decision was made.
"Leon, go down, west, and find the cargo room,
past the row of plastic chairs. You'll need the disk,
it's in my ... pouch..."
"Ada, I have it! Cargo disk, right, I have it, I found
it - don't talk, just hold on, let me help you!" He fumbled at the rail, trying to maintain his grip.
Talking was a horrible effort, but she had to finish,
had to tell him before time ran out.
"The code is 345. Get to the elevator, Leon. Take it
down. The subway tunnel leads out. Have to run
full throttle . . . and watch out for Birkin, the G-
carrier, he . . . he's changing by now. Got it?"
Leon nodded, his blazing blue eyes filling her up.
"Live," she said, and it was a good word, a word to go out on. She was tired, and the mission was
wrapped, and Leon would live.
She let go of the railing, and Leon screamed her
name, and the sound of it followed her down into the
dark like a bittersweet good-bye.
TWENTY-NINE
SHERRY WAS SCARED, BUT MR. X WAS DEAD
and he must have been the monster all along, not the
one at the station but the real monster, the one that
had wanted to rip her apart all along...
... but she didn't have time to think about it as
Claire sprinted, jerking her along back the way they'd
come, through the machine room, through the hall
with the crawl space and around a corner...
... and Sherry screamed as a zombie reeled toward
them, a dead white creature made of dusty bone, and
Claire raised her gun and shot...
... bang, and the dry white head caved in, the
moaning dead creature crumpled to the floor, and
then Claire was dragging her over the body and
running for the door at the end of the hall.
It was an elevator, and Sherry collapsed against one
wall after Claire pulled her inside, trying to catch her
breath as Claire punched the controls. After the speed
of their run from Mr. X, the elevator's descent was a
crawl, a softly humming crawl.
"We're gonna make it," Claire gasped, "just a little longer."
Sherry nodded, her heart pounding even harder as
the intercom voice told them that they had four
minutes left to be safe.
Leon felt like he didn't know how to stand up and
walk away. The image of her composed, beautiful face
in the second before she'd let go ... she's gone. Ada's dead.
He reached for the Beretta, fresh grief washing
over him as he picked it up, the weapon still warm
from her touch - and it was too light, too light by
half because it wasn't loaded. There wasn't even a
clip. She'd never meant to hurt him; she'd lied, she'd
lied all along, but she'd never meant to hurt him at
all.
"... are four minutes to reach minimum safe dis-
tance. All remaining personnel should evacuate im-
mediately. Please report to the bottom platform ..."
Four minutes. He had four minutes to get far
enough away to fulfill Ada's last request.
He stood up and turned for the door and stopped,
reaching into his pocket, pulling out the tiny glass
tube full of purple fluid. He knew he didn't have time
to spare, but it only took a second to pull his arm back
and throw the sample as hard as he could, wanting it
as far away from him as possible.
If the laboratory responsible for so much death was
going to burn, let the G-Virus burn with it.
"Yes!"
The elevator door opened and there was a train, a
secret subway train in shining silver. It was silent and
dark, not the powered-up, thrumming machine that
Claire had hoped to see, but it was still the most
beautiful escape vehicle that she'd ever laid eyes on,
hands down.
Sherry holding on to her arm, they ran to the door
at the front of the three-car subway, the bleating
alarms still sounding, echoing through the concrete
tunnel. The woman's bland voice, the voice that
Claire had started to hate long moments ago, in-
formed them that they had three minutes to get to the
minimum safe distance.
They hurried aboard, Claire noticing and not car-
ing that there weren't any seats, just a wide, empty
space for the passengers to stand in. The control
booth was to the left.
"Let's get this show on the road," Claire said, and the bright and radiant look of hope on Sherry's dirty,
tired face made Claire's heart break, just a little.
Oh, baby ...
Claire looked quickly away, hopping up the steps to
the control room, making a silent promise to herself
that if the train didn't work, she'd carry Sherry
through the tunnel herself. Whatever it took to see
that the fragile hope in her eyes wasn't broken.
* * *
The code and the verification disk he'd found in the
operating room opened the door just as Ada had said,
the broad hatch opening into a short hall. With three
minutes left, Leon dashed down the cold corridor,
through another overwide door, a biohazard symbol
emblazoned across the front, and found himself in the
cargo room.
