explosions, the sounds hitting a second later - a series
of deep, thundering booms that quickly grew distant,
dropping off as Steve gently raised them up.
As the cargo plane took to the air, giant billows of
black smoke rose into the early dawn, casting shadows
over the disintegrating compound. Flames were catch-
ing everywhere, and though she didn't know the exact
layout of what she was looking at, she thought she saw
the Ashfords' private home being gutted by fire, an im-
mense orange light rising up behind what was left of the
mansion. There were still structures standing, but im-
mense pieces of them were suddenly missing, blown
into rubble and dust.
Claire took a deep breath and let it out slowly, feeling
knotted muscles begin to unclench. It was all over. An-
other Umbrella facility lost, because of the scientific in-
tegrity they continued to violate, because of a moral
vacuum that seemed to be an elemental component of
the company's policies. She hoped the tortured, twisted
soul of Alfred Ashford had finally found some kind of
peace ... or whatever it was he truly deserved.
"So, where to?" Steve asked casually, and drawn back from her wandering thoughts, Claire turned away from
the side window, grinning, ready to kiss the pilot.
Steve caught her gaze with his, also grinning - and as
they looked into each other's eyes, the seconds stretch-
ing, it occurred to her for the first time that he wasn't
just a kid. No kid would look at her the way he was
looking at her now ... and in spite of her firm decision
not to encourage him, she didn't look away. He was a
good-looking guy, definitely, but she'd spent most of the
last twelve hours thinking of him as an obnoxious kid
brother - not exactly easy to get past, even if she wanted
to. On the other hand, after what they'd been through to-
gether, she also felt very close to him in a way that was
solid, strong, an affection that seemed perfectly natural
and...
Claire broke the eye contact first, looking away. They'd
been free and safe for all of a minute and a half; she
wanted to digest that for a little while before moving on.
Steve returned his attention to the controls, looking a
little flushed and there was another thump on the roof,
like back in the hanger.
"What is that?" Claire asked, looking up as though she actually expected to see something through the metal.
"No idea," Steve said, frowning. "There's nothing up there, so..."
CRUUNCH!
The plane seemed to bob in the air and Steve hurried
to compensate, as Claire instinctively looked behind
them. The destructive sound had come from the hold.
"The main cargo hatch came open," Steve said, tap- ping at a small flashing light on the console, punching
another button. "I can't get it to close."
"I'll check it out," Claire said, and at Steve's unhappy expression, she smiled. "You just keep us in the air, okay? I promise not to jump."
She turned toward the hold, and as soon as Steve looked
away, she casually grabbed the rifle hanging off the back
of the copilot's chair, the one Alfred had dropped. She still
had the semi, but the laser sight on the rifle meant pinpoint
accuracy and since she didn't want to shoot the plane
full of holes, the .22 was a better choice. There had been a
monster or two on the island, and maybe they'd ended up
with a stowaway, but she didn't want Steve to worry, or
get involved. They both needed him at the controls.
Whatever it is, I'll have to take care of it, she thought grimly, reaching for the door handle. Really, she was
probably overreacting to some minor malfunction, a
loose roof panel and a broken hinge. She opened the
door...
... and leaped inside, slamming it behind her before
Steve could hear the noise, so much for minor... The entire rear of the hold was gone, the hatch torn
away, clouds and sky whipping past at incredible speed.
Confused, Claire took a single step forward - and saw
what the problem was.
Mr. X, she thought wildly, remembering the mon- strous thing in Raccoon, the relentless pursuer in the
long, dark coat, but the hulking creature straddling the
hydraulic track wasn't the same. It was humanoid,
giant-sized and hairless like the X monster, its flesh
similar, an almost metallic dark gray - but it was also
taller and more muscular, built like an eight-foot-tall
bodybuilder, its shoulders impossibly broad, its ab-
domen rippled with muscle. It was sexless, a rounded
hump at its groin, and the hands weren't human hands,
were far more lethal. Its left fist was a metal-spiked
mace bigger than her entire head, its right hand a hybrid
of flesh and curving knives, two of them at least a foot
long.
And it's not wearing a coat, she thought randomly, as the monster turned its cataract-white eyes to look at her
before throwing its head back and roaring, an explosive
howl of bloodlust and fury.
Terrified but determined, Claire raised her suddenly
pathetic weapon as the creature started for her, and put
the red dot on its right unicolor eye. She squeezed the trigger...
... and heard the dry click of an empty chamber, deaf-
eningly loud even over the raging winds that spun past
the damaged plane.
NINE
THERE WASN'T A CURSE WORD STRONG ENOUGH
to accurately express her dismay. Claire instantly
dropped the useless weapon and ran, dodging to the
right, not wanting to end up trapped in the corner, unable
to believe that she hadn't thought to check the goddamn
weapon. There were six or seven crates stacked against
the wall near the cockpit door but no cover there, on ei-
ther side; the thing would have her penned in.
