would be a pity, but if you must, you must."
They didn't seem to have a smart reply to that. No
one spoke, although Reston could still hear the trou-
bled gasps coming from Cole through the intercom.
He'd grown tired of goading them anyway; the surface
teams would be putting a call in to control soon, and
he really should be there.
"If you gentlemen will excuse me," he said. "I have other business to attend to - like releasing our pets
into their new homes. Rest assured, though, I'll be
watching your debut; try to make it through at least
two of the phases, if you can."
Reston stepped away from the window to the con-
trol panel on the left, and punched in the activation
code. One of the men started shouting that they
wouldn't go through with it, that he couldn't make
them...
... and then Reston hit the large green button, the
one that simultaneously opened the hatch into One
and released a spray of tear gas into the small ante-
room from vents in the high ceiling. He stepped back
to the window, interested to see how effective the
process was.
Within seconds, a white haze came pouring down
from above, obscuring the three men. Reston heard
shouts and coughing, and a second later he heard the
hatch lock down, which meant they were through.
The pressure plates in the floor thus unencumbered,
there was a low hiss as the ventilation system kicked
on, clearing the room of mist in under a minute.
Nice. He'd have to remember to commend which-
ever designer had recommended it.
"I'll make a note," Reston said to no one in
particular. He smoothed his lapels and turned to walk
back to control, excited to see how well the men
would fare against the newest additions to the Um-
brella family.
ELEVEN
COLE HAD NO CHOICE BUT TO STUMBLE
after the killers, choking and nauseous, his heart sick
with dread and hate. He'd been abandoned to death
by Reston, the man had even encouraged the assassins
to kill him - he no longer knew if they even were
assassins, he didn't know who the "stars" were sup-
posed to be - he didn't know anything except that his
eyes were burning and he couldn't breathe.
At least make it fast, let it be fast and painless. . .
Through the hatch into One, the door snapping
closed behind him. Cole fell back against the cool
metal, struggling to catch his breath, gummy tears
leaking from beneath his closed lids. He didn't want to
see them pull the trigger, he'd rather not have to suffer
suspense before he died; dying was plenty enough.
Maybe they'll just leave me here.
The small hope that the thought brought him was
stamped out immediately as a big, rough hand latched
on to his arm and shook him.
"Hey, wake up!"
Cole reluctantly opened his watering eyes, blinking
rapidly. The big black guy was staring down at him,
looking mad enough to start hitting. His rifle was pointed at Cole's chest.
"Want to explain what the hell this place is?"
Cole shrank against the door. His voice came out in
a stammer. "Phase One. F-forest."
The man rolled his eyes. "Yeah, forest, I got that. Why, though?"
Jesus, he's huge! The guy had muscles on his mus- cles. Cole shook his head, sure that he was about to be
severely beaten but not sure what the man was asking.
The other one took a step toward the two of them,
looking more upset than angry. "John, Reston screwed him over, too. What's your name again? Henry?"
Cole nodded, desperate not to piss anyone off.
"Yeah, Henry Cole, Reston told me you were here to
kill him and he told me to stand in there, he was just
going to lock you guys up, swear to God I didn't know
he was gonna do this..."
"Slow down," the smaller man said. "I'm Leon Kennedy, this is John Andrews. We didn't come here
to kill Reston..."
"Shoulda, though," John rumbled, looking around them.
Leon went on as if he hadn't spoken. "... or anyone else. We just wanted something Reston is supposed to
have, that's all. Now - what can you tell us about this
test program?"
Cole swallowed, wiping at the water on his face.
Leon seemed sincere...
... and what are your options here? You can get shot,
get left behind, or work with these guys. They've got
guns, and Reston said the test specimens were designed
to fight people and oh shit how'd I wind up in this mess?
Cole looked around at One, amazed at how different
it seemed now that he was locked in, how - menacing.
The towering artificial trees, the plastic underbrush
and fallen synthetic logs - with the subdued lighting
and humidified air, the dark walls and painted ceiling,
it almost felt like a real forest at twilight.
"I don't know a whole lot," Cole said, looking at Leon. "There are four phases - woods, desert, moun- tains, city. They're all big, each one's like two football
fields, side by side, I forgot the exact measurements.
Word is that they're supposed to be suitable habitats
for these hybrid test animals; they're even gonna stock
them with live food, mice and rabbits and such.
Umbrella's testing out some kind of disease-control
thing, and the test animals are supposed to have
similar circulatory systems to humans, something like
that, it'll make good study material..."
He trailed off, noticing the look that the two men
exchanged when he'd started talking about the test creatures.
You really believe that, Henry?" John asked, not looking pissed anymore, his expression neutral.
