by S. D. Perry
Bambambambambam!
Most of the noise was swallowed up by the roar of the helicopter. Even in the darkness, Rebecca could see the line of holes, the concentration of them near the handle. David stepped forward and gave the door a hard kick, then a second—and it flew inward, a gaping black hole in the wall.
The searchlight was moving back through the compound, the helicopter’s swollen belly passing almost directly overhead as it shone its beam down on the other side of the first building, the thunder of its engine and billowing clouds of dust making Rebecca feel as though Death were approaching; not death but Death, some fabled beast of merciless power and relentless intention…
David turned and grabbed her and Claire both, pushing them firmly toward the open door. As soon as they were through, he motioned for them to stop and to wait. David pulled his handgun and jogged across the open space, standing close to the second building’s door, angling his body and—
—BAM, the nine-millimeter round, louder than the rifle’s .223s but still almost lost, as the helicopter started its sweep up their row and the door blasted inward and David leapt through the opening, just as the blinding light illuminated the ground between them. A half-second later and he would have been caught in the light. The spent casings from David’s weapons were thankfully lost in the furor, spinning clouds of dust whipping up and over them and making it hard to breathe. She turned, saw that Claire had tucked her face down into her black sweatshirt, and followed suit. The cold, thick air was filtered through the fleece, and in spite of the deafening noise, Rebecca could hear her heartbeat in her ears, rapid and afraid.
A second later, the light was past; a second after that the dust seemed to be settling, it was hard to tell in the black; the sudden absence of light meant their eyes would have to readjust—
“Are you alright?”
Rebecca jumped as David practically screamed in her face, just a shadow in front of her. Claire let out a little shriek.
“Sorry!” David called. “Come on! Other building!”
Barely able to see, Rebecca stumbled outside, Claire right next to her. David came up behind them, touching their backs, guiding them toward the second building. The ’copter was still moving away from them, north to south, but it would run out of things to look at very soon—and then they’d land and come looking. That the helicopter was from Umbrella was a given; the only question was how many had come, and whether or not they were to be captured first or just killed outright.
As they fell through the door to the second building, it dawned on Rebecca what David had done. The Umbrella thugs would see the first bullet-blasted door and assume that their quarry was hiding there.
And he only shot through the keyhole of this one. They’ll see it eventually, but it buys us a little more time…
She hoped. The darkness was almost as cold as outside and smelled like dust. A low light flickered on, David hooding his flashlight with one hand, just enough for them to see that they were surrounded by boxes. Big ones, small ones, cardboard and wood, stacked on shelves and on the floor all the way up to the slanted ceiling. In the brief second that David shone the light across the mammoth room, they saw that there had to be thousands of them.
“I’m going to see what I can do about the door and cut the lights,” David said. “Find us a place to hide. It’s our best option until we know how many there are, what scenario they’re employing. They might have spook eyes, the floor’s no good—somewhere high up and in a corner. Shelves would be best. Got it?”
They both nodded and the light went out, leaving them in a complete darkness; before, she could at least make out shapes and shadows. Now, Rebecca couldn’t see her hand in front of her face.
“Which corner?” Claire whispered, as if the chill black nothing they stood in demanded silence.
Rebecca reached out and found Claire’s hand, placing it against her back. “Left. We go left until we run into something.”
She heard a whisper of movement behind them, as David went about his preparations. Taking a deep breath, Rebecca put her hands out in front of her and started to edge forward.
* * *
Every door off of the lengthy corridor was locked, with the exception of a utility closet past the elevator; there, they found absolutely nothing of interest, unless shelves of paper towels and styrene coffee cups were interesting. They’d tried the elevator again, with no luck, and there didn’t seem to be a fuse box or override switch anywhere near it. Not surprising, but Leon still felt a pang of distress. The other three were probably really worried…
…and you’re not? What if something went wrong up there? Maybe the “test” part of this place is above-ground. And maybe Reston unleashed some of Umbrella’s warrior specimens up there, and right now Claire is—
“What say if we run across one more locked door, we use up our grenades? I’ve got two of ’em,” John said, looking irritated. They’d just tried the ninth door in the silent hall, and were almost to the northernmost curve. For all they knew, they’d already passed Reston, or the passage that would lead them to him.
“Let’s at least see what’s around the corner before we start blowing things up,” Leon said, though he was also losing patience. It wasn’t that he’d mind damaging some Umbrella property, but that just wasn’t the priority—reuniting the team was. They’d already decided that if they didn’t find him soon, they’d go back to the cafeteria and try to get one of the workers to fix the elevator, and to hell with Reston; the mission would be a bust, but at least they’d all be alive to fight another day.
Assuming we’re all still alive now…
They reached the corner and paused, John raising the M-16 and lowering his voice. “I’ll cover?”
