mayor's daughter ... no real sorrow at her passing,
only self-pity and some kind of twisted admiration.
Oh, boy. Oh boy, oh boy, he's not just out of touch
here, he's on a different goddamn planet...
"Please," Irons said softly. "I'd like to be alone now."
He sagged down into his chair, closing his eyes, his
head falling back against the padded back as if in
exhaustion. As simply as that, she'd been dismissed.
And although she had a million questions - many of
which she thought he could provide answers for - she
did think that maybe it was for the best if she just got
the hell away from him, at least for now...
A soft creaking sound, behind her and to the left, so quiet that she wasn't even sure she'd heard it at all.
Claire turned, frowning, and saw that there was a
second door to the office. She hadn't noticed it
before - and that soft, stealthy sound had come from
behind it.
Another zombie? Or maybe somebody hiding. . . ?
She looked back at Irons, and saw that he hadn't
moved. Apparently he hadn't heard anything, and
she'd ceased to exist for him, at least for the moment.
He'd gone back to whatever private world he'd been
in before she stumbled into his office.
So - back the way I came, or do I see what's behind
door number two?
Leon - she needed to find Leon, and she had a
pretty strong feeling that Irons was a creep, whether
he was crazy or not; no great loss that he wasn't up for
joining forces. But if there were other people hiding in
the building, people that she and Leon could help or
who might be able to help them. . .
It would only take a moment to check. With a last
glance at Irons, sagging next to the corpse of the
mayor's daughter and surrounded by his lifeless ani-
mals, Claire walked to the second door, hoping she
wasn't making a mistake.
ELEVEN
SHERRY HAD BEEN HIDING FOR A LONG TIME
in the police station, for what must have been three or
four days, and hadn't seen her mother yet. Not once,
not even when there had still been a lot of people left.
She'd found Mrs. Addison right after she'd gotten
there - one of the teachers from school - but Mrs.
Addison had died. A zombie had eaten her. And not
long after that, Sherry had found a ventilation shaft
that ran over most of the whole building, and had
decided that hiding was safer than staying with the
grownups - because the adults kept dying, and because
there was a monster in the station even worse than the
zombies or the inside-out men, and she was pretty sure
that the monster was looking for her. That was proba-
bly stupid, she didn't think that monsters picked out
just one person to go for, but then again, she'd never
thought that monsters were real, either.
So Sherry had stayed hidden, mostly in the knight
room; there weren't any dead people there, and the
only way to get in - besides the ventilation shaft
behind the suits of armor - was to go down a long hall
guarded by a giant tiger. The tiger was stuffed, but it
was still scary and Sherry thought that maybe the
tiger would scare away the monster. Part of her knew that that was dumb, but it made her feel better anyway.
Since the zombies had taken over everything in the
police station, she'd spent a lot of time sleeping.
When she was asleep, she didn't have to think about
what might have happened to her parents or worry
about what was going to happen to her. The air shaft
was pretty warm, and she had plenty to eat from the
candy machine downstairs, but she was scared, and
even worse than being scared was being lonely, so
mostly she'd just slept.
She'd been asleep, warm and curled up behind the
knights, when she'd been awakened by a tremendous
crash somewhere outside. She was sure it was the
monster; she'd only caught a glimpse of it once before,
of the giant's broad and terrible back, through a steel
grate, but she'd heard it screaming and howling
through the building many times since then. She knew
that it was terrible, terrible and violent and hungry.
Sometimes it disappeared for hours at a time, letting
her hope that it had given up, but it always came
back, and no matter where Sherry was, it always
seemed to appear somewhere close by.
The loud noise that had ripped her from her
dreamless sleep was like the sound a monster would
make tearing the walls down, and she'd huddled in
her hiding place, ready to dart back into the shaft if
the sound came any closer. It didn't. For a long time
she didn't move, waiting with her eyes squeezed shut,
holding on to her good luck charm - a beautiful gold
pendant that her mother had given her only last week,
so big that it filled up her whole hand. As it had
before, the charm worked; the loud, terrible noise
hadn't been repeated. Or maybe the big tiger had kept
the monster from finding her. Either way, when she'd
heard gentle thumping sounds in the office, she'd felt
safe enough to creep out of the case and go out into
the hall to listen. The zombies and inside-out men
couldn't use doors, and if it was the monster, it would
have come for her already, clawing down doors and
screaming for blood.
It has to be a person. Maybe Mom ...
