Resident Evil Volume 4 Chapter 12


 I could edit the tapes together, have something to

show my visitors after the tour - and won't Sidney be

undone when Jackson sees what I've accomplished,

how I've handled things. I'll be the golden child for a

change...

Reston stood up from the console, still grinning,

nervous but hopeful. He'd have to hurry, and he'd

have to use all his acting skills with Cole; not a

problem, considering that he'd spent thirty years of

his life developing them, honing them... Before

joining Umbrella, he'd been a diplomat.

It would work. They wanted Reston; he'd give him

to them.

 

NINE

COLE WAS POKING IDLY THROUGH A BOX OF

bipolar transistors, thinking that he was an idiot; he

should be sleeping. It had to be close to midnight,

he'd been breaking his ass all day for Mr. Blue, and

he'd have to drag said ass out of bed in another six

hours to do the same. He was tired and sick to death

of being picked on just because the last happy asshole

to go through the Planet with a toolbox had done

everything wrong.

It's not my fault, he thought sullenly, that the

dumbass didn't connect the leads on the MOSFETs

before he installed 'em. And his outdoor conduits are

crappy, he didn't figure on the Planet's inductive

load ... incompetent jerkoff...

Maybe he was being harsh, but he wasn't feeling

particularly forgiving after the day he'd had. Mr. Blue

had distinctly told him to get to the surface cams

first - and then chased him down and insisted he'd

told him to take care of the intercom system first.

Cole knew he was full of shit - along with everyone

else working at the Planet - but Reston was one of the

top guys, a real heavy-hitter, when he said jump, you

jumped, and there was never a question of who was

right. Cole had only worked for Umbrella for a year,

but he'd made more money in that year than he had

in the five before combined; he was not gonna be the

one to piss off Mr. Blue (so-called because of his

perpetual blue suit) and get himself canned.

You sure about that? After all you've seen in the last

few weeks?

Cole put the box of transistors down and rubbed at

his eyes; they felt hot and itchy. He hadn't been sleeping all that well since coming to work at the

Planet. It wasn't that he was some bleeding-heart

type, he didn't give much of a shit what Umbrella

wanted to do with their money. But...

... but it's hard to feel good about this place. It's bad

news. It's a freak show.

In his year with Umbrella, he'd wired a chem lab on

the west coast for power, installed a bunch of new

circuit breakers for a think tank on the other coast,

and generally done a lot of maintenance work wher-

ever they shipped him. Incredible pay, not too hard,

and the people he usually worked with were decent

enough - mostly blue-collar types doing the same

kind of stuff he was doing. And all he had to do out-

side of the work was promise not to talk about

whatever he saw; he'd signed a contract to that effect

when he'd first hired on, and had never had a problem

with it. But then, he'd never seen the Planet.

When Umbrella called you out on a job, they didn't

explain anything. It was just, "fix that," and you fixed

it and got paid. Even within the working crews,

discussions about the job site's purpose were heavily

discouraged. Word got around, though, and Cole

knew enough about the Planet to think that he maybe

didn't want to work for Umbrella anymore.

There were the creatures, for one thing, the test

animals. He hadn't actually seen them, or the thing

they were calling Fossil, the frozen freak, but he'd

heard them, a couple of times. Once, in the middle of

the night, a screeching, howling sound that had

chilled him to the bone, a sound like a bird, scream-

ing. And then there was the day in Phase Two,

realigning one of the video cameras, when he'd heard

a strange chattering sound, like nails being tapped on

hollow wood, but the sound was animal, too. Alive.

He'd heard that they were specially created for Um-

brella, some kind of genetic hybrids that would be

better for studying, but hybrids of what? All of the

creatures had bizarre and unpleasant nicknames, too.

He'd heard the "research" guys talking about them on

more than one occasion.

Dacs. Scorps. Spitters. Hunters. Sound like a fun

bunch - for a horror movie.

Cole crawled to his feet, stretching his tired mus-

cles, still thinking unhappy thoughts. There was Res-

ton, of course; the guy was a grade-A tyrant, and of

the worst kind - the kind with a lot of power and not

a lot of patience. Cole was used to working with

managerial types, but Mr. Blue was way too high on

the food chain for his comfort zone. The man was

intimidating as all hell.

But that's not the worst, is it?

He sighed, looking around at the dozen cells that

lined the room, six on either side. No, the worst was

right in front of him. Each cell had a cot, a toilet, a

sink - and restraining straps on the walls and at-

tached to the beds. And the cell block was less than

twenty feet from the "foyer" of the first environment

where the doors had locks on the outside.

After this one, I do some serious thinking about my

priorities; I've got enough saved to take a break, get

some perspective. . .