Leon nodded, moving closer to the inner wall. “On three. One… two… three—”
He took a running step away from the wall, dropping into a crouch and pointing his semi down the west leg of the corridor as John whipped the rifle around the corner. The hall was a lot shorter, no more than sixty feet, dead-ending in an open, doorless room. There was a door on the left—
—and somebody moved across the opening at the end of the hall, the darting shape of a man.
Reston.
Leon saw him, a thin guy, not too tall, wearing jeans and a blue work shirt. Mr. Blue, just like they said…
“Hold it!” John shouted, and Reston turned, startled—and weaponless. He saw the M-16 and jumped away from the double-wide opening, maybe heading for an exit—
—and Leon ran, pumping his arms for speed, John quickly passing him in a full-on sprint. They were inside the room in a flash and there was Reston, pushing desperately at a door on the right. He threw a terrified glance over his shoulder as they barreled into the room, his eyes wide with panic.
“It won’t open!” He screamed, his voice on the edge of hysteria. “Open the door!”
Who’s he talking to?
“Give it up, Reston,” John growled—
—and behind them, a metal sheet crashed down over the opening, shutting them into the room with a brutal, heavy clang. Leon looked down, saw that the floor was plate steel—and felt the first stab of unease.
Reston spun around, his hands in the air, his narrow features contorted with fear. “I’m not him, not Reston,” he babbled, his pale face slick with sweat—
—and behind them, a face appeared at the window in the metal door, distorted by the thick plexiglass but obviously grinning. An older man, dressed in a dark blue suit.
Oh, no—
The man looked away for a moment, one hand reaching up to touch something Leon couldn’t see— and a smooth, cultured voice floated into the room from a speaker in the ceiling.
“Sorry, Henry,” the man said, his moving face warped by the glass. “And allow me to introduce myself. I’m Jay Reston. And whoever you are, I’m very glad to meet you. Welcome to the Planet’s test program.”
Leon looked at John, who was still pointing his rifle at the near hy
sterical Henry. John looked back at him, and Leon could see the awareness dawning in his dark eyes, even as it dawned on him.
They were in extremely deep shit.
* * *
Yes!
Reston laughed giddily. The gunmen were trapped, and the three on the surface were probably already being picked up by the teams—he’d handled his situation, and handled it brilliantly.
Of course it’s no fun if there’s no one around to appreciate it… but then, I have a captive audience, don’t I?
“We’re not scheduled to go on line for another twenty-three days,” Reston said, smiling widely, already imagining the look on Sidney’s bloated face. “At which time, I was going to host the initial run of our carefully designed program for a group of extremely important people. It was going to be spedmen only, we hadn’t planned on putting humans through the phases for a while yet, let alone soldiers. But now, thanks to you, I’ll be able to show my little party actual footage of what our specimens were created for. By now, your friends on the surface will have been taken, sad to say—but the three of you will suffice, I think. Yes, you’ll do quite nicely.”
Reston laughed again, unable to contain it. “You may want to kill Henry before you start, though, he’ll only drag you down—and he did lure you in, didn’t he?”
“You bastard!”
Henry Cole pushed away from the wall and flew at the door, pounding on it with his fists. The two-inch metal didn’t even rattle in the frame.
Reston shook his head, still grinning. “I am sorry, Henry; we’ll miss you terribly. You never did finish with the intercom system, did you? Or the audio… at least you hooked up this one, for which I can’t thank you enough. Is it clear enough in there? Getting any static?”
Whatever demon had possessed the electrician fled, the man collapsing against the door, breathing raggedly. The bigger of the two armed men, the burly dark-skinned one with the rifle, stepped toward the window with a menacing expression.
“You’re not gonna get us to go through any tests for you,” he said, his deep voice quivering with rage. “Go ahead and kill us, ’cause we’re not alone—and Umbrella’s going down, whether or not we’re around to see it happen.”
Reston sighed. “Well, you’re right about not being around. But as to the rest… you’re some of those S.T.A.R.S. people, aren’t you? You and your grassroots campaign are nothing to us; you’re mosquitoes, an annoyance. And you will participate—”
“Participate this,” he spat, grabbing his crotch. Even through the thick plexi, the gesture was unmistakable.
Vulgar. Young people today, no respect for their betters…
“John, why don’t you break out one of those frag grenades?” The other one said coolly, at which point Reston sighed again.
“The walls are plaster-coated steel, and the door will withstand a lot more than you could possibly have. You’d only succeed in blowing yourselves up. It 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 troubled 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 control 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 anteroom 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 whichever 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 Umbrella 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 supposed 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 muscles. 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, mountains, city. They’re all big, each one’s like two football fields, side by side, I forget 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 tha
t, 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 latched shut is all, 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 corner. 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.