Halfway down the hall, where it turned right, she'd
heard people talking in the office and felt a burst of
hope and loneliness mixed together. She couldn't tell
what they were saying, but it was the first time she'd
heard anybody who wasn't yelling for maybe two
days. And if there were people talking, maybe it was
because help had finally come to Raccoon.
The army or the government or the Marines, maybe
all of them . . .
Excited, she hurried down the hall and was next to the big snarling tiger, right by the door, when her
excitement faltered. The voices had stopped. Sherry
stood very still, suddenly anxious. If people had come
to Raccoon to help, wouldn't she have heard the
planes and trucks? Wouldn't there be shooting and
bombs and men with loudspeakers telling everybody
to come out?
Maybe those voices aren't army people at all; maybe
those voices are Bad People. Crazy, like that one
man...
Not long after Sherry had gone into hiding, she'd
seen a terrible thing through a grating that led into a
locker room. A tall man with red hair had been in the
room, talking to himself and rocking back and forth
in a chair. At first, Sherry had thought about asking
him for help, to find her parents, but something
about the way he was talking and giggling and gently
swaying back and forth made her wary, so she'd
watched him for a while from the safe darkness of the
air shaft. He'd been holding a big knife. And after a
long time, still laughing and mumbling and rocking,
he'd stabbed himself in the stomach. Sherry had been
more scared by that man than by the zombies, be-
cause it didn't make sense. He'd been crazy, and he'd
killed himself and she'd crawled away, crying because
it just didn't make any sense.
She didn't want to meet anyone else like that. And
even if the people in the office were okay, they might
take her away from her safe place and try to protect
her - and that would mean her death, because the
monster surely wasn't afraid of adults.
It felt awful to turn away, but there was no other
choice. Sherry started back for the armor room...
Creak!
... and froze as the floor shifted underfoot. The
sound of the creaking board seemed incredibly loud
and she held her breath, clutching her pendant and
praying that the door wouldn't come flying open
behind her, that some crazy wouldn't charge in and...
... and get her.
She didn't hear anything, but felt sure that the
pounding of her heart would give her away, it was so
loud. After a full ten seconds, she carefully started
back down the hall, stepping as lightly as she could,
feeling like she was creeping out of a cave filled with
sleeping snakes. The hall back to the armor room
seemed like it was a mile long, and she had to use all
of her willpower not to run once she reached the
turn, but if there was one thing she'd learned from
the movies and TV, it was that running from danger
always meant a horrible death.
When she finally reached the entrance back to the
armor room, she felt like she might just collapse from
relief. She was safe again, she could snuggle back into
the old blanket that Mrs. Addison had found for her
and just...
The door from the office opened, opened and
closed. And a second later, there were footsteps.
Coming for her.
Sherry flew into the armor room, no longer think-
ing about anything at all in the bright and trembling
crush of panic that swept through her. She sprinted
past the three knights, forgetting her safe place be-
cause all she knew was that she had to get away, get as
far away as possible. There was a dark, tiny chamber
past the glass case in the middle of the room and
darkness was what she needed, a shadow to disappear
into...
... and she could hear the running footsteps some-
where behind her, pounding over wood as she hurtled
into the dark room and into the farthest corner.
Sherry crouched down between the dusty brick of the
room's fireplace and the padded chair beside it and
tried to make herself as small as possible, hugging her
knees and hiding her face.
Please please please don't come in, don't see me, I'm
not here...
The running footsteps had come into the armor
room and were slow now, hesitant, moving around
the big glass case in the middle. Sherry thought of her
safe place, the mouth of the ventilation shaft that
could have taken her away, and struggled to hold back
hot tears of self-condemnation. The fireplace room
had no escape; she was trapped.
Each hollow, thumping step brought the stranger
closer to the dark room in which Sherry hid. She
scrunched herself tighter, making promises that she
would do anything, anything at all if only the stranger
would go away...
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Suddenly, the room flashed into blinding bright-
ness, the soft click of the light switch lost beneath
Sherry's terrified cry. She pushed away from her
corner and ran, screaming and unseeing, hoping to get
past the stranger and back to the air shaft...
... and a warm hand grabbed her arm, tight, keeping
her from going one more step. She screamed again,
jerking as hard as she could, but the stranger was
strong...
"Wait!" It was a lady, the voice almost as frantic as Sherry's hammering heart.
