there ... it had to be the same one, and if it wasn't,
somebody there would know where the experiments
were taking place.
He had one grenade left. If he could find the under-
ground airport, he'd have no trouble getting inside, and
he could fly anything with wings. He'd radio on the way
for a read on the Umbrella base, and if he couldn't find
a weapon to get her out, he'd use his bare hands.
All that mattered was Claire. And he was on his way.
FOURTEEN
THEY WERE MERE HOURS AWAY.
Two men connected by history, one her enemy, the
other ... Alexia didn't know about the other, not yet, but
knew that he meant to reclaim the girl she'd taken from
the snow machine. Probably the boy, as well. None of
them would be leaving, of course ... but she was looking
forward to the petty intrigues and overblown, self-impor-
tant dramas that their humanity would bring to her home.
She would enjoy the chance to observe their natural ten-
dencies and instincts before forever altering their lives.
She stood in the great hall considering things: possi- ble futures, her next transformation, the structural and
psychological changes her new synthesis would create
in humans, how she should welcome her new guests...
... and it occurred to her that her home, deep beneath the
ice and snow, might be difficult for them to achieve. She
immediately wished for the doors to be opened, for ob-
stacles to be removed ... and she heard and saw and felt
the result in the same instant, existing in a hundred
places at once as locks were broken and walls were
taken down, as debris was pushed aside and apertures
were widened.
She was prepared. Things would move quickly
now ... and what happened in the next hours would, to
a degree, define her choices for some time to come. It
was all still so new, the templates of her new life written
only in sand...
Smiling at her own poetic notions, Alexia went to see
about the first series of injections for the boy.
FIFTEEN
Something was very, very wrong in Umbrella's Antarc-
tica facility, but Chris didn't know what it was.
On the fifth basement level of the dark and deserted
compound, hundreds of feet beneath the snow, Chris
stood in front of what appeared to be a full-blown man-
sion made of white brick. There was a fountain behind
him, potted plants, even a decorative merry-go-round.
He'd been led there, presumably because someone
wanted him to go inside, but he didn't know who or why.
His instincts were telling him to get the hell out, but
he ignored them. He had to, not knowing if he was a
lamb being led to slaughter or if he was being taken to
Claire. Since landing the jet in the roof hangar, he'd
been guided every step of the way - walking into halls
and having doors lock behind him, others opening up in
front of him ... twice, he'd found jewels on the cold ce-
ment floors, pointing him in a particular direction, and
once, after taking a wrong turn, all of the lights had
gone out. They'd come back on when he'd groped his
way back to where he'd gone "wrong."
It had been strange enough just getting to the facility,
passing over me endless miles of gray ice and
snow ... and then seeing it for the first time, rising up
from the blank plains like an illusion...
But to be herded someplace like an animal, shuffled
along without knowing the reason...
Chris was scared, more scared than he wanted to
admit. He'd tried to stop, to look around for weapons or
clues, but everything had been shut off, every door he
tried locked - except for the ones he was supposed to go through, of course. The cameras that had to be watching
his every move were so well hidden that he hadn't seen
even one of them ... but it almost seemed that his shep-
herd knew his mind, knew what signals to give him,
knew how to keep him going. He'd thought initially that
it was Wesker, that it was all some setup to trap him,
but why bother? He could have strangled Chris at the is-
land if he'd wanted to. No, he was being guided for
some other reason, and it seemed he had no choice but
to follow along ... not if he wanted to find Claire.
He took a deep breath and opened the front door of
the mansion, stepping inside.
It was beautiful, as extravagant as the front of the
building had suggested, grand staircase, arched pil-
lars - and strangely familiar, though it took him a mo-
ment to see how, the colors and decorations different. It
was the layout - the same basic layout as the front hall
of the Spencer mansion. It was surreal, but so perfectly
harmonious with all the other weirdness that he didn't
bat an eye.
Chris stood for a moment, waiting, looking around for
another signal - and then he heard what sounded like a
laugh coming from behind the stairs. It was the same
laugh that he'd heard at the Rockfort facility, that woman.
What had she said? Something about wanting to play?
It definitely felt like a game, like he was a character
being moved around for someone else's enjoyment
and it was starting to piss him off. That he was afraid
only made him angrier.
Chris stalked toward the back wall, ready to confront
this woman, to demand some answers,
but when he stepped around one of the decorative pillars, he saw that there was no one there.
"What the hell is this," he muttered, turning -
- and there was Claire. Webbed to the back of the
stairs as if by some giant spider, her eyes closed, her
head hanging limply.
Wesker wasn't surprised to find that parts of the
Antarctic compound had been built to look like parts of
the Spencer estate. The underground extravagance was
an incredible waste, but as he'd noted many times be-
fore, so like Umbrella.