He didn't have time to stop and get a good look, his
focus on getting to the elevator before the recording told him he couldn't possibly get out of the facility
alive. Leon ran to the back of the wide, strangely
red-tinted room, found the controls for the large
warehouse-type elevator, and slapped the button for
down, ready to jump in and go...
... and nothing happened, except that a row of tiny
lights ... perhaps twenty tiny lights over the elevator
door started to flash in descending order. Slowly.
Leon reached forward and slapped the button
again, feeling something like numb disbelief as the
elevator crept down, pausing for what seemed like
minutes between floors, as the alarms blared and the
countdown to the lab's destruction ticked closer and
closer to the end.
"Jesus!" He turned around, feeling like he'd scream if he had to wait much longer...
... and for the first time, got a clear look at the room
he was in. The two tall, wide shelves that ran the
length of the chamber held a very specific kind of
"cargo" and although the half-dozen giant glass
containers that lined each shelf held nothing but clear
red fluid, Leon felt a chill just looking at them. Each
cylinder was large enough to hold a full-grown man,
and it made him wonder what they'd been built for.
Doesn't matter, they're gonna be blown to shit in a
matter of minutes, and so am I if this goddamn thing
doesn't hurry UP...
He turned back to the elevator, almost glad to be
angry, frustrated, to have something to feel besides
loss...
... and the ceiling over the elevator started to shake
and rattle. Leon backed away, pointing his Mag-
num at the solid metal ceiling panel as it crashed
down and out...
... and the monster from the transport lift landed in
front of him, the same demonic creature that had hurt
Ada, that should have killed him...
Birkin?
... and from the way it threw back its strange head
and howled, the vicious, feral sound drowning out the
buzz of the alarms, he could tell it had come to finish
the job.
The subway was ready, it was powered up and
ready to go - except it seemed that the tunnel gate
release had malfunctioned; a console full of green
lights, and a single red dot that insisted the gate
needed to be opened manually.
Two minutes to safe minimum distance.
Won't make it, we'll never make it.
"Stay here," Claire said, and went outside to find the release, praying that it was nothing.
* * *
Leon turned and ran as the monster started walking
toward him, each powerful stride thundering through
the chamber, the echoes of its terrible shriek still
spinning through the room.
Think!
The powerful shotgun hadn't been enough, he had
to hit it someplace vulnerable, the eyes, use the
Magnum...
Leon was back at the door. He spun and fired,
aiming the Magnum at the creature's face...
... except that the face was changing again, the jaw
dropping, falling away as it screamed. Great jagged
spikes of tooth or claw slid out from what was left of
the mouth, from out of the top of its pulsating chest
and as another scream burst out of its mutating throat
Leon saw two new arms unfurl from its sides. The
limbs snapped into place, elbows locking, thick
worms of taloned fingers growing from the tips.
Bam-bam-bam!
The shots grouped tight, blowing into the thin-
stretched skin over its slitted left eye. The monster
roared, this time in pain, and Leon saw shards of bone
and pus-purple fluid splatter out, a small stream of
dark blood obscuring the yellow ball of its eye.
It shook its head back and forth, flinging more
liquid, squatting down on its haunches like a mutant
frog and leapt into the air, springing up and right,
landing on one of the seven-foot-high shelves with an
animal grunt.
Oh shit, how'd it do that.
He couldn't see its eyes, couldn't see anything but
its back as it slumped down, but it was changing
again, he could hear the wet snapping sounds and see
the knobs of spine rising up through the purpled flesh
of its back.
He didn't want to see what it was becoming, but the
elevator hadn't landed yet, and he had two goddamn
minutes.
Leon grabbed another clip and slapped it home,
then fired at what he could see - a shape with six legs,
a shape that no longer looked like anything human.
The shot hit one of its muscular shoulders, and the
creature jumped. Like some wild, spidering beast it
leapt back to the floor, landing a few feet in front of
him. Its chest had become a wall of strange teeth, of
spikes that opened and closed as it panted - and
when it screamed again, the sound was a demon cry,
like nothing he'd ever heard, like the dying screams of
a thousand damned souls.
Leon got two shots off into the cluster of moving
teeth and stumbled away, and beneath the constant
blare of the sirens, he heard the bright and cheery
ping of the elevator's arrival.