Go go go!
As she scurried along the right wall, the lumbering
creature slowly turning to follow, she grabbed the
semi from under her belt and flicked the safety off by
feel, afraid to look away from it. It stumped toward
her on tree trunk legs, eerily focused on her every
step.
The cargo hold wasn't all that big, maybe thirty-five
feet long and twelve wide. Too soon, she was at the rear
of the plane, icy air suddenly pulling at her, working to
suck her out into the clouds. Crouching, trying not to
think about a misstep, Claire darted across the open
space and reached the other wall, grabbing at a raised
ridge of metal with trembling fingers.
The creature was still almost twenty feet away. Claire
held onto the wall, waiting for it to draw closer before
running again. At least it was slow, there was that much,
but she had to come up with something, she couldn't
keep going around in circles.
She was watching the creature, could see it clearly...
... but what happened next was like some optical illusion. It
dropped its silvery head slightly -
- and was suddenly five feet away, the distance
closed in a fraction of a second, and it was bringing its
right arm down, parting the air with an audible whoosh,
knives flashing...
Claire didn't think, she moved, her stomach suddenly
in her throat, her own action a blur to herself. For a split
second she was only a body, ducking and sprinting...
... and then she was on the other side of the plane, all the
way up by the stacked crates, looking back as the crea-
ture slowly, slowly turned.
Aw, shit on this! The plane would survive a few holes. She opened fire, sent eight 9mm rounds in a tight group-
ing right at the center of its chest - and all of them hit.
She saw the black-rimmed holes open up near where its heart would be if it was human, no blood but moist, dark
tissue was exposed, forming spongy lumps around the
wounds. The creature stopped in its tracks - and started
again in about two seconds, one slow step after another,
its focus unchanged.
A stab of panic hit her, gotta get out of here it's going to kill me, get Steve, another gun maybe...
No, she couldn't, and it wouldn't help, it would only
make things worse. Mr. X had been programmed for a
single purpose, to obtain a virus sample; she suspected
that this creature was after her specifically, and if she
left the hold, the creature would just tear through the
hatch, killing her and Steve. At least this way, he might
have a chance. And 9mm was the heaviest firepower on
board - if it could take eight rounds in the chest, another
gun wasn't going to make a difference.
Try for a head shot, like the one-armed monster.
She could try, but she had the feeling that something
that didn't bleed probably wouldn't go blind, either. Its
eyes were strange, perhaps they weren't even used for
sight ... and there was also the fact that they were on a
moving plane, one that shook and wavered; without a
scope, how was she supposed to target, let alone hit?
All that passed through her mind in about a second
and then she was moving again, edging toward the back
of the plane once more - afraid to run, afraid to stand
still, wondering how long she had before it ran at her
again and what she would do then...
... and it lowered its head like it had done before, and
again, Claire's body reacted, but an idea was forming,
too. She pushed away from the wall and ran toward it,
angling her path, if this doesn't work I'm dead... ... and she felt the chill of its strange flesh as it rock-
eted past her, was so close that she could smell its rotten
meat smell - and then they were on opposite ends of the
open space and it was slowly, mechanically turning
around. It had worked, but barely; if it had been an inch
closer, if she'd been a half step slower, it would already
be over.
Guns didn't work, she couldn't leave, so the creature
had to go, but how? The air stream at the hold's open
end was strong, but if she could duck past it, no way it
would nab the weighty monstrosity ... she had to knock
it off-balance, maybe bait it to the opening and trip it up
somehow, she wasn't strong enough to push it...
Think, damnit! It was starting toward her again, one step, two. She looked away long enough to scan the
floor near the opening, looking for something it might
stumble over, maybe the hydraulic track...
The hydraulic track.
Used to push heavy crates to the rear of the plane, to be unloaded. In fact, two of the empty crates were sit-
ting on the metal platform at the start of the track, just a
few steps from the door to the cockpit. The controls
were set into the outer wall, right in front of the door.
Too slow, there's no way. Except it was slow because it carried a heavy load; if there was only an empty con-
tainer or two on the platform, how fast would it go then?
She had to get to the controls, had to see...
There was a blur of movement, and then the spiked
mace was coining around, ripping toward the side of her
head. Claire jumped forward, instinctively sidestepped,
but not quite fast enough. The spikes didn't get her but
its powerful forearm did, bashing painfully into her ear,
knocking her off her feet.
Instantly, the creature crouched and brought its right
arm down, but she was already in motion, rolling the sec-
ond she hit the floor. The hand blades hit the deck and
sparks flew, the creature howling in rage as Claire sprang
to her feet, trying not to notice her throbbing ear or the
tiny black dots that swarmed at the edges of her vision.
She ran for the hydraulic controls instead, as the creature
rose to its feet, its movements mechanical again, as emo-
tionless as it had been furious only seconds before.
A few running steps and she was looking down at a
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