It was all about intrigue for them, back at the begin-
ning. Before it all turned into a bad spy movie.
Oswell Spencer and Edward Ashford had been re-
sponsible for the creation of the T-virus, but it had been
their only real accomplishment; the rest was money
thrown away. Truly, the entire facility - except for the
laboratories, of course - was an expensive joke, set up
by old men and children with little imagination and too much money.
Aware that Alexia was probably watching, Wesker
took his time, moving from level to level, clearing away
a few wandering zombies as he walked. He wasn't car-
rying a weapon, had simply snapped their necks and left
them to asphyxiate. Twice, he was spotted by other crea-
tures, things he'd sensed and not seen, but they hadn't
attacked, perhaps recognizing him as one of their own.
Wesker kept moving, sure that Alexia would find him
when she was ready. He'd landed his jet some distance
from the compound, wanting to be sure that she under-
stood how he was different - that the elements didn't af-
fect him, that he was physically stronger than any five
men put together, with better endurance and sharper
senses. He also wanted her to see that he was respectful
of her space, that he was willing to be patient ... and
that he was extremely determined.
Whenever you want, my sweet, he thought, walking through a cold room corridor on the fifth basement
floor. He'd been through the area already, but knew that
the "mansion" was there, and suspected that she would
want to greet him in high style. It didn't matter to him,
she could drop in on him in a toilet stall for all he cared,
but he thought she was probably as vain and spoiled as
her brother. However powerful and brilliant she was, she
was also a twenty-five-year-old rich girl who had spent
fifteen of those years sleeping.
Rich, beautiful ... playful. She probably didn't even
understand her powers yet, but it wouldn't be long now,
he could feel it. He left the icy stillness of the cold corri-
dor and started for the mansion once again.
Claire woke slowly, her aching body gently supported
by warm hands that lifted and held her. She was laid
down, the cold floor bringing her around, and when she
opened her eyes, she saw her brother. Smiling at her.
"Chris!" She sat up and embraced him, ignoring her sore muscles, so happy to see him that for a moment, she
forgot everything else. It was Chris, it was him, finally!
"Hey, sis," he said, fiercely hugging her back, the fa- miliar sound of his voice making her warm and safe.
She wished it could last forever, after so long!
"Claire ... I think we ought to get out of here, now,"
he said, and she could hear a thread of concern behind
his words that woke her up, that reminded her of all that
had happened. "I don't know exactly what's going on, but I don't think it's safe."
"We have to find Steve," she said, and started to get to her feet, worried. Chris helped her, supporting her while
she steadied herself.
"Who's Steve?"
"A friend," Claire said. "We got away from Rockfort together, and we were about to get away from here,
too, but something ... some kind of creature grabbed
our snowmobile and threw it..."
She looked up at Chris, suddenly more than just wor-
ried. "Before I blacked out, I heard him say my name... he's alive, Chris, we can't leave him..."
"We won't," Chris said firmly, and Claire felt weak with relief. Chris had come, he knew all about Um-
brella, he'd be able to find Steve and take them away...
Laughter. A woman was laughing, a high, cruel
laugh. Chris stepped out from behind the stairs, Claire
following, both of them looking up to the balcony, and
there was the woman, it was...
Alfred?
No, not Alfred. And that meant...
"There really is an Alexia," Claire said softly. Go goddamn figure.
Still laughing, Alexia Ashford turned and walked
away, exiting through a door at the top of the stairs.
"She might know where Steve is," Chris said urgently, even as it occurred to Claire, and then both of them were
running, climbing, Claire quickly outpacing him, ready to
slap the truth out of Alfred's creepy sister...
... and CRASH, behind her, the stairs falling away, Claire rolling to the floor as a huge tentacle smashed
through the balcony, like in the snow cat...
... and then it was gone, retreating through the hole it
had created, leaving a trashed set of side stairs behind.
The main staircase was still whole, but Claire was stuck
on the second floor on a shattered wood island. She'd
have to climb down.
"Claire!"
She crawled to her feet, saw Chris down below, wincing
at some pain in his leg amid the broken wood and plaster.
"Are you okay?" Claire asked, and Chris nodded and then there was a scream, and she felt her blood run
cold.
It came from beyond the door that Alexia had gone
through, and it was Steve, there was no question in
Claire's mind. It was Steve, and he was in pain.
Can't leave Chris, but...
"Chris, it's him," Claire said, looking between her brother and the door, not sure what to do.
"Go, I'll catch up!" Chris called.
"But..."
"Go! I'll be fine, just be careful!"
Terrified, Claire turned and ran, hoping she wasn't
too late.
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