Claire ran to the front of the train, looking at the
series of levers and switches set into the tunnel wall,
frowning, finding the red and white handle in less
than ten seconds and slamming it down. She heard
the grating of metal somewhere in front of the train
and turned to run back to the door...
...when she heard metal again - the ripping, tear-
ing sounds of steel being bent and hammered out of
shape, coming from somewhere behind the subway,
from somewhere in the back of the tunnel...
No, no way.
She stared toward the back of the train, past the
metal bars of a closed gate that led back into shad-
ows and heard a sound like bone on concrete, a
grinding heavy noise that repeated, and again.
Footsteps.
Claire ran for the door, knowing that it couldn't be
X, absolutely could not - he was melted, gone, and
they didn't have the G-Virus anymore...
... and she caught a glimpse of movement past the
bars of shadow some thirty feet away. A glimpse of
something tall, wisps of smoke curling through the
darkness - and the bitter, choking stench of some-
thing burned. It stepped out of shadow, stepped
toward the back of the train car, raising charred,
massive fists...
BAM!
... and the car actually rocked, as Claire realized
that it was Mr. X, or what was left of him and that
he was surely a demon straight from hell.
She'd combined the clips on their elevator ride;
eleven rounds left; there was no way it would be
enough, but it was all they had.
Claire raised Irons's gun, wondering if this was the
end.
Leon ran, around the shelf to his right, heading
back for the elevator, and there were galloping, thun-
dering footsteps right behind, he couldn't stop.
Another turn, back through the middle of the
room...
... and he was hit in the back, propelled forward
and down as the beast rammed him, hot, rubbery
flesh slamming him into the floor.
Leon rolled and it was on top of him, its dripping
teeth poised to drive through his skull, its thick legs
pinning him down. The tumor like an eye was still there, opening out of the shoulder, looking at him
and he jammed the barrel of the weapon against
its drooling chin and pulled the trigger, screaming,
emptying the heavy rounds into its thrashing head.
The beast shrieked, flailing, falling sideways off
Leon. In a flash, he was up and running, straight for
the open elevator. The enormous, freakish animal was
still howling as Leon sprinted into the lift and turned,
hitting the control marked down...
... and saw the beast shuddering, changing, scream-
ing, and spitting chunks of bone and flesh and blood
as it also turned and started for the elevator. It picked
up speed with each staggering step, the door closing
slowly, the terrible creature almost flying now...
... and Leon had the shotgun in his hands, pumped
a shot and squeezed. The blast hit its barrel chest,
knocking it back...
... and the door closed, Leon was going down, and
there was only one minute left.
THIRTY
BAM!
Sherry felt the train rock violently all around her.
Claire!
She ran to the door, remembering that Claire said
not to leave and not caring; she didn't know what it
was or what she could do to help, but she couldn't just
stand there...
BAM!
... and the car shifted again, another loud, banging
crash blasting through the stale air, the floor trem-
bling beneath her feet. Sherry reached the door and
hit the open switch, her heart hammering, sweat
dribbling through the dirt on her face.
The door slid open and there was Claire, pointing
her gun at something Sherry couldn't see, something
at the back of the car.
Claire's gaze flickered to her, and her shouted
words quaked with fear and panic.
"Don't come out! Shut the door!"
Sherry reached for the controls and hesitated, terri-
fied for Claire, wanting to see what it was -
- quick look -
- and she darted her head out, just for a second,
searching for the source of Claire's fear, for whatever
was slamming into the train car. A smell like chemi-
cals and burnt meat had filled the dimly lit platform,
coming from...
Sherry screamed when she saw it, when she saw the
tattered, charred monster that was rocking the sub- way, just past a wall of metal bars. She saw its giant
fist pound the steel wall of the train, but it was the
monster's face that she couldn't look away from.
Mr.X.
The skin was burnt away from his face, from his
whole body. Smoke drifted up from the blackened,
melted lump of his skull, but the eyes were still
alive - red and black and steaming with acrid smoke,
but still very much alive.
"Sherry! Do it, now!" Claire screamed, not taking her gaze from the smoking monster, from its terrible,
giant body coated with red, metallic muscle, as red
and burnt as its awful eyes.
Sherry hit the controls, the door closing as Claire
started to fire.
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