Cole sighed again. That was fine, for later. For now,

though, he had to try and catch some sleep. He turned

and walked to the door, slapping the lights off as he

opened it...

... and there was Reston. Hurrying around the

corner where the main corridor turned toward the

elevators, looking extremely upset.

Oh, hell, what now?

Reston saw him and practically ran to him, his blue

suit uncharacteristically rumpled, his pale gaze dart-

ing left and right.

"Henry," he gasped, and stopped in front of him, breathing hard. "Thank God. You have to help me. There are two men, assassins, they broke in and

they're here to kill me, and I need your help."

Cole was as much taken aback by his demeanor as

by what he said; he'd never seen Blue with a hair out

of place, or without that small, smug smile that was

the sole property of the incredibly wealthy.

"I ... what?"

Reston took a deep breath, blowing it out slowly.

"I'm sorry. I just - the Planet has been invaded; there

are two men here, looking for me. They mean to kill

me, Henry. I recognize them from a thwarted attempt

on my life not six months ago; they've posted a man

on the surface by the door, and I'm trapped, they'll

find me and..."

He broke off, gasping, and was he trying not to cry?

Cole stared at him, thinking he called me Henry.

"Why are they trying to kill you?" He asked.

"I was the chair for a hostile takeover last year, a

packaging company - the man we bought out was

unstable, he swore he'd get me. And now they're here,

right now they're locking up everyone in the cafe-

teria - but they're only after me. I've called for help

but they won't get here in time. Please, Henry will

you help me? I ... I'll make it worth your while, I

promise you. You'll never have to work again, your

children will never have to work..."

The open plea in Reston's eyes was disconcerting; it stopped Cole from mentioning that he didn't have

any children. The man was terrified, his lined face

quivering, his silver-shot hair sticking up in tufts.

Even without the monetary offer, Cole would have

offered to help.

Maybe.

"What do you want me to do?"

Reston half-smiled in relief, actually reaching out

to grasp Cole's arm. "Thank you, Henry. Thank you, I ... I'm not sure. If you could - they only want me, so

if you could distract them somehow..."

He frowned, his lips trembling, then looked past

Cole to the small room that marked the entrance to

the environments. "That room! It has a lock on the outside, and opens into One - if you could lure them

to you, slip into One ... I could lock them inside,

lock down the entire room as soon as you were out.

You could go straight through to Four and out to the

medical area, I'd unlock it for you as soon as they're

trapped."

Cole nodded uncertainly. It should work, except...

"Won't they know I'm not you? I mean, they'll have

a picture of you or something, won't they?"

"They won't be able to tell. They'll only see you for

a second, when they come around the corner, and

then you'll be gone. As soon as they get inside, I'll hit

the controls - I can hide in the cell block."

Reston's pale eyes were swimming, overbright with

unshed tears. The guy was desperate - and as plans

went, it wasn't a bad one.

"Yeah, okay," he said, and the look of gratitude on the older man's face was almost heartwarming.

Almost. If he were a decent human being it would be.

"You won't regret this, Henry," Reston said, and Cole nodded, not sure what else to say.

"You'll be fine, Mr. Reston," he said finally, un- comfortably. "Don't worry."

"I'm sure you're right, Henry," Reston said, and turned, and walked into the dark cell block without

another word.

Cole stood there for a second, then shrugged in-

wardly and started for the little room, nervous but

also a little peeved. Mr. Blue was scared, but he was

still pretty much an asshole.

No "Don't you worry either, Henry," or, "Be care-

ful." Not even a "Good luck, hope they don't shoot you

by mistake."

He shook his head, stepping into the small room. At

least if he helped out the big Blue he'd probably be

able to sleep in, maybe even quit the Planet and

Umbrella for good. God knew he needed the rest; he'd been having a hell of a time sleeping...

Rebecca found the camera, at least. A lens no bigger

than a quarter was hidden in the southwest corner,

just an inch from the ceiling. She'd called David over

and he'd covered it with his hand, wishing that he'd

done a more thorough check before leading his team

inside. He'd been stupid, and John and Leon were

almost certainly gone because of it.

Claire had found a roll of tape in her diggings,

though little else. David taped the hole over, wonder-

ing what they were going to do. It was cold, so cold

that he didn't know how much longer their reflexes

would still be good. The codes weren't working, the

sealed entrance would take more than they had to

open it up, and two of his team were somewhere

in the facility below, perhaps wounded, perhaps

dying...

... or infected. Infected like Steve and Karen were infected, suffering, losing their humanity...

"Stop it," Rebecca said to him, and he stepped down from the table they'd pushed to the corner, half

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