"I..." Cole said, then closed his mouth, thinking. About the incredible pay and the don't-ask policy.
About the questions from whoever was supervising on
any given job...
"Are you happy working here? Do you feel that
you're getting paid enough?"
... and about the prison cells ... and the restraints.
"No," he said, and felt a rush of shame at his
deliberate ignorance. He should have known, would
have known if he'd had the guts to take a closer look.
"No, I don't. Not anymore."
Both men nodded, and Cole was relieved to see John
alter the position of the gun slightly, pointing it away.
"So do you know how to get out of here?" John asked.
Cole nodded. "Yeah, sure. All of the phases have connecting doors, in alternating corners. They're
all latched shut, no keys or anything - except for
the last one, Four, it's bolted on the outside."
"So the door we'll want is that way?" Leon asked, pointing southwest. They were in the northeast cor-
ner. From where they stood, the far wall wasn't even
visible, the fake woods were so dense. Cole knew
there was at least one decent-sized clearing, but it
would still be a hike to get through.
Cole nodded.
"Can you tell us about these test animals? What do
they look like?" John asked.
"I never saw 'em, I was just here to do the wiring -
- cams and conduits, like that." He looked between the two men hopefully. "But how bad could they be, right?"
The expressions on their faces weren't encouraging.
Cole started to ask what they could tell him when a
loud, metallic clattering filled the moist air, like a giant
gate being raised. It came from the back, the west wall,
where Cole knew the animal pens were kept
and a second later, a shrill, piercing shriek cut
through the air, a long and warbling note that was
quickly joined by another, and another, and then too
many to tell apart.
There was a beating sound, too, so huge that for a
moment, Cole couldn't place it - and when he did, he
felt a little like screaming.
Wings. The sound of gigantic wings beating the air.
They were fifteen feet off the ground, atop a double
row of wooden crates in one corner of the warehouse. Even the slightest movement made them sway a little,
which made Claire deeply uneasy.
Not enough that John and Leon are gone, or that
we're hiding from a bunch of Umbrella goons. No, we
have to be stuck on Mount Precarious in a pitch-black
icebox. One of us sneezes too hard and we all go down.
"This sucks," she whispered, as much to break the tense silence as to vent. The helicopter noise had
stopped, but they hadn't heard anyone outside yet
either.
She was surprised to feel Rebecca's body quaking
next to hers, and to hear a muffled giggle; the young
biochemist was trying to suppress it, and wasn't
having an easy time. Claire grinned, absurdly pleased.
A few seconds passed, and Rebecca managed to say,
"Yes. You're so right," and then they were both choking back laughter. The boxes teetered gently.
"Please," David said, sounding edgy. He was on top of the second stack of crates, on Rebecca's other side.
Claire and Rebecca quieted down, and again a
waiting silence fell over them. They were in the
northeast corner, both on their stomachs, handguns
pointed toward the wall across from them in the
general direction of the other door. David said there
were two; he was facing south, covering the one they'd
entered by.
The tension-breaking giggle fit had relaxed Claire a
little. She was still cold, still afraid for Leon and John,
but their situation didn't seem so terrible. Bad, defi-
nitely, but she'd been in much worse circumstances.
In Raccoon, I was on my own. There was Sherry to
watch out for, we had Mr. X on our trail, we had a
shitload of zombies to wade through and were totally
lost. At least now I have some idea of what we're up
against; even an army of gun-toting creeps isn 't as bad
as not knowing what's what...
Outside of the warehouse, a noise. Someone was
pulling at the door that she and Rebecca were cover-
ing; a quick, rattling shake and then silence again -
- except Claire thought she heard footsteps now, pad-
ding against the ground outside.
Checking doors. And if David's lock-rigging isn't
convincing, or they happen to look closely. . .
At least it was David covering them; he was amaz-
ing, cool and efficient, and with as quick a mind as
she'd ever encountered. It was like he knew just what
to do - instantly, no matter what happened. Even
now - David had said that they'd probably be doing a
straight-across sweep, starting at one end or the other
and checking each building in teams.
Military strategist, no kidding. Claire ran over what he'd told them again, not so much a plan as a what-if
list. But still, just having something to concentrate on
was a relief.
If only one team comes in, three or less, we stay
quiet, don't move until they leave, head to the door
across from where they entered and wait. When we
hear them on the other side, we head out and run for
the fence. If they come in and spot us, we shoot; we pick
off the others one at a time as they come through the
door, then climb down, then run.
If there are two or more teams, wait 'til David throws
the grenade and then shoot; same if they've got night-
vision, the grenade'll blind 'em. If they manage to return
fire, we climb down the back, use the crates as cover...
The other variables disappeared as she heard the
other door being shaken. Shaken and then kicked
0 Comments