"Let me go," Sherry wailed, but the lady was still holding on, even pulling her closer.
"Easy, easy - I'm not a zombie, take it easy, it's
okay..."
The woman's voice had turned soothing, the words
crooned gently, the hand on Sherry's wrist warm and
strong. The sweet, musical voice repeated the gentle
words again and again.
"... easy, it's okay, I'm not going to hurt you, you're
safe now."
Sherry finally looked at the lady, and saw how
pretty she was, how her eyes were soft with concern
and sympathy. And just like that, Sherry stopped
trying to get away and felt the hot tears trickle down
her face, tears that she'd been holding back ever since
she'd seen the red-haired man commit suicide. She
instinctively hugged the young, pretty stranger and
the lady hugged her back, her slender arms tight
across Sherry's trembling shoulders.
Sherry cried for a couple of minutes, letting the
woman stroke her hair and whisper soothing words to
her - and at last, she felt like the worst was over. As
much as she wanted to crawl into the lady's arms and
forget all of her fears, to believe that she was safe, she
knew better. And besides, she wasn't a baby anymore;
she'd turned twelve last month.
With an effort, Sherry stepped away from the
woman and wiped her eyes, looking up into her pretty
face. The woman wasn't that old, maybe only twenty
or so, and was dressed really cool - boots and cutoff
pink denim shorts and a matching vest with no
sleeves. She wore her shiny brown hair in a ponytail,
and when she smiled, she looked like a movie star.
The woman crouched down right in front of
her, still smiling gently. "My name's Claire. What's yours?"
Sherry felt shy suddenly, embarrassed for running
and then trying to get away from such a nice lady. Her
parents had often told her that she acted like an
emotional baby, that she was "too imaginative" for
her own good, and here was proof; Claire wasn't going
to hurt her, she could tell.
"Sherry Birkin," she said, and smiled at Claire, hoping that Claire wasn't mad at her; she didn't look
mad. In fact, she looked pleased with Sherry's answer.
"Do you know where your parents are?" Claire asked, in the same sweet tone.
"They work at the Umbrella chemical plant, just
outside of town," Sherry said.
"Chemical plant... then what are you doing
here?"
"My mom called, and told me to go to the police station. She said it was too dangerous to stay at
home."
Claire nodded. "From the look of things, she was probably right. But it's dangerous here, as well. . ."
Claire frowned thoughtfully, then smiled again.
"You'd better come with me."
Sherry felt a cold knot tighten in her stomach, and
shook her head, wondering how to explain to Claire
that it wasn't a good idea, that it was a very bad idea.
She wanted more than anything not to be alone
anymore, but it just wasn't safe.
If I go with her and the monster finds us. . .
Claire would be killed. And although Claire was
thin, Sherry was pretty sure that she wouldn't be able
to fit in the ventilation shaft.
"There's something out there," she said finally. "I saw it, it's bigger than the zombies. And it's coming
after me."
Claire shook her head, opening her mouth to say
something, probably to try and talk her into changing
her mind, when a terrible, furious sound filled the
room, echoing in violent waves from somewhere in
the building. Somewhere close.
"Rrraaahh..."
Sherry felt her blood turn to ice. Claire's eyes went
wide, her skin paling.
"What was that?"
Sherry backed away, breathless, in her mind al-
ready running for the safe place behind the three suits
of armor.
"That's what I was telling you," she gasped out, and before Claire could stop her, she turned and ran.
"Sherry!"
Sherry ignored the shouted plea, sprinting past the
glass exhibit case for the safety of the air shaft. She
leapt nimbly over the knight's pedestal and dropped
to her hands and knees, ducking her head and scram-
bling into the ancient stone hole set into the base of
the wall.
Her only chance, Claire's only chance, was for
Sherry to get as far away from her as possible. Maybe
they would find each other again when the monster
had gone.
As Sherry crawled quickly through the tight and
winding darkness, she hoped it wasn't already too
late.
TWELVE
ADA SAT ON THE EDGE OF THE CLUTTERED
desk in the office of the Chief of Detectives, resting
her aching feet and staring blankly at the empty steel
safe in the corner. Her patience was wearing thin. Not
only was the G-Virus sample nowhere to be found,
she was starting to think that Bertolucci had flown the
coop. She'd gone through the break room, the
S.T.A.R.S. office, the library - in fact, she was pretty
sure she'd covered just about everywhere the reporter
would have had easy access to, and had used two full
