced. The sound was so distant and
strange that it could have been something else. .
... but what if it isn't? What if Claire's wrong?
They stood outside a warehouse in the chill of the
dark, stood over the big hole in the ground and waited
for the mechanical noises to stop. The almost-full
moon was low in the sky, and Sherry could tell by the
deep blue light of the horizon that it was very early in
the morning; she didn't feel tired, though. She felt
scared and anxious, and even with Claire holding her
hand she didn't want to go down into the black hole
where the monster could be.
After what seemed like a long time, the humming
noise of the machinery stopped, and Claire stepped
back from the hole - “The transport shaft,” she said and turned back toward the warehouse.
"Let's go see if we can recall the ... Sherry?"
Sherry hadn't moved to follow her. She stared
down into the hole, holding her charm and wishing
that she was brave like Claire, but she wasn't, she
knew she wasn't, and she didn't want to go down into
the dark.
I can't, I can't go down there, I'm NOT like Claire
and I don't care if that's where my mom went, I don't
care at all...
Sherry felt warmth across her back and looked up,
startled, to see that Claire had taken off her vest and
was slipping it over her shoulders.
"I want you to have this," Claire said, and in spite of her fear, Sherry felt a sudden rush of confused
happiness.
"But ... why? It's yours, and you'll get cold..."
Claire ignored her for a minute, helping her put it
on. It was too big for her and it had some dirt on it,
but it was the coolest thing Sherry thought she'd ever
worn.
For me. She wants me to have it.
Claire knelt in front of her, now wearing only a thin
black T-shirt and shorts. She looked at her very
seriously, pulling the vest closed over Sherry's chest.
"I want you to have it because I can tell that you're
scared," she said firmly, "and I've had it for a long time, and when I wear it, I feel like I can kick ass. Like
nothing can stop me. My brother has a leather jacket
with the same design on the back, and he kicks ass,
but he got the idea from me."
She smiled suddenly, a tired, warm smile that made
Sherry forget about the monster, just for a minute.
"So now it's yours, and every time you wear it, I
want you to remember that I think you are the best
twelve-year-old who ever walked."
Sherry smiled back, hugging the faded pink denim
to her body. "And it's a bribe, huh?"
Claire nodded without hesitation. "Yes. And it's a bribe. So what do you say?"
Sighing, Sherry reached for her hand, and they
walked back into the warehouse to find the controls
for the elevator.
Ada woke up as Leon set her gently on a creaking
cot, woke up with a pounding headache and a pain in
her side. Her first thought was that she'd been shot,
but as she opened her eyes, and Leon's worried, pale
face swam into focus, she remembered.
He was going to kiss me, I think ... and then...
"What happened?"
Leon reached down and brushed her hair off of her
forehead, smiling a little. "A monster happened. The same one that got Bertolucci, I think. It put its hand
through the wall of the transport and knocked you
over. You hit your head, after it clawed you."
Virus!
Ada struggled to sit up, to look at the wound, but
the headache knocked her back. She reached up and
carefully touched the throbbing spot just over her left
temple, wincing at the feel of the sticky lump.
"Hey, just stay put," Leon said. "The wound isn't too bad, but you took a pretty serious knock..."
Ada closed her eyes, trying to collect herself. If
she'd been infected, there wasn't anything she could
do about it now - and really, what an irony that
would be - if it was Birkin who'd stabbed her and he
was still hot, she'd end up collecting a G-Virus sample
in an extremely personal way.
Deep breath, keep it together. You're not in the
transport anymore, what does that tell you?
"Where are we?" she asked, opening her eyes. Leon shook his head. "I'm not sure. Like you said, it's an underground lab or factory of some kind. The
transport is just outside. I brought you to the closest
room."
Ada turned her aching head enough to see the small
windows, over a cluttered counter, looking out into
the transport bay.
Gotta be fourth level, where the lift stops...
The main synthesis lab was on the fifth level.
Leon was staring down at her so sincerely, his
bright blue gaze so achingly tender, that for just a few
seconds, Ada thought about aborting the mission.
They could go down to the escape tunnel together,
they could hop on the train and get out of the city.
They could run away, run far, far away...
... and then what? Call Trent and tell him that you'll
offer a refund? Sure. Then maybe you can meet Leon's
parents, get a ring, buy a little white house with a
picket fence, have a couple of kids ... you could take
up crochet, and rub his feet when he comes home from
a hard day busting drunks and making traffic stops.
Happily ever after...
Ada closed her eyes again, unable to look at him as
she spoke.
"My head hurts pretty bad, Leon, and the tunnel I
saw, on that map - I don't know where it is, ex-
actly."
"I'll find it," he said softly. "I'll find it, and then I'll come back for you. Don't worry